mam
LIBRARY^
UNivtRsmr OF
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
V'A
A HISTORY
GREEK LITERATURE.
-I C O M PA N IOX VOLU M E .
A HISTORY OF ROMAN LITERATURE;
KHOM TUB EARLIEST PEKIOU TO THE TIMES OP THK ANTONINES.
BY
CIIAHLKS THOMAS CUTTTWELL, M.A.,
FKLLOW OF MEllTON COLLEGE, OXFORD; HEAD MASTEli OP
MALVEIiN COLI.EtiE.
A HISTORY OF
GREEK LITERATURE
FROM
Che (Earliest JJcrrob
o it
TO
Che c;ith of gemosthenes.
FRANK 15 VII OX JHVOXS. M.A.,
Tl'TGtt IX THE UMVKIi.SITV OF IH'KHAM.
NEW YORK :
CIIAKLKS SCTiUJNKU'S SONS.
188'!.
THE rEXERABLE II. II'. U'ATKIXS, D.D.,
Cbis 1'Clorfe
IS c;i: ATKFULLY INSCRIBED
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
Tins, like the preceding volume in this series, " is
designed mainly for Students at our Universities and
Public Schools, and for such as are preparing for t lie-
Indian Civil Service or other advanced Examinations."
But it is also intended to l>e intelligible, and, it is hoped,
will be found interesting to thn.se who know no Greek.
"With this purpose, Greek and all points involving Greek
scholarship have been relegated to the Notes and Appen-
dices.
A list of the works consulted and niilised in writing
tins book would occupy many puuvs. To note on each
paii'e. iu the German fashion, every obligation and refer-
ence would swell the \vork to twice its present size. I
must therefore content myself with saving that I have,
endeavoured to draw n all the best treatises on the sub-
ject in I'jigh>h, French, and German. Much, especially
of the German work, deals with isolated points: the prin-
ciples which determined the growth of Greek literature
via PREFACE.
have been comparatively neglected by previous writers.
The present effort may, I hope, contribute towards remedy-
ing 1 this neglect.
I :un indebted for valuable guidance to my former
tutor, II. Richards, Esq., M.A., Fellow of "\Yadham Col-
lege, Oxford, and to J. T. Danson, Esq., F.S.A.
F. B. J.
UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, DURHAM,
July iSS6
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY.
PAOB
Difference between classical period and later periods of Greek litera-
ture (Jreek literature the proper introduction to literature
generally Classical period divisible into poetry (epic, lyric,
and dramatic) and prose (history, oratory, and philosophy) . I
PART I.
EPIC, LYRIC, AX I) THE DRAMA.
BOOK I. EPIC POETRY.
CHAPTER I.
Till: ILIAD.
Its background Three ways of painting in a background Skill of
Homer The pi. >t Its unity and interconnection Artistic dis-
posal of side-issued .........
C1IAPTKK IF.
Till-: ODYS.-KY.
CIIAITKK 111.
HoMKKic <>n:sTnix.
X CONTENTS.
PAGE
AiTEN'mx. Ilcadhi'/, Writing, and Publication in Classical Greek
Times: Origin of writing Date of Greek alphabet Of a read-
ing public in Greece Recitation, publication Hoineridoe . 41
CHAPTER IV.
TIIK KPIC CYCLE.
J'roclus His summary of the Ci/pria, the jfithiopis, Little Iliad, th
Sack of 7'nii/, the Return, Telegonia Tlieban epics ... 54
APPKNUIX. Jtelritinn of the E^ic Cycle, to Homer : Homer and the
cycle Proclus' summary and the original poems Cyclics
avoid Homer Borrow inspiration Date what they imitate . 6 1
CHAPTER V.
TIIK HOMKHIC HYMNS.
epigrams ........... 69
CHATTER VI.
HKSIOI) AND HKS10DIC POKTKY.
Difference between Hesiod and Homer Hesiod didactic- Nature
of didactic pot-try --Life of Hcsiod Merit of his work- -\\',,rk-s
and /tni/n Tin in/mill aiul its origin Shield of Heracles and lost
works Genealogical poems ....... 77
CHAPTER VII.
OTIIKi: Ki'IC I'OKTS AMI OTHKIl \VKIIKU.S ()!' HKXAMKTKUS.
Tt -isandcr -Tanyasis-- Antimaclius of (joli.jilmn Clio'rilus of Sainos
Ariniii.tjiiia of Ari>tias Orphic poets- Verse philosophers
Slow development of prose -Connection between philosophy and
poetry Xenophani's - - Tiirmenides - J'hnpudoclcs ... 88
UOOK IL LYRIC rOETRY.
CHAPTER I.
TIIK KI.KCIAC AM) lAMIilC I'OKTS.
Iii.--e of lyiio Its nature and difference fiom epie and from modern
Its -. mis Son^s of the people l-'oix-igji elements
IV! 1C
CONTENTS. XI
CHAPTER II.
PACK
I,YKIC POETRY : MEUC.
Nature of melic Four periods in its history Terpander, Glorias,
and Thaletas Terpander's extension of the Home Alcnian
J'artkenia Arion The dithyramb ...... 121
CHAPTER III.
MELIC POETRY : AI.C.V.US AND SAPPHO.
Life of Alcreiis Political verses Estimate of antiquity Drinking-
songs His work as a whole Sappho Her life Her excellence
and style Damophila Erinna Stesichorus . . . .130
CHAPTER IV.
ELECIAC AND IAMBIC WRITERS CONTINUED.
The Theaynidca Life of Theognis His political, moral, and social
views Demodocus 1'hocylides Spurious 1'hocylidea Hip-
pouax Other writers of elegiacs or iambics .... 147
CHAPTER V.
M E L I C A T C U R T.
Ibycus His odes choral Influence of tyranny and democracy on
literature Anacreon Simonides Dithyramb Encomia
Payment for poetry Threni Epigram Bacchylides and
others . . . . . . . , . . . i ^5
CHAPTER VI.
PINDAR.
Early life Tenth Pythian -Pythian games Sixth Pythian
Twelfth Pythian Pindar and Athens Kle\ eth Olympian
1'ifth Xemean Second Period- Eourth Pythian Third Period
Relation of choral lyric to previous and subsequent kinds of
poetry Decay of choral lyric . . . . . . .170
BOOK III.- Till- DRAMA.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY TI:A:KI>Y.
Origin of Tragedv Thespis Pratinas - Satyric drama- The Cyclops
Aristias Phryniehus Phinii-ian Jt' // /i - --C'luerilus . .
APPENDIX. Metre, Dialect, and Divisions uf Trayedy . . .
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER II.
^SCHYLUS.
Influence of religion Visit to Sicily Its cause His politics The
umcnidesThe Persia ns Suppliants I'hn Seven Prometheus
i'oW Characters Clytemestra Chorus in ^Eschylus Style
Fragments "School" of ^Eschylus Euphorion Astydamus 192
CHAPTER III.
SOPHOCLES.
' school "
2O6
CHAPTER IV.
EURIPIDES.
Life and plays Popularity Transitional character of his work
Consequent defects Prologue and deux ex rnacfiinu Chorus
Character-drawing Style Fragments " School " Achsbus,
Agathon " Reading tragedians "Decay of tragedy . . 220
CHAPTER V.
COMEDY : ORIGIN AND GROWTH.
Wurship of Dionysius and Phallica Mimetic dances Megara
.Mil-sun and Su.-arion Sicilian comedy Epieharmus litres
H'< '/(/<'/(/ Origin of Sicilian coniedy Influence of Epicharmus
on Attic comedy Sophron and his mimes .... 234
CHAPTER VI.
THE OLD COMEDY.
CHAPTER VII.
ARISTOPHANES.
Two periods of Aristophanes' work The BuLi/lonians The Achar-
iiinna 'l'i;e Kn'njlits and (Jl.-on The patriotism of Aristophanes
- The influence of ci lined v on politics Tlie CLou'ls and Socrates
Ari.itoj.han.-s on jthilosophy JIi~ discontent with the present
CONTENTS. xia
I'AOB
Unsatisfactory text of the Cfnuds The real nature of the attack
on Socrates The Waup* and its construction Chanyo in Aris-
tophanes' attitude The Peace The Hirdsand its beauty Lost
plays Li/sintrata and Thesmopkoriazusai Kuripides und the
l-'nxjs EcclesiaziiscB J'lutus Lost plays ..... 253
APPENDIX A. The Ways ........ 277
B. The Parabasis ........ 278
C 1 1 A P T F, R V I 1 1.
MIDDI.K COMKDV.
Old and middle comedy Reason of their difference Disappearance
of the chorus Reason thereof Plot in old, middle, and new
Characters Sources of our information Alexis Antiphanes
Ana.xandrides Eubulus Other comedians .... 279
PART II.
HISTORY, ORATORY, AXI) PHILOSOPHY.
BOOK I. HISTORY.
CHAPTER I.
THK I!K<;iNMN<;.S OF I'UOSE.
Pros.j literature invented in Miletus Cadmus and Pherecydes The
]ii--,i^r;iphcrs Hecaticas ])iony.-ius of Miletus Xanthus
Hippocrates His life and works ...... 297
OH A I'TKR I I.
IIKKODOTUS.
His date and life Ohj-et of his travels Outline of his History
Inti-ndrd for recitation Incomplete The As-yriun hi>tor\
I'nity of liis work - Its national sentiment Xemesis his philo-
sophy of history His cretiulity, capacity, In iu->tv. m- ans of
iuformation .......... 30'")
CII A PTK 15 I I I.
run VDIDKS.
IJfe Importance of the IVloponnesian war It-- int'-re-t Its moral
The object of Thneydides His "pusitive" character Hi<
annali^tic inetiiod His iiterarv gL-nius Literary delects and
their causes Compared with Tacitus ..... 327
xiv CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
PAGE
XENOPHON.
Life Works, historical, philosophical, and miscellaneous Anabasis
Its authorship I/ethnics Its defects, and their various explana-
ti<>ns Xenophon and Thucydides Cyropcedia Other historical
and miscellaneous works Object of the philosophical works
Xenophon and Plato ........ 34
CHAPTER V.
OTHER HISTORIANS.
Ctesias His relation to Herodotus Theopompus Ephorus
Others 3 6 2
BOOK II. ORATORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE BEGINNINGS OF RHETORIC AND THE FIRST LOGOGRAPHERS.
Eloquence and its development into oratory The Sophists Pro-
tagorasSicilian rhetoric : Corax and Tisias Gorgias The
logngraphers and their services Antiphon His life Imma-
turityThe Tetralogies The "severe" style His merits . 367
CHAPTER II.
PRACTICAL ORATORY: ANDOCIDES AND LYSIAS.
Andocidf 1 * His life -Not a rhetorician His weaknesses and his
strength The four surviving speeches Lysias His life
Speeches, spurious, epideictic, deliberative, and forensic Ethos
Plain style Grace Thrasymachus, Theodorus, Euenus,
Critias ........... 379
CHAPTER III.
EPIDEIiTie RHETORIC AND THE TRANSITION.
T-ocruUs A lo.joi.'raphiT tht-n a Sophist Pan-Hellenism Style
fpidfictic Hiatus avoided-- Smoothness Antisthenes Aid-
damus-- Polycrates Zoilus the Hoineroina.-,tix Anaximenes
I -ifcus His influence on Demosthenes ..... 392
CONTENTS. XV
CHAPTER IV.
FA OK
DEMOSTHENES : FIRST PERIOD.
Relation of Demosthenes to earlier oratory and to the culture of his
time His character and early life His youthful exaggeration
Want of self-control Imitation Lack of artistic sense and ethos 404
CHAPTER V.
DEMOSTHENES: SECOND PERIOD.
His excessive argumentation His lighter qualities The speech for
Phormio Political speeches Constitutional speeches The
Demegories Their ethos The speech against Midias On the
Embassy 412
CHAPTER VI.
DEMOSTHENES : THIRD PERIOD SPEECH OF THE CROWN.
Points at issue between ^Eschines and Ctesiphon The speech as
delivered and as we have it Demosthenes' power of language
His rhythm His intellectual superiority His morality The
Harpalus affair Death of Demosthenes . . . . .425
CHAPTER VII.
THE CONTEMPORARIES OF DEMOSTHENES: THE ANTI-MACEDONIAN
PARTY.
Divisions in the Anti-Macedonian party Hyperides His life and
character His grace and charm Speech fur Euxenippns For
Lycophron Discovery in Egypt of fragments of Hyperides
Speed) against Demosthenes Funeral oration Lvenrgus
llegesippus and the speech on the Hiilunnesus Polyeuctus . 436
CHAPTER VIII.
jESCillXKS AND THE ORATORS OF THE MACEDONIAN PARTY.
^Eschines --Life Speeches .Eschines and Demosthenes compared
and contrasted Deinades Aristo^iton M in or u raters The
decline of oratory Its causes A development of pre exi.-ting
tendencies .......... 450
XVI CONTENTS.
BOOK III. PHILOSOPHY.
CHAPTER I.
PLATO AND THE PHILOSOPHERS BEFORE HIM.
Anaximander, Anaxinirws. and Heraclitus Zeno Anaxagoras
Other philosophers Plato Life Acquaintance with Socrates
Travels Why lie adopted the form of dialogue Its place in
Greek literature His stvle, dicLion, structure of sentence,
rhythm Its affinity with poetry and with comedy Aristotle
on Plato's literary qualities Authenticity of the works ascribed
to Plato . . . . . . . . . . .
COXCLUSIOX.
484
A
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
INTRODUCTORY.
CLASSICAL Greek Literature Logins with Homer, and ends
practically, if not precisely, with the death of Demosthenes.
During this period Greece was frcn. With the loss of liberty,
literature underwent a change. Greece ceased to produce men
of genius, and this constitutes one difference between the cla-.-i-
cal and later periods. A second great difference is that wheivas
the literature of the classical period was written not only by
Greeks, hut for Greeks, later literature was cosmopolitan ; and
to this change in the literature corresponds the change in the
language, which from pure Greek became Hellenistic Greek.
The earliest period of Greek literature is, then, clas.-ical because
it is the work of genius, and is due solely to Greek genius. It
reflects Greek life and expresses Greek thoughts alone, and,
like the language in which it is clad, contains no foreign
elements.
Classical Greek literature is the proper int reduction to litera-
ture generally, because in it the laws which determined its
development are simple, and can be easily traeed. It was pure,
and original, and its development, unlike that of subsequent
literatures, was not complicated by the influence of a f"ivi'jn
literature. Further, the various kinds of literature, poetry and
prose, epic, lyric, and the drama, history, philo-<>phy, and
oratory, not only remained true, each to its own typ'-, but on
the whole they developed in orderly suecessi. 'ii. This was
because they were the work of different members of tin-
race, whose latent literary tendencies required ditfeient p
and social conditions to draw them out. They were e
after the other by political and social changes ; and so tic-
A
2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
in the development of literature correspond with those of the
nation's life. The growth of Epir, j/odry, the earliest form of
the literature which has bequeathed remains to us, was favoured
by a stage of civilisation in which patriarchal monarchy formed
the political machinery, and family life furnished the society
and the literary public. Lyric t the next branch of literature,
found favouring conditions in the aristocracies which succeeded
to monarchy, and in which the social communion of the pri-
vileged class took the place of family life, and provided a new
public fur literature. The Drama was designed for the enter-
tainment of large numbers of persons, and was a response to the
demand- of democracy. From this time on, literature no longer
found its home in the halls of chieftains, or its audience in the
social meetings of the few ; but when the state came to consist
of the whole of the citizens, literature became united with the
life of the state as a whole, and thenceforward was but one of
the ways in which that life expressed itself. Literary men were
not a class distinguished by their profession from the rc-t of the
community, nor was literature a thing apart from the practical
matters of life. The UrHtura were active politicians; or men of
law ; ami their speeches were not literary displays, but had a
practical object, to turn the vote of the Assembly, or to gain a
verdiet. injury was the record of a contemporary war, or of a
war whi<-h had occurred in the previous generation. 1'hilu^npJiy
was but a picture in words of the conversations between culti-
vat<- cmise-
(pienees, is hut an incident in the story of the Tr j in war.
Achilles and Agamemnon ijnanvlled before the wails of Troy,
a- we are informed at the beginning of the ti:.-t book ; ha; tne
reader has to lie informed how it came about that Achilles and
Agamemnon were besieging Troy, and tins is the storv ot the
Trojan war, which is presupposed ii;
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
of the Iliad. In the same way every plot, whether of an epic,
or a drama, or a novel, presupposes a state of things existing
before the action begins; and the way in which the author
contrives to acquaint the reader with this state of things, in
other words to paint in the background, gives us a test of his
skill.
1. The simplest and most inartistic way is that adopted by
Euripides in many of his plays. Before the drama begins, one
of the characters, or even a figure who does not appear in the
play itself, comes on the stage, and, speaking to the audience,
tells them what they have to imagine in order to understand
what is going to be done on the stage. This is the most in-
artistic, because the pleasure one gets from seeing a play depends
on the illusion depends, that is to say, on our believing for the
time that what we see performed before us is real : and in the
prologues of Euripides the author practically comes forward and
disenchants us by warning us that what is going to come is only
a play. In a novel, too, the author may begin at the beginning
and tell us methodically from point to point all that his story
presupposes ; and then, having got this preliminary matter out
of the way, proceed with his real subject. But this method is
usually repulsive to the reader, whose interest is not awakened,
and he puts down the book.
2. The next and more usual way of painting in the background
is to begin with the real subject, at the point the author thinks
most attractive ; and then, after having gained the reader's
attention, to go back to the beginning of things and explain
the circumstances in which his characters iind themselves.
This is more, artistic than the first way, though how much
more depends on the artist. It may be done clumsily, the
author without any excuse simply saying in effect, " Now let us
retrace, our stops, and sec how this came about;" or it may
b" done more skilfully, as when the author arranges things so
that one of the characters naturally relates the antecedent eir-
cum.-taneo.s for the, benefit of another character. Thus, in the
, Virgil begins with a storm at sea which throws ./Kneas
coast of Carthage; and the Queen of Carthage naturally
to know the. history of the stranger, who then relates at
ngth all that is necessary for the reader to know in
i comprehend the story of the /Kneid. Even h'Te there
jives of t-kill, for in some cases it is evident that the
'lent state of things is narrat"d bv one character to
EPIC POETRY : T1IK ILIAD. 9
To make, the characters talk at the reader in this way is bail
workmanship.
3. There is yet a third way of painting in the background. It
consists in making the plot itself disclose what it presupposes,
in not telling the reader, but allowing him to infer how what
lie sees has come about. This is the best way, not because it
is most natural, but because it most resembles nature. It is
not the method which most naturally suggests itself to the
author ; but it is the way in which the spectator of a scene in
real life, enacted by people unknown to him, gains the know-
ledge necessary for a comprehension of the scene. This, as it
is the best, is also the most dillicult method. To construct
scenes which shall be necessary to the plot, and yet at the
same time shall serve the purpose of conveying information to
the reader, demands great power in the, artist.
It is the third method, needless to say, which is acted on in
the Iliad. At the beginning of the epic we are simply told
that Achilles and Agamemnon, being Aciuvans, quarrelled about
a captive, liriseis. That they were at the time beleaguering
Troy, we incidentally learn from the words of Uriseis' father,
who prays that the Acha?,ans may succeed in capturing Troy, if
only they will restore him his daughter. AVhy the Achreans
are. besieging Troy we are not formally told, but some light is
given us when, in the heat of the angry ijiiaiTel, Achilles says
lie is here for no advantage of his o\vn, but of Menelaiis and
Agamemnon, to gain recompense for them. Evidently, then,
the two sons of Atreus are besieging Troy to right some wrong
they have suil'cred, and Achilles and others are. then.- to help
them. The hint thus afforded is confirmed, and the information
developed, when in the tir.-t engagement we observe Meiiehuis
single, out one of th>' Trojan waniors and challenge him to
Hid we disci iver that the .-
. lilt this inf' irmatii >;i i- n
ing at, the reader ; i:
eniT.il attack,
IO HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
natural opportunity for giving a list of the Achseans who took
part in this great war, and of their opponents. The same inci-
dent, too, is utilised as a means of allowing the reader to dis-
cover the length of time which the siege has lasted, and the
hardships it has entailed. Before venturing to make a move-
ment of such importance, Agamemnon resolves to try a ruse
and prove his army's mettle by proposing to abandon the siege,
inasmuch as nine years have been fruitlessly spent on it. The
readiness which the people show in accepting the offer demon-
strates the sufferings they had undergone, and the omen of the
sparrow and her eight young ones devoured by a serpent, an
omen boding the capture of Troy after nine years' siege, further
impresses the reader with the number of the years.
There remains yet one more point to be noticed here before
we dismiss the subject of the skill with which Homer paints in
his background. It is a point of much importance, and lias
been sometimes overlooked. In the fighting which followed
on the violation of the truce, and in which iJiomede displayed.
his valour, when the Ache-cans are wavering, Here upbraids
them thus : " Fie upon you ! . . . While yet noble Achilles
entered continually into battle, then issued not the Trojans even
from the Dardanian gate ; for they had dread of his terrible
spear." l This passage, which is corroborated by others (v. 788,
ix. 352, xv. 721), shows that we are to suppose the Trojans as
confined to their lines for the first nine years. Now that
Achilles is no longer against them, they venture forth : and this
is important, not only because occurring, as the first passage
docs, in a book devoted to the prowess of Diomede, it keeps
the attention of the reader to the absence of Achilles and the
consequences of his absence, but also because, if we overlook
this aspect of the circumstances preceding the action of the
Iliad, we fail to understand that the total result of the fir.st
day's fighting, though indecisive in itself, is yet, compared with
the previous state of things, most encouraging to the Trojans.
Having examined the background of the Iliad, let us turn
now to the, plot itself. "Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles,
I'eleus' son, the ruinous wrath that brought on the Achaian.s
woes innumerable." In these, the opening words of the Iliad,
we have the subject fully stated ; the poem is the story of
Achilles' wrath and its consequences. The plot is the way in
Avhich the wrath was aroused, displayed, and finally exhausted.
1 If. TO Illl
tlio liiml l>
EPIC POETUY : THE ILIAD. I I
If now we examine the Iliad we shall find there is little in it
that was not designed whether by a single original author, or
by the authors of subsequently added books for the purpose
of carrying forward the plot. Given the subject, different
authors might work it out in different ways, might imagine
different causes for the quarrel, different forms for Achilles'
anger to take, and different modes of terminating it. But in
the Iliad there are no traces of any differences on any of these
points. The plot is one and the same throughout. The cause
of the quarrel is always the unfair and dishonouring treatment
of Achilles by Agamemnon in the matter of Briseis ; the form
which Achilles' anger takes is always abstention from assisting
the Achavms ; and the resolution of the entanglement is always
the death of Patroclus, and the consequent renunciation by
Achilles of his punitive inaction.
Let us now examine the plot a little more closely, and see how
the details fit in with the main outline of the story, and are
necessitated by it and by each other. Achilles complains to
Thetis of the wrong put on him, and she obtains from Zeus a
promise that the Achreans shall suffer for their conduct. This
promise dominates the whole story, there is no hint of any other
reason for the general reverse in spite of temporary successes
of the Aclueans ; and from this interference of Zeus, which is
implied by the whole of the Iliad, flow the events of the first
day's fighting. That these events might have been framed
differently by the poet is true, but this does not show that
they were originally conceived by him in some other way. The
cause, the exhibition, and the termination of Achilles' anger,
might have been worked out in a manner different from that
in which they have actually been developed. Hut no one
argues from this that they were originally developed differently ;
and the reason is that the actual treatment of any one of these
points is consistent with itselt', and harmonises with the ivst.
So too the events of the first -lay's fighting. Tiie deceitful
dream sent by Zeus induces Agamemnon to make a general
attack, which he prefaces by proving the spirit of his men;
and the Trojans are encouraged by the intervention of Zeus
to accept the engagement. Thus Paris and Menelaiis are
brought faee to face ; the duel naturallv and it* conscqu-nces
necessarily follow. If the duel had been fought out.
terms acted on. the war would have ended, and Zen*'
would have been broken. The treachery of I'andaru-
fore, and a general eir-ra'jvnient were necessitated
duel.
12 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
The other incidents which, belong to this the first day of
fighting, the second of the Iliad's action, follow from the pro-
mise of Zeus, and are implied by what happens after them, as
well as by the state of things which is represented as existing
at the moment when the Iliad begins. That is to say, the
fighting is necessitated by the treachery of Pandarus (which is
referred to several times, v. 206, vii. 69 and 351); disaster to
the Achaeans is involved by the promise of Zeus ; while the
overwhelming numbers of the Achaeans (ii. 123 ff.), and the
nine years' terror of the Trojans, made it impossible for the
poet to represent the Achaeans as suffering a crushing defeat
the very iirst time they met their foes in the open field. In
these considerations we find the explanation and justification of
the books which relate the prowess of Diomede. On the one
hand, the promise of Zeus made it imperative that the Achaeans
should suil'er defeat ; on the other, the demands of probability
and consistency required that the promise of Zeus should be, if
not overridden, at least to some extent thwarted : and the solu-
tion of this difficulty was found in the intervention of the
deities that sided Avith the Achaeans an intervention which
showed itself in supporting Diomede.
Thus the appearance of Diomede rests on conceptions which
are at the very foundation of the plot. On the appearance of
Diomede depend the departure of Hector for Troy to institute
prayers for his repulse, the meeting of Hector and Andromache,
and the contrasted scene between Hector, Paris, and Helen.
All these incidents derive their connection with the plot from
the exploits of Diomode, as the latter in their turn derive
much of their aesthetic value from the fact that the former
depend on them. The next event, the single combat between
Hector and Ajax, does not flow from the exploits of Diomede,
but serves to impress the same conclusion on the reader, viz.,
that the Trojans, who had long been inferior to the Acha-ans,
Men- now proving a match for them.
JJut for tin- Trojans merely to prove a match for the Aelupans
w;i- no fultilment of the promise made by Zeus to Thetis.
Thanks to the prowess of Diomede and the intervention of
some of tin: gods, the Aclueans had by n-> means suffered so
severely as the wrath of Achilles and the. promise of Zeus de-
manded, it became necessary, therefore, f. >r Zeus to intervene
in a yet more decided manner ; and the angry speech in which
he f"ibids any of the gds to assist the Ach;eans was necessi-
tate.! by -\vhat had occurred, and shows the close connection
between this part of the Iliad and the preceding books. The
EPIC POETRY : THE ILIAD. I 3
success which Zeus now interferes to secure to the Trojans,
sufficient to make Agamemnon desire once more the services of
Achilles, hut not sufficiently overwhelming to satiate Achilles'
wrath, naturally results in the embassy to the offended hero,
which as naturally fails. The episode known as the Doloneia
filling the Tenth Book has no connection with the plot. But
in the Eleventh Book we begin to see what is an essential part
of the subject of the Iliad, the " woes innumerable" entailed
by the wrath of Achilles. One after the other, Agamemnon,
Diomede, and Ulysses, as well as inferior Achaean chieftains,
are wounded and have to retire from the fray. What Achilles
had prayed for was beginning to come to pass. Now he has
the Achneans on the hip : when they came to him before, they
did not understand the fury of his resentment. And this was
but the earnest of what was to come ; for the Trojans attacked
the wall which the Acha'ans, thus practically acknowledging
their inferiority, had built at the end of the first day's fighting
to protect their ships.
But though the cup of victory seemed so near the Trojans'
lips, it was not to reach them. To represent the Achseans. so
long masters of the field, as yielding all the time and making
no stand, was alike opposed to probabilities and to the poet's
patriotism. The necessity for their ill-success was the will of
Zeus, and the only power capable of even temporarily opposing
the father of gods and men was to be found in Poseidon, the
brother, and Hero the sister-wife of Zeus. This agency is
accordingly set in action ; and the tide of Trojan victory, which
threatened to be unbroken and monotonous, is checked for a
time, until Zeus again interferes, and once more the tide rolls
on. Achilles is i-o far satisfied with the sufferings of the
Ad 10 'ans for now his wrath had, as the proem of the Iliad
summarises it, ''hurled down into Hades many strong souls
of heroes, and given their bodies to be a prey to dogs and all
winged fowls" that he is willing to allow Putroclus to assume
his armour and light for the Acha'ans. After this the plot
moves rapidly and easily. Patroclus is slain : the loss of
Achilles' armour, the lending of which to Patrodus had been
suggested as far back as the Tenth ]'>ook by Xe.-tor, necessitates
the making of new armour, and the vengeance which Achilles
must take compels him, reluctantly enough, to submit to recon-
ciliation with Agamemnon.
With the death ( ,f Hect-r at the hands ,,f Adiilles. th.. action
of the r,jad is sometimes said to be ended. Hut a little reflec-
tion will .-how us that this is not quite th- 1 rase. In order to
14 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
be able to avenge the death of Patroclus, Achilles desired the
Achseans to move against the Trojans ; but this could only be
done by the order of Agamemnon, and before giving this order
Agamemnon insists on Achilles accepting the gifts he had
already offered. Achilles allows them to be thrust on him,
plainly because he cares for nothing but vengeance, not because
his feeling against Agamemnon has died out entirely. The
feeling of wrath is outweighed, not banished, by the desire of
revenge ; and it is only in the Twenty-third Book that we find
the wrath of Achilles finally banished from his bosom. In that
book, at the end of the funeral games held in honour of Patro-
clus, Achilles makes an opportunity of paying Agamemnon a
courteous compliment, which shows his resentment to be ended
as plainly as, in the so-called reconciliation of a previous book,
his behaviour showed that he still harboured some feeling of
resentment.
The last book of the Iliad cannot be said to be indispensable
to the action or the plot ; the subject of the epic, the wrath of
Achilles, is exhausted. But for the interest, for the character-
drawing, and on Aristotle's principle that an epic must have, as
well as a beginning and middle, an end, the Twenty-fourth
Book is indispensable.
Having examined the structure, and seen the essential unity
of the plot, and having admired the way in which Homer con-
veys to the reader's mind the state of things which must be
supposed as preceding the action of the Iliad, we may now con-
sider the skill with which he dismisses the subject, as it were.
The state of things which ensues on the story has to be indi-
cated, as well as that which precedes it ; in other words, the
background has to be completed. This is clone inartistically by
Euripides in sonic plays by means of an epilogue, in which the
author explains the subsequent fate of his characters thereby
admitting that his play is not complete and satisfactory in itself,
that, in Aristotle's words, it has not an end. Xow although in
the Iliad the subject proper, the wrath of Achilles, is brought
to a full, satisfactory, and tragic termination, there are things
which cannot com<' to an end within the limits of the action,
which yet the reader wishes to be satisfied about. The interest
inspired by Hector is naturally terminated within the limits of
the. pint, because it is part of the plot that he should be killed.
But the fate of Troy, which the story makes a point of interest,
by the conditions of the plot cannot form part of the plot.
Still more is the reader anxious to know the fate of Achilles ;
and we have no\v to admire the; skill with which the poet satis-
Eric roETiiY : THE ILIAD. i 5
fics these natural demands, without violating the laws of illusion
as the epilogues of Euripides violate them.
"With consummate art Homer anticipates the feelings which
will be roused in the reader. Instead of waiting till interest
and curiosity are aroused, and then providing the answer, he
gives the information at once. Two advantages obviously re-
sult from this : in the first place, to wait for the curiosity to bo
aroused, and then to provide the answer, would be as though
the subsequent events were not really the consequences of the
action, but had been invented by the author to satisfy the
reader a violation of the laws of illusion which one feels in
the termination of many novels. In the next place, by provid-
ing the solution along with the problem, Homer prevents the
render's attention from being distracted from the action of the
book to side issues. As an illustration we may take the fate of
Troy. As soon as we have been placed in full possession of the
causes of the Trojan war, have seen Helen. Paris, and Menc-
Lius, have seen the forces mustered on both sides, and have had
our sympathies with the Trojans awakened by Hector and
Andromache, at once the question of the fate of Troy is settled,
and speculations on the subject precluded, by means of the gods
in the Fourth Book. Zeus pretends to be thinking of allowing
the duel between Paris and Menelaus to put an end to the war,
in which case " the city of King Priam may yet be an habita-
tion, and Menelaus take back Helen of Argos." But although
lie regrets that Troy must be sacked, he gives Here permission
to do as she is minded, and destroy the place. And the destruc-
tion of Troy is felt all through the Iliad to be certain and immi-
nent. The omen of the sparrow and her eight young ones,
indicating the success of the Achseans in the- tenth year, the
confidence of IHomede that Troy is doomed, when Agamemnon
proposes to fly in consequence of the abortive embassy to
Achilles; and in the Fifteenth I look the express declaration of
Zeus that Achilles shall rout the Trojans " until the Achaians
take steep Ilion;"all are touches painting in this necessary
feature of the backgroimd.
The fate of Achilles, which was more certain even than the
fate of Ti'iiy to muse the reader's interest, is another nrr-ssary
feature of the hackuTound. and the skill with whieh it is paint i d
in is great. At first the indications of it aru only
death looms at no great distance. But as th"
and as the figure of Achilles becomes more and m<
of the action and the interest, the d^atii \vhidi d"_;
1 6 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
soon as the quarrel is over, Achilles' words to Thetis, " Mother,
seeing thou didst of a truth bear me to so brief span of life,"
show us dimly -what is to happen. When Achilles next appears
upon the scene, in the Ninth Book, the figure of death takes a
clearer shape. Achilles says to Ulysses, " If I abide here and
besiege the Trojans' city, then my returning home is taken
from me, but my fame shall be imperishable ; but if I go home
to my dear native land, my high fame is taken from me, but
my life shall endure long while, neither shall the issue of death
soon reacli me." Thus his death is to be not only soon, but
during this Trojan war. When Achilles, in the Eighteenth
Book, is about to take vengeance on Hector, his death is yet
more sharply defined. Thetis says to him, " Straightway after
Hector, is death appointed unto thee." Then the mode of
death is vaguely brought before our eyes when Achilles says
to Polydorus, " My life, too, some man shall take in battle,
whether with spear he smite or arrow from the string." Soon
this too becomes clearer, for in the Twenty-first Book the hero
says, "Under the wall of the mail-clad men of Troy I must die
by the swift arrows of Apollo." Last, in the next book, the
dying Hector warns his player " of the day when Paris and
Phot-bus Apollo slay thee, for all thy valour, at the Skaian gate."
Is it necessary to dilate on this perfect piece of art? What
to other writers would have been a stumbling-block, Homer
makes into an ornament and a support. The death of Achilles
has nothing to do with the plot of the Iliad; it is a side-issue
which must be disposed of somehow ; and it is further a side-
issue which threatened to ruin the unity of the epic by becom-
ing more interesting than the proper subject, by thrusting the
latter into a secondary and itself taking the first place. The
side-issue is allowed to develop all its strength and then made
to strengthen the main plot. Whenever Achilles appears before
the reader, it is to the accompaniment of these, funeral notes.
They mark his presence on the stage as in a work of Wagner's
a ' motive 1 ' marks a character's appearance. As the interest of
the subject increases, and as the action advances, these notes
become louder and louder, until the climax of the excitement
is r< ;,ihi d and the crescendo ends with llect'-r's dying pro-
phecy in a final and terrible crash.
EPIC POETRY: THE ODYSSEY. 17
CHAPTER II.
THE ODYSSEY.
THE Odyssey has been more popular in modern times than the
Iliad. This is doubtless partly due to its being domestic and
not military in its subject. Descriptions of fighting done with
obsolete weapons have mainly but an antiquarian interest; and
the various kinds of wounds and various modes of shedding
blood have less charm for an industrial and domestic society
than have the sufferings of a faithful wife. The domestic
interest is indeed present in the Iliad, and Hector and Andro-
mache, for that reason, tended in the Middle Ages to come to
be regarded as the leading characters and the central interest
of the Iliad a wholly false conception of the epic. Another
reason for the popularity in modern times of the Odyssey is
that the poem contains fairy tales. Ogres and ogresses, the
floating island of /Eolus, the marvellous bag containing the
winds. Scylla and Charybdis, the descent into the realms of th^
dead, the enchanted isles of Circe and Calypso, the one-eyed
giant, are all tales which exercise now, as they seem to have
done from the earliest Aryan times, an inexhaustible influence
over the popular fancy. A third reason for the popularity of
the Odyssey is that, in addition to the poetry with which all
these tales are invested, they are woven with consummate artis-
tic skill into a single whole.
Eet us now see wherein the unity of the Odyssey, as we have
it, consists ; for that it possesses unity is universally admitted,
though it is disputed whether this unity is the deliberate,
design of one artist, or the result of the labours of successive
generations of poets working at. the saint; subject. The theme
of the Odyssey is as simple as that of the liiad : the one is the
wrath of Achilles and its consequences, the other is the return
of < Mysseus home. As Aristotle .-ays (/'o'7;V'x, iy\ the ar_:unirnt
of tin- ( Myssey is slight : a man being away from home for many
years, things at home fall into such a condition that his sub-
stance is devoured by suitors, and pints are fuiined a^ain-t his
sun; at length, after a stormy voyage, the hero comes home, an
liavinu' ivveal'-d himself to a few ]
the suitors, comes oil' safe hin>>'if
Everything else is epi~<>de. lint tin
whether by one prt or more -
that if envious Time h;id iohl-d
I 8 mSTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
only the Odyssey, there never, in all probability, would have
arisen the question whether the Homeric poems are the work
of one author or more.
As in the Iliad, so in the Odyssey, there are at the beginning
of the epic several books which do not advance the action of
the poem, but depict the state of things preceding it and serve
as an exposition. The first four books of the Odyssey contain
the journey of Telemachus to Pylos and Sparta in quest of
news of his father. In them Telemachus is the principal figure,
and they have in consequence been called the Telemachia.
From these books, as from certain books of the Iliad, the hero
of the epic is absent. But in the Iliad the absence of Achilles
is necessary, because the Greeks have to be made to feel the
consequences of his wrath. In the Odyssey the absence of
Odysseus from home is equally part of the theme of the poem ;
and for the interest of the poem it is necessary that the state
of things in the hero's home should be depicted, so as to enlist
the reader's sympathy with the hero in his struggles to return,
and with the hero's wife and son in their longing for his return.
The art with which both these objects are attained in the
Telemachia hardly needs pointing out. The insolence of the
suitors is brought into high relief by the device of bringing
Athene on the scene in the guise of a stranger : the impression
made on the seeming stranger by the wantonness of the wooers
is felt to be the judgment which any impartial and honest man
would pass upon their conduct. Further, the evil character of
the suitors comes out more and more, the more we see of them.
The evil which they work is not confined, as it might be inferred
from the First Book, to the house of Odysseus. In the Second
Book we find in the assembly that they behave to the people
of Ithaca as insolently as they treat Penelope and Telemachus;
and finally, in the Fourth Book, they plot the death of the son
while hoping by force to wed the mother, and they enjoy the
humour of the situation.
By the side of this picture we have that of the faithful wife.
This strand in the thread of the story runs through all the four
bonk-s. It appears not only in the First Book, but in the
Second ]!opailys-ey. AVi'V should il Wliterwho h:ni ll-'ViT heard of
tin- Odyssey happen, when relating a voyaue of T>'It mar'tins, to ijivo ju-t
such infonnatin as is required fur the undei'stuiuttn;: of the Odyssey, anil
then hrcak oil" at the point where arnth'T ]"-t. \v.>rkin_; iiideju-ndi-Iitly,
liMPoelied ]>ri-i'i>ely to he-in?
2O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
prudence ; he deliberately courts misfortune and voluntarily
(inters the Cyclops' den. This was probably an essential feature
in the popular tale ; and Homer, in adopting the story, has
retained this feature ; but so far from leaving it as an unsightly
inconsistency, he has turned it to advantage. This piece of
folly in which Odysseus indulges is " the beginning of evil."
It led to the blinding of the Cyclops, which provoked the
wrath of Poseidon, and that was the cause of all Odysseus'
wanderings. From the land of the Cyclops he was carried to
the floating island of ^Eolus, but the safe return which the
wonderful wallet might have procured for Odysseus was
frustrated, evidently, as ^Eolus says, by the gods. After this
indication of the nature of the power that was presiding over
his course, it is not surprising that Odysseus should next losa
all his ships but one among the Lsestrygonians, and then be
carried to the enchanted island of Circe. After his year's stay
there, he is sent by Circe down to Hades, there to learn what
wanderings destiny yet has in store for him. Thus his subse-
quent course does not appear to be the arbitrary arrangement of
a poet working up given material, but has the seal of fate set on
it by the appalling scene among the dead. From Circe's isle,
JExa. he sails by the Sirens, the Rocks Wandering, Scylla and
Charybdis, and thus readies the Island of the Sun. There his
crew commit the offence they were warned acrainst, and kill
the sacred herds of Helios. Thus all his crew perished, and
Odysseus alone was saved on Calypso's isle. There he spends
eight years, until Athene pleads for him against Poseidon among
the gods, and he is allowed to sail from Ogygia to the land of
the Phseacians, not, however, without suffering wreck once more
from Poseidon's power. From Phfeacia he reaches Ithaca in
safety.
We see, then, that the latter half of the hero's adventures
are bound together by the utterance of the seer Teiresias in
Hades, and that the descent to Hades was one of the conse-
quences of the wrath of Poseidon. The direct intervention of
tin's god occurs in the wreck of the raft on which Odysseus set
sail from Ogygia, and the misfortunes of Odysseus generally are
ascribed to Poseidon both by Teiresias and by Athene. J!ut
in mo.st of the calamities that overtook Odysseus there is no
special mention of Poseidon as the immediate cause. This has
be-n regarded by some critics as a proof that in the original
Odys-'ey there was a different conception of the cause of the
liM'o's wandering-, and that the introduction of Poseidon is
later than the " kernel ;! of the Odyssey. Jjut this theory pro-
EPIC POETRY : THE ODYSSEY. 2 I
cccds on the tacit assumption that if the adventures of Odysseus
had been composed by the same poet who wrote the Telemachia
and the last twelve books, and who ascribed the adventures
and misfortunes of Odysseus to Poseidon's anger, he would in
relating each of them have specially mentioned Poseidon as the
cause. But of this there is no proof, and it may be questioned
whether the continued introduction of Poseidon, time after
time, would not have been monotonous and inartistic. The
popular stories which Homer wove into the Odyssey had origi-
nally no connection with Odysseus, and therefore none with
Poseidon ; and so far the importation of Poseidon into them is
later than the stories themselves. Possibly these stories had
become popularly associated with the name of Odysseus before
Homer wove them together by the device of making Poseidon
the ultimate cause of all Odysseus' adventures. If this be so,
the only question left is whether the poet has made it suffi-
ciently clear that Poseidon was the cause ; and inasmuch as he
three times expressly and as it were officially by the mouth
of a goddess, of Teiresias and of Odysseus declares that
Poseidon teas the cause, and twice introduces Poseidon as
directly intervening, it seems to be hypercriticism to require
more, and to ascribe some of the work to one author and the
rest to another, because the poet has not labelled each and
every story with the signature of Poseidon.
The fairyland adventures of Odysseus, then, have all the
unity with each other which stories of such diverse origin
could have,. Their connection with the rest of the Odyssey
is even closer. The Telemachia and the Thirteenth Book
both ascribe these adventures to the action of Poseidon. Teire-
sias in Hades prophesies the destruction which overtakes the
wooers in the later books. The appearance of the ghost of
Anticleia in Hades is confirmed by the mention of her death
in the later books. Further, the fidelity of Penelope is a
feature common to all three divisions of the < >dys>ey. It is
brought out in the same way, that is, by pointed contrast with
the conduct of (,'lyteniestra. in all three; and the happiness of
Arete and Nausiciia in their Imme in Pha'acia can scarcely be
Mil accidental contrast to the suii'erings of Penelope in her home
in Ithaca. Finally, the .summary which Odysseus gives to
Penelope of his adventures confirms the account in Hooks v.
to xii.
Thus Hooks v. xii. are dominated by the same conception of
the cause of Odysseus' wanderings ami of the. stale of things in
lihaca as i.s the ivst of the Odvssev. \\'e have m>w to consider
22 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the skill with which the climax of the Odyssey is wrought out in
Books xiii.-xxiv., and with which these books are interwoven
with the Telemachia,. Telemachus having been sent by Athene
to Sparta, is recalled by her to Ithaca, and, in order to avoid the
ambuscade of the suitor?, is bidden to land, not at the city, but
near the steading of Eumseus.. the swineherd. Thus Telema-
chus is brought into the company of Odysseus, and the threads
of the Telemachia and Books v.-xii. are united. 1 The next
stage in the action is brought about very simply and artistically.
Telemachus, with the same consideration for his mother's feel-
ings as he displays in the Telemachia, where he takes steps to
conceal his journey from her, sends Eumseus to the city to
inform Penelope of his safe return. Thus the stage is cleared
for the recognition of Odysseus. After this, Telemachus goes
first, and Odysseus follows him to the city. The omens indica-
tive of the vengeance that is nigh become more and more fre-
quent, reaching their climax in the vision of Theoclymenus, a
character that appears in the Telemachia as well as in Books
xiii.-xxiv., and helps to unite these two parts of the Odyssey.
While these tokens of the gods' will are manifesting themselves,
the suitors are filling the measure of their wrong-doing by their
fresh plot against the life of Telemachus, by their contumely
towards the disguised Odysseus, in defiance of the protection
which Zeus accords to strangers and beggars, and in strong
contrast to the behaviour of Eumseus; while the universal
misery and hatred which the wooers have excited is revealed in
one marvellous flash, when at the dawn of the day of Odysseus'
vengeance the woman at the mill prays to Zeus, " Fulfil now,
I pray thee, even to miserable me, the word that I shall speak.
.... They that have loosened my knees with cruel toil to
grind their barley-meal, may they now sup their last." The
crescendo of the wooers' crimes is common to the Telemachia
and Books xiii.-xxiv.
The excitement of the plot is heightened by the fact that on
the very day Odysseus enters his house in disguise, Penelope,
having, in defiance of public opinion, refused for so long to wed,
has, with infinite grief, resolved to make an end of her resistance
to the suitors. Her husband had charged her to wait, if he did
not return, no longer than till their son was a grown man :
that time had come, and regard for her son's future prompted
her to a decision. Thus she resolves on the trial of the bow :
EPIC POP:TRY : THE ODYSSEY. 23
and on that day Odysseus arrives. The situation is dramatic ;
but it is said by some critics that there are indications in the
poem itself that this is not the tale as it was told in the original
Odyssey. In the last book the ghost of Amphimedon ascribes
the trial of the bow to the ingenuity of Odysseus, who suggested
it to his wife in order to bring about the wooers' destruction.
This, we are told, proves that, originally, Penelope was not
about to succumb to the twenty years of weary waiting and
hope deferred that she had suffered. The disguised Odysseus
suggested, and she accepted it, as a means of further delay, since
it was certain that none of the wooers could succeed in the trial.
Thus there was originally no situation : things were going on
much as usual, and there was no particular need for Odysseus
to arrive at this time rather than any other. Consequently our
admiration of the unity of the Odyssey is, at least as regards
this point, misplaced, because here we have not unity, but dis-
crepancy of design.
It does not, however, seem necessary to accept this conclusion.
That Amphimedon, knowing nothing of the facts, should ascribe
the conjunction of events which brought about the slaughter
to the cunning of Odysseus is natural, and is consistent with
the repeated tributes to the hero's cleverness which occur
throughout the poem. To press the words further is unsafe,
and we are not much encouraged to draw from them conclu-
sions about the original form of the Odyssey, when we find
that the passage in which they occur the second ^S'eknia is
regarded by the same critics as having been introduced long
after the original form of the. Odyssey had been lost.
The unity of design in the later books of the Odyssey has also
been attacked on other grounds. Athene, having transformed
and re-transformed Odysseus, again gives him the appearance of
a beggar, and in that disguise he goes to his home : is ill-treated
by. and kills, the suitors. Then, without being changed hack
into his proper shape, he is recognised by .Penelope. This fact
that. Odysseus is not mentioned as being changed again int<> his
real shape is taken to show that originally there was no trans-
forming of Odysseus at all. In the original Odyssey, the h'To,
aged and altered by years and sufl'ering, was naturallv pr<>teeied
from immediate recognition. \\\\[ a later and more ' reflective "
a^'e found a supernatural transformation necessary to aec"Uiit
for the non-recognition of Odysseus by his ~,,\\, -\vife. and
servants : and sn the original tale was patched with this view.
P>ut fortunately the minimi conception is still to be seen by
seen;_r eves. If Odvsselis had oriu'inaiiv and leaiiv been tlali>-
24 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
formed, then of course the scar on his leg would have been
transformed too. But the scar on his leg was not transformed ;
he shows it to his father, to Eumaeus, and to the neatherd, and
Eurycleia discovered him by it ; therefore Odysseus was not
transformed in the original Odyssey. Consequently, instead of
unity, we have again discrepancy of design ; for these scenes are
a patchwork combination of the work of two very different
ages.
As these arguments have been put forward gravely, they
must receive a grave answer ; and we may say, first, that before
Odysseus is recognised by Penelope, he is, as a matter of fact,
re-transformed (xxiii. 156-163) by Athene. She does not,
indeed, use her wand as she does in first transforming him, but
to the gods all things are possible. Secondly, in all countries
and literature, the supernatural and marvellous precede the
employment of purely natural causes. Fairy tales come early,
not late, in a nation's growth ; so that if two versions of the
story did exist, we should be justified in concluding that the
version which contained a magic change was earlier than that
which relied solely on the changes brought about by the natural
operation of age and suffering. Thirdly, the subject of trans-
formation is a difficult and obscure one. IT one story the
change seems to leave untouched at least the psychological
identity of the person transformed ; whereas in another a very
simple measure of transformation is enough to cause the person
concerned to ask, "Can this be IT' The limits within which
are confined the changes wrought by transformation seem to be
shifting, and to be so elastic that, if Homer cays or implies that
Odysseus was indeed transformed, but the transformation did
not take effect upon his legs or the scars upon his legs, we may
fortify ourselves by the analogy of the prince in the Arabian
Nights (who conversely had his legs changed into black marble,
but not the rest of his body), and take Homer's word for it.
Without here entering upon the question as to whether
we have the " original " Odyssey or not, and, if not, how the
changes that have been made icere made, we may at least con-
clude that the traces of such chances are not considerable enough
to aii'cct the admiration which critics, from Aristotle onwards,
have felt and expressed for the unity and dramatic interest of
the Odyssey. It is better to profit by the beauty of the poem
as we have it, than to bestow our admiration upon the Odyssey,
'original " it may be, as constructed by .some modern critics.
Eric POETRY: THE HOMERIC QUESTION, 25
CHAPTER IIL
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
IN very early times there seems to have been a " Homeric
question," though it has very little in common with the Homeric
question of modern times. From an early period any epic
which pleased the popular fancy appears to have been ascribed
to Homer, as any law at Athens which had anything to recom-
mend it was ascribed by the orators to Solon. But in the
course of time, and on grounds which, like the epics themselves,
are lost to us, one epic after another was abjudicated from
Homer, and the Iliad and Odyssey were the only epics of
which Homer was allowed to be the author. But the process
of separation did not stop here. Photius, a Patriarch of Con-
stantinople, who died A.D. 891, quotes from a late writer named
Proclus a statement to the effect that Xenon and Hellanicus
denied that the Odyssey was by Homer. Of Xenon AVC know
nothing (he is mentioned in one of the Scholia Greek com-
mentaries of various dates to the Iliad, and that is all) :
Hellanicus was senior to the famous Alexandrian grammarian
and Homeric critic, Aristarchus, whose date is about B.C. 222-
150. The upholders of the view that the Iliad and the
Odyssey were by different authors Avere called the Chorizn-nb'.i
or Separatists, and were combated by Aristarchus. In antiquity
the theory was considered a paradox; and in modern times the
question whether the two poems are by the same author has
yielded to the question whether either poem is by a single
author.
The arguments on which the ancient separatists proceeded
were partly linguistic and partly mythological, so far as can he
learnt from the scattered notices to be found in ancient Greek
commentaries on the Iliad. As an example of their linguistic
arguments, we may take that based on the use of the word
proparoithen, "before." This word may be used, like the
English "before," either of things in space or of things in time,
and probably was iirst used of space, and subsequently extended
to time. In the Iliad, the Chori/oiites said, the word is used
of space; in the ( 'dyssey, of time. (>l>vun;>ly, therefore, lan-
guage, had undergone some development between th
the Iliad and the Odys-ey were written. lint, as
fact, the word is used of time in the Iliad a- ofu
f th
26 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
drawn from mythology is the fact that in the Iliad Charis is
the -wife of Hephaestus ; in the Odyssey, Aphrodite. This is
undeniable; but in the " fluid" state in which mythology was
in early times, the fact does not go for much. A stronger argu-
ment is that in the Iliad there is one Charis, in the Odyssey
there are several Charites. which may indicate that the legend
had undergone development, and thus point to a later origin for
the Odyssey. Another mythological argument used by the
ancient Chorizontes is that in the Iliad Iris appears as the
messenger of the gods ; in the Odyssey, Hermes. But the facts
do not wholly bear out this argument; for although in the
Iliad Iris is frequently the messenger, Hermes also acts on one
important occasion in this capacity ; while in the Odyssey,
though Hermes appears once as messenger, the functions of Iris
had certainly not died out of memory, as is shown by the jest
of calling a beggar who ran messages Irus. 1
In modern times the arguments of the ancient Chorizontes
have been taken up for the purpose of showing that whether
each poem is by one, and only one, author or not at any rate
the Odyssey belongs to a later period than the Iliad. JS T o one
professes to assign much weight to the arguments used, though
the conclusion is pretty generally accepted. That there are
differences between the two poems is undisputed. The question
is whether the differences are greater than the difference in
subject naturally involves. "Minstrels" are frequently men-
tioned in the Odyssey, but are unknown in the Iliad. But
minstrels were apparently the appanages of a court, not of a
camp. In the Iliad the gods are much more violently opposed
to each other than in the Odyssey, which shows a progress in
religious sentiment. But the strife in Olympus gives majesty
to the mortal conflicts of the Iliad, whereas in the Odyssey
there is no such commotion on earth as to rouse war in heaven.
Again, it is said that the Odyssey, dealing with the return from
Troy, presupposes, and is therefore later than, the Iliad. The
subject of the one certainly presupposes the other. But there
is no reference in the Odyssey to the Iliad. The current
mythology doubtless embraced the tales of the Trojan war and
of the return of the Greeks before either Odyssey or Iliad was
composed ; and this is all that either presupposes. The Odyssey,
again, is supposed to show development of legend ; but the fluid
state of myths and legends makes it quite possible that variants,
or even different stages, of a legend's growth continued to exist
side by side. Arguments have been drawn also from the differ-
1 See Decides, PrMtm of the Homeric Poems, 52-60.
EPIC POETRY: THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 27
enco in the vocabulary of the two poems, but little weight is
usually given to them. Finally, geographical knowledge in the
Odyssey is said to be wider, and consequently later, than that in
the Iliad. But the Odyssey gives greater scope for the display
of such knowledge ; and the question is further complicated by
the fact that passages which are quoted by the one side are
rejected as interpolations by the other.
But the ancient doubts whether both the Odyssey and Iliad
were by Homer have sunk into insignificance by the side of the
modern doubts whether either the Iliad or the Odyssey is by
Homer whether there was ever such a person as Homer
whether either poem is by one author whether the poems are
not the fortuitous aggregate of unconnected ballads -whether
they are of any antiquity at all. These difficulties, which con-
stitute the modern Homeric question, were first definitely
raised at the end of last century, and to "Wolf is justly due the
honour of having raised them. 1 Friedrich August Wolf was
a professor in Halle, and being engaged on an edition of the
Iliad, in his endeavours to gain a safe standing-ground from
which to criticise various readings and to emend faulty readings,
he was led to inquire of himself by what means the text of
Homer had come down to us, and particularly how it had been
transmitted in the earliest times. He found that not only, on
the current view of the great antiquity of Homer, was it ex-
tremely difficult to account for the transmission of so extensive
a text, but that the current view itself was based, as he supposed,
on two impossibilities. First, it implies the existence of writing
in Homer's time ; next, it implies the absence of any diil'erence
between the state of nature existing in Homer's time and the
artificial condition of later Greek civilisation.
In both these difficulties, which Wolf stated in his famous
Prolegomena to Homer (1795)5 we see the influence of the
general current of thought of the eighteenth century. " Xature"
had been brought into very sharp contrast with the artificial
complexity of modern civilisation by Rousseau, and the same
contrast was sought for in the literature of early and " natural"
times as compared with the productions of an advanced society.
1 Heforo "\Volf learned men had had transient doubts, e.fi. Casaubun.
and 1'erizonius, whether the poems wtre originally committed to wiitiiifj;
Hentley, whether Homer intended the poems to be recited as wholes; an
Italian scholar, Vico, had denied the existence of Homer; Wood (AV.*///
on the Oriiiiinil GotiiiK (tin! Writhi/ix of H-ni'icr, 17^0) had raise.! the ques-
tion of the antiquity of writing; Zoega (1788) had called attention to incon-
sistencies in the poems ; and Herder and lleyne contributed to the compara-
tive study of ballads and epics. Hut all tiie-e taken together do not impair
the originality and magnitude of Wolf's achievement.
28 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Works belonging to primitive times must, like the ballads of
our own early literature, be short, simple, inartificial in fine,
natural. With the advance of society literary compositions
became longer and more complex, and as the resources of art
accumulated, works of art became more artificial. In the
Nibelungcnlied was found a parallel to Greek epics : the Nibe-
lunfienlied was demonstrated to have been made out of ballads,
and the analogy was applied to the Homeric poems. With these
views on the history of literature, there could be no hesitation
in concluding that the Iliad and the Odyssey, in their present
form, belong to the later and more complex period of literary
development. Parts of each poem may belong to the simpler
and earlier period, but they have evidently been overlaid by
the work of the more artificial period.
The other difficulty which Wolf found in the way of the
popular belief in the great antiquity of the poems as we have
them, resulted from applying to the origin of the Homeric
poems a question which was being put, with equally important
results, in philosophy with regard to knowledge, viz., how is it
possible ? What are the conditions necessarily involved in the
supposition that the poems existed in times of great antiquity?
and did these conditions, as a matter of fact, exist ? In the first
place, the transmission of the poems for many centuries implies
the existence of writing. But before, say, B.C. 700, writing did
not exist in Greece. Either, then, the current view is wrong
in attributing to the poems a greater antiquity than B.C. 700 ;
or, if the poems did exist before that date, they must have been
short and simple enough to be committed to memory and trans-
mitted orally. And the latter hypothesis agrees with the view
that the poems of early and natural times were simple and short.
But inasmuch as the evidence as to the date of the introduc-
tion of writing into Greece is scanty, Wolf brings forth another
condition which is indispensable for the composition of such
extensive works as the Iliad and the Odyssey, and could not
have existed in the time of Homer. An artist must have a
puUic. A poet writes to be published. Now, whatever the
date at which writing was introduced into Greece, the habit of
reading was not established until very late times. Homer, that
is to say, composed to be recited and heard, not to be read.
But no audience could sit through a reading of the Iliad or the
Odyssey, each consisting of twenty-four books and over 9000
verses. Therefore, to the impossibility of carrying so long a
work in the. memory has to be added the impossibility of ever
finding an audience for so long a poem. But if there was no
EPIC POETRY: THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 29
audience to be had for such a work, it is pretty certain that no
such work would be composed. The length of a poem in those
times must have depended on the conditions under which it
Avas to be recited, and those conditions admitted of the recita-
tion of short poems only. Indeed, we know, as a matter of fact,
that in historic times, when Homer was recited at festivals, it
was not the whole Iliad or the whole Odyssey that was given,
but only short portions of them called rhapsodies.
We may, then, sum up Wolf's objections to the common view
of the great antiquity of Homer thus : in their present condition
the poems are not of the short and simple character which is
the mark of early and natural literature, and they are too long
to have been transmitted by memory or to have ever even found
an audience. The conclusion he drew was that Homer whose
existence and genius he did not dispute living in primitive
times, before writing was in common use, and before the exist-
ence of a reading public, could not have composed the whole,
but only parts, of the Iliad and Odyssey as we have them.
The rest consists of additions made by various subsequent poets
and professional reciters or rhapsodists. "Which parts were by
Homer and which by later hands, Wolf made no attempt to dis-
cover, although he lived for many years after framing his theory
and publishing his Prolegomena.
There remains a third point to be noticed in Wolf's theory.
If Homer did not commit his poems to writing, and if the pre-
sent form of the Iliad and Odyssey is not due to Homer, by
whom were the poems committed to writing, and to whom is
their present form due? Wolf foresaw this difiiculty and pro-
vided an answer. 1'isistratus, the famous tyrant of Athens,
first caused the, poems to lie committed to writing. lie al.-o
united the poems, composed )>y dilleivnt hands and recited indi-
vidually, into the two great wlmles now known as the Iliad and
Odyssey. And this he did by means of a Commission of four
(i 1 Maskeuasts,'' whose name-, according to Wolf, were Onoma-
critus, ( irpheus of C'roton, Simonides, and Anacreon. The evi-
dence for these statements \Yolf for.nd in passages from Cicero, 1
1'ausanias- (an antiquarian who flourished about; A. n. loo),
^Kliair ; (whose date is about A.n. 180). a Life of Homer 1 (author
unknown, date late), and a grammarian, Diomedes 5 (Very late).
Although these writers disagree as to the reason whv L'isistratus
3O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
caused the poems to be edited into their present shape some
say it was because previously they had never been committed
to writing, and that Pisistratus gave an obol for every line any
one could provide ; others, because the poems had suffered from
fire?, earthquakes, and floods, and were therefore much scattered 1
still they all maintain the present form to be due to Pisistra-
tus ; and so closely does their language in this respect agree,
that it seems probable they either copied from each other or
from some common source. Since Wolf's time, on the strength
of a passage in Tzetzes (a Eyzantian grammarian, date about
A.D. 1160), the names of the four Diaskeuasts have been given
as Onomacritus, Orpheus, Zopyrus, and Epikonkylos (the last
name is conjectural). But inasmuch as Tzetzes is separated by
an interval of 1700 years from the time he was writing about,
and is an inaccurate writer, we may dismiss him.
We have now to consider the worth of Wolfs authorities for
the Commission of Pisistratus. In the first place, they are none
of them sufficiently near in point of time to the period of Pisis-
tratus to carry any great weight. Cicero, the earliest of them,
lived 500 years after Pisistratus. How comes it that during
those 500 years no author makes mention of so important a
fact in literary history 1 Aristotle, who made extensive inves-
tigations into the history of literature, knows nothing of this
Commission, or of any other form of Homer than that we pos-
sess. The Alexandrine critics of this period, Avho worked so
much on Homer, know nothing of it. Xo allusion to it is to
be found in Plato, none in the orators, who had various occa-
sions in their speeches when they would gladly have claimed
for Athens the distinction of such an important literary achieve-
ment had they known of it. It seems improbable that such a
valuable piece of information should have escaped so many
eager ami competent students for half a millennium and then
have been discovered by Cicero. A more reasonable explana-
1 Tliis must be placed to the credit of Diomedes, the grammarian. Ha
too says thnt Pisistratus invited everybody \\lio knew any Homer to contri-
bute tlieir information, and paid them so much a verse. The result was
that some spurious verses tiie woik of those, we may conjecture, " qui linea
denaria scrihebant " were sent in, and they are now marked by an obelisk.
Diomedes then -proceeds to uet confused apparently between the revision by
Pisistratus and tiie Septnagint, for he says that Pisistratus formed a com-
mittee of seventy-two revisers (each paid an honorarium worthy of learned
critics), who set to work separately on the material thus provided them, and
then compared tlieir results, and came to the conclusion that the best version
was that product d by Ai istarehus, tiie next best that of Zcnodotus (Aristar-
chus and Zrnodotus lived about -joo years after Pisistratus), This is inter-
esting as a specimen of the worth of 1>\ zantine learning.
EPIC POETRY: THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 31
tion is that it was unknown to them, because it was only
invented after their time. 1
The common source of all these stories seems to be an inscrip-
tion quoted in an anonymous Life of Homer, and there said to
have been taken from a statue of Pisistratus. The question
then arises whether the inscription was taken from the statue
of Pisistratus ? In the first place, the Athenians' hatred of the
PisistratidsB makes it unlikely that any such statue was erected
in memory of Pisistratus ; and, in the next place, the words of
the inscription are remarkable. " Thrice tyrant, thrice the
populace of Athens expelled me, thrice recalled me, the great
Pisistratus, who collected Homer, erewhile sung scatteredly,"
&c. It is improbable that, in an inscription intended to do
honour to Pisistratus, his military achievements and his services
to religion should be entirely omitted, while his repeated ex-
pulsions from Athens important facts in his life, but not those
which his heirs, wishing to remain tyrants of Athens, would
care to have remembered are dwelt upon. And what is the
great achievement which, according to the inscription, outweighs
all else that Pisistratus did, and is to constitute his political
rehabilitation? A reform of the text of Homer. Assuming
that this reform was the work of Pisistratus, we certainly never
find it mentioned by any historian, orator, or other writer before
Alexandrine times, either as an extenuatirg circumstance in
Pisistratus' tyranny or in any other way. On the other hand,
we know that the royal patronage extended in Alexandrine
times by the Ptolemies to learning produced a reaction in
favour of discerning tyrants, and that the composition of epi-
grams was a favourite exercise amongst the literary men of
Alexandria. A service then to literature was precisely the one
fact which an Alexandrine writer would regard as worth record-
ing in an epigram on Pisistratus.
This is one suggestion as to the origin of the epigram and
tin.' stories based upon it. It seems, however, more plausible
to trace the epigram to the rivalry which existed between the
two great schools of learning, Alexandria and Pergamum. Cicero,
in whom the story, as far as we can trace it, iirst appears, had
but little acquaintance with Alexandrian learning. On the
other hand, his education in Rhodes brought him under the
1 The same lino of argument may 1>^ applied to the statement that On<>ma-
critus was one of the nn-mliers of the ( 'ominission. If in- was, how is it that,
Herodotus (vii. M, \vho knows th;it < >noin:ieritus "revised" many oracles in
the interest of Pisistratus, and was i-\|>rlied froiii Athens i.y II ipi'.irchus for
a le>s HIT. ]>tah!e revision of Mu>;< us' oracles, has nothing t say of his ver-
sion of Homer?
3 2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
influence of the Pergamum school. In Rhodes, Cicero was a
pupil of Posidpnius, who was a pupil of Panoetius, who again
was one of the followers of Crates of Mallos, the founder of the
Pergamum school. Thus Cicero's statement about Pisistratus
seems to go hack ultimately rather to Pergamum than Alexan-
dria, and the circumstances which there gave rise to the story
seem to have consisted in the desire to depreciate Alexandria
and its royal patrons, by showing that there was nothing so very
remarkable in learning receiving royal patronage. Even so long
ago as the time of Pisistratus tyrants interested themselves in
literature. Be this as it may, the epigram, in whatever spirit
composed, betrays its late date by the fact that, whereas Pisis-
tratus was expelled twice, it says he was expelled three times.
Thus the authorities on which Wolf relied for proving that
the present shape of the Homeric poems is due to Pisistratus
seem to have their source in an epigram, which, whatever the
motives for composing it, is certainly untrustworthy. Further,
the epigram itself gives no countenance to the inference which
Cicero and other later writers have drawn from it, viz., that
Pisistratus caused a recension of Homer to be made. The epi-
gram says that before Pisistratus Homer was " sung scattercdly."
Now we know on good authority that of the orators Isocrates,
B.C. 436-338, and Lycurgus, B.C. 395-329 that the singing
of the rhapsodies at the great Athenian festival was regulated
by law ; but who introduced the law does not seem to have been
known. In Alexandrian times it certainly was a matter of
conjecture who introduced the law; and it is a. reasonable in-
ference that in the epigram of which we are speaking we have
nothing more than the author's conjecture, stated positively,
that the law was due to Pisistratus.
For thirty years or more nothing was done to carry out the
views which Wolf had expressed in his Prolegomena ; and yet,
as we have pointed out, although Wolf demonstrated the diffi-
culties in the way of the traditional view of Homer, he con-
tributed nothing himself towards pointing out what in the
poems was Homer's work and what was not. When at last,
after more than thirty years. Hermann took up the question,
although he came forward with a criterion by which to
distinguish the original parts of the poems from subsequent
accretions, he never fully carried out the process of applying
his criterion. J!ut more important is it to notice, the nature of
iiis criterion, and the change of view which it involves. For
the purpose of distinguishing between what is Homer and what
is later than Homer in the poems, inconsistencies and discre-
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 3 3
paucies are important. l)ut no solution of this part of the
Homeric question can be satisfactory which explains only the
inconsistencies. The general consistency of the poems is an
equally important factor in the problem, and a satisfactory
solution must account for the consistency as well as the incon-
sistencies. The natural reaction from the "Woliian theory took
the direction of insisting on the importance of the second
factor, and it is in the explanation of this factor that the
importance of Hermann's work lies. According to Wolf, the
unity of the poems was, as it were, mechanically superinduced
by the Commission of 1'isistratus. According to Hermann, if
the poems in their present shape possess unity, it is because the
original kernel possessed unity. Homer sang of the wrath of
Achilles and the return of Odysseus in two poems, short enough
to be carried in the memory and transmitted orally, and these
poems contained in outJine the essential structure of our Iliad
and Odyssey. In the process of time later poets inserted
various compositions of their own, expanding incidents in the
original work, and interpolating, so far as the original permitted,
other incidents, and made the expansions and interpolations fit
in with more or less neatness. Thus H-Tinaim provided a solu-
tion capable of accounting for both the general unity and the
particular discrepancies, though he did not or could not work it
out so as to recover the original poems. It should also be noticed
that on Hermann's theory Homer is not regard' d as a rude and
primitive bard, but as possessing architectonic genius.
The next attempt to solve the Homeric problem on the lines
laid out by Wolf \va- that of Laehmann. Starting on the assump-
tion that in primitive times only short lays were possible, he
tir>L attacked the .\Y/<>/////y> tttil. and dissected it into twenty
lays. He then in the same way dissected the Iliad into eighteen
lays. The principle upon which he proceeds is thai primitive
poets anxiously avoid the leas; inconsistency in details ; thu-,
if we iind an incon.-i.-teiicy between any two parts of the Iliad,
we may conclude that, these parts belong to diti'erent lay-.
Tin? lay has no inconsistencies within itself. Thus Laehmann
proceeded considerably farther than "\Yolf; for "Wolf allowed
Homer some share in the composition of the Iliad and the
Ody.-sey. while Laehmann disintegrated the Iliad into lays
which were composed i[i;ite independently of each other, and
became more or less fortuitously agglomerated together in
course of time, and were finally worked into the Iliad as we
have it by Onoimieritus, actin<_: for 1'isistratus,
Witli regard t<> I.achmann's theory, it should be noticed that
c
34 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
auy support it may have once derived from the dissection of the
Nibdungerdied is much weakened now, since there is consider-
able reason to believe that that poem is the work of one author,
and not an aggregate of lays. In the next place, analogies drawn
from the literatures of other countries have to be used with cir-
cumspection. The origin of the Mahdbhdrata is disputed. The
French chantons are not epics ; and the literary genius of Greece
is hardly to be measured by restrictions drawn from the analogy
of a Finnish epic the Kale>/-ala. Setting aside these presump-
tions based on analogies, we have to examine Lachmann's theory
in itself. In the first place, we may use the argumentum ad
hominem. If Lachmann regards an inconsistency as proof of
divided authorship, why does he not subdivide those of his
lays which contain inconsistencies in themselves ? His principle
rigorously carried out would necessitate the supposition of a
larger number of lays than that which he has resolved the Iliad
into. And this is one fundamental weakness of the theory
it lacks any vestige of proof. The same principle applied by
another hand would discover a different set of lays, and have as
much claim to represent the primitive elements of the Iliad as
the eighteen lays Lachmann has produced. In other words, of
the two things which require explaining in the Homeric poems
their unity and their inconsistencies Lachmann overlooks one
the unity and only offers for the other an explanation wholly
incapable of proof, and not even consistently carried out by
himself. 1 Thus his theory distinctly falls behind the advance
which Hermann had made towards the solution of the problem.
Hermann recognised the double aspect of the question, and
put forward a theory which at least endeavoured to meet both
points. Lachmann sought a one-sided solution, and in framing
a hypothesis to account for all the inconsistencies, he lost sight
of the other factor in the problem, or imagined that Onoma-
critus and Pisistratus were capable of accounting fur what unity
the Iliad possesses.
But we have already seen that there is no historical proof of
the existence of the Commission of Pisistratus, and we may
now ask whether the supposition of such a Commission is
capable of accounting for the unity of the Iliad. In the first
place, inasmuch as " diaskcuasts ;! have been credited with
much activity in the .shaping of the Homeric poems, it is well
1 Another serious difficulty in the way of his theory is that of understand-
hit; how ci^lirei ii different poets, working independently and in ignorance
of each other's wutk, should all happen to choose for their sulijeet some
incident relating to the few days of Achilles' ahsence from the war.
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 3 5
to understand who diaskeuasts were. They were not a class of
men united or distinguished by the possession of any special
experience or innate powers of working up given material into
epic shape. If a playwright touched up or re-wrote a play
of his own, already performed, with a view to producing it a
second time, he was said to dictskeuazein or revise his play.
lint, more than this, any man who made a correction in a
manuscript was a diaskeuast; and if the "correction" was
wrong, he was none the less a diaskeuast. So to say that the
shaping of the Iliad was the work of diaskeuasts may be true,
but it does not help us much, for any man could be a dias-
keuast, but not every man could make an Iliad out of given
material. On Lachmann's theory, indeed, it would require an
artist of consummate skill to give to eighteen wholly inde-
pendent lays the amount of consistency and unity which the
Iliad possesses. Thus the mechanical device of a Commission is
inadequate to the purpose. "What is required is a poet of no
mean rank, and Lachmann gives us, with no satisfactory proof,
Onomacritus, who spent his life on Orphic poetry, and would
have worked up his material in accordance with his training in
Orphic poetry, whereas no Orphic elements are to be traced in
our Iliad.
We may further ask what object could Pisistratus have had
in amalgamating separate lays into one whole ? It could not
have been in the interests of literature, for, according to Lach-
mann, the separate lays arc more beautiful than our Iliad.
And further, if this was the case, how did Pisistratus contrive
to supplant the older, better known, and more beautiful lays
by his novel amalgamation? His authority extended only to
Athens, but all Clreece accepted the Iliad as we have it. If we
waive this difficulty, the question .-till remain.- what was the
object of tin 1 amalgamation, since it was not to benefit literature ?
Pisistratus, we have seen, was apparently believed by some to
have regulated the text for purposes of recitati-u ; but the
short lays which Lachmann supposes to have exi>ted would
be much better adapted for recitation than our Iliad, and to
amalgamate these lays into a lengthy whole would not render
their recitation the easier.
"\Ve next come to the views put forward by the groat his-
torian of (ireeoe, (_iroU>. The question -\viikh Wolf had sug-
gested, but had not attempted to >olv<>, viz., what is Homer's
work, and what is not, in the Iliad and Odyssey, (I rote took up
and answered. P>ut in other respects he is not a follower of
Wolf. The assumption, univer.-ally accepted hi.-t century, that
36 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
primitive poems or lays must be short, Grote did not accept.
He quotes from Chodsko's Popular Poetry of Persia the fact
that " one of the songs of the Calmuck national bards sometimes
lasts a whole day ; " and refers to the fact, which had been pre-
viously used by Lachmunn, that the old German poem Parsifal
contains 24,810 verses, and was the work of a man, Eschenbach,
who could neither read nor write. Thus the composition of the
Iliad or the Odyssey before writing was known in Greece has
nothing impossible in it. Nor has the oral transmission of the
poems ; the songs of the Icelandic Skalds were thus trans-
mitted for more than two centuries ; and we may add that the
Vedas were transmitted in this way for a much longer period.
In modern Greece blind singers carry in their memory large
quantities of verse which they recite at village feasts. Fur-
ther, if Homer was, as the oldest traditions relate, blind, writ-
ing, even if known in his time, would have been of no use
to him. In anticipation of the objection that the power of
memory might not be so great among the Greeks as among
other nations, Grote refers to the fact that in Socrates' time,
as Ave learn from Xenophon, there were many Athenians
who were taught to learn both the Iliad and the Odyssey by
heart, and the rhapsodists professionally repeated the poems
from memory.
Having thus cleared the ground, and shown that there is no
impossibility in composing and transmitting poems of the length
of our Iliad and Odyssey by means of memory alone, Grote
proceeds to investigate the question of the original unity of
these epics on critical grounds, and he begins with the Odyssey.
The question at issue is, as he says, whether the gaps and in-
consistencies which constitute the proofs " of mere unprepared
coalescence " preponderate "over the other proofs of designed
adaptation scattered throughout the whole poem 1 " The con-
clusion h<; roaches is, "The poem as it now stands exhibits
unequivocally adaptation of parts and continuity of structure,
whether by one or several consentient hands. It may, perhaps,
1)0 a secondary formation out of a pre-existing Odyssey of
smaller dimensions ; but if so, the parts of the smaller Avhole
must have been so far recast as to make them suitable members
cf the larger, and are noway recognisable by us." Further,
" Its authors cannot have been more compilers of pre-existing
materials, such as Pisistratus and his friends; they must have
been ]>( lets, competent to work such matter as they found into
a new jind enlarged design of their own."
The Odyssey, thon, is itself a proof of the falsity of the assump-
EPIC POETRY: THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 37
tion that " long continuous epics with an artistical structure-
are inconsistent with the capacities of a rude and non-writing
age," for in the Odyssey " the integration of the whole and the
composition of the parts must have been simultaneous." Grote
then applies the same critical method to the Iliad. Here he
finds that the original scheme of the Iliad, viz., to relate
the wrath of Achillas and its consequences does not com-
prehend the whole poem. Those books which carry out the
original scheme hang together by themselves. Those books
(ii. to vii.) which do not relate to the original scheme
hang on the whole fairly well together, but present dis-
crepancies with the first set. The portion of the Iliad which
lias direct relation to the original scheme, as expounded in
the opening lines of the First Book, Grote called an Achilleis.
The other books "are of a wider and more comprehensive
character, and convert the poem from an Achilleis into an
Iliad." They give us, not any information about the wrath
of Achilles, but a picture of the war against Ilium. They
have been worked into a certain conformity with the Achilleis,
and " they belong to the same generation and state of society
as the primitive Achilleis." Finally, Grote thinks that the
Odyssey and Iliad belong to the same age, hut are not by
the same author ; that the Odyssey is probably by a single
author, the Iliad probably not.
We may now see how far Grote has laid the difficulties raised
by Wolf. The assumption that primitive poems must be short
seems to break down under the attack made upon it by Grote
and others. As for analogies drawn from other literatures, even
wore the fact of a ballad origin for epics established, Homer's
spiritual and intellectual superiority over the halladists makes
comparison unsafe. Hut the other diiliculty raised by Wolf,
vi/.. , as to the possibility of the composition of such poems as
our Iliad and Odyssey in times when writing was unknown,
is not answered by Grote. Everything Grote, says about the
possibility of composing and transmitting long poems by means
of the memory alone may be admitted, and must always be
taken into account in any solution of the Homeric <[ue,-tion ;
but Homer composed, as Grole admit
ih ore was none bul for recitation
although the Athenians in later time
day listening to the performance of
Ritiicc for the. recitation of the Il
though the bare possibility of comp
38 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the non-existence of a reading public leaves the difficulty raised
by Wolf unsolved.
But this failure to shake "Wolf's niain position, so far from
weakening G rote's theory of the Iliad, rather strengthens it.
If Wolf was right in denying the possibility of composing long
poems in very early times, then Crete's Achilleis is a step in the
right direction ; and as a solution of the problem how the Iliad
as we have it arose, it is superior to Lachmann's lays. Grote's
theory does what Lachmann's failed to do it explains the
general consistency of the poem. But unless there is some
external necessity compelling us to suppose that originally the
Iliad must have been shorter than it now is, Grote's theory is
open to the objection which may be alleged against all attempts
to extract the original from the present Iliad it is subjec-
tive. The weight assigned to discrepancies or to proofs of design
will always depend on the critic : there is no external standard
whereby to ascertain their real weight, and consequently no hope
of settling the question.
Since Grote, the most important "variety" of the Wolfian
theory that has arisen is the view of Professor Paley. With
Wolf, but more strongly than Wolf, he insists on the late date
of writing, and on the still later date at which a reading public
came into existence. But, unlike the Wolfians, he insists on the
unity of the Iliad. Thus he reaches the conclusion that the
Iliad is posterior to the growth of a reading public, and the
latter he correctly dates, on various grounds, as extending from
about B.C. 430 on. He does not seem to believe in an original
nucleus aruund which other stories kept collecting, or in a
theory of interpolations. The Iliad is not the fortuitous work
of time, nor the deliberate work of successive generations, but
the design and execution of a single mind working on ancient
material. The Iliad, he says, may ' be aptly compared to a
stained-glass window composed from a quantity of old materials,
more or less detached and of different dates, but rearranged
and lilled in with modern glazier's work, so as to form a har-
monious whole, by some cunning artist who had an eye for
unity of design, harmony of colour, and a general antique
eil'i-et." The pro"fs of this; theory are to be found in the non-
existence of a reading public before B. " Homer " do indeed occur; but Homer was a name used
to cover nearly am thinu' written in hexameters. Professor Paley 's point is
that references to our Homer are not found.
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 39
display of acquaintance with Homer in Plato and later authors ;
and, finally, in the language of Homer, which shows, both in
grammar and vocabulary, a thorough mixture of old and new,
of genuine and spurious archaisms, which seem to imply that
the dialect was not a living or spoken, but a conventional one.
The argument based by Mr. Paley on the evidence of works
of art is one for specialists to discuss, and it is enough here to
say that it is a question on which specialists disagree. The
same may be said of the argument based on the evidence of
language. But we may add that the words, formations, gram-
matical usages, and the omissions of the digamma which Mr.
Paley cites to show the late character of our Homer, have been
paralleled by Dr. Hayman (in his edition of the Odyssey) in
the olilest Greek literature that we possess; while Mr. Monro
has pointed out (in his article on Homer in the Kncyclupvedia
Jlrit'tniiii-a} the leading features which stamp the dialect of
HOIIKT as the oldest form of the Greek language that we possess.
The faet that Pindar and the Tragedians seem to have preferred
to draw on the Cyclic Poets instead of on Homer for subjects,
does not compel us to infer that our Homer was unknown to
them. There are two good reasons to explain the fact. The
first is one pointed out by Aristotle: the plots of the Iliad and
Odyssey are so simple that they only admit of being dramatised
in one or two ways. The second reason is that Pindar and the
Tragedians were too wise to challenge comparison with Homer
on his own ground, and were too artistic to endeavour to "paint
the lily or gild refined gold." Finally, if Homer is, as Mr.
1'aley seems to maintain, a compilation, is the work of a jobber
of ancient literature, is, in fact, a sham literary antique, there
is only one period to which it could be assigned, and that is
the post-classical period. In B.C. 420 nothing of the kind
could become as popular as Homer undoubtedly was, as is
shown by the fact that Antimaclms of Colophon did compose,
an imitation epic, and the (Ireek public refused to be put oil'
with such patchwork, lint our Homer, as Mr. 1'aley admits,
was composed before post-classical times, and we may In; sure
that in classical Greek literature the only period capable of pro-
ducing a irreat epic was tin 4 epic period. Antimachus him-lf
certainly did not compile our Homer, as Mr. Paley suggests,
for we know from Porphyrius that he plagiarised our Homer.
Theiv remains a ditliculty raised by \Yolf against the anti-
quity of Home!' which we have left untouched that of under-
standing how poems ;is long as the Iliad and Odyssey could
have been recited. A single recitation, it is said, would nt
4O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
suffice. This is true ; and the inference is that the poems were
designed to last through several recitations. This simple ex-
planation lias long escaped recognition hecause we are apt to
forget that all classical Greek literature was designed for re-
citation, and that at different times the manner of recitation
differed. In the times when an author's audience consisted of
the whole body of citizens (in the time, e.g., of the drama or of
choral lyric), an audience was only got together at long inter-
vals, and therefore what was put before it had to be finished
at a sitting. But in Homeric times the poet's audience con-
sisted of the household of a chieftain such as Odysseus or of a
king like Alcinous ; and this audience gathered together night
after night. There is, therefore, nothing in the conditions under
which epic poetry was produced to make the recitation of the
Iliad and the Odyssey impossible.
Attempts have frequently been made to show that one part
of the Iliad or of the Odyssey is inconsistent with some other
part, and therefore could not have been composed by the same
author. But, in the first place, it is still more unlikely that an
interpolator, whose first business would be to make his inter-
polation harmonise "with the original, would make these mis-
takes ; and next, there are inconsistencies to be found in
Milton, Shakspere, Dante, Virgil, and novelists of all kinds,
quite as groat as in Homer. A logical inconsistency goes for
little in these questions; and a poetical inconsistency yet
remains to be discovered in Homer. "We can only protest
against the spirit in which some critics approach the greatest of
poets. They examine the Homeric poems as they would a
candidate's dissertation for a degree, and have no hesitation in
rejecting the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey for not know-
ing his Homer.
The question whether the Iliad and the Odyssey are both
the work of a single hand admits of no positive proof. If it
could be demonstrated by internal evidence that they must
belong to different ages, the question would be settled. I'.ut
1bero is nothing in the poems to show that they do not
belong to the same age; and although we cannot say that
(ircecf: was incapable of producing two poets possessing the
marvellous genius required to produce such a poem as the Iliad
<)] tlie Odvs-ey, it seems safer to adhere to the literary tradition,
whi'-h is not on the whole likely to have been mistaken on
Mich a point of capital importance, and which attributes both
tin; Iliad and the < My.-scv to Homer.
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER III.
READIXG, WRITING, AND PUBLICATION IN CLASSICAL GREEK TIMES.
ALL alphabets and syllabaries, ex-
cept the Sanskrit alphabet, seem to
have had their origin in picture-
writing. The idea of communicat-
ing information by rough sketches
of objects occurs sooner or later to
most peoples. The Red Indians
by means of sketches on bark can
or could send simple messages to
each other, as, e.g , the number of
an advancing enemy. In these
messages a man is drawn in much
the same way as schoolboys draw
men on a slate a big circle sur-
mounted by a smaller one and rest-
ing on two more or less perpendi-
cular strokes. If the figure is
represented with a hat, it stands
for a white man ; if not, for a red
man. The .signature and address
are conveyed by sketches of the
creatures which the chiefs have
adopted as totems and taken their
names from- The picture-writing
of the Aztecs, though still sketch-
ing, was capable of expressing more
ideas and more abstract ideas than
that of the Red Indians. This was
the result of the continual use of
picture-writing for the purposes of
governing a large and heterogeneous
empire and for recording its history.
The next stage in the development
is when the sketch comes to be re-
garded not so much as a picture of
the object depicted as the symbol
of the r.ame of the <>bju-t ; and by
the time the signification of the
sketch has become conventionalised,
the sketch has generally ceaat-d to
have any great resemblance to the
natur.il object, and is itself a con-
ventional symbol. This stage is
represented by the 214 ''radicals"
iii ( "uitiese. These characters, which
by themselves, and in composition
with other marks, form the written
symbols of every word in the lan-
guage, are not letters, nor syllables,
but each is a word. The next stage
is reached when the character, hav-
ing long represented merely the
sound of the object's name, comes
to stand for the sound of the first
syllable only. In this stage writing
consists of a collection of symbols
representing the sound of syllables,
that is, a syllabary. This i.s repre-
sented by the cuneiform or arrow-
headed inscriptions, which, like the
Chinese " radicals," are descendants
from sketches. The uniform and
generally rectangular appearance of
cuneiform inscriptions is a marked
instance of the influence exercised
by the nature of the writing material
on the form of the writing itself.
Straight strokes thicker at one end
than at the other are the natural
result of rapid writingwith a pointed
instrument on clay. Using such
writing materials, the Assyrians lol-
lowed the line of least resistance
and eliminated curves. Finally,
the character which at first stood
for the whole word and then for
the first syllable came to stand for
the first letter, and an alphabet was
attained. We have illustrated the
development of the alphabet trom
the writing of various nations, but
in Egyptian all these stages co-e.\i.-;.
Some characters stand for a word,
some for a syllable, and some lor a
letter, thus clearly indicating tin-
origin of alphabets.
From the Ku'vptians the 1'hn-ni-
cians obtained their alphabet, from
the 1'liu-nieiaii-i the (irecks, iY"!ii
the (ifecks the Homans, tVum them
mod' rn Kui'op'-an nations. '1 he
sourer f ru m whieh the various iMvt-k
alphabets were derived i.-, indicated
partly by tradition, fur the Gic< ks
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
attributed the alphabet to Cadmus,
whose name is Semitic (" Kedem,"
Eastern), partly by the form of
the letters themselves and partly
by the names of the letters. When
borrowed, the alphabet necessarily
underwent some changes, since the
Phoenician alphabet contained sym-
bols of sounds not used by the
Greeks (e.g., several sibilants), and
in Greek there were vowel sounds
not known to the Phoenicians. "We
have, however, to do not with the
history of the Greek alphabet, but
its date. The names of the Greek
letters which end in the "emphatic
aleph " (contrast, e.g., beta, the Greek
name for B, with the Hebrew bcth),
show that the alphabet was bor-
rowed from the northern Semites,
those of Tyre and Sidon ; and it
has been argued that the borrowing
must belong to the period of the
Phoenicians' naval and commercial
supremacy over the Mediterranean.
So, too, it lias been argued that the
borrowing by the Italians from the
Greeks must be referred to Graeco-
Italic times, i.e., tlie time when the
Greeks and Italians yet formed one
people, lint in these remote ages
we get out of our chronological
depth, and we have no means of
knowing, at any rate at present,
what "must" have happened or
when. It is better to say that
these data are uncertain in them-
selves and give a general presump-
tion of antiquity to the introduction
of the alphabet, which must, how-
ever, wait upon better established
facts. For these facts we may look
either to ancient Greek authors
themselves or to inscriptions. For
instance, if Homer mentioned writ-
ing, and the date of Homer were
lixed, we should get a date for writ-
ing. As a matter of fact, there is a
well-known passage in the Iliad
(vi. 169) in which it is said tliat
Proitos sent Bellerophon to Lycia,
" :uid gave him tokens of woe,
graving in a golden tablet many
deadly things, and bade him show
these to Antei'i's father, that he
might be slain." But, as we have
seen, there are more ways of sending
a message than by means of an
alphabet ; so the passage is not
conclusive. In the next place, the
passage may have been tampered
with ; and finally, as the date of
Homer is vague, it does not help
us much to date the alphabet.
The difficulties in the way of
utilising Homer to date the alpha-
bet are applicable to all passages
from ancient authors. When we
go farther back than B.C. 500, the
dates assigned to authors become
hard to check ; and there is always
the possibility which may or may
not amount to a probability that
the passage relied on may not be
genuine. With inscriptions, how-
ever, we are on safer grounds : they
do not admit much of interpolation,
and we may rely on their being
now in the shape the action of
time and weather excepted in
which they came from the sculptor's
hands. Forgery is, indeed, possible
even on stone, but much less likely
than in the case of MSS. But in-
scriptions get destroyed, and the
earlier their age the fewer survive.
In the valley of the Kile, indeed,
which has the least destructive
climate in the world, inscriptions
of enormous antiquity do of course
survive, but it is not on the banks
of the Kile that wo can expect to
find Greek inscriptions. And yet
it is there we iind the oldest
inscription in Greek that is yet
known or can be dated.
On the banks of the Kile in
Kubia is the temple of Abu Simbel.
In the temple of Abu Simbel are
huge statues of stone, and on the
legs of the second colossus from the
south are chipped the names, witti-
cisms, and records of travellers of all
ages, in alphabets known and un-
known. The earliest of the Greek
travellers who have thus left their
names are a body of mercenaries.
They seem to have formed part of the
expedition which was led as far as
Elephantine by King Psammatichos
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
43
whether the first monarch of that
name or his successor docs not
appear. 1 From Elephantine they
seem to have set out on a voyage
of discovery up the river, and to
have gone past Kerkis the locality
of which cannot be fixed as far as
the stream allowed, perhaps to the
second cataract. On their return
they put in at Abu Simbel, and on
the left leg of the colossus inscribed
the record of their bold voyage,
llesides the common record, we find
the names of various members of
the detachment inscribed separately
by those who wished at once to
display their ability to write and
to perpetuate to all time their con-
nection with the expedition.
This interesting inscription can
be dated by two methods, which
check each other, and thus give
tolerable, certainty to the result.
In the first place, the letters used,
and their shape, show that the
inscription is older than inscrip-
tions, generieally similar, which
aiv known to belong to about B.C.
540. For instance, in our inscrip-
tion there is no special symbol for
the long of the Creek alphabet,
the onieira. One and the same
symbol has to do duty for the long
und for the short o. Inscriptions
of li.c. 540 have acquired a special
symbol for the omega. As we have
already said, the Greeks, possessing
a more extensive vowel system than
the Phoenicians, had to modify the
alphabet they borrowed ; and the
late origin of the sign for the omega
is betrayed by that letter's position
in the Greek alphabet. As for the
shape of the letters in the Abu
Simbel inscription, the sign for x,
instead of being made with four
strokes, as in the sigma of the B.C.
540 inscriptions and that of the
ordinary Greek alphabet (2), is
made by means of three strokes
only, which is known on other
grounds to be the older form.
Thus the epigraphie evidence makes
the inscription to be some time
older than B.C. 540. The evidence
from the contents of the inscription
places the date between n.C. 620-
600, according as we take the
Psammatichos mentioned to be the
first or the second king of that
name. 3
AVe have, then, got a date for the
existence of writing in Gree-je. In
B.C. 600 the art of writing was so
1 A Hhodian pinax, discovered lately at Naukr.itis, which probably belongs
to the time of 1'sammatichos II., shows epigraphie peculiarities resembling
those of the Abu Simbel inscriptions. See Mr. E. A. Gardner in the Academy,
No. 700.
- This inscription, having a bearing on the Homeric question, has boon dis-
credited. As for the epigraphie evidence, it Is said that it is inconclusive
because against the evidences given above that the inscription belongs to B.C.
Ooo, we have to set the fact that the writing runs from left to right, whereas
it was only biter than this period that this direction was adopted. In the
iK.-vt place, we have a distinct sign for ft it, which is again a later introduction.
As for the contents, the fact that in the inscription there appears not only
a King I'sammatichos, but a mercenary -the commander of the exploring
detachment -of the same name, points to the inscription's being a " hoax. '
lint if we confine ourselves to the Ionic alphabet, the. only evidence we have
whether the sign for <'tn was current, in B.C. f.w is our inscription. \Ve
cannot reject it because we have no other of B.C. (x>\ If we go beyond the
Ionic alphabet, we tind that in Thera this siuii was used about B.C. '"W.
So too with regard to the direction of the wining: the left to ri_;ht direc-
tion only became general in the tifth tentury )!.('., but exceptions before
that period occur. This is one. As for the "hoax" theory, it implies :i
knowledge of the early history of the Greek alphabet which probably n,,t
even a learned Creek possessed, and may be on tiie whole safely denied to
a practical joker.
44
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
well established in Greece that in
a detachment of mercenaries a cer-
tain number could write. There is,
however, another point to notice :
the names of these soldiers show
that they came from different parts
of Greece, some being lonians,
others Dorians ; but all use the
same Ionic alphabet. This means
that not only was writing well
enough established for Greeks from
all parts of Greece to possess the
art, but also that since the intro-
duction of writing enough time
had elapsed for the Ionic alphabet
to spread and to become common
amongst theDorian-speaking peoples
in the south-west of Asia .Minor.
What amount of time we ought to
allow for thess tilings to come
about, it is impossible to say. Low
races at the present day pick up
writing very quickly from our
colonists ; and amongst the quick-
witted Greeks it would spread very
rapidly. Instead of losing our-
selves in conjectures, let us look
for evidence.
Since writing had in B.C. 600
been known for some time in Greece,
a passage in a Greek author older
than B.C. 600 that refers to writing
is not, from the mere fact of such
reference, suspicious. Now in Ar-
chilochus, who is generally supposed
roughly to have lived about B.C.
700, there is a reference to writing.
Archiloehus had a great faculty for
saying unpleasant things, and he
ued fables of his own invention
with great effect. With regard to
one of these fables he speaks meta-
phorically of "a grievous syta/&"
A s/.-i/t'ile was a stall' on which a
strip of leather for writing pur-
poses was rolled slant-wise. A
lues-age was then written on the
leather ; the leather was then un-
rolled and given to the messenger.
Now if the messenger were inter-
reptril. the message could not be
deciphered, for only when the
I'-ather was rolled on a stall' pre-
cisely the same si/e as the proper
one would the letters come riu'lit.
Such a staff, of course, the recipient
by arrangement possessed. This
primitive method of cipher con-
tinued to be used a long time by
the Spartans for conveying state
messages. To return to Archilo-
ehus : the leather from the skytal&
was without the staff an enigma ;
the key to the enigma was tho
zkytale. The fable of Archiloehus
was to outward appearance innocent
of any recondite meaning, but was
a "grievous skytale" for the person
attacked.
It seems reasonable to accept this
passage as indicating a knowledge
of writing in Greece about B.C. 700.
This date allows a century for the
diffusion of the art and the spread
of the Ionic alphabet which are
implied by the Abu Simbel inscrip-
tion ; and the passage does not
prove too much. It does not im-
ply even that Archiloehus himself
could write. The invention or in-
troduction was sufficiently novel
and admirable to furnish a poet
with a metaphor ; and the skytalS
was probably then, as in later times,
a governmental institution. Thus
the mention of a tkytide accords
with the probable supposition that
writing was used for governmental
purposes before it became common
among the people.
Dut the knowledge that writing
was known in Greece in B.C. 700
is not sufficient for our purpose.
It may have been a government
monopoly, or at any rate, so little
known as to be useless for literary
purposes. What we want to know
is first when a reading public ex-
isted. We must, however, realise
that such a reading public as exists
at the present time was never known
in antiquity, for two reasons : tii>t,
the population, and consequently
the possible number of readers, was
much less in the city-Mates of the
ancient world than in the nation-
states of modern history ; secondly,
ancient authors could not reach
their public by any means of pub-
lication to be lompared with the
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
45
printing-press. Further, the means
of attaining publicity were more
restricted in classical Greek times
than in Koine. The large number
of literary slaves in Rome made
the multiplication of manuscripts
easy, and cheapened and extended
their sale. In Greece, multiplica-
tion was less rapid and circulation
more restricted. Recognising then
the limited extent of the Greek
reading public in classical times,
we have to see what evidence there
is for its existence at all ; and we
may regard its existence as satis-
factorily proved when we find trade
in books going on. Now we tind a
book-market ' mentioned in Eupolis,
that is to say, existing between B.C.
430 and B.C. 405. The trade in
books thus indicated may also be
illustrated by a passage from Xeno-
phon (who lived about B.C. 444-
35_sA in which he says, that from
a ship wrecked at Salmydessus on
the 1'ontus many books - were re-
covered. We may therefore take
it as reasonably proved that a
trade in books existed at the end
of the fifth century B.C. Other in-
dications of a reading public may
be lound in Aristophanes, who in
the Taiist(r, 3 speaking of a young
man gone wrung, ascribes his ruin
to "a book, or Prodicus, or bad
company." But we may go a little
farther back. In fragments of the
old comedy we find as terms of
abuse such expressions as " an un-
lettered man," "a man who docs
not know his A, B, C." 4 And the
extent of education thus implied
to exist about B.C. 450 cannot he
regarded with su-pieion when we
find in Herodotus 5 that boys'
schools existed in Chios in the
time of Histiaeus, say about B.C.
500.
Before, however, inferring the ex-
istence of a reading public in B.C.
500, we must look rather more
closely at our evidence. Reading
and writing were taught B.C. 500,
and to be unable to read and write
was, half a century later, a thing to
he ashamed of. But this does not
of itself prove the existence of a
reading public. Enough education
to be able to keep accounts, to rend
public notices, to correspond with
friends or business agents, may
have been in the possession of every
free Athenian in the period B.C. 500
to B.C. 450, and the want of such
education may have caused a man
to be sneered at ; but this does nut
prove the habitof reading literature.
There is, however, a passage in the
1 ov ra 3i3\i' ut'ia, Meineke, F. C. ii. 550.
2 TroXXcu fii3\oi. yeypa/j.fj.tva.1, An. \ II. v. 14.
3 Fr. 3, 7} ,ji.J\ioi> OL((p6opfV 7} HpJciKos 77 T&V d5o\(O"x_wi> els ye ns. This
pass tu'i', and tin; general proofs th;it reading was common in Aristophanes'
time, make it improvable that the passage in the /'Vo.'.''S HM. Ji3\iui> r i\uiv
?KaV Tra\ai ffocfiSiv di'S/iQi', oi's tKftvoi Ka.Tf\nrov iv ^(.iXiois -,/idC i-
crfs, di'<- \i77o.')' noii'rj civ 7015 i\ots Oifpxo/j.at, Kui ai> ~i oi.I'uti' d-,af'ov
(K\f~ t ii u.i ('a. It seems from this that not only were Soei.ites ami h s friends
in the habit of rca-iin^ together, but that the habit, of writinir books \\as
svillicielitly we'll tixfd for tiiem to ascribe to it coiisiih-i able ant:i|uity.
Aliotiier pa-ssago. I'iatu, .-!/ i//. 26 I), which l:as been taken to show that the
physical treatises of A 11:1 \auoras wvre on sale in the theatre (at other times
than those of theatrical performances) is uncertain, and lias been explained
to refer to theatrical j.ri'ur.iiii mes.
4 'AraXoa.il/7os. &*jpduu.a.Tos.
- 1 vi. 27, TraiJt ^ipa.fjLf.idTC'. JiSaffKOfJ.tVQliTi ci'tTTurt i] t'x>.
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
47
same size might be fastened together
by means of a string run through
holes in the tablets. Now, on a
number of the.se dcltoi an author
might write his work, but to mul-
tiply and circulate copies of his
productions would be so cumbrous
that it is difficult to believe that
any one sought or gained publicity
by such means. Still it must bo
remembered that the Assyrians car-
ried on business and formed large
libraries out of even more unpro-
mising writing materials slabs of
clay. When we tind that the per-
sons wishing to consult a book in
an Assyrian library are requested
to write the name of the book and
its author on a proper piece of clay
and hand it in to the librarian, we
must obviously get rid of some of
our preconceived notions as to the
material difficulties in the way of
circulating waxed tablets.
But although waxed tablets may
have been at one time the best
means the Greeks had of commit-
ting their thoughts to writing, they
were for literary purposes eventually
superseded by papyrus, on which
the scribe wrote with a reed-pen,
cit'aiiins, 1 and ink, melan,* out of an
inkstand, mflanodochcion. 3 These
were materials much more adapted
for literary purposes ; and if we as-
sume that authors did not begin to
circulate copies of their works until
papyrus was common in Greece, and
if we can dale the introduction of
papyrus, then we shall have a date
before whirh we may perhaps deny
the multiplication and circulation
ol manuscripts. Xow papyrus was
known and used for writing pur-
poses in Egypt from times of the
greatest antiquity ; and it has been
assumed that as soon as the Greeks
had any commerce with Egypt they
would at once adopt this conveni-
ent writing material and import it
largely. This may have been the
case, but, in the absence of evidence
to show that it was, we ought not
to build on the supposition. We
must look for something more trust-
worthy, and this we find in Hero-
dotus. In a chapter in which he
traces the origin and hi-tory of the
Greek alphabet in a manner shown
by recent epigraphical researches to
be correct, Herodotus declares that
from of old 4 tlie lonians had used
papyrus for writing purposes, l-.vcn
it' we decline to trust Herodotus'
information on this point, we must
at any rate admit that papyrus was
so much in use in his day that there
seemed to him nothing improbable
in its having been in use for a long
time among the Greeks. That is
to say, papyrus was well established
in B.C. 450.
Hut between Herodotus, n.e. 450,
and Theognis, B.C. 550, is a century.
In B.C. 450 the material conditions
admitted of the multiplication and
circulation of works. In B.C. ^50
they admitted at least, of an author's
committing his works to writing,
but whether at this time an author
had to use waxed tablets or could
use papyrus, we can hardly say.
But this century is precisely the
period <>!' the rise of prose literature
in Greece, and it may be said that
this fact in itself implies that litera-
1 KaXauoj. " rb ^e\ai>. 3 fj.eXavoSo'xeioi'.
4 v. 58, KO.I raj 8i'3\o\is SirpOfpas KaX/ot'tn curb roO TraXaiou ol "Iwi/es,
on KOTf (v cnrdi'i ^i''.i\uv ixptwi'TO 5i(t>'Jipr]sed themselves?
To find an answer we must go to
the Homeric poems themselves.
"Whatever the origin and growth of
these poems, all inquirers admit
that there is embodied in them
n.ueh that is ancient and much
that relleets the life and manners
ol the tine before B.C. 700. We
'nay therefore reasonably seek to
find oil! from them the position of
poc's in the e irliesl 1 ini'-.-t. Now
we tin 1 haix : ne-nt ioned sever d
times in the ( idyssey. and they are
always eoiiceivud oi as att u-le'd to
a LTieut house df a royal cuiirt : and
they are always ivpt. seiited as re-
citing their poems over the con-
clusion of a meal. Thus, attached
to the court of King Alcinous was
the minstrel Demodocus, " whom
the Muse loved dearly, and she
gave him both good and evil ; of
his sight she reft him, but granted
him sweet song." In the house of
Odysseus there was Phemius the
minstrel ; and King Agamemnon
left his wife Clytemestra under the
care of a minstrel," whom the son of
Atreus straitly charged, as he went
to Troy, to have a care of his wife."
The audience, therefore, to which
the minstrel addressed himself was
that to be found in a great house
or a royal court. Odysseus says to
King Alcinous, " Nay, as for me, I
say that there is no more gracious
or perfect delight than when a
whole people make merry, and the
men sit orderly at feast in the halls
and listen to the singer, and tables
by them are laden with bread and
flesh, and a wine-bearer drawing the
wine serves it round and pours
it into the cups." To his audience
the minstrel might sing either lays
he had learnt from others or his
own poems. Phemius says, " None
has taught me but myself, and tin;
god has put into my heart all man-
ner of lays, and methinks I sing to
thee as a god. "
Such being the audience for which
an epic pout composed, and such
the conditions under which he pro-
duced his work, the question now
arises whether granted a pout cap-
able, of composing the Iliad or the,
Odyssey, and of carrying the poem
in his head there is anything in
these conditions to mak*- the de-
livery of so long a poem impossible
Obviously it would be impo. ibie,
to finish the ivcita! ion in a single
evening; and Wolf argued that
this proved that the |;j...d and
(Mvss'-y could not have been origi-
nally of anything like their piv-.-nt
length. I'.ut is it impossible, to
suppose th it tie' poet look up the
thread of his story one evening
\\ here he ii.id dro;i: .ed ii i he piwi-
D
HISTOKY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
ous evening ? If it is possible for
us to put down a book one day and
take it up again the next, and not
lose the thread of the story, there
is no difficulty in imagining the
epic poet's audience listening one
night to a story commenced on some
previous night. 1 The Arabians, at
any rate, found nothing impossible
in supposing a Caliph listening to
tales in this way lor a thousand
and one nights. The ancient Greek
seems to have experienced the same
temptation as the modern novel-
reader to sit up all night over an
interesting work, for when Odysseus
breaks otf relating his adventures
to the Phseacians on the ground
that it was time for sleep, Aleinous,
who compares him to a minstrel,
says, " Behold the night is of great
length, unspeakable, and the time
for sleep in the hall is not yet ;
tell me therefore of those wondrous
deeds. I could abide even till the
bright dawn, so long as thou couldst
endure to rehearse me these woes of
thine in the hall." And if Odysseus
proceeds to finish his tale, it is not
because the Phseacians would have
refused to listen to its conclusion the
following evening, but because he
wished to return to Ithaca as soon
as he might.
So far then as concerns the audi-
ence and the manner of reciting his
works, the epic poet might well
liave composed a poem too long to
be finish >d in a single sitting. And
Ave have seen that poems of great
length can be composed and trans-
mitted without the aid of writing.
It seems, therefore, that the difficul-
ties raised by Wolf against the com-
position of the Iliad and the Odys-
sey in their present form are not
sufficiently great to exclude the hy-
pothesis that we' have the Homeric
poems substantially as they were
originally composed. This, how-
ever, is only a negative conclusion ;
when the poems were as a matter ot'
fact composed, and whether since
then they have remained substanti-
ally unaltered, are questions which
have yet to be answered. There
remain a couple of subjects to be
briefly noticed before this chapter
can be completed. First, there is
the method of recitation in post-
epic times ; second, the question by
whom were the poems transmitted ?
So long as the royal and aristo-
cratic form of society described in
the Homeric poems existed, so long
the mode of recitation also described
in Homer would last. I5ut with
changes in the social and political
systems of Greece, changes would
also come about in the audience and
the manner of addressing the audi-
ence. The epic age was succeeded
by the period of lyric poetry, and
the lyric poets fall roughly into the
two classes of poets who composed
personal lyrics designed for recita-
tion before the circle of their own
aristocratic friends, and of poets
who composed choral lyrics to be
performed at the expense of a tyrant
or a government before an audience
consisting, not of a narrow circle,
but of the whole population of the
city. The political conditions that
rendered possible the oligarchical
society for which personal lyrics
were composed differed from those
described in Homer. Royalty had
disappeared, and the aristocracy
were engaged in a struggle with the
people for their privileges ; but the
audiences in an aristocracy wc.ro
but little different from those in
the regal times of Homer. They
were more restricted : the royal
hospitality of old times had given
way to the exclusive narrowness of
good society ; and the class interests
of the audience, being shared by the
poet, who was himself a member of
F.riC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
their society, tended to injuriously
affect, both directly and by the re-
action of audience on author, the
character of the lyrics.
But in the main, the conditions
under which epics were recited re-
mained the same as in the previous
period, though, as the epic age was
over, the reciters were no longer
authors, or at any rate authors of
epics. But when oligarchy was
overthrown by either a tyrant or a
democracy, the nature of the de-
mand for epic recitation changed,
and along with it the character of
the supply. Tyrants and demo-
cracies alike catered for the amuse-
ment, not of a restricted circle, but
of the whole free population of a
city. This is shown by the char-
acter of the literature which suc-
ceeded personal lyrics. The very
essence of choral lyric is. that it was
performed in public on the occasion
of some public festival, whether of
religious worship or of general re-
joicing over the honour brought to
the city by the triumph of some
citizen at one of the national games
of (j recce. Now, whereas a royal
household or a circle of friends
might be gathered together night
after night, and thus give the epic
poet the opportunity of reciting a
poem which required several sit-
tings for its recitation in full, the
whole population of a city could
only be gathered together from
time to time, and the occasions
were separated by periods too long
to admit of a recitation being re-
sumed, when interrupted by the
dispersal of the audience lor an un-
certain period. Tile result of this
change in the conditions was, as wn
have said, a change in the method
of reritation. An epic poem was
no lunger recited as a whole, but
those parts of it. \\hich could lie
detached, and which were tolerably
complete in themselves, were re-
cited at public festivals. The por-
tions thus chosen were called
"rhapsodies," and those who de-
claimed them were called " rhap-
sodists." The word " rhapsodist "
simply means " singer of verses." 1
The inferences just drawn from
the nature of the lyric poety of the
sixth century B.C. as to the method
of reciting epic poetry in that cen-
tury are confirmed in two ways. In
the iirst place, we know on other
evidence that rhapsodies were por-
tions of a length suitable for recita-
tion at public festivals ; and in the
next, we find it is precisely in the
sixth century that rhapsodists tirst
begin to be known. The earliest
notice of rhapsodists is the mention
of them in Herodotus 2 as existing
in Sicyon in the time of the tyrant
Cleist'henes (B.C. 600-560). Prizes
were offered at festivals by the vari-
ous cities of Greece to the rhapsodist
who declaimed best ; and conse-
quently there soon rose a class of
professional rhapsodists, who tra-
velled from place to place to de-
claim epic poetry. The change
which thus came over the mode of
recitation is easy to understand,
and is still testified to by the Eng-
lish meaning of the word "rhap-
sody." Reading in a room to a
limited audience is a much more
subdued performance than is decla-
mation in the open air to a large
number of people ; and we know
that the declamation of the rhapso-
dists was theatrical and sensational,
effects being sought after by gesture
and inflection of the voice, which
wefti unknown in earlier times, and
Were condemned by good critics
in later periods. The rhapsodists
continued to declaim epic poetry
until the latest classical times ; and
:it Athens at least their recitation
of Homer, who alone of poets was
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
allowed to be recited at the Pana-
thenaea, was regulated by law, pro-
bably in the iii'th century B.C. The
rhapsodists contending at the fes-
tival, if left to choose their own
selections, would probably all have
chosen much the same pieces those
they knew the audience liked best.
The law therefore determined that
the competitors should follow the
order of the poem, and that one
rhapsodist should take up the reci-
tation where the last one left off.
Thus the audience, instead of hearing
the same piece over and over again,
heard a considerable part, if not the
whole of the poem.
It remains for us now, having
seen the way in which epic poetry
was recited in post-epic times, to
briefly consider the way in which it
was transmitted. During most, if not
all of the period of the rhapsodists,
writing was probably sufficiently
developed in Greece for epic poetry
to be safely transmitted on tablets
or papyrus ; so that we need not
trust to the memory of the rhap-
sodists for the transmission of epics.
But there remains the time before
the rhapsodists, before B.C. 600 ;
and to account for the transmis-
sion of Homer, the Homcridte, sons
of Homer, have been much used.
They have also been used to account
for the expansion of the "original"
Iliad and Odyssey to their present
length ; and they have further been
used to account for Homer himself.
It has been supposed, that is to
say, that the Homeridse were a
guild of epic poets, working on
common artistic methods and com-
mon literary principles, who jointly
produced epi<-s winch they ascribed
to the mythical founder of their
guild, Homer. "We may compare
them, iu their descent from a
mythical eponymous foiindi-r, to
the hereditary he-raids at Sparta,
who clainn-d to be descended from
the hero Talthybius. In their
common literary methods we might
compare them to the " school " of
yEschylus, which consisted of dra-
matists descended from the great
tragedian, but that it is incorrect
to say though it is said that the
" school " of JEschylus worked on
principles common to themselves
and their ancestor.
With regard to the Homcridse,
we have first to say, that though
they may account for the trans-
mission of Homer, they leave un-
solved the problem how the other
epic poets managed to transmit
their works. In the next place, we
must know who and what the
Homeridse were, for the word is
used in different senses apparently
by ancient writers. By Pindar it
is used as equivalent to rhapsodists,
and by 1'lato as meaning students
of Homer. Strabo (14. 64.5) says
the Homcridte were people who
lived in Chios, and were so called
because they were relatives of
Homer. Xow if this were all the
evidence there were to go upon, it
would be insufficient ; for here we
have no mention ol a guild, nothing
to show that the soi-disant descen-
dants of Homer wrote poetry of any
kind, nothing but the fact that
there were people living in Chios
who claimed kinship with the great
poet, and that students of Homer
were called Homeridae. AY hat then
is there to supply these missing
links '( The statement of a scholiast.
According to the scholion on the
passage of Pindar above referred to
(Xein. ii. i), the descendants of
Homer inherited and .sang his
poems. These Homeridie were sub-
sequently called rhapsodists, and
introduced many ver>cs into the
poems. 1 What is the worth of a
scholiast ? A scholiast was any per-
son who wrote scholia or notes on the
margin of a manuscript of an ancient
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
53
author, and some scholia are as Into ng
A. i>. i_)00or A.I). 1500. ]>ein<,' of vari-
ous dates and of very various value,
scholiasts are now only regarded as
trustworthy .so far as they can 1m
supposed to In: quoting from good
authorities ; their own conjectures
are not to be relied on. Now in
the srholion we are concerned with,
there is no indication that the
scholiast had before him any other
authorities than those we possess ;
and there is every indication that
lie took the very easy chance which
was given him of making a con-
jecture of his own. So far as
negative evidence has any value,
it is against this conjecture. The
scholia to the Iliad, which are valu-
able simply because they contain
many quotations from Aristarehus,
the famous editor of Homer, and
from other Alexandrine critics,
never mention the Homemkc ; and
when they mention that a verse
was suspected or rejected in anti-
quity, they never attribute the spu-
rious verso to the authorship of a
rhaps de or a Homerides.
Not only is the evidence for a
literary guild of Homerid;c weak,
and not only is the assumption of
such a guild inadequate to explain
the transmission of the body of epic
poetry which was by other authors;
than the real or supposed Homer;
it does not even account for the
transmission of the Homeric poems.
If they were the hereditary property
of a guild re>ideiit in Chios, and if
it is only by means ot such a lite-
r.iry organisation that we can ex-
plain the transmission uf ll"mer in
the absenee of wri;iir_', then the
Homeric poems should only have
b^en known in Chios. Their spread
throughout ' lr-.'1'ce remains a greater
mystery than ever. l'>ut it iray be
said ;i considerable body of epics
whether Homerie or n on- Homeric
was transmitted somehow, and if
not by some such literary organisa-
tion, then in what wav ? To this
we may reply, that the diffusion of
epic poetry, while it negatives the
supposition of local guilds, also
indicates a free and spontaneous
cultivation of epic poetry, not a
mechanical system of oral teaching
designed to secure the perpetuation
of literature. From the way in
which Phemius prides himself in
the Odyssey on composing original
poems, it may be inferred that other
minstrels recited more poems by
other composers than works of their
own ; and this is confirmed by the
scenes in Alcinons' palace where
Demodocus is called on for lays
already known to his audience.
We may conjecture, then, that in
epic times a poet, before beginning
to compose original works, associ-
ated by a natural tendency with
other poets, and stored his mind
with the epic poetry which was in
part their work ami partly learnt
by them from older poets. This
may explain the transmission of
epic poetry. It will also explain
its dill'usion ; for a minstrel who
travelled from place to place would
doubtless gladly learn and gladly
teach other minstrels whom he met.
E\vn when the epic age was over
and lyric poetry took the place uf
epic, the mode of transmission and
ditlusion seems, until the rhap-
sodists arose, to have been mueh
the same. Poets, though they no
longer wrote epies. deehtjmed epie
poetry and sought mueh of their
inspiration from it. The intlu-
enee of epic poetry over the lyric
poet Stesichorus, for instance, was
unduly strong ; while 'IVrpander.
Clonas, Poiyniiiestus. and other
early lyric poets are mentioned '
as declaiming epic. In tine, the
natural ami obvious cultivation of
poetry by free communication and
personal contaet betwo n poets in
time< when writing was not used for
literary purposes, sullices to explain
the tr.inbini.ssion and ditlusion of
1 Plutarch dc Mi
54 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
CHAPTER IV.
THE EPIC CYCLE.
THERE were other epic poets in early times besides Homer.
Their works, though they have not reached us, were preserved
until the time of the Alexandrian grammarians, and probably
for some centuries later. Some of these writers took for their
subject incidents from the history of the expedition against
Thebes ; others incidents from the Trojan war. At some time
or other the poems dealing with the Trojan war were arranged
in the order of the events they narrated ; the same thing was
done with those which related the Thcban war, and the two
sets of p >ems together formed an epic cycle, so called apparently
because it embraced the whole round of the mythological events
related in epic poetry. Then in later times, when readers did
not care to wade through all these poems, and yet wished to
possess an acquaintance with the mythological events related
in them, a pro.se summary of their contents was drawn up.
This prose " epic cycle " began at the beginning of all things,
with the wedding of Heaven and Earth, from whom were born
the Cyclops, and related the origin, course, and consequences
of the Theban and Trojan war?, iinishing with the death of
Odysseus, unwittingly killed by his son Telegonus. This prose
summary was the work of 1'roclus, but whether of the neo-
Platonic philosopher of that name, who lived in Constantinople
about A.D. 450, or of the tutor of Marcus Aurelius, is somewhat
uncertain. It seem?, however, more probable that the latter
should be the author than that a neo-Platonic philosopher
should have condensed the epic poets into a manual of mytho-
logy ; and accordingly Eutychius Proclus of Sicea is generally
regarded as the author.
As it i.s from the summary of Proclus that we derive our
chief knowledge of the poems contained in the Trojan cycle,
we will give a brief account of the contents of Proclus' work,
as it has come down to us. The principal fragment of his sum-
mary was found prefixed to some of the manuscripts of Homer.
It begins with the epic called the Cypna. "\Vhy the poem was
called the Cyjiria we cannot now tell. It may have been because
the rape of Helen, which is the main subject of the poem, was
the work of the Cyprian goddess Aphrodite, or because the
author of the poem was born at Cyprus. But who was the
author is also uncertain: some ascribed the poem to Homer,
EPIC POETRY : THE EPIC CYCLE. 5 5
but Aristotle expressly denies the Homeric authorship of tho
work ; according to others, Stasinus or Hegesias was the author.
This is a point which cannot be settled : let us turn to the con-
tents of the poem. Once on a time Zeus took counsel \vith
Thetis how the earth, overcrowded with men, might he relieved
of her burden, and he resolved that there should be a great
war, the Trojan war. Therefore Thetis was married to Peleus,
and from thorn was born the hero of the Iliad, Achilles. At tho
marriage-feast the goddess of strife, Eris, appeared, and by the
golden apple which she gave to be awarded to the fairest, brought
the three goddesses Athene, Here, and Aphrodite to contend about
their beauty. They appointed Paris (or Alexander) to decide
between them, and, won over by the promise of the fairest of
wives, he awarded the apple to Aphrodite. She then bade .Eneas
set sail with Paris from Troy for Greece ; and, in spite of the
prophecies of Helenus and Cassandra, they departed. In Sparta
they were entertained by Menelaus, the husband of Helen, the
fairest woman in Greece. During the absence of Menelaus Paris
carried off Helen. A storm first drove them to Sidon, which
Paris captured, and thence they went to Troy. At this point
in the poem an episode seems to have been introduced concern-
ing the adventures of Helen's brothers, Castor and Polydeuces,
relating the death of the former and the alternate immorta-
lity conferred on them by Zeus. After this, Iris, the messenger
of the gods, announced to Menelaus the flight of Helen, and
Menelaus along with Agamemnon took steps to gather an army
together to recover her by force of arms. First Menelaus went
to Xe.-tor, who made a long speech about Epopeiis and tho
daughter <>f Lycus, about (F.dimis and the madness of Heracles,
and about Theseus and Ariadne. Then they gathered together
the chieftains of Greece, except < >' 1 ysS'-US, who, foivse. ;!)'; tl,,.
duration of the war, feigned to be. mad. but was found out by
tin 1 device of Palamedes, <>n whose sii-_'u'estion the infant T-Ie-
maehus was placed in th>.' furrow where ()dy~s<'iis wa< ploughing.
The expedition then, after prophecies from ( 'alchas, set sail, and
c.iine to Teuthrania, which they sacked. 1 There Telepimp killed
Thersander, the son of I'olvneices, and was him.-eif wounded
by Achiile-. AVhen the Greeks proceeded on their voyage they
were caught by a storm. Achilles was carried to Scyrus, when'
he wedded PJeidauieia : and on his return to Argo< ho healed
56 HISTORY OF GEEEK LITERATURE,
Telephus in order that he might guide the Greeks to Troy.
The expedition, scattered by the storm, again assembled at Aulis;
but while there, Agamemnon killed one of the deer sacred to
Artemis, and the goddess in vengeance detained the fleet by
contrary winds. When Calchas informed the Greeks that the
anger of the goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of
Iphigcnia, the daughter of Agamemnon, she was brought to
Aulis on the pretext that she was to be wedded to Achilles,
and then was offered as a victim. But Artemis substituted a
deer, and carried off Iphigenia to Tauri, making her immortal.
Then the Greeks, obtaining fair weather, set sail. They touched
at Tenedos, where Philoctetes was bitten by a hydra, and in
consequence of the offensive nature of the wound the Greeks
abandoned him on the isle of Lemnos. On their arrival at the
land of Troy, Achilles quarrelled with Agamemnon on a point
of precedence, and the Trojans at first repelled the Greeks,
Hector slaying Protesilaus. But Achilles joined the fray and
the Trojans were defeated. The Greeks then opened negotia-
tions with the Trojan?, demanding back Helen and the wealth
she had carried off. The Trojans rejected the demands, and
the. Greeks proceeded to ravage the country. At this time
Achilles was desirous of seeing Helen, and Thetis and Aphro-
dite brought them together. The siege did not advance, and
the mass of the army longed to return home, but Achilles pre-
vented them. They then continued devastating and plunder-
ing, and amongst the spoils Briseis fell to the lot of Achilles,
Chryseis to Agamemnon. There then follows the death of
Palamed'-s, the resolve of Zeus to assi.-t the Trojans by with-
drawing Achilles from the fighting, and a catalogue of the
Trojan ;dlies.
The L'n'jiiia was followed by the Iliad of Homer, and the,
next poem in the cycle was the A : .1li ///y //.-. which took up the
story where the Iliad left it. The A : Jln<>iii* was by Arctinns
of Miletus, the greatest of th" epic poets after Homer. His
dale is made by the ehrnnologists to be ab^ut 776 i;.c. After
the death and burial of lli'rtr. the A:na/.<>n IVnthesilea. the
daughter of Ares, came to assi.-t the Trojans, and was killed by
Achillas. The Trojans, by the gm-d otiices of Achilles, were
allowed to bury the heroine, and this gave Thersites occasion
to speak evil of Achilles and Pent hesilea, Knraircd at this,
Achilles slew Thersites with a bl<.w from his list, and hence
arose dissension in the Gieek army. In the end, Achilles
sailed to Ler-bos, and there having sacrificed to Apollo, Artemis,
and Leto, he was purified frm the guilt of blood by Odysseus.
EPIC POETRY: THE EPJC CYCLE. 57
After this, Memnon, son of Eos, the dawn, clad in armour
made by llepha-stus, came to the assistance of the Trojans.
Thetis foretold to Achilles the doom which awaited him if he
killed Mem nun ; but when Aiitilochus, the friend of Achilles,
had been slain by Memnon, Achilles in vengeance killed
Memnon, who was conveyed away by his mother, Los, and
made immortal by Zeus. Achilles routed the Trojans and
chased them into the city, whore he fell by the hands of
1'aris and Apollo. A fierce light arose over the body of the
Greek hero, which was at last carried back to the ships by
Odysseus, whilst Ajax kept oil' the foe. Then Antilochus
was buried, and lamentation was made over Achilles by Thetis
and her nymphs. "When the body was placed on the pyre,
Thetis convoyed it. a\vay to the isle Leuce ; the Greeks erected
a mound and held funeral Barnes in honour of Achillas ; and
at these panics, in which the divine armour of Achilles was
oip' of the prizes. Odysseus and Ajax contended for the armour,
which was awarded to <>dysseus.
The next poem is the Little Ilia'?. It is generally asso-
ciated with the name of Lesches, who was said to belong to
Lesbos, litit Aristotle prefers to speak of the author of the
Little Iliail without pretending to know his name, and it is
therefore probable that he thought there was no authority for
as.-igning the poem to Lesches. This is confirmed by the fact
that Hellanicus of Lesbos, who on patriotic grounds would pro-
bably have credited his fellow-countryman with the author-
ship if there had been any excuse, for doing so, attributes the
work to Cin.Tthon of Sparta. Further, it has been conjec-
tured that Lesches is not a proper name, but is derived from
the word A*.- 1 //'', a market, and meant, merely the man who
saii'_' in the market to the assembled people.
that the award of Achilles' divine
le to Athene. Ajax, in his an^er at
ireference shown to ( >dy.-si-u~.
eh leltains ; but At heiie sen!
lew sheep tr men, and when
ic killed himself.
nus. bv means < >f
58 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
became the wife of his brother, Deiphobus. At this point in
the poem yet new characters are brought on the scene. Odys-
seus fetched Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, from Seyms, and
gave to him his father's divine armour. For the Trojans, a
fresh hero appeared in Eurypylus, the son of Telephus. Neop-
tolemus and Eurypylus fight as their fathers had (in the
Cypria) fought before them, and Eurypylus is slain. Mean-
while Epens, inspired by Athene, contrives the famous wooden
horse, Odysseus, having mutilated and disguised himself, steals
into Troy to gather information, and though recognised by
Helen, returns in safety. After this, in company with Diomede,
he succeeded in entering Troy and carrying oil' the Palladium,
or image of Pallas, whicli as long as it was in the possession of
the Trojans secured Troy from overthrow. Then picked men
of the Greeks were shut up in a wooden horse ; the rest of the
army burnt their tents and sailed away, as though they had
raised the siege. But they only went as far away as Tenedos.
The Trojans in their joy at the end of the war pulled down
part of their wall to admit the horse into the city, and feasted
and rejoiced because they had defeated the Greeks.
Proclus says that the Little Iliad was followed by the Sack
of Troy, the work of Arctinus of Miletus. According to
Arctinus, the Trojans at first were doubtful about the hoi-se.
Some proposed to throw it over a precipice, others to burn it,
others to place it as an offering to Athene in the temple of
the goddess. The last view prevailed, and the Trojans made
merry. Laocoon, who had urged the destruction of the horse,
was killed by two .serpents that came out of the sea ; and
/Eneas, who had supported Laocoon in his opposition to the
reception of the horse into the city, withdrew with his followers
to Ida. Sinon, a Greek, who had gained entrance into Troy
by a stratagem, then gave the signal to the Greek fleet by a
torch. The Greeks returned, and Troy was simultaneously
attacked from without by the main body, and from within by
those who had gained admittance by means of the horse.
Neoptolemus slew Priam at the altar of Zeus : Menelaus killed
.Deiphobus and carried off Helen to the ships. Cassandra,
daughter of Priam, fled to the temple of Athene, and, still
clinging to the image of the goddess, was dragged away by
Ajax Oileus. Dismayed at this reckless impiety, his fellow-
soldiers would have stoned Ajax to death, but that he fled for
protection to the altar of the very gddess he had offended ;
and therefore, when the Greeks sailed away, Athene devised
destruction for them on the sea. Astyauax, the little sou
EPIC POETRY : THE EPIC CYCLE. 5 9
of Hector and Andromache, was killed by the advice, if not
the. hand, of Odysseus; and Andromache became the prize,
of Xeoptolemus. Then the city was burnt, and Polyxena
slaughtered on the tomb of Achilles as an offering to the hero's
ghost.
The tiark or' Trmj was followed by the, Nostni, or "The
Return," or, as it was sometimes called, "The Return of the
Atrid.T.'' l Proclus calls the author Agias ; Pausanias, Ilegias.
Kustathius says he was a C'olophonian. It seems probable that
there were several poems called the IMur/i. The one sum-
marised by Proclus takes up the story when; the Sark of Troy
left it. The wrath of Athene, roused by the impiety of Ajax
Oileus, and extending to all the (1 reeks because they failed to
punish Ajax, now begins to manifest itself. First, she caused
the two sons of Atreus to quarrel about setting sail : Agamemnon
stayed to appease Athene, but Menelaus set sail, following the
example of I tjomede and Nestor, who reached their homes in
safety. Menelaus, however, lost all his ships but live, and then
was driven to Iv_rypt. Calchas the seer, Leontes, and Poly-
poetes, went on foot to Colophon, 2 and there buried Teiresias.
When Agamemnon was about to sail, the ghost of Achilles
appeared and warned him, but in vain, of his doom. There
next follows the storm in which Ajax perished. Xeoptolemus,
by the advice of Thetis, returns by land, meeting Odysseus in
Marom-ia ; and eventually, after burying his father's old friend,
the aged knight Phu-nix, returns to his grandfather, Peleus.
The poem concludes with the murder of Agamemnon by
yiv-iisthus and Clytemestra : the vengeance taken by Orestes
and I'yl.des, and the return of Menclau- home.
Finaily. the tale
or story of
ibnlil r,.
( Idyssey cloM-ly, tal
VI/ , \\\{\\ I he
their relatives, am
11, e!V. |[,
received a
Agamcdcs,
accomi>li>h
'/''/, ,/,1/tin attached it-elf t
60 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
of war, however, routed Odysseus' army, but then was fought
by Athene, until Apollo intervened. After the death of Calli-
dice, Polypoetes, the son of Odysseus, inherited the kingdom,
and Odysseus returned to Ithaca. Meanwhile Telegonus, the
son of Odysseus by Circe, had sailed from ^Eaea in quest of his
father, and had come to Ithaca. He was ravaging the island
when Odysseus came to the assistance of the Ithacans and was
killed by Telegonus. Then Telegonus having discovered who
it was he had slain, took the body of Odysseus, with Telemachus
and Penelope, to his mother Circe. She made them immortal
Telegonus married Penelope, Telemachus Circe.
It may be asked what grounds there are for ascribing a consider-
able antiquity to the sEtk/opis, Cypria, the Sack, the Return, &c. ?
In the first place, there is the unanimous belief of antiquity that
the earliest period of Greek literature was an age of epic poetry,
and that these epics belonged to that period. In the next
place, there are the perpetual allusions throughout lyric and
dramatic poetry to the tales of Troy and Thebes which were
told in these epic?. Further, in the way of definite external
evidence there is the mention by Herodotus of the Cijpria as
distinct from the work of Homer and as inconsistent in some
of its details with the Iliad. The Epiyoni also, one of the
poems relating to Thebes which was incorporated in the cycle,
is mentioned by Herodotus (iv. 32). In Theognis. who flour-
ished about B.C. 540. there is a quotation from the Cypria. 1
Finally, Callinus, whose date is placed about B.C. 730, mentions
the Tlirlju.is, another of the poems incorporated in the cycle
which dealt with Thebes, though he ascribes it to Homer.
As we have said, the Epic Cycle included n t only a series
of epics relating the story of the Trojan war, but also another
series relating the expedition against Thel>es. Of the latter we
have no summary and practically no knowledge. We may gain
some- idea of the. contents of the Theban epics from tragedies
fin the same subj>"-i. but we can f<>nn no idea of the way in
which the tale <>f Thebes was treated by the authors of the epic
poems, ii'>r of their literary merit. Tin: most famous of the
Theban epics was the Y/W /"V/x. Its author is unknown. It
treated of the history of OXdipus and his s<>ns, as did also,
to judge from the name, the (Eilt^wJeia, which is ascribed to
CiiuHhon. The /,'/;//, was presumably a continuation of the
EPIC POETRY : THE EPIC CYCLE. 6 I
etory of the Thcltais, and may have been identical with the
Alcnuronii*, though tliis is uncertain. The Taking of O'khalia
related the story of the capture of the town by Heracles, who
thus won lole a story on which Sophocles' play the Traclnnice
was based. The name of the author is Creophylus. The
Minyait may have l)een identical with the Pliocin in: it contained
a descent to Hades, in which Charon appears; and the name
of the author is given sometimes as Prodictis, sometimes as
Thostorides. The two last-mentioned epics, the Taliiifj of
Gl-Jtali't and the Minyas, were not based on Theban myths,
and consequently it may be doubted whether they were in-
corporated into the Epic Cycle. The same may be .-aid of the
Titfijunnachia, which was ascribed to Arctinus and also to
Eumelus, and of the Attltis or Amazonia.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER IV.
TIIK UKI.ATION OF TJIE KPIC CYCLE TO HOMER.
Al.TliorGH Proclns may have given which Here sent, to Sidon and
us u correct version of the tale of raptured the place. IHit Herodo-
Troy as it was to he found in the tus ' distinctly says that, according
Kpic Cvcle, it docs not follow that to the (,'//////, 1'aris reached Troy
we get from his summary a complete in three days, having enjoyed a
or a eonvrt notion of the poems in favourable wind and a smooth sea.
their original srjiarate form. His It is unlikt-ly that Herodotus should
object was to <_'ive a cirar account make a mistake on this point, l>e-
of the various events wliicli made cause he reiies on his ([notation to
up the story, and for this purpose prove that the O/7<> - /-( was not the
he may have l.ad to omit or to alter work ot Homer. He says, accord-
parts of some ol 'the poems. If two iiiLT to Homer, Paris went to Sidon,
poi-ms narrated the xime event. In- Init aeeoniini: to tiie <',. t ,;,/. i,.- .;iil
would, for cleiii'ness. have to omit not. \\ e have, tiieii. here a case
one iii-i oinit ; and if miu poem did in winch the ver>ioii ot the < ' ,
not join on naturally to that wldeh with wliieli \vij are aei[uainti 1
preeeddl or that wllich 1'olioWed it, thri'ii^h 1'loclus lias 1'eeii alti'l'e.l
In would l:ave to alter its l'e_'in- in ordi-r to make the general l!o\v
iniej; or end in order to make the of the story harmonious, and p.irti-
"
u. 117.
62
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
further, it seems that, according to
a scholiast, 1 the poem mentioned
at least one incident, the death
of Polyxena, in the sack of Troy.
But this does not prove that the
action of the poem included the
taking of Troy. The Cypria is
essentially the narrative of the
beginning of the war, and a refer-
ence to an incident at the end of
the war no more proves that the
taking of Troy was a part of the
subject of the poem than the refer-
ences in the Iliad to the death of
Achilles prove that his death came
within the action of the Iliad. 2
We may therefore reasonably con-
clude that the Cypria ended where
1'roclus makes it end. 3
The Cy/iria was followed in the
cycle by the Iliad, and after the
Iliad came the sEthiopis of Arc-
tiuus. As far as can be judged,
the beginning of the Jathinpia
seems to have originally iitted on
to the end of the Iliad so well that
no alteration or omission was neces-
sary. But when we look to the
rest of the poem, the case is diffe-
rent. In the first place, according
to Proclus, the ^Ethiopia ends with
a quarrel between Ajax and Odys-
seus about the armour of Achilles,
the issue of which is contained in
the Little Iliad. But the sEtht'opis
could not have ended in the middle
of the quarrel ; it too, as well as
the Little Iliad, must have related
the issue. Even there, however,
it could not have stopped. The
suicide of Ajax was not an event of
sufficient importance, did not exer-
cise so great an influence on the
course of the war that an epic
could find a natural close, or the
story of the war find a breathing
place therein. If the JSthiopis did
not, however, end with the suicide
of Ajax, where did it end ? The
answer seems to be given by the
fact that Arctinus did actually
carry on the tale of Troy as i'ar as
the taking of Troy. This he related
in the poem which Proclus sum-
marises and calls the Stick of Troy.
Doubtless Proclus was right in call-
ing what he summarised the Sack
of Troy ; but it was not a separate
poem : it was part of the ^Ethiopia,
and this part got its name from its
contents, in the same way as different
parts of Homer have received their
names from their contents. It
seems, therefore, probable that the
beginning of the ^thio/jis was
placed next after the Iliad because
it immediately took up the story of
tlie Iliad. Then the Ltllc Iliad
was appended to this portion of the
^Ethiopia because it contained a
fuller account of the events which
led up to the making of the wooden
horse than the corresponding por-
tion of the sEthiopis presented.
Then the rest of the +-fithifi/>iit, re-
lating the taking of Troy and called
the >'ue/t of Troy, was brought in
to wind up the tale.
If the j-Ethiopis has suffered by
being thus divided into two parts,
the Little Iliad has also suffered by
being sandwiched between the two
parts. The Little Iliad could not
have begun by relating the issue
I'nlyxena to tlje < '////,
;; And as lie iii;d;--s it
poet could in>ei I so much of the rest of
wind UM the iuose t-uds of las own story.
ry to
KPIC 1'OKTKY : THE KPIC CYCLK. 63
of the quarrel between Odysseus Odyssey as it was embodied in
and Ajax ; it mu>t have related the cycle was called the " Cyclic
llic cause of tin- quarrel, and i>ro- Odyssey." The ''Trojan Table"
balily the poem covered much the which was found at liovilhe, and
same ground as the beginning of may have formed part of the deco-
the +I-ltliit>i,is. So, too, the Little ration of a library, contains pictures
1/nnl would not merely relate the and legends which confirm Proelus
making of the wooden horse ; it in the order he places the poems
would also go on to tell how it was composing the cycle in.
Used and with what result, i.e., tell When the poems were arranged
the taking of Troy. This is proved so as to form an Epic Cycle is un-
by the (act that I'ausanias and other certain. The "Trojan Table," which
authors reler to incidents of the seems to presuppose the existence of
sack as occurring in the L'Mln the cycle, probably belongs to the
//in,/; while Aristotle says that early part of the reign of Tiberius.
from it tragedians drew the plays The "Cyclic Odyssey" carries the
called the .<<(,/ f Trmj, t^Miiuj ?ai/, cycle back to the time of Didymus,
^iii'iH. and Triunlm. who lived in the reign of Augustus,
Fin.tilv, the Hitnrn and the 7V< and from whom comes the. inl'or-
!i'it'it seem to have titled naturallv mation about the alteration of the
into thi.-ir p'iaees in thi; cycle, and final verse of the Iliad and the
to have needed and received no ' Cvclic Odyssey." Hut further
alt' -rations. back than this it is as yet impos-
The question now arises whether sible to trace the arrangement of
the alterations, or rather the omis- the poems into a cycle. We know
sions, juM described are to be re- indeed that Zenodotus arranged in
garded as the work of 1'roclus, or order the poems of Homer; but
whether the independent ] ..... ins, this seems to refer rather to tin)
when they came to be arranged so cataloguing of the Homeric poems
as to form a cycle, were altered .so for the library at Alexandria than
as to lit. on to each other and make a to the editing of the cycle.
continuous story '/ The latter seems We now have to ask what is the
to have been the case. 1'roclus says relation of these poems to Hoiiu-r
expivs.-iy that the poems of the There are many incidents which
cycle Were much read, preciselv be- thev have in common, and which
cau.-e they, or rat 'her it, made a one mav have borrowed from the
other. The murder of Agani'-m-
nou is told in the Odyssey and also
lit turn. There are through-
ut Hoiner numerous references and
lusions to events which ai>:
late I in full in the cyelics : and
e may suppose either that th'
ut in detail hints
nr we may > i v
the works o'f the
him, and Was ivlel'-
de, d. when we
that a min-trel
6 4
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
is asked to sing the lay of the
horse, we seem to have a reference
to the Little Iliad or the ^EtMopis,
But there are not only references
between the cyclics and Homer ;
there are cross references. If, for
instance, the Iliad presupposes the
Sack of Troy, the ack also presup-
poses the Iliad, which would prove
that each poem was later than
and borrowed from the other. It
seems, therefore, that we must seek
some other explanation. This may
perhaps be found in supposing that
the references, say in the Iliad to
the fate of Astyanax. are not to the
Sack, but to the floating popular
legend. So, too, it would not be
necessary to assume that the lie-
turn, expanded the brief allusion to
Agamemnon's death contained in
the Odyssey. Both authors may
have drawn independently from
the stories of the people. In fine,
the cyclics need not have borrowed
from Homer, nor Homer from the
cyclics ; both may have borrowed
from a common source.
This indeed assumes that there
was a common source for Homer
and the cyclics to draw upon, and
it has been denied that we have
any proof of the existence of a
popular legend telling the tale of
Troy. But this denial seems to be
made on insufficient grounds and
to lie opposed to farts. In the first
place, all peoples have their folk-
lore, floating mythology, and popu-
lar legends. In the next place, the
comparison of Greek mythology
and legends with those of other
Arvan peoples shows that the Greeks
hud folk-tales long before the epic
period. Again, each city and place
in Ciiveee li;nl abundant local myths
and legends. Further, we have
already seen that many of the tales
incorporated in the Odyssey, so far
from being tin- invention of Homer,
are not even ;he special creation of
Greece, but are found among p>-o|,!es
of toiidly i;i>tinet origin. Finally,
We have in Homer distinct references
to lays. (.'/., of the horse and the
sack of Troy, as existing before
Homer's time ; while the introduc-
tion to the Odyssey says, " Of these
things, goddess, declare them even
unto us," which implies if the line
is genuine that the goddess in-
spired other poets before Homer.
But although we may be fairly
certain that there existed in popu-
lar story a common source from
which Homer and the cyclics may
have drawn without one borrowing
from the other, it is very improbable
that Homer and the authors of the
cyclic poems composed their works
simultaneously and independently.
It is also very improbable that the
authors of the later poems which-
ever were the later poems were
unacquainted with, and therefore
uninfluenced by, the work of their
predecessors. Further, if we assume
that all the poets were ignorant of
each other's work, we cannot under-
stand how it came about, for in-
stance, that the C>//,ria just ended
where the Iliad began, and that the
jthir>f>is just began where the Iliad
ended. A common source may ex-
plain the points which the poets
have iu common, but it .Iocs not
explain their avoiding each other's
subjects. Of course, it may be said
that our knowledge of the cyclic.?
comes from Proclus' summary of
the cycle ; that in the cycle the
poems were cut down so as to tit
on to each other ; and that there-
fore- we have no right to say that
the Rttnrn, for instance, in its origi-
nal form did end where the Odyssey
begins, or the Ttlcynnia, begin where,
the Odyssey ended. To this we
reply, that we, can only form our
opinion on this point by means of
the evidence WO pos.sCSS. The -11111-
mary of tin- (.'///.?! makes it toler-
ably cvid'-nt that the poem in its
original form did end where tin;
summary malv-s it end ; just as the
summary "f the tEthiajti* mak--s it
probable that the original poem be-
gan where the summary begins (i.e.,
at the end of the Iliad), but did not
end where the summarv ends. So.
EPIC POETRY : THE EPIC CYCLE.
too, the Return and the Tdegonia
as summarised are evidently poems
complete in themselves, and there
is nothing in the summary of them
which points t<> their having been
mutilated in order to lit on to the
Odyssey in the cyele.
We have then these facts to ac-
count for : whereas the action of
one cyclic poem, e.y., the ^Ktkiojiis,
occupies the same ground as is
taken up by that of another, e.f/.,
the Little Hind, the action or the
Iliad and Odyssey does not clash
with or overlap that of any cyclic
poem. We may say that this is
accidental ; that the authors of the
four poems which touch the Iliad
and Odyssey knew nothing of
Homer, nor he anything of them,
find that they all happened to just
avoid each other's ground. Hut
tliis is too improbable to he readily
accepted. Ii is much more likely
that either Homer found the Cy dies
or they found Homer in possession
of certain ground and intentionally
avoided poaching on the preserve.
We have therefore to draw one
of two conclusions ; either Homer
found the Cyclies in existence, and
forbore to go over their ground
again, for fear of challenging a
comparison with them unfavour-
able to himself a modesty which
has received its reward in the re-
spect shown to Homer by everv
generation of civilised men since
his time ; or the eyclics found
Homer in possession of certain
prcnmd, and seeing that they could
not improve on Homer, c.inteiited
themselves with occupying the space
that he had left a decision the
wisdom of which is seen in the
fact that it allowed their work to
live by the side of Homer for many
centuries, while its .soundness is
shown by the universal verdict in
favour of the superiority of Homer. 1
Further, it is necessary to ob-
serve that there is the same sharp
line between the subjects of Homer
and Pindar, of Homer and the Tra-
gedians, as there is between Homer
and the Cyclies. Now, either 1'in-
dar and the Tragedians knew Homer
or they did not. Both views have
been held ; let us see what each
view implies. According to the
view that Pindar and the tragedians
had no acquaintance with Homer,
this was because Homer was a la to
compilation trom the floating pop-
ular legend which recounted the
tale of Trov. This compilation was
made about i;.c. 420, for the satis-
faction of the reading public, which
then was coming into existence for
the first time. Hut according to
this view, not only were the Iliad
and the Odyssey compilations from
the unwritten tale of Troy, but the
Ciipria, ^'Et/iiopis, Little Iliad, the
a>-k. the Juturn, and the other
cyclic poems also were compilations
from the same source, and were
made about the same time as the
Iliad and Odyssey. The same ar-
guments which show that the Iliad
and Odyssey us we have them must
have been later than i;.c. 4 p. and
could not have been the work of an
author living before i;.r. 700, also
show that the I'uir'nt. *fit/iia/i!it, \'c.,
could not have tak-n separate and
distinct form before u.r. 420, and
could not have been the work of
authors living in tie- earliest :im>-s.
" All these. I ;im eoiitident." s.iys
Mr. I'uley, " were writ;< n epirom >s
of different parts of a story, whi ':
66
niSTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
in the time of oral recitation formed
one general and undistinguished
whole." Thus, according to Mr.
Paley, Homer and the Cyclics are
both later than Pindar and the
Tragedians, and Homer is later
than the Cyclics. Therefore, in
order to explain why the part of
the tale of Troy which is found in
Homer is not touched on l>y Pindar,
the Tragedians, or the Cyclics, we
must either believe that Pindar and
the Tragedians, having exactly the
same unwritten tale of Troy to draw
upon as Homer, by some extraor-
dinary chance managed to avoid
precisely the incidents afterwards
selected by the compiler of our
Homer ; or else we must believe
that the unfortunate compiler came
on to the field after Pindar, the
Tragedians, and the compilers of the
cyclic poems had used up all the
incidents in the legend of Troy
which they thought lit for their
purpose. Then we must further
believe that the incidents which
lyric poets, dramatists, and epic
compilers indeed all the poets
Greece possessed had one after
another deliberately rejected as un-
fit for any kind of poetic treatment
whatever these incidents, as soon
as they were strung together by
some obscure compiler, whose very
name is lost beyond conjecture, at
once obtained a success and a repu-
tation which wholly eclipsed every
other epic compilation, at once took
rank above the poetry of the great-
est poets, was at once honoured
with the name of Homer, and, fin-
ally, in spite of its modern allusions,
its late and bastard dialect, and its
obvious patchwork character, was
unanimously declared by Greek
critics of all kinds to possess the
very highest antiquity and to be a
model of epic unity. 1 There have
been instances of literary forgery
in ancient and recent times, but
surely none deserves to rank by
the side of our Homer, which thus
deceived the very elect of nations,
a people whose taste was trained in
the finest literature a country ever
possessed, whose linguistic sensi-
tiveness is unparalleled, whether
viewed from the side of philology
or of literature, whose collective
powers of criticism were a pruning-
knife, that allowed none but the
pure works of genius to flourish.
Fortunately we are not compelled
to accept such an improbable theory
as results from assumingthat Homer
was later than the Tragedians. "We
have the alternative of assuming
that Homer preceded Pindar and
the Tragedians. But on this as-
sumption we have to explain why
Pindar and the Tragedians avoided
the ground chosen by Homer, and
the same explanation should also
explain why the cyclicpoets avoided
Homer's ground. In the tirst place,
w> have the reason given by Aris-
totle ; the subjects of the Iliad and
Odyssey are so simple that they do
not afford material for more than
one or two plays. The subject
of the Odyssey is the return of
Odysseus ; of the Iliad, the wrath of
Achilles. Kaeh subject is indivi-
sible ; it would be practically im-
possible to construct a play which
should have, say, tin; first half of
the story in the Iliad for its plot,
1 Mi-. Pa ley at least will not allege that the fame of our H< in.-r is due to
the w;iy in which his compiler strung together these incidi.-nts, whirh were
rejected by all other poets. Antimachus. or whoever il was, was merely a com-
piler, not an author. {'' I never said or spoke of late authorship." 1'uft Kjiic
W'frt/.t, p. 27, n. I.) The merit of the pot-ins, according to Mr. Paley, is that
they contain pieces of beautiful ancient work set together, in which, as be-
longing to the " one and undistinguished whole,'' fanned by the talo of Troy
in the time of oral recitation, must have been known to the Tragedians
(though not known iu their present connection), and yet were rejected by
them.
EPIC POETRY : THE EPIC CYCLE.
and bo complete. In the next place,
to tell the story of Odysseus' re-
turn or Achilles' wrath over again
in the same way as Homer told it,
would be to challenge Homer, the
greatest of pouts, on his own ground ;
and it is a proof o! the sound judg-
ment of Greek authors that now;
we know imagined he could gild
Homer's refined gold, 1 or tell Ho-
mer's tale better than Homer told
it. 2 But, it may be said that even
if the plot o! the Iliad or the Odys-
sey does not admit of much drama-
tisation, there are many episodes
which can be detached from the
plot, and would suffice to make a
drama. This is true ; and it is just
in dramatising these episodes that
the Tragedians show they were ac-
quainted with both what is told in
our Homer, and with the way in
which it is toll l>y our Homer. The
death of Agamemnon is no part of
the plot of the Odyssey, though it
is alluded to in the poem. The
death of Agamemnon, therefore,
was made the catastrophe of the
Jle/urn and the subject of tragedies.
HoT.er's allusions to the matter arc
slight enough to allow of other
authors developing the hint, and
tilling up the sketch in their own
fashion ; and we find that the
author of the H'tnrn and .Ksehylus
have each developed Homer's out-
line alter their own fashion, and in
a way which .-hows that .Ksehylus
did not follow ill" nou-l!omcrie
version more clo-ely than he tol-
lows Homer. The author of the
Hi tin-it made the de ith of Aganiem-
lii'll to be the consequence of the
wrath of Athene. The Greeks, by
not punishing Ajax for his otfeiice
a;_'aiii.-i the goddess incurred luT
wrath; and Agamemnon, as the
leader and repiv-eiitative of the
Greeks, paid in his own person for
his followers' fault. yKschylus also
gives a theological colouring, as it
were, to the cause of Agamemnon's
doom ; but instead of attributing it
ultimately to the otl'ence of Ajax,
he uses it to confirm his theory that
the mystery ot undeserved suller-
ing is to be explained by guilt in
the sufferer's ancestors. In the
same way, every incident in the
tale of Troy which does not come
within the action of the Iliad and
Odyssey, but belongs to the causes
or consequences of the action, has
been worked by other authors into
epic or dramatic form. Further,
although neither any epic or any
tragic poet ventured to challenge
comparison with Homer on his own
ground, the like respect was paid
neither by epic poets to each other,
nor by the Tragedians to epic poets.
But not only do the epic and
tragic poets, both by the incidents
in the tale of Troy which they ac-
cept and those they reject, show
an evident acquaintance with our
Homer, and distinguish between
the plot and the episodes of each
of the Homeric poems : there are
parallelisms between the Cyclicsand
Homer which seem to be cases of
imitation. Kor instance, in the
7'ili : /i,iiiii, Telegouus, the son of
Odysseus and Circe, sets forth on
an expedition to obtain tidings of
his father ; in the Odyssey, Tele-
machtis. the son of Odyss us and
I'enelope. does the same. Now it
Seems itiliicult to avoid the conclu-
sion that one author borrowed the
idea Irom the otle-r : and if this is
a case of plagiarism, wv have to
remember that, in older to prove
Homer to be later than the ( 'ycii.-s,
we inns; >;1 v th.it he plagi <} i--d,
and ]'LiL r i.iri.--d lioni an author who
1 Somebody did dramatise Homer's own -uhjects, for Aii.-.',.t!e s iy- so.
P.ut the very i;:,mes of both author ui.d tra-edy have perished the i'um-h-
ineiit of presumption.
'-' '' To attempt to tell the story [of l-'al-ralT'i h f < ] in better words ih.a
Sh:ik.'. 22$.
68
HISTOKY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
brought his poem to a fitting close
by making Telegonus marry Pene-
lope, and Telemaehus marry Circe.
Again, in the Cypria, Achilles and
Agamemnon quarrel. Achilles with-
draws from the lighting, and the
Trojans gain successes until Achil-
les comes forth from his tent. In
the Cypria, this is but an episode,
while in the Iliad a similar quarrel
(which has a different origin) con-
stitutes the subject of the whole
poem. In the JEtkiopis, again,
Antilochus, the friend of Achilles,
is slain by Memnon. Achilles, in
spite of the prophetic warning of
his mother Thetis, takes vengeance
on Memnon, kills him, and then is
killed himself. In the Iliad it is
Patroclus who is slain by Hector,
and it is the vengeance on Hector
which Thetis warns Achilles will
be followed by his own death. An-
other parallelism from the Ethio-
pia is to be found in the funeral
games with which the body of
Achilles, as in the Iliad the body
of Patroclus, is honoured. From
the Little Iliad we may take the
way in which Menelaus insults the
body of Paris before it is returned
for burial to the Trojans, as parallel
to the treatment of Hector's body
by Achilles in the Iliad. In the
Itcturn there was a descent to the
nether world, which at once sug-
gests that of Odysseus in the Iliad.
Further, we may notice that the
characteristics of certain actors in
the tale are repeated in a way not
likely to have occurred indepen-
dently to two authors. In the
Cypria, Xestor, when consultrd by
Meiielaus about the recovery of
Helen, at once makes a long speech
full of ancient instances, exactly
parallel to his speech in the em-
bassy to Achillas in the Iliad.
Attain, in the ^tlilnpis, Thermites is
as obnoxious as in th>: Iliad, talk-
ing ribaldry about Achilles and the
Amazon Penthesilea.
In all these cases, if Homer is
more ancient than the Cyclics, as
sound iii'L'iiK'iit declares. a:r.l as is
agreed upon by the immense majo-
rity of writers on the subject, the
Cyclics have imitated incidents in.
Homer, changing either the names
of the actors or the occasion of the
scene. Hut if, as most people will
allow, this is so, we may derive
from the cyclics valuable informa-
tion as to the contents of Homer in
their time. For instance, the ex-
pedition of Telegonus in quest of
news of his father shows that in
the Odyssey, which the author of
the Teleyonia possessed, the expedi-
dition of Telemachus was an inte-
gral portion. That is to say, since
we have no reason to doubt the date
assigned by the chronologists to
Eugamon, the author of the Tele-
fjonia, viz., B.C. 560 or B.C. 570,
then what is called the Telcmachia
of our Odyssey was part of the poem
at the beginning of the sixth cen-
tury. So, too, the scene in the
nether world in the Return shows
that the Xckuia of the Odyssey be-
longed to the poem when Agias
if he was the author lived. His
date we do nor know : we can only
say that the literary superiority of
the Return to the Telcgnnia makes
it probable that it belongs to an
earlier period. Further, if the lie-
turn is but an expansion of the
sketch iiiven in the early books of
the Odyssey of the adventures of
Menelaus, Agamemnon, and Xestor
on their return from Troy, we carry
back the Tel machia to before the
time of the Return.
The information we derive from
the Cyclics as to the form and con-
tents of the Iliad is even more valu-
able. The last two books of the
Iliad have been frequently con-
demned as late additions ; but at
any rate, they were probably an
integral part of the Iliad before
the time of the Little Iliad or the
j'Etkio/'is, for the funeral games of
Achilles in the latter, and the con-
tumelious treatment of Palis' body
in the former, are imitated from
what is related in Iliad xxiii and
xxiv. Xow Leeches, the author of
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC HYMNS. 69
the Liitle Iliad, is dated n.r. 700 ; parrulousness of Xestor in tlie C?/p-
Art.'tinus, (Im author of tin; A-'.t'iin- ria, are reproductions of scenes
pis, B.C. 770; and although wo which occur in Iliad ii. and ix., i.e.,
have no means of jmL'iiiL,' <>n what in books whieh, according to Mr.
grounds Kusehins and Hieronvinus* Urote, were nut. part of tlie original
dated these early authors, wo have Iliad. These Looks then appear to
no grounds for disputing their have Ix-cn part of the Iliad at least
dates. A.L'ain. tlie behaviour of before U.G. J/O."
Theisited in the ^Eliiuipis, and the
CHAPTER V.
THE IMM EH 1C HYMN'S.
TIIK Homeric hymns arc a collodion of upwards of tliirfy
poems written in hexameter verse. They vary in length from
three lines to six hundred, tlie majority being short. They
belong to widely different ages, and consequently to very various
authrs. The motives with which they were composed were
ditl'eivnt, though the majority appear to have had the .-ame
ohjcct. The authorship is in all eases extremely doubtful, and
their literary m^rit varies considerably, Tney arc called
Homeric because they were supposed to lie the work of Ilonu-r
or of H-nicric poets ; and some are hymns in the original rather
than in tin; later sense of the word. That is to say, they are
sonu's, in a necessarily addressed to or telling of the gods, and,
wlicii a god is their Minject, they an; not necessarily of a di-vo-
t onal character. The ('-reek word ///////n \vhat is
1 P.usi liill!) \\' :' 1',:-ii >1> i.f ( ':r <:n v :i alioilf A.U. :pO. ! l ; s chi'on, il, .j v, -i:; L -ll
is i-'" ji'e it v ihlf to tin' historians of anririit tinns. a!,il ins ree"i\ ni many
ci'i.til 111 ii ':'..- Iioni Iiioili-ni iii>i-'i\ el 'ie-, was cnllt:iiii--ii in ii:s lii;-- IT;
'I'.rrit, .a. . :' "in ti,e bi-iniiin^ of rhe wi.rld to A.M. ^-'5'. \\ liav.- . n \ l':a.'-
iiieiits ,,f tins wni k. trait shit i a in; I. i ; in. and run; inn- . 1 by I I'.-i . >n\ :ni:>.
- Tiiis, dt" eniiix.', do t -s nut alf'-et Mr. (::-:'< id. nry. wiii'-ii I'l-.-ifd^ :":i.j
lator bunks MS milled ,.n t,i t'n.' Hi.d inniifdi ''>' al't-.-r t!i-' tan- ..:' 11 ',1,-r.
wiiii.-!i. ueooniin.: to II. i-.-d.i;u~, \i ,s a i .;,: U.c.
7O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
prayed for, or why the gods are invoked, and then we may be
able to see why these poems, though of different ages and
origin, have been collected together. When the collection was
made may be discussed subsequently. In some cases the prayer
seems to be merely a general one for blessing and happiness.
For instance, the hymn to Athene (xi.) contains four lines ad-
dressed to the goddess describing her attributes, and concludes
" Hail, goddess ! and grant us fortune and happiness." So, too,
in the hymn to Heracles (xv.), the poet says, in effect, I will
sing of Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, who did and suf-
fered many wondrous things, and now has a place in Olympus
by the side of Hebe : " Hail, king ! son of Zeus ; grant us pro-
sperity and to deserve it." But in other prayers we find a
much more definite petition. In the hymn to Hestia, the god-
dess of the hearth (xxiv.), the poet prays to her, wherever she
be, to visit this house and give grace to his song. What song
she is to give grace to we see at once from the hymn to Selene
(xxxii.), the moon, which ends, "Hail, goddess ! having begun
with you, I will sing the praise of demi-gods, whose deeds
minstrels make famous." The demi-gods are the heroes of the
story of Troy or of Thebes, and the praise which the bard, after
his invocation of Selene, is about to sing is a lay of his own
composition or a portion of some epic. This is the character
of the collection of the Homeric hymns as a whole. They are
prayers or invocations to some god, made by a minstrel or a
rhapsodist about to recite an epic poem.
Many of the hymns end like the hymn to the Dioscuri
(xxxiii ) : " Hail, Tyndaridoe ! riders of fleet horses, and I will
make mention of you in another song." Why the poet should
make mention of them, or whatever god he prays to, in another
song appears from the end of the hymn to the Earth (xxx.) :
" Hail, mother of the gods ! spouse of the starry Sky ! graciously
grant me a goodly livelihood in return for my song, while I
will make mention of yon in another song." If the god hears
the prayer, the worshipper will continue his worship : and he
prays for a goodly livelihood because, whether a wandering bard
or a rhapsodist, it is by tin- poetic art he makes his living.
Other hymns, like one to HI.TIIICS (xviii.), end, "Hail, son of
Zeus and Maia ! having begun with you, I will go on to another
song." These too are evidently preludes to the recitation of
epic poetry, the epic poem recited beinu r the other song which
the bard will go on to. We are then-fore justified in conclud-
ing that hvmns such as the one to Zeus (xxiii. ), ending, ' l!e
gracious, son of Kronos, most glorious and greatest," although
EPIC POETRY : THE HOMERIC HYMNS. 7 I
they contain no reference to the recitation which the minstrel
is about to make, and for the success of which he prays, were,
like the rest, preludes to a recitation. But two exceptions must
be made. The hymn to Poseidon (xxii.) expressly prays that
the god will help those at sea, and the hymn to Ares (viii.)
expressly prays for peace. 1 By what accident these two hymns
came to be incorporated in a collection of preludes it is impos-
sible now to say.
Having established the nature of the hymns, let us now see
what is known about the practice of preluding a recitation of
epic poetry by a short invocation. There is in Homer a
passage which, describing the bard Demodocus as beginning
the lay of the horse, is generally translated, "He being stirred
by tlie god, began;" but it is probable that it should be trans-
lated, "He being stirred, began with the god," i.e., began with
a brief invocation, such as we have in the hymns.- In this
ease the custom ^,,,'s back to Homeric times, though it is
doubtful whether anv of the hvmns go back to so early a date.
There is no reason to doubt, that bards, when about to recite
poems of their own composition, made a brief invocation ; and
a short hymn to Aphrodite (x.), which prays her to "grant a
delightsome song," seems in those words to be rather the praver
of a poet about to recite a p . >em of his own than of a rhapso-
dist. :; In this case, Hymn x., which has much beauty in its
brief compass, would belong to the epic age, i.i\, to the time
1 1'rohably \ve ou^ht to include amonc; the exceptions a hymn to Dionysus
(xxvi.), which ends -
cos 6' 7).(ta; ^ai/ioj'ras t's aipas ai/ris 'tKftrOat,
tK <)' cu' ; '/ u'/idu'i' as roes TroXXoi'-s ii'iurrovs.
- (id. viii. 40-), o o' 6/'in;''tij (of' ///>\T<>.
Tin- (ran -.lal on ui veil al MIX e is si.iin- \vh:it ei.nfirni' d 1'V a u'eiieral n-xemManoe
li.Mvi'iii In.' f.innula of the hymns ai:d the passage in the Odyssey. The
li'5 (IfiCi TOl 1Tpj(f>pti)l' ''<'>$ U'TTcliTf I'tJTril' doiOl'll'.
A recollection of tin- ]>:is~a^e seems to have coloured the diction of the
hymn to Helios l,\\\i.'. whieli ends -
(The coii>tnii-;ion without ](y::i:i-; t
J So too x\\., which say- c i, t'/-<.. ; ;r TiH'}-ar' don"/;." ; and vi. i
i~ ',$ y is' d- ; I'!'i
I'.'M;;- rcvOt merio hymns. Three of them are as long as the average
book in Homer, and the other one is over 290 lines. A ditli-
cnlty therefore has been felt in believing that these long hymns
could have been nie;u:t as preludes to a recitation, since they
are long enough for a recitation in themselves. Various ways
out of tho difiiciilty have been imagined. The expansion
theory, which piays so large, a part in the reconstruction of the
"original' 1 Homer, has been applied to the Homeric hymns.
It is said that the>e long hymns were originally short, but were
gradually interpolated ;.nd expanded to their present length.
]5ut why rhapsodists should defeat their own object and stultify
themselves in this manner it is difficult to see. If in their
present form they are too long to serve the purpose for which
they were intended, it is vain to say they have reached it by
expansion. If rhupsodists would not compose preludes (or
epics) too long for their purpose, neither would they expand
them to such a length. A more reasonable theory is that the
interpolations are much later than the time of rhapsodi.-ts ;
that they are the work of stupid scribes, or perhaps of editors.
The text is indeed in a very bad state, and there are many
obscurities, due in ail probability to stupid interpolations, in-
deed, tin; lir.-t hymn to Apollo is really tsvo distinct hymns run
together. Hut, on the other hand, many obscurities are due to
equally stupid omissions. Incomplete as the text is, it would
be much mere, incomplete had not Matiha-i in 1772 discovered
a manu.-cript in a .-table at Moscow containing a fragment of
a hymn to I>i"iiy.-us and a long hvmn to IOmeter, hitherto
74 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
by a long hymn, which served as a prelude to the whole pro-
ceedings. But this is a pure conjecture, supported by nothing
in the hymns themselves, nor by any analogy outside of them.
There remains yet another conjecture to be mentioned ; it is
that the long hymns are not preludes at all, but lays with
which the authors actually competed for the prize; that, in
fact, we have in them specimens of the lays of which, on the
accretion theory of Homer, the Homeric poems are a fortui-
tous aggregation. This conjecture seems refuted by the fact
that the long hymns, like the short ones, end with the de-
claration that the poet having begun with the god, will now
go on to his recitation. But the general stupidity of the MSS.
makes it possible that these verses have got tagged on to
poems to which they do not belong. A more fatal objection is
that the hymn to Apollo which Thucydides ascribes to Homer,
and which seems to have boon a prelude, not an independent
poem, contains 178 lines. Having exhausted the various con-
jectures made on the subject, and having found none of them
satisfactory, we must expand our notions of what rhapsodists
could recite and Greek audiences listen to. If 178 lines were
not too much as a prelude to the real business of recitation,
possibly neither were five hundred.
Although the different hymns belong to different dates, that
to the ])elian Apollo being the oldest, they probably most of
them belong, if not to the epic period, to a time not very long
after it. The question how old this collection is is different.
The very faulty condition of the text, with other considerations,
makes it probable that the collection was made after Alexan-
drine times. The oldest reference to be found to it is in Philo-
demos, who was contemporary with Cicero. The difference
between the lines from the hymn to Apollo, as quoted by
Thucydides and as they stand in our text, is considerable, and
shows that the hymn had been transmitted orally and with
the consequent variations for some time before it was com-
mitted to writing. At the same time, the spelling shows that
probably it was committed to writing before the completion of
tin: alphabet in the archonship of Eudides ; whereas the other
hymns were probably not written down until after that period. 1
1 K.ri., wlieii the hyrni
correctly transliterated
mistiik
Ic.uks l;k'- ;i fulse transliteration
iiciu i.s ;i coiTL-ctiuii (!) by ]j;inii
EPIC POETRY : TFIE HOMERIC HYMNS. 7 5
Hero wo may appropriately mention some other poems which,
as well as the hymns, were accounted Homeric in ancient times.
The most famous is the Manjites. This poem, which unfortu-
nately has not survived to our time, took its name from the
hero. Marches was the very personification of folly. As we
learn from a fragment, he knew many things, and knew them
all equally badly. Being unable to count more than five, he
set to work to enumerate the waves of the sea. From this we
can infer to a certain extent the nature of the poem. In the
first place, it was not a parody ; in the next, it was not a per-
sonal attack upon any one. It was general in its character,
and depended for its success in provoking mirth on the humour
with which the author described the situations into which
Margites was naturally brought, by his folly. Aristotle regarded
it as standing in the same relation to comedy as the Iliad and
Odyssey to tragedy ; and he regarded the Afarr/i'tea, as well as
the Iliad and Udyssey, as the work of Homer. Its popu-
larity was great in antiquity. The Stoic Zeno is said by IM'OII
Chrysostoin (^3, 4) to have written a treatise on it. But it
can be traced back safely farther than the time of Zeno, for
Archilochus, whose date is about u.c. 700, was acquainted with
it. Whether, however, the Manjiti'i* was the work of Homer,
it is difficult to sav. The absence of any mention of it in the
better scholia on Homer has been regarded as an indication that
the Alexandrian critics did not rank it as Homeric. Further,
Suidas l and Proclus attribute it to Pigres, the brother of Arte-
misia, the queen of Halicarnassus, who distinguished herself in
the Persian wars. But this seems to have been merely a con-
jecture based on the inadequate ground that Pigres interpolated
the Iliad with pentameters, and the MaryHi-.-t contained iambics
mixed with hexameters. Further, the poem can be traced
farther back than Pigres, as far as Archilochus. The mixture
of iambics with hexameters docs indeed seem to show that the
Marijiti'i* belongs to a time when iambic poetry was struggling
into being, and the epic nge pa-sing away. Tin's would make
tin 1 poem to be post Homeric ; but again.-t it we have to set the
fact that ArMotle regarded Homer as the author.
Other humorous oems attributed t<> Homer, and now lo-t.
76 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Cercopes, like the Maryites, seems to have been the literary
version of a popular tale ; and the tale, at least, was of some
antiquity, since it afforded a subject for one of the metopes of
Selinus. Besides these poems which have not survived, there
is another humorous poem which has survived, the Butraclw-
myomaclii'i, or Battle of the Frogs and Mice. This is not based
on any popular tale ; it is a parody of warlike epics, and pre-
supposes some literary cultivation for its appreciation. It
possesses, however, no literary merit, and only occasional flashes
of humour, e.g., the reappearance of a combatant after having
been severely wounded or even killed a just parody on the
disregard of Homeric heroes for wounds which should have put
them Jtors de combat. The Batrachomyomacltia cannot be the
work of Homer, and the only ground for allowing it any
antiquity is the statement of Suidas that it was written by
Pigres. But as he also attributes the Mnryites to the same
author, it is probable he has confused the two poems. It
may, indeed, be reasonably doubted whether the Batraclio-
myomacliia, belongs to the classical period at all. Be tin's as it
may, the parody was successful enough to lead to imitations,
such as the Psaromachia, AracJmomachia, and Geranomachia.
Parodies were in much favour in Athens during the Pelopon-
nesian war, and were regularly recited at festivals, probably at
the Panathensea. The most distinguished author of this kind
was Hegemon of Thasos, a friend of Alcibiades, who composed
a Giyantomachia, which may have contained, at least, refer-
ences to the Sicilian expedition. In the next century Eubceus
of Paros, and after him Bceotus of Syracuse and Matron, seem
to have cultivated parody with success.
Finally, a few Homeric epigrams have survived to our day.
They are of various worth, and probably of different dates.
Whether any go back to Homer'.s time, there is nothing to show.
They include epitaphs and gnomes in hexameters, and, most in-
teresting of all, the Eiresione. This poem gets its name from the
olive or laurel twig wound round *ith threads of wool, which
was not only carried by supplicants, but was also carried by
boys in the country who went round begging from house to
house, and singing the Kiri-tinn*', much iu the same way as buys
in our o\vu country at Christmas-time.
EPIC POETRY: HESIOD AND IIESIODIC POETRY. J "J
CHAPTER VI.
IIESIOD AND HKSIODIC POETRY.
FROM Homer to Hesiod the step is a great one. To say that
their only resemblance is that they are both in Greek and both
in hexameters, would be an exaggeration, though not a great
exaggeration. In subject, object, method, style, in the circum-
stances under which they were produced, and the place and
race to which they belong, they dill'er widely. "When Alex-
ander the Great said that Homer was reading for kings, Ilesiod
for peasants, he gave utterance to a criticism which has con-
siderable truth in it. The contempt for Hesiod implied in the
judgment is perhaps too strong, though in reading him we can-
not but frequently feel that we are in the tracts of hexameters
rather than in the realms of poetry. This is sometimes as-
cribed to the nature of the subject. But the Gvoryics of Virgil
suflice to show that it is po.-sible for a poet to impart at least
as much interest to farming as to fighting ; and the fact re-
mains, that excellent though Hesiod may have been as a man in
all matters of life, he was not a great poet, hardly a poet at ail.
If Alexander's criticism does but little injustice, to Hesiod's
claims to be counted a poet, it is a yet more just expression
of the dillerence in the circumstances under which and the
audii nee for which the two authors composed. Homer was,
as a matter of fact, a composer for kings, and Hesiod for peas-
ants. Homer took for a subject the quarrel between the divine
Achilles and Agamemnon, king of men. Ilesiod takes for his
text the lawsuit between his brother and himself, poor fanners
both, though not both hoiie-t. In Homer, kings are heroes,
whoso prowess it is the poet's privilege, to sing of. In Hosiod,
kings are th unjust judges who gave a verdict against the
author, and an.- t be shown the error of their ways. From this
dill'' Tence in the subject and its treatment we may fairly infer
a dillerence in the audience to which tin.- two authors addressed
themselves. Amongst, farmers, who had them-'
from the injustice of kings, Ilrsiod's verses would 1
as was Homer's poetry in a palace; and Alexa
'pi ion which would have been ace
_ ,-.' by roval readers, j [ere, ;
toiy of cla.-sical Greek liieratui'
on author, and the way in wn
determined tne character ' >f tin- I
78 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
If Homer and Hesiod differ in their subjects, they differ
quite as much in what is more important, their objects ; and
this again is doubtless partly due to their difference in race
and place. Homer's object is simply to tell his story in the
best way. "Tell me. Muse, of that man so ready at need," is
the prayer he puts up ; or, " Sing, goddess, the wrath of
Achilles, Peleus' son." ]>ut Hesiod's object is not to tell a story,
but to tell the truth. He informs us at the beginning of the
Thco/jony that the Muses appeared to him by night, when
he was with his flocks on the mountain Helicon, and said to
him, ' "\Ve can tell many lies like unto the truth, but we can,
when we wish, say what is true.'' From this it is clear that
Hesiod regarded the fictions of Homer with the same moral
condemnation as Solon felt for acting, which, being the telling
of lies, was not to be allowed in the state. The Spartans im-
plied the same view by the synonym which they invented for
lying " Homerising ; " while even with us, to ''romance" is to
"tell a story," in the uncomplimentary sense. The object of
Hesiod, then, was to tell not a story, but the truth. Xow a
poet may choose for his poem anything he likes to take, from
a field-mouse to the fall of man; and, provided that he pro-
duces work beautiful iu itself and in accordance with the laws
of poetry, criticism which carps at his choice of subject has no
value. He may choose to tell the truth, and that will not mar
his poetry. Xor will it make mere verses poetry, any more
than it will make a bad verse scan. A statement may be true,
yet not beautifully or poetically expressed: witness the axioms
of Knclid. And the inference is equally false whether we say
this is true and therefore poetical, or this is not true and there-
is not poetical. In tine, whatever the poet may wish to
object is to produce poetry, while the object of
poetry but to give instruction. The
which is essential to the poetical
Hcsiod evidentlv looked upon with
like the truth '' indeed, but not
1 to give exact information about
jut the pedigree of the gods.
Ile-iod is the representative of didactic poetry, of the poetry
which is designed to instruct. The popularity lie enjoyed in
antiquity was due to tin; fact that lie fullilled his object. He
did instruct, and lie was u.-ed largely for purposes of in.~truc-
ti->ji. V>\\\ it is preci.-ely because th" aim of in.-tniction wholly
filled his tiekl of vision to the exclusion of the poet's proper
EPIC POKTKY : UESIOD AM) HKSIODIC POKTKY. 79
object the production of poetry that ho fails of being a
poet.
\\ r e have said that Ilesiod's didactic object was due to the
place and race to which he belonged. He was an yKolian and
a Boeotian. Ba-ot.ia did indeed produce isolated geniuses a
poet, Pindar; a general, Epaminondas. But the dulness of the
atmosphere was matched by, if it was not the cause of, the dul-
ness of the population. The Athenians called their neighbours
"Boeotian pigs;" and country and people alike were better
fitted for cultivation than culture. The Homeric poems, on the
other hand, belonged in their origin to Asia Minor and the
Ionian race, a place and people much bettor adapted for the
development of the sense of beauty and for the growth of
works of the imagination. Here it should be noticed, that
although didactic poetry was developed in Bceotia and epic in
Ionia, the two kinds of literature were not the exclusive posses-
sion, the one of the one people, the other of the other. As epic
poetry has a history before Homer, so didactic poetry had a
development before Hesiod. Poems as long as those of Ilesiod,
and consisting of a string of precepts but loosely bound to-
gether, could only have been built on the foundations laid by
a long line of predecessors. As the Homeric poems are the
literary and artistic version of various popular legends and
myths and folk-lore woven together by the genius of the poet,
so too tin! wise saws of which Hesiod's ICorA'x and Days is
made up were drawn from the experience, and also from the
superstitions of the people. Further, as popular legends had
received poetic treatment before Homer's time, so before Hesiod
''the wisdom of many'' had been ,-hapod into form by "the
wit of the ft-w." Precepts for the conduct
pointed form both before and after I b
the sayings of the Seven \Yi.-e M, n
Athens, Ilipparchus, the .-on of l'i-i-t
kind inscribed ot
I 'idactie poetrv, 1
lily. Hesiodgivi
well as the conduct "'' lit' 1 ', on marriage
And so, too, we tind didactic passages in
advice of Ne.-tor to his son on tin
the lo-t epic Tii' /'/x. one of the n
pii ce of didactic poetry. In tine, th
tin.-' foim of conveying instriictio]
Ilesiod, nor \\as it peculiar ! the .Knlian l'"i 'Hans. But
1 Ollf i>f tlu-M.- ILL- >>;n iM.ii.-C. I. Li. 1. 12.
8O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
nowhere else and from no other poet did it receive such cultiva-
tion. The conditions in Boeotia were more favourable than else-
where to the development of the seeds of didactic poetry. What
were the conditions 1 A country adapted for farming, and a
population more inclined to the realities of existence than to the
realms of fancy. Hesiod was "a child of his time and people."
His natural bent was to the giving of practical advice ; and
his audience, being practical men. preferred hints on farming to
"lies." even though they were "like the truth," about Troy.
Under the title Works and Days there are comprised in all
probability two works. There is the Works and Days proper,
consisting of advice about farming and husbandry generally, and
constituting the second half of the poem as it now stands.
There is also another poem addressed to Hesiod's brother, and
containing moral advice, which makes the first half of the poem
in its present form. These two poems differ in character
enough to make it probable that they were given to the public
under different conditions. ISTow it is possible that the real
Works and Days was first given to the public at some "musical "
contest or literary competition. But it is not probable that
Hesiod's warm reprobation of the corrupt and unjust kings was
meant to compete for a prize. It would have great success
with an audience of his neighbours gathered together to hear
his wrds against an injustice from which they themselves had
suffered or might suffer ; and we may conjecture that it was in
this way the poem was diffused, much as the lampoons of
Archilochus in later times were recited by the author at a ban-
quet, and circulated through the city by those who heard them.
Probably this was also the way in which the real Worlc.-> and
Uai/s was made public. A single recitation in a public festival
would give the hearers no opportunity of carrying away in
their memories so long a poem. "\\'e must suppose, that Hesiod
was frequently called upon to recite his poem in social gather-
ings, and that thus it became difiusi-d.
We have now to ask why the mutter of the Work* and
Day*, which, like other didactic pot-try, is essentially prosaic,
was thrown into tin- form of verse? TO this it has } -en jvplied
that Hesiod had Very strong feelings about the. injustice of
judges and tin; evil of idleness: and tin- strength of his feelings
was so great, that his soul could not ivst until he had given the
most beautiful and imposing expiession to his !' dings that he
could. And this it is said is the explanation of didactic poetry
in general. Poetry in itself is not the proper vehicle for in-
struction and information : prose is the proper means. But
EPIC POETRY : HESIOD AND HESIODIC POETRY. 8 I
the attractive and enthralling beauty of what the author had to
say appeared to him so great, that poetry was the only worthy
expression for it; and into poetry he put it. 2s" ow we will not
insist upon the fact that food for cattle and matters of manure
cannot have, this overpowering beauty. The fallacy of the ex-
planation is, that it assumes that Hesiod and other didactic
poets had before them the choice whether to compose in verse
or prose. Ikit in the seventh century B.C. no Greek author had
any such choice. The very idea that it was possible to com-
pose prose was unknown until the latter part of the sixth
century, and then it was in Ionia that the discovery an
important one was made. If a man had that within him
which he felt he must give words to if his thoughts on the
order of tilings, or his knowledge of the practical matters of
life, seemed to him too precious to die within his own breast,
lie had only one way of giving them extensive publicity,
only one way of ensuring that they should live after him, and
that was to put them into verse. A precept is useless if it can-
not be remembered, and cannot be readily learnt by one person
from another. Accordingly, amongst most peoples, rhyme,
metre, or alliteration is used as an aid to memory. Rhyme
and metre have indeed a beauty of their own, which doubt-
less is the secret of their original cultivation. ]',ut they have
also the practical recommendation of enabling the memory to
carry a larger amount of facts than it otherwise could retain ;
and so long as writing is unknown to or little used by a people,
verse is not only a means of gratifying man's sense of beauty,
but also bears the burdens which paper or parchment are sub-
sequently made to carry.
Kveii when prose literature has come into existence, and
when the function of verse has been specialised down to the
S"le purpose of udding to the beauty of expression, we s;iil
tind that there survives, especially ann-ngst the un-ducat'-d, a
lar_;e amount of fo'.k-lore in verse. Amongst this folk-Inn'
there may p'licrallv be found rhymes about the weather, about
the proper days for the discharge of certain domestic duties,
NOW tli is i- pre-
11 '"//,.; i ni 'I 1) i >/.*.
rations, the "days ' ale the davs
which it i.- lucky t<> do or avoid certain things.
reasonable i > suppo-e ilia! II".-;. i was but
'in, which alieady exi-t^l amng the people, of
Hit 1 'rmat i' ui in \vrs'', beeau.-e it was ea.-iei 1 to
remember than it would hive be'-n if put into pros*. It is true
F
82 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
that a short maxim may have a long life, even in prose, if it is
put in a pithy form, which by its point or its ring strikes the
imagination and impresses itself on the memory. Such maxims
are the proverbs of all peoples. They play an important part
in the education of a nation, and constitute the principal edu-
cation of many illiterate people. But although brief maxims
may, even when expressed in prose, have a wide and long popu-
lar existence, it is because they are brief. A dozen words in
prose may be remembered if they are striking enough, but a
dozen pages of prose not. Hesiod, therefore, who wrote a long
work, had a very obvious reason for giving it the form of verse.
His object was to give useful information : and however valu-
able his precepts were in themselves, his object would have
been defeated if they were not extensively circulated. Xow,
if his sayings were to spread amongst the agricultural popula-
tion of Boeotia, and be handed down from father to son, it was
necessary that they should be in verse, for they were too long
to be remembered or repeated otherwise ; for whatever the
date at which writing came into use in Greece, we may reason-
ably suppose that the tillers of the soil did no more reading
in Greece than they did in England before the invention of
the printing-press.
It is from the Works and Days and the introduction to the
TJtf-'-ogony that we learn all we know about Hesiod's life. His
father 1 came from Cyme in yEolis and settled in Ascra, at the
foot of Mount Helicon, in Boeotia. There, as far as we know,
Ilesiod spent his life. After his father's death lie lost his
share of hi.s father's property in a lawsuit brought again.- 1 him
by his brother 1'erses, who obtained a verdict by bribing the
judges. This, however, seems not to have prevented Hesiod
from obtaining, by careful farming, a livelihood sufficient to
enable him to give assistance to his brother subsequently, when
Perses was in need of aid. Xor did the work which lie had
to do as a fanner prevent him from composing didactic
po.-try. The .Muses of Helicon inspired him to sing in the,
Theoyonij of the origin of the world and the history of the.
gods. His literary fame and triumphs were not limited to the
audience that he found among his farmer neighbours, but on
one occasion lie competed with a poem at the funeral of King
1 The nnme of his father is traditionally fivcn as Dies. This probably is
due to a misunderstanding of Wnrkx umi J)ii;is, 299
IpydSiv \\tpa~ti oioc -)(C05.
Unless we correct the reading into Aioc -,fi'os.
EPIC POETRY: HESIOD AND HESIODIC POETRY. 83
Amphidatnus in Chalcis, and carried off the prize. The law-
suit with his In-other WHS the occasion of Hesiod's composing
tho poem which now forms the first part of the Work*; and
l).'oyony being the work of Hesiod. And this
mu-r decide the question uf its authorship.
The 77" nyinuj ii"t only relate.?, as its name implies, the birth
of the .U"(.l>, but is also a cosmogony describing the origin of the
univ.-rs.-. The poem is not the invention of He.-io^l himself ;
it is his connected version of the ft outing beliefs and myths of
his time, in which he has incorporated, probably, verges, and
.\x.\v. (.ols di-f0r]Kai> '<>'i.77pos 'HcrtoOuj Tf, 'Uff'ja Tra// avOpuiroiffLV
<5lf(5fa Kttl I/-J",OS i(/(*, ^CLVTO tttUV dOfaiaTiO. (p'/Oi, KXfTTTi If
fit<.\t'.t.i> ~(. \a; a\\v/ x oi'S aTraTtreci'.
EPIC POETRY : IIESIOD AND IIESIOD1C POETRY. 8 5
even whole passages, of traditional religious poems. In tho
beginning, according to his authorities, was Chaos. Out of Chaos
came Earth, and Tartarus, and Love. From Chaos also sprung
Erehos and Might. From Krebos and Night came Day and
/Ether. From Earth was born the Sky and the Mountains.
Then the union of Earth and Sky produced the Ocean, Kronos,
the Cyclops, and the Titans. The Sun and Moon were Lorn
from the Titans. The Sky (Uranus) was the first lord of tho
gods : but he was killed by his son, Kronos, and from his body
sprang the Erinnyes and Aphrodite. Kronos himself was de-
pos-'d by his son Zeus. The history of the dynasty of Zeus
follows, and the poem ends with a list of the goddesses who
married mortals.
Like the H'o/'/.v ami Days, the Tlifonoiuj, being a didactic
poem, \\as usi-d in Civcce for educational purposes. From tiie
orator .E-chines we learn that Creek boys were made to learn
the former, and from the rhetorician Libanius that even in
the fourth century after Christ the Thcoiju/ii/ was still taught. 1
Lut the Tin ii'i'iinj was not only used as a manual of mythology
in schools ; as containing the oldest speculations of the race on
the origin of the universe and of the gods, it was the subject of
dis<;u-si"ii among philosophers. The story goes that Epicurus
received his lirst impulse to philosophy from the Theoyuny ;
and certainly the Stoic philosophers Zeno, Chry.-ippus. and
Diogenes of I'.abylon wrote treatises on it, and endeavoured to
interweave it with their physical philosophy. In earlier times
philosophers treated it with less respect and more judgment,
lleraclitus ob.-erved that it showed the dillereiice between
learning and understanding.- The criticism is a sound one.
llesiod heaped up all the 1 myths that he was acquainted with in
tin; Tltt'ii'jniiii) and his mythological learning was wide : but in
many cases he seems not to have understond them well enough
even to relat" them intelligibly. Another philosopher, X"iio-
phanes, criticised the work on moral grounds; every action
that men consider immoral, theft, adultery, and deceit, lie-i"d
attributed to the gods. This critici-m also is true; bu; the
reproach all'ects He>;od but little, since he did not invent these
tal'-s ; he. merely recorded th'-m. 1 he brutal stories found in
the T//>'i>;>i>/, i'.ij. tho.-e in which Kronos ^-wallows his own
1 .V.srhint 1 ! in C'f-t. i;;. p. 7 ;, iT't.f'a? r'rrc.s
thil'fil>, *LV IJJ'SpfS OlTtS ttl'"-0.5 k'.Jl'.i'Ccl. ( '!. 1.
2 7ro.\r_:uti'i7; vi,(iv (>' Hi~-;ii* mi. H(ji.QuOV
K.T.\. xvi. I'd. 1'ywattT.
86 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
children and mutilates his father Uranus, are descended from
times when the Aryans were no more advanced in civilisation
than the South Sea Islanders. Such stories are found all over
the world, as flint arrow-heads and stone implements are found,
and show that the mind of primitive man was everywhere in-
fluenced by the same analogies in the endeavour to solve the
problem of the origin of things.
We have now to mention the other works ascribed to Hesiod.
Of these, the Shield of Hercules alone survives. It is obviously
inspired by the description of the shield of Achilles in Homer,
and the diction contains reminiscences of Homeric phraseology.
As literature, it possesses no great merit. The narrative is life-
less, the description of the shield inartistic. The introduction
now prefixed to the poem does not belong to it, but to the Eove
of Hesiod. It is said that Stesichorus. the lyric poet who lived
about B.C. 600, expressly ascribed the Shield to Hesiod, but the
critic Aristophanes of Byzantium (circa B.C. 200) declared it
spurious, and his opinion has been unanimously accepted, on
internal grounds, by modern writers.
Other works, now lost, such as the Catalogue of Women, the
Eoce, sEgimios, the Teaching of Chiron, the Welding of Kt'i/x,
the Melampodia, were also ascribed to Hesiod, some perhaps
justly, others because they were Hesiodic, i.e. didactic or genea-
logical, or like him in style. The most important of these
works is the Catalogue. It probably formed a continuation of
the Tlicogony, as it contained the genealogy of heroes, related
in much the same way as the genealogy of the gods is related
in the Tlicixjony. It seems to have consisted of three books ;
and as the Eow, consisting of two books and treating of the
.same subject, was usually united with it in a work of five books
altogether, it has sometimes been maintained that the Catalogue
and the Eoce 1 are but different names for the same work. But
the fragments of them seem to .show that the same myths were
treated in a different way in the, two works, and as the Cata-
logue was universally recognised in antiquity as the work of
llesiod, while there were doubts about the genuineness of the
1 The title Eocc, ']Io?at, is a plural of the phrase 7; O'LTJ, and the poem <;<>t
its name from the fact that the history of each heroine be^an wiih the -.voids
T) 0177. For instance, the fragment of the Kat which has been prefixed to the
Kkicld begins
7) or/; 7rpo\iTroiffa 56fJ.ovs Kal irar/iida yaiav
ij\vOti> t's Qtj ; ias .... ' A\K/J.r/i>r;.
The Eorc, then-fore, niu-;t have, bc^un with some such statement as: Never
were there women so fair as those of antiquity or such as Alcinene ; and
every heroine was introduced with the words "or such as."
KPIC POKTRY : HF.SIOI) AND IIESIODIC POKTKY. 87
J:'ua', it is possible that not only were they different works, l)iit
by different authors. Tlie references to Cyrene in tin; K,' ! which implies that, the poem began with some such
phni-r as " Never was woman so fair, or such as," Alcmene, or
whoever the heroine was.
Genealogical poems took especial root in (Jreece, as epic
proper owes its cultivation to the colonies in Asia Minor.
These poems being of a semi-historical character, are valuable
for the hi.-tory of (Jivek literature, as showing that prose, which
is tin' proper vehicle for history, and which was, as a matter of
fact, first used for history, was only brought into use after verse
had been many times tried for the purpose of recording history.
At the same time they show by what slow degrees history
began to disengage itself from myth. Aniong>t the authors of
these semi-historical genealogical poems, the name of Chersias
of Orchomenus has eome down to us. lie is said to have been
a contemporary of I'eriander and Chilon. To Kumelus of
Corinth, who was said to have composed the Rifuni. were also
ascribed the C<>riiithifin A'/"''"' ^"' /'''''"/"'"'". ami Kurujrin, which
\ve may regard as semi historical poems. Argos also, a- well as
(' ii'inth. produced poetry of thi> kind, the. l'li<>rniii,t an-i /Jtui'ii*,
whose auth"ix aie unknown. In Sparta, Ciiuethon, a coiitem-
jiorary of Munielu-. who liveii probably about B.C. 776. p
ealogical poem. Athens had her representativ
, who wrote the Attlii* ; and in later times in ti
of Sams wrote a genealogical j-o-m amongst oi'
Tlie ^F.'iintiti* and tin- ll'^A/'.v;/ i>J A"- //./. w'nicli wen
to Ib'Hod. Wfi'i 1 narrative in character and were .-In
Thev oriu'inat"d amoii" the I'xi'otians and l><>rian
in, i> din 1 authority.
88 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
betray their origin by the fact that they, like the Shield of
Heracles, took their subjects frm the myths in which Heracles
figured. Finally, the Teaching of Chiron was a development
of the didactic side of Hesiod's poetry, as were also the Great
Works and the Astronomy, and, in later times, the Astroloyia
of Cleostratus of Tenedos.
CHAPTER VII.
OTHER EPIC POETS AND OTHER WRITERS OF HEXAMETERS.
BESIDES Homer and the poets whose works were incorporated
in after-times into the Epic Cycle, we find that there were other
epic poets, whose works have perished entirely, or are repre-
sented by insignificant fragments only. "With the doubtful
exception of Peisandcr, all these poets belong to post-epic
times ; that is to say, they devoted themselves to epic composi-
tion at a time when genius had abandoned epic poetry for the
cultivation of other kinds of literature. The epic age is the
period in which genius carried epic poetry to its greatest height,
and in which epic constituted the main if not the sole literary
food of the nation. Although epic poems continued to be ] 're-
duced throughout the period of lyric poetry and of the drama,
even until the rise of oratory, we may regard the epic age as
ended and the lyric period inaugurated when, in B.C. 700,
genius appeared for the first time in the field of lyric poetry in
the person of Archilochus. The elements of lyric had existed
long before this among the people, but the age of lyric only
began with Ardiilochus. and when it began the epic age may
be said to end.
We have therefore now to deal with authors who composed
epics at a time when popular attention, and consequently the
encouragement which national fame can give, was bestowed on
other kinds of literature. Some epics composed under these
unfavourable conditions were incorporated in the Epic Cycle,
and have already been mentioned. Amon^ the epic poets who
remain to be mentioned, the most distinguished was the earliest,
Peisander of Kamiros in Khodcs. Some authorities regarded
him as belonging to the epic a ire ; others, with more probability,
assign n. c. 650 as his dat". and he may be even ni"re modern
than that. lie, like the other e pic authors of po.-t-epic times,
EPIC POETRY: OTHER EPIC POETS. 89
finding the cycle of Trojan myths already worked out, turned
elsewhere for a subject, which he found in the adventures of
Heracles. The subject had indeed been treated of before in
short Hesiodic poems, such as the Sliiflii of Jlcrai'lcs and the
Mnrriaije of KI'IJJ: But these works, though epic in style, had
only dealt with incidents in the life of the hero. It yet re-
mained for some one to give in the epic style a systematic
account of all the adventures of Heracles. This IVisander did
in his Hertifli in. The epic consisted of two books, and, as far
as we can judge, seems to have been a well-planned work, pos-
sessing some claims to artistic unity and symmetry of detail,
wherein it differed from tin; loose and unpoetical character of
the genealogical poems attributed to Hesiod. Beyond this it is
impossible for us to form for ourselves any independent judg-
ment as to the literary Tiierit of IVisander. It is to be noticed
that, as we should expect, we do not iind in classical authors
any mention of iVisander. IVisander devoted himself to epic
poetry at a time when no wide re; utation was to be gained from
it. and the audience to which he addressed himself was probably
the narrow one of his own circle of friends. On what grounds
the Alexandrian critics, who classed him along with Homer and
Hesiod in their canon of epic poets, did so class him, we do not
know ; but a class which included Hesiod could not have been
constituted simply on grounds of literary merit.
An interesting figure among these later epic poets is that of
1'anyasis, the uncle of Herodotus. 1'anyasis, the son of Poly-
archus of llaliearmissus, lived about B.C. 500, in the time of
the Persian wars. He was not merely a learned archaeologist,
a patient investigator, and a man of letters, but he was a poli-
tician and a patriot, and died in the cause of freedom. His
native city was under the rule, not of a government of the
t-iti/eiis' own choice, lint of a dynasty of tyrants maintained
in their power by the arms and wealth of Persia. The move-
ment of the Persian war atl'orded the party of freedom an oppor-
tunity to strike for liberty. Temporary success was followed
by the return of the tyrants, and in the struggle Panva-is l-t
his life. Pike IVisander, Panyasis took Heracles for the
subject of his epic, and wrote a ll'rn'-l'in. IVi-ander had
treated the subject at greater length than had his pivd-'iT^sor-.
and Paiiya.-is far outstripped IVisander. The lli-rui-ti in of
Peisander consisted of two books, that of Panva.-is of fourteen,
and they numbered nine tii"ii-and verses. The fragments do
not allow us to form an opin:'"ii on the liteiaiy W"i;h of Pan-
yasis' epic; and the statem.-nt made by Suidas that he was
9O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
ranked next to Homer is a testimonial of no great value, since
we do not know by whom he was ranked next to Homer. An-
other statement made by Suidas, that Panyasis gave a fresh
impulse to epic, which was nearly extinct, confirms what we
have said with regard to Peisander, that the epic age was over.
The Hvradda of Panyasis seems to have owed its length
mainly to the learning with which it was crammed. The author
was indefatigable in collecting local legends ; and everything
that diligent investigation could amass of this kind, Pauyasis
seems to have incorporated into his poem on Heracles. His
antiquarian instincts, however, found better room for exercise
in his lonica. This was a semi historical poem, seven thousand
verses long, in which was embodied all the tradition, myth, and
legend which Panyasis could collect about the early history
of the Ionic race. Finally, we should notice that Panyasis'
services to literature must not be measured by these poems
alone ; for Herodotus doubtless owed to his uncle much of his
education and of his impulse to literature.
Antimachus of Colophon belonged to the generation before
Plato. He seems to have been but little in Athens, to have
spent most of his life in Colophon, arid to have died at an
advanced age. llesides an elegiac poem, Lyde,, he wrote a very
long epic, a Theldis. His contemporaries paid no more atten-
tion to him than to other epic poets of the post-epic age. It
was only when criticism had declined that his epic was dragged
by Hadrian from its merited obscurity, and ordered by the
Emperor's decree thenceforth to take the place of Homer. A
greater service rendered by Ancimachus to literature was his
edition of Homer. Other epic poets, of whom we know scarcely
anything but their names, but who lived probably in post-epic
timc-s. were Zopyrus, Ihphilus, Antimachus of Teos. Phaedimus
of liisanthe, who wrote a Heracleia and also elegiac poems,
and L)iotimus.
Choerilus of Snmos, a contemporary of Herodotus, deserves sepa-
rate mention, though ho has shared the obscurity of Antimachus.
Departing from the established custom, of epic poets, which was
to take the subjects of their poems from mythology, Choerilus
wrote a historical epic. The period he chose was the Persian
war, and the title of his epic was Peru/I'd or Pa'S'/is. The idea
was doubtless siiLr<_ r ested to him by the fact that Phrynichus
and ^-Eschylus had found a subject for tragedy in the same
period. But Cha-rilus seems not to have had the power to
handle the theme properly. He was somewhat of a hack, and
devoted himself to writing complimentary verses to distinguished
EPIC POETKY : OTHER EPIC POETS. 9 1
men, such as Lysandor, the conqueror of Athens, and Archelaus,
king of Macedonia. His Persica was impartially enough de-
voted to the praise of Athens.
Equally noteworthy as a departure from the ordinary round
of epic subjects is the Aritnaapeia of Aristeas. The poem takes
its name from the fabulous people of the one-eyed Arimaspes.
Whereas other epic pouts, and the Tragedians as well, confined
themselves to mythology, Aristeas of Proconnesus in the Pro-
pontis seems to have drawn on his imagination for his subject,
and to have had a great taste for the marvellous. As to the
date of this port, some conjectured him to be older even than
Homer, but all that we know is that he was older than Hero-
dotus, from whom (iv. 13-15) what we know of Aristeas is
drawn. Inasmuch as Aristeas laid the scene of his epic among
the Hyperboreans, he maybe conjectured to have had some
points in common with the mystic school of poets ; for the
Hyperboreans were a people regarded as specially beloved by
Apollo. To the mystic school also belonged Abaris, who pro-
fessed, or was said in later times, to have come from the Hyper-
boreans on a mission from Apollo. He brought with him an
arrow as a sign that he was sent by Apollo, according to Hero-
dotus (iv. 36) : but the visionaries of the Xeo-Platonic school
in later times related that Abaris rode through the air on this
arrow, and thus traversed the world. Oracles, hymns of puri-
fication, and an epic were ascribed to him, but we have no
means of judging whether the works ascribed to him were really
his. About the works of the Cretan Epimenides we are equally
ill-informed, though it admits of no doubt that he was a
historical personage. He was summoned by the Athenians to
purify their city fnnn the pollution brought upon it by Cyloii,
about it . c. 610 : and according to Plato, \\-ho, however, lived two
centuries later, he possessed a. profound insight into spiritual
things. Tales of a wonderful character were told about him
too. He was brought up by the Xymplia 1 and possessed tin)
power of piojeeting his soul info space.
Special mention mils' be made of the < M'phir poets. Whether
there ever was sueii a per-on as Orpheus, "who with his luto
made trees ]'.M\V them-elve- as he did please,'' is a point oil
w'nieh, in the total absence of evidence, \\v are reduced to con-
jecture. ( Mi the one hand, the etories whi'-h are told of hi- mar-
vellous powers of music and of his descent to the nether world to
brin?: back his wife, Eur\ diee, seem to elas< him amoni: legendary
personage--. (Mi the other hand, tin-re seem to have exi-l'd
religious hymns of great antiquity, univ<.r- div i''-gai'li-d as the
92 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
vrork of Orpheus, which may have been the production of some
poet older even than Homer. At any rate, it is certain that
in historic times associations of men calling themselves " fol-
lowers of Orpheus " were devoted to the worship of Dionysos-
Zagreus. Dionysos in this aspect was a different god from the
god of wine, and the bacchanalia of the followers of Orpheus
very different from other bacchanalian rites. Dionysos-Zagreus
was a god of the nether world, and the followers of Orpheus led
an ascetic life in search of purity and in hope of future blessed-
ness. When they had partaken of the flesh offered as a sac-
rifice at their initiation, they thenceforward renounced meat.
Like Egyptian priests, they wore white raiment.
Religious hymns bearing the name of Orpheus seem to have
been current among the people from early times ; but an Orphic
literature first arose about the time of the Persian wars. Even
before then, Orphic views had made themselves felt in religious
literature, as, for instance, in the Theorjomj of Pherecydes of
Syros, fragments of which still survive. But at the beginning
of the fifth century we find many Orphic poets, Persinus of
Miletus, Timocles of Syracuse, Diognetus, Brontinus, and Cer-
cops ; and a theogony entirely Orphic. The most celebrated
of the Orphic poets of this period is Onomacritus, who was
employed by the Pisistratidse to collect and arrange oracles
affecting Athens, and was convicted by the poet Lasos of inter-
polating forgeries. There seems little reason to doubt that in
this age, though more extensively in Xeo-Platonic times, hymns
and poems were composed which were not perhaps deliberate
forgeries, but speedily came to be uncritically received as the
works of Orpheus, or as possessing a much greater antiquity
than was really theirs.
The oracles which Onomacritus was employed by the Pisi-
stratidee to collect were those of Musreus. Although regarded
as the pupil of Orpheus, Musieus seems to have written poetry
which was connected with the Eleusinian mysteries, and his
prophecies related exclusively to Attica. Closely connected
with Musams was Eumolpus. He was, according to the popular
tradition, descended from Musams. It does not seem that he
composed poetry himself, or, if he did, it perished early but he
preserved and transmitted the verses of Mu-'us. Another
name which occurs in connection with that of Mus-eus i.s Bacis.
Some of his prophecies are quoted by Herodotus (viii. 20, 77,
96, ix. 43), and are regarded by the historian as a complete
refutation of the sceptical views existing in his time with
regard to prophecies. Another prophet quoted by Herodotus
EPIC POETRY : OTHER EPIC POETS. 93
is an Athenian named Lysistratus. All these prophecies, as
also those of the Delphian and other oracles, are in hexameter
verse ; and in their diction they show the influence of Homer,
and to u less extent of Hcsiod.
To complete our enumeration of the less important writers
of hexameters, we ought to mention the anonymous authors of
epitaphs. When the pentameter was invented, elegiac couplets,
consisting of a hexameter and a pentameter, became the uni-
versal metre for epitaphs. But before the invention of the
pentameter, hexameter was used. An example is preserved in
the so-called Homeric Epigrams (iii.), which professes to have
been inscribed on the- tomb of Midas. There are also found
hexameter epitaphs amongst the oldest stone records which we
possess. 1
Finally, this is the proper place for us to speak of the philo-
sophers who wrote in hexameters, Xenophanes, Parmenidcs, and
Empedocles. If it fell within the scope of this work to trace
the filiation of philosophic systems, we should properly treat
of these philosophers in connection with those who wrote in
prose, since the form in which they expressed themselves would
not justify us in separating them. JJut we are concerned with
them only in their literary aspect, and have not to do with
their philosophy. For the history of literature, the importance
of Xenophanes, Parmenides, and Empedocles is that they show
how diliicult a thing it was for a nation, which for centuries
had composed in verse alone, to learn to write in prose. About
the same time that Xenophanos in Elea was formulating his
philosophy in hexameters, that is, about u.c. 570, Pherecydes,
a nativi' of Sevres, one of the Cvclades, and a pupil of the
famous Thaies, was making the earliest attempt to write in
prose, Some few specimens of his work have come dosvn to
us. In everything but metre they are poetry, not pro>e ; and
whereas in poetry an author could compose artistic sentences of
some complexity, in prose at this time he could only ejaculate
short and simple expressions, in their baldness rather reseml
a child's attempt at \\riting than a philosopher's. A little
later than tin's, about li.c. 547, another philosopher. Anaxi-
mander of Mdetus, again made an ell'oit to write prose, \vith
more clearness but scarcely less awkwardness than his pre-
deces-or. Half a century later, although the philosophers
Anaxiiiienes and lleraclitus had carried on the work of e>tab-
lishiiii: pi'o--e, and tke logographers ('admin. H.-cata-us. and
Acusilaus, the predecessors of the hi.-t'iriaiis, had written
1 K.i
94 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
geographical, genealogical, and semi-historical works in prose,
we find that Parmenides preferred poetry. Prose in the hands
of Heraclitus was even less fitted for an intelligible exposition
of philosophy than was poetr} 7 . Even as late as B.C. 444, the
year in which Thurii was founded, a time when Herodotus had
already composed and recited much of his history, the first
great work in prose, Empedocles still wrote in verse.
This last fact is instructive, because it directs our attention
to the circumstance that, besides the difficulty of writing prose,
there were difficulties in the way of reading prose. It is
sometimes, if not generally, said that prose, or at least a prose
literature, cannot be developed unless there exists a reading
public, and the existence of a reading public depends upon the
development of the means of multiplying and diffusing copies
of a manuscript. But in the works of the Orators we have a
prose literature which was not designed for a reading public.
]S T ay, more ; the development of prose as an artistic expres-
sion of thought, possessing a beauty and a rhythm of its own,
distinct from but as marked as those of poetry, is the work of
the Orators, whose object was to produce, not a written litera-
ture, but periods addressed to the ear of their audience. For
this purpose, all that is necessary is that the writing should be
easy enough for the author to put down his thoughts, without
excessive and distracting labour. Xow, in B.C. 444 the art of
writing was far enough developed for this, as the existence
of the history of Herodotus shows ; and even in the time of
Xenophanes, B.C. 570. this may have been the case; for writing
had then been known in Greece for a hundred and thirty years.
If, then, Empedocles, as late as B.C. 444, preferred to use
poetry, we may reasonably conjecture that one reason at least
for his preference was that the Greek public listened more
readily to poetry, to which it was accustomed, than to inartistic
prose. It was only about this time that Greek audiences were
learning to listen to prose, whether the unaffected prose of
Herodotus, or the artificial and florid rhetoric of (lor^ias.
"NVlien we go back more than a century to the time of Xeno-
phanes, the case is still clearer. The author who wrote in
prose might indeed find a public in the private audience of
pupils or friends whom lie collected together to listen to his
writings; but the author who aimed at a wider publicity,
and wi.-hed to gain the ear of the assembled population of the
city, could only succeed in his purpose if he wrote in verso,
and declaimed his verses at some public festival, the object
of which was to afi'ord an opportunity fur the production of
EPIC FOKTHY : OTI1EK EPIC PoETrf. ' 9 5
poetical compositions. The former method was that adopted
by tlie philosophers who wrote in prose ; the latter that in
which Xenophaues published hi.s works. 1
liut it must not be inferred that the connection between
philosophy and poetry was accidental, or merely a matter of
form, due solely and wholly to the difficulty of writing and
diffusing prose. There is also an internal bond, and a reason
in the nature of the two things for their connection. A subject
of philosophy may be treated of by poetry, and philosophy may
deal with its own subjects poetically ; but it is only in early
times that the connection between them is maintained. With
the development of knowledge philosophy breaks away from
poetry, and each is specialised to its proper work and methods.
This process of specialisation is not peculiar to poetry and
philosophy, but is the law of the development of knowledge
iu all its branches. In the earliest stages of a nation's intel-
lectual history, not only philosophy, but all the nation's
knowledge is comprised in poetry. The works of He.-iod,
for instance, are an encyclopaedia of the knowledge of the
Greeks i.i f his time. His Tlie(.> and
Day* we have not only a manual of practical knowledge, but
a treatise on moral philosophy in embryo. liut by degrees the
various branches of knowledge comprised in the poetry of
Hesiod began to break away from poetry and poetical treat-
ment, and to gain a separate existence, an appropriate mode of
expulsion and methods of their own. The genealogical poems.
were fallowed by the prose genealogies of the logographers,
which in their turn were displaced by the history of Herodotus.
History, agiin, when it had iinally split oil' fn>m poetry, wa-
found to eoiitain within it another department of knowledge,
geography, which eventually, with the increase of knowledge,
was developed out of history, as history had been evolvd out
of poetry; and in the present day, physical geography and
political geography are ea<'h receiving a special evolution.
A .-i:::iiar process of specialisation to '.; pla e
For lo;i_r, theology and philosophy were ins
philosophy proper, physical philosophy had t
and then moral philosophy had to win an existence of its ow
ai'rus > /'/''' T' --""<' ~& ten Tui'.
96 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
independent of the philosophy which speculates on first prin-
ciples and the nature of things. Eut it was only gradually that
philosophy escaped from poetry, and we have here only to do
with its first unsuccessful attempts. Although, as we have
seen, the origin of things is a subject which may he dealt with
by poetry, and was dealt with in the various theogonies, the me-
thods by which a solution of the problem may be attempted are
different, arid are not all equally capable of poetic expression or
consistent with a poet's manner of thought. The method may
be scientific, that is, may consist in the observation of facts
experiment is a later discovery, unknown to the Greeks in
recording them, drawing inductions from them, and so even-
tually reaching the end in view. But this is an essentially
prosaic process ; and the Ionic philosophers who employed it
were naturally, we may almost say necessarily, driven to attempt
to write in prose. On the other hand, there were philosophers
who declared that the senses, our only means of observing facts,
are wholly untrustworthy. They are all subject to illusions,
and it is only by exercising our reason that we can detect the
illusion and ascertain the truth. Instead, therefore, of trusting
to the senses, which deceive us, we must rely solely upon
reason, and excogitate the truth out of the mind. Xow this
method of reaching conclusions is not inconsistent with the
poet's way of viewing things. lie too draws upon his own
internal stores, and creates out of his own genius what did not
exist before. And it was Xenophanes, by nature a poet and
the author of lyric poetry of considerable merit, and his follower
Parmenides, also a poet, who invented this method and founded
the Eleatic school of philosophy. It was therefore the method
employed in philosophy which largely determined whether it
should detach it.-elf from poetry, as in the case of Ionic philo-
sophy, or remain in the pleasing fetters of verse, as in the case
of Xenophanes, Parmcnides, and Kmpedocles.
Xenophanes was born in Colophon, which was situated on
the coa.'////, for this kind of literature was only invented
tenturies after his date by Timon the Phliasian, surnamed the
Hillographer. F.ustathius, the commentator of Homer, who
lived about A.I). 1160, not only, following Strabo, ascribes
^illi to Xenophanes, but even traces their origin back to the.
Iliad (ii. 212), thus showing that the only real ground for
ascribing them to Xenophanes was the existence 1 of satiric
passages in his poetry. The error seems to have had additional
life given to it by the fact, that Timon the Sillographer in one
of his >Y//i introduced Xenophanes making jest of Homer and
other poets.
Finally, the philosophy of Xenophanos was couched in hexa-
A few verses are quoted by Greek authors of various
'lowover, would not have sutliced to -ive us much
lilo-oiiiiy, did we not possess a par;ial i'i'.-mmf' in
pi'o-e drawn from Tiieophrastus, tin 1 pupil of Ari>totle. by Sim-
pliei::> ; and another, said., tir>u_ f h it is doubtful, to be ihe
work of Aristotle. If Xenoplniies ever committed his works
!o writing, they muija(us.
EPIC POETRY : OTHER EPIC POETS. 99
after cheap originality of criticism and self-supposed superiority
to the common view. Philosophy for generations, and through
its most distinguished exponents, echoed the protests which he
first made in the name of morality. Against the anthropo-
morphism of his age and nation Xenophanes brought to bear
all the varied resources of his many-sided ability. His philo-
sophy was designed not for a chosen few, but for the general
ear, as is shown by the fact that he delivered it in poetry ; and
if, in the summaries of it which Theophrasttis and others have
handed down to us, the reasoning seems close and subtle, the
quotations which they make in the words of Xenophanes him-
self show that he expressed pointed arguments in a manner that
any of his audience could understand. Men think, he says with
profound contempt, that the gods have birth, speak, have bodies,
and wear clothes like themselves ! Why, if horses or cows
could draw like men, they would represent the gods as cows
or horses ! The theory of the transmigration of souls, which
Pythagoras and his followers believed in, met with as little
nieivy from Xenophanes as did the anthropomorphism of the
people and the poets. According to the somewhat malicious
invention of Xenophanes. Pythagoras checked a man who was
beating a dog with the words, "Stay your hand ! in the dog is
the soul of one dear to me ; i recognise his voice."
If Xenophanes was the founder and the iirst of the Eleatic
school, Piirinenides was the greatest of its philosophers. Par-
nieuides. born at K!ea, belonged to a wealthy and distinguished
family. He was a pupil of Xenophanes, and he also studied
under Aminias and Diochojtes, Pythagorean philosophers. ]!ut
from the latter, in accordance with the sysieiu of Pythagorean-
ism, lie seems to have gained rather stimulation to tie- pursuit
of philosophy than any body of d-'linite doctrine. Later in life,
lie in his turn handed on the philosophy lie had elaborated to
his pupils /eno and Melis.-us. Although a native of J-J.M, he
seems to have been in communication with, or rather to have
met ni"St of the philosi ipin-rs of his linn 1 , whether they belonged,
like Kmpedocles, to Sicilv. or, like Hcraciitus, to so distant a
place as Kphesus. The wealth of Paruieiiides doubtless all<>rded
him the means to travel where he would: an
have, in Plato the record of the fact t'nat ic
and then- met Soerat'-s, then a VOUULT man.
according to 1'iato, for the celebration of th
festival, the 1'anal In-mea, at a time when h
years and had alreadv achieved a reputation.
interest for two reasons: it give.s us the da;
IOO HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
and it shows how philosophy was diffused in Greece. As for
the date, Socrates was born B.C. 468, and if we suppose that at
the time of the meeting Socrates was sixteen years of age and
we can hardly suppose that he was younger Parmenides visited
Athens in B.C. 452 ; and he was between sixty and seventy
years of age at the time. During the visit he met many Athe-
nians, with whom he discussed points of philosophy. This
method of diffusing his views was specially suited to Parme-
nides, because the development of an argument by means of
questioning the pupil or auditor the dialectic method was a
characteristic of the school to which he belonged. By him,
probably, for the first. time the young Socrates heard the method
employed, which he was subsequently to develop to its full per-
fection. But although Parmenides -travelled far, and learned,
discussed, taught, ami wrote on philosophy, lie neither neglected
his duties as a citizen nor performed them perfunctorily. He
proposed laws which were adopted and perpetuated; and his
public life redounded as much to his reputation as his philo-
sophy. In his writings he declares that the study of philosophy
and the successful pursuit of truth demand purity and piety in
the student ; and his life confirmed what his theory taught.
We possess fragments of Parmenides' poetry of considerable
length. His sole work seems to have been a poem, the title of
which, On Nature., as it goes back to Theophrastus, may be
genuine, though, if it is, the word " nature " must be used in
an exiended sense, for Parmenides was rather a metaphysician
than a man of science. The contrast between reason and sense,
and the superiority of the former, are the points implied in the
philosophy of Xenophanes, which Parmenides developed and
made into the foundation of his philosophy. The senses are
subject to illusion, and are inferior to the reason. The latter
alone can apprehend truth, the former can only lead to con-
jecture. In the pursuit of knowledge we have to learn to
distinguish between reality and appearances; and whereas all
that we know by means of the senses is the appearances of
tilings, it is by reason that we have to discover what they really
are. Ideality is truth, and truth is reason; therefore reason is
the only reality. The evidence of the, sen>es does imt go beyond
mere appearances and conjecture. Thought and existence are
tilt; same. On this distinction between truth, reason, and
reality, on the one hand, and conjecture, sense, and appearance,
on the other, is based the division of Parmenides' poem into
the two parts (hi Truth and On (.'niiji'i-ft/re. They have been
re_'aixl"d, but on insufficient grounds, as two distinct works.
EPIC POETRY : OTHER EPIC POETS. I O I
It is probable that Parmenides did not formally distinguish
them.
The mystic or allegorical character of Parmenides' writing in
the part of his poem which dealt with Conjecture may be illus-
trated by the interesting introduction to the poem, which is
conceived in the same strain. He represents himself as con-
veyed by steeds, as far as thought can reach, along the famous
road by which is reached the goddess who initiates the learned
into all secrets. The way to light was shown him by the
Nymphs of the Sun, who led him to the gates where are the
ways of darkness and light. There they besought admittance
for him from the guardian of the gate of light, Justice, who
bade him welcome, if it was that piety had brought him on this
road so remote from those the vulgar frequent. She then warns
him of the arduous task there is before him, to acquire the sum
of knowledge and to distinguish truth from the conjecture of
the vulgar : and the poem begins.
The steeds which conveyed Parmenides aloft are the lofty
impulses of the philosophic mind. The goddess to whom they
conveyed him is Heavenly Truth, and the road which leads to
her is philosophy. The two ways of light and darkness are the
two kinds of knowledge, truth and conjecture. The nymphs
are Xymphs of the Sun because truth is light ; and the guardian
of the gate is Justice because only the just and pious can
pursue philosophy and attain truth. The allegory is poetical,
and testifies to the exalted conception Parmenides possessed of
the position of philosophy and the attributes necessary in the
philosopher. It helps us further to understand why Parmenides
wrote in poetry, in two ways : first, it shows his poetic tenden-
cies ; next, it was quite beyond the capacities of prose, as it
existed in his time, to bear the burden of bodying forth so deep
an allegory. The prose of Plato could and did do greater work
than this, but Plato was not born for a generation after Par-
menides had made his reputation. \Ve are fortunate in p,se-s-
ing so long a fragment of the Kleatie philosopher's work, and
we probably have to thank Plato fur it indirectly. Parmenides'
visit to Athens created great intere.-t there in his philosophy.
.It made a great impression on Socrates, and through him on
Plato, who has added lustre, by his dialogue entitled 1'ani" n-
ii/f.--, to the name. Plato himself studied Parmenides' writings,
as did Plato's pupil Aristotle and his pupil Theophrastus ; and
even as late a- the fifth century after ( 'hn.-t a copy of hi? works
seems to have existed in the posseission of Proclus, the N co-
Platonic philosopher.
IO2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Empedocles is a remarkable figure in the history of Greek
literature, and a number of remarkable stories have collected
round his name. Perhaps the most widely known is the fable
alluded to by Horace, according to which Empedocles terminated
an extraordinary career by leaping into the crater of ^Etna, in
order that he might seem to have vanished like a god, as he
pretended to be. and was only betrayed by the fact that an
eruption shortly afterwards ejected one of his sandals. The story
has as little truth in it as has the orthodox explanation, which is
to the effect that Empedocles accidentally fell into the crater while
studying volcanic phenomena. In the time, and for centuries
after the time, of Empedocles, the very existence of a crater
seems to have been unknown, from the simple fact that no one
ventured to explore the volcano. The fable is a caricature, and
independent of the testimony which it bears to the wit of the
Sicilians who invented it, it is valuable because, being a good
caricature, it departs but little from the real features of the
character which it derides. Empedocles did study natural
science, and he did give himself out to be of divine origin, but
he was no impostor in science, and in his divine origin he at
least firmly believed. His is a character full of apparent con-
tradictions : he was an abstract thinker, but a practical poli-
tician ; he was steeped in mysticism, but studied the material
welfare, of his fellow-citizens ; though lie achieved wonders in
natural science, he preferred to claim supernatural powers ; in
him artistic prose, according to Aristotle, has its ultimate
founder, yet he wrote in verse ; lie is the most poetical of
philosophers, and yet his works differ from prose only in that
they arc in metrical form.
A little younger than the philosopher Anaxngoras, who was
born B.C. 500. and a little older than the rhetorician Gorging, the
date of whose birth was B.C. 480, Empedocles may be inferred
to have, been born about B.C. 490. The place of his birth was
Agrigentum in Sicily, a city which in splendour rivalled Syra-
cuse, lie belonged to a wealthy family, for his grandfather,
after whom he was named, won the chariot race at the Olympian
games, and only kings and persons of great wealth could a fiord
to breed or purchase horses capable of carrying off this prize.
We, have no explicit information about his youth, but the
educational influences which existed in Sicily and in Agri-
gentum. and to which doubtless ho was subjected, explain his
subsequent career. The mysticism of his philosophy was im-
bibed by him from the Pythagoreans, who were scattered
throu.nl) Sicily and South Italy. His natural science was pro-
EPIC POETRY : OTHER EPIC POETS. I 03
bably derived from the celebrated physicians Acron and 1'au-
sanias, who flourished in Sicily in his time. Finally, the elo-
quence which served him in his political life was not his pecu-
liar attribute, but distinguished the Sicilian race, to whom the
germs of oratory developed later in Athens were due. The
wealth and position which Empedocles by his birth enjoyed
brought political duties with them ; and when Thero the-
tyrant, whose rule had raised Agrigentum to the highest ele-
vation it attained, had died, Empedocles, following the tradi-
tions of his family, assisted in establishing the liberty which
he subsequently did so much to preserve. He purged oligarchy
from the city, and declined to accept the sole rule of the state,
which the citizens offered him. IJut throughout he was some-
what theatrical : he aimed at effect. When he appeared in
public, it was with a dress and surroundings deliberately designed
to create the impression that Empedocles must not be con-
founded with other people. Yet this was not affectation ; it
was the nature of the man. If ho posed, he had an unaffected
admiration for the attitudes he struck. If he arrayed himself
in theatrical costume, he also wrote an appreciative description
of it in his philosophical works. When we find him in the
Intric'i professing not only to heal all known diseases, but ready
to undertake the cure of old age and to provide a remedy for
death, we should be doing him an injustice to dismiss him as a
quack. He, like a medicine-man among the negroes, also pro-
f'ssed to bring or avert rain, and undoubtedly believed in his
ability to do what he professed as much as any medicine-man,
and with greater reason, since his acquirements in natural science
were considerable, and his mysticism obscured the limits which
Xature has placed on Science. His unequivocal statement in
tlie Kaflinnii/ii that he is no mortal, but an immortal god, is
it-eif u testimony to his good faith, bring but a piece of his
faith in him.-elf. At the same time, as we .-hall shortly see,
n loses something of its muleness when viewed
haze "f }\\~ mystic philosophy,
ssary to have some knowledge of the character of
in order to appreciate his literary worth at it- proper
IO4 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
mysticism was adapted for poetry j it lent itself to metaphorical
expression and lofty diction ; and Aristotle, who denies that
the medical works of Empedocles are poetry, although they are
in verse, also calls attention to his poetical qualities elsewhere. 1
Empedocles speaks of himself as giving oracles to the multi-
tude who thronged round him clamouring for his supernatural
assistance, and his style is frequently oracular in character.
He was grandiose in his writing as in his hearing. Artificiality
is breathed in his verses, and was the breath of his life : the
poetical devices and tricks of expression which marked the
early rhetoricians are to be traced even in the fragments we
possess ; they are alluded to by Aristotle, who seems to have
regarded him, in spite of his writing in verse, as the first of the
rhetoricians, 2 and were probably transmitted by Empedocles to
his pupil Gorgias, who transplanted them to Athens.
According to Diogenes Laertius, Aristotle ascribed to Empe-
docles tragedies and other works, the Invasion of Xerxes, a
hymn to Apollo, and a Politics. Jkit as no author quotes a
single line from any of these works, and as a later poet named
Empedocles seems to have certainly composed tragedies, it is
not improbable that Diogenes, who was a somewhat careless
compiler, has confounded the two authors named Empedocles,
The works by the philosopher Empedocles of which we possess
fragments are the Katliarmoi, latrica, Physics, and some epi-
grams. In the Katharmof, or Song* of Purification, he pro-
fesses, as the name indicates, to purify from sin or crime all
who come to him, as in the latrica. or Songs of Healing, he
professed to cure all diseases, old age, and death. His medical
knowledge was indeed extensive for his age, and he is said to
have effected some remarkable cures, restoring the apparently
dead, and so on. IJut he professed also to have supernatural
powers, and this profession is connected with the mysticism
which found its exposition in the /'// //.-'/<>, or poem on Xature.
Into the mixture of mysticism and scientific speculation which
made up the philosophy of Empedocles it is beyond our pro-
vince to go. We will only say that he reached the conception
of four elements, earth, air, lire, and water, or, as lie preferred
mystically to call them, Zeus. Hera, Ai'doneus, and Xesti.s (the
last name seems to have been his own invention. These ele-
EPIC POETRY : OTHER EPIC POETS. I O 5
nicnts are indestructible. They may be combined, and the
compounds into which they combhie may be reduced by disso-
lution to the four elements again. But for these processes two
principles are required : the principle of combination, which he
calls mystically Friendship, and which is tlwLove of Parruenides
and the Pythagoreans; and the principle of dissolution, which he
calls Discord. The tendency of Friendship operating on the
four elements is to produce a Sphere, that is, to give to the
universe a perfect shape ; but there exists the opposite tendency
of Discord, and the history of the universe is the resultant of
their conflict. The principle of Discord, however, is not limited
to the material world in its action. It operates also in the
moral world. It prompts a daemon to some crime, and then
for thrice ten thousand years the daemon, in exile from heaven,
has to inhabit the bodies of men and living creatures. The
poem On Nature begins with a statement of this law, and the
declaration that Empedocles is himself a daemon undergoing
the punishment of a mortal body. After this exordium, the
first book seems to have dealt with the four elements, the
second with the nature and condition of man, the third with
the gods and things divine.
Somewhat late in life Empedocles is said to have commenced
his travels. Ho journeyed to the Peloponnesus, attended the
Olympian games, and there recited his Songs of Purification.
How long a period elapsed before he returned to Sicily is un-
known, but it is reported that he found it impossible to gain ad-
mission into his native town when he did return, and he resumed
his travels. lie is said to have visited Athens, and it is not
improbable that, like most celebrated men of the age, he visited
the intellectual centre of flreece. He died between sixty and
seventy years of age. Many strange stories are told of his
death, the mode of which remains unknown.
BOOK II.
LYRIC POETRY.
CHAPTER I.
THE ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POET3.
EPIC poetry was succeeded in Greece by lyric poetry. The
germs of lyric poetry already existed in the epic period, but
for their development it was necessary that a change should
occur in the conditions of social and political life. The poli-
tical and social changes which developed the germs of lyric
poetry were the overthrow of regal governments, the foundation
of colonies, and the extension of commerce. The overthrow
of royal government tended to the liberty of the citizens. The
people ceased to live for the sake of supporting a king, and
began to live for themselves and their country. This shift of
material interests was followed by a corresponding shift in
literary interest. So long as the king was the state, Priam's
fortunes were necessarily the poet's materials ; but when the
citizens became the state, their interests, their hopes, and their
fears became the theme which interested them and inspired the
poet. The tendency of colonisation worked to the same end.
Hettlers are compelled to rely on their own exertions ; birth and
position go for little in the new country ; it is the man of most
capacity and energy -who comes to the. top. in a colony, the
individual citizen gained an importance which was beyond his
reach in the old country. It is hardly necessary to say that
the extension of commerce had a similar result. As commerce
grew, there opened before the individual citizen the possibility
of attaining to Avealth and importance.
The result of these changes was lyric poetry. Men's thoughts
were fixed on the present, not mi the past. Politically and
socially a break had been made. The ideal past, depicted in
epic poetry, was no longer felt to have any relation to the
LYKIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I O/
present, and was, therefore, no longer fitted to supply inspira-
tion to the poet or to engage the attention of his hearers.
The hour called not for a narrative of the fight round Troy,
but for lays such as those of Callinus or Tyrtams, which could
rouse a man to tight "for the ashes of his fathers and the
temples of his gods."
The first dill'erence between epic and lyric is that the former
is narrative and the latter is the expression of emotion. ]>ut
this difference implies another. In epic the poet never himself
appears. He narrates everything, but never gives his own view
as his own view of anything. The essence of lyric, on the
other hand, is that in it the poet expresses his own personal
emotions. Lyric is personal, epic impersonal ; or, as the same
idea is sometimes expressed, the former is subjective, the latter
objective.
The, conditions under which lyric poetry was developed in
Greece gave it some characteristics which distinguish it from,
and are brought into relief by, the lyric poetry of other
nations. Modern lyric comprises everything within its range;
anything which touches the poet and moves him to song may
provide a subject Chapman's Homer or the west wind, a
nation or a skylark, the future or the past. Imt Greek
lyric {XH.' try, born of a reaction from contemplation of the
past to action in the present, had not this universal rang".
It draws its themes from, and is always related to, the
present. Solon addresses his fellow-citizens not on the past,
but on the present condition of Attica. Theo^nis deals with
the politics, Tyrttt'iis with the wars, of his own time. And
although, in choral poetry, the theme is frequently mythical,
such poetry always was eompo-ed for, and related to, a de-
finite religious fe.-tival. In fact, it was "occasional poetry,"
as is dearly seen in those odes of I'imlar which were written
to celebrate the occasion of some victory in the various national
games of Greece. Greek lyric poetry is, then, distinguished
trom other lyric poetry by always having reference to the
present, and this is due to the conditions under which it
was developed. It is also distinguished by the occasional
presence of mythical element. This, as we have said,
in choral lyrics written for some festival, and in honour
gods. In this, too, -\ve have a trace of the conditions
which Greek lyric was developed, for
an inheritance from tin- epic peri. >d.
also another distinctive feature of ( ire.
did.ivtic element. This was apparent
IOS HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
most markedly in Theognis, although it is not confined to him,
but is present in all varieties of Greek lyric.
We have considered the social and political conditions under
which the germs of lyric poetry were developed, and we have
seen how the characteristics peculiar to Greek lyric were due to
the conditions of its development. "We may now proceed to
consider the germs themselves. They were of two kinds
religious chants and popular songs. No specimen of the former
has come down to us, but we may reasonably conjecture that
they had the same origin and were much the same in kind as
the Saliaric hymns of the Romans. They were probably metrical
invocations of the gods, of a simple and inartistic kind, addressing
the god in all his various attributes and with his various names,
containing much repetition and tautology, and doing the duty of
liturgies. They were preserved by hereditary priesthoods, being
transmitted from generation to generation, and receiving occa-
sional additions. In Attica the Eumolpidae were a hereditary
priesthood of this kind, connected with the worship of Demeter
at Eleusis, whose hymns were traditionally referred to Pamphus
as their author. But as Apollo was the god of song, it was
with his cult that the most important of these religious chants
were associated. The Psean which was the name of the form
of hymn used in the worship of Apollo, seems to have been of
two kinds, corresponding to two attributes of the god. He
was the god of victory, and to him the Greeks in Homer sing
praises and thanksgiving for victory. The hymn itself was
probably sung by a single voice, and the worshippers sang as a
chorus the refrain, " lo Psean ! lo Paean !" But Apollo was also
the god who sent pestilence, and the people, when threatened or
stricken with plague, prayed in chorus to him for deliverance.
The Nome was another form of hymn with which Apollo was
worshipped, and seems to be distinguished from the Pa?un by
the fact that it was sung by a priest, and was not a special
prayer for deliverance from pestilence or a special thanksgiving
for victory, but praise of a more general character. Xaturally
the songs in honour of Apollo flourished most at the two most
important centres of his worship, Delos and Delphi. The origin
of the Xome was traditionally ascribed to Delphi, and Chryso-
tliemis and Philammon, mythical personages, were credited with
its authorship. The hymns which for generations had been
sung at Delos were connected with the name of Olen. The
fact that Olen was said to have been a Lycian, taken in con-
nection with the existence in Delos of a Phenician worship
(imported from Lycia) before the Ionic worship, may nidi-
LYRIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. 1 09
cate that the hymns ascribed to him had a foreign element in
them.
A few inconsiderable fragments of songs of the people, quoted
by Athenseus, Plutarch, Pollux, scholiasts and grammarians,
have come down to us, and from the same sources we hear of
other songs of which we have no specimens. Some of these
fragments are certainly of comparatively late date, but as songs
of the people change very little in the course of time, we may
learn something even from the later fragments. The reason
that so few of these songs have been preserved is that the
literary lyric killed the popular song, and it is only in those
parts of Greece which remained comparatively uncultured that
the people's songs survived. Thus it was in Sparta that cradle-
songs flourished most, and from Sparta come a couple of frag-
ments of songs which accompanied dancing. In one of these
fragments the dancers encourage each other to keep on dancing ;
tin; other consists of three lines, one of which was uttered by
the young men, the next by the old men. and the third by the
boys. From LJottiiua we have a fragment "Away to Athens,
hie ! " of the song which the women of Eottisea sang while
dancing. Elsewhere also the custom of singing while dancing
prevailed ; and about another fragment which runs, ' Where
are my roses? where are my violets? where are my beautiful
Howers? Here are your roses; here are your violets; here
are your beautiful llowers," AthenaMis says that the accompany-
ing dance was mimetic. It may be noticed incidentally that
men and women do not seem to have danced together, (lames,
as well as dancing, were accompanied by songs. Greek boys
played a game, in which one boy, being blindfolded, sang a
verse, "1 will hunt a lly of brass;" to which the other boys
replied, "You may hunt, but you will not catch us;" and in-
iiicted blows on him with straps, till he caught one of them.
Greek girls also had a game of a less violent description, with
que>tions and answers to be sung. Greek children invoked the
appearance of the sun in much the same way as in the Knglish
'' Jxain, rain, go away," Are. The most interesting of tne.-e
children's songs is the Rhodian Swallow-song, which has been
fortunately preservdl, apparently complete, by Aiheiia-us.
the spring tin 1 hoys of Kho.ies went round from hou.-e to h
singing this song, in which they announced the return of
>waliow with the returning year, and lieiiiainic-d to be supp
with cheese and wine. The Crow-song seems to have bee
the same kind: the boys went about with (.TOWS in their hands,
and making much the same ie.pie.~t as in the Swallow-sung.
I I O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
In these songs the boys played at beggars, but real beggars
also hud their songs, although we have no specimen of them.
AVorking men, bakers, and rowers all had songs to accompany
and lighten their labours. The women had their weaving-
songs ; at Elis, their vintage-songs ; and they sang while wash-
ing clothes and while working in the mill. The song of the
reapers was called Lityerses, and as this was the name of the
son of Midias, king of Phrygia, the song may have come from
that country. The shepherds' songs, at any rate in some
instances, seem to have been of a sentimental kind, and we
have a fragment of one which told a story of unrequited love.
Love-songs naturally formed an important part of the popular
songs, and in Locris such songs were much cultivated ; but we
have a fragment of one only. Drinking-songs can hardly be
reckoned among the pre-lyric popular songs. They were intro-
duced during the lyrical period by Terpander from Asia Minor,
and eventually some, such as those celebrating the glorious
deed of Harmodius and Aristogiton, attained great popularity,
and were genuine songs of the people. More important, as the
roots of lyrical poetry, than any of the songs of the people yet
mentioned, were the wedding-songs and dirges. The dirge was
known to Homer, and as all peoples seem to possess some-
thing of the kind, it may well have been original with the
Greeks, although indications are not wanting that some foreign
Carian elements were introduced. This form of song was
afterwards developed by Pindar, and came to be of much im-
portance in the lyrical part of Greek tragedy. The wedding-
song was also known to Homer, who calls it the Hymenseus.
It became literary and lyrical in the hands of Pindar and
Sappho, and, as the Epithalamion, it has passed into the lyric
poetry of all European nations. Finally, amongst the songs of
tin; people we have to notice an important class borrowed from
the East. Their common feature is that they are laments for
the untimely and undeserved death of some beauteous youth.
In all cases they seem to have been of Oriental origin, to have
originally lamented the departure or death of summer, and to
have been amalgamated with some local (Ireek myth. Thus
the Linos, of which we, have, a fragment (perhaps not in its
original form), came from Phcnicia (where, as also in Cyprus
and llithynia, Herodotus recognised it), and was connected with
the story of the beauteous Linos, who was killed by Apollo for
challenging him to a contest in song. The fragment that we
have ascribes the invention of song to Linos, and relates the
death of Linos and the lament of the Muses for him. The
LYRIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I I I
Linos was sung by a single voice, and the refrain " Ai Linon ! Ai
Linon !" by a chorus. The derivation of Ai Linon may be the
Semitic ai le mi, woe is us. In Tegea of Arcadia the (Greeks
explained the lamentation as being for the death of Skephros,
who was killed by his brother. Sterility fell on the land in
consequence, and an oracle ordered a yearly festival, at which
Skcphros was to be mourned for; and hence the song was
called the Skephros. The Hyacinth song has the same origin ;
it was localised in Sparta, and came there through the island of
Cythera, a Pheniciau settlement of old. Most famous of all
these lamentations was that for Adonis. The Phcnician origin
of this song, and of the festival at which it was sung, is indi-
cated by the mythological device of making Adonis the son of
I'ho-nix ; by the obviously Semitic derivation of the word
(wlnitui, lord), and by the fact that the song and festival can
be traced back to Samos, and thence to Cyprus, whither they
iirst spivad fmm Phenicia.
Having seen what were the germs of lyric poetry, and what
were the conditions under which they were developed, wo may
no\v proceed to consider the various kinds of lyric poetry.
They are three, the Elegiac, the Iambic, and the Lyric, in the
narrower or specific sense, or, as it is sometimes called, Melic.
They are alike in that they are all subjective, expressing the
] Kiel's own emotions as such, and that they were all designed
for a musical accompaniment. They diil'er in metre; -and in
that Klegy and Iambic poetry are more subjective than Melic ;
and that choral odes belong to Melic. In dialect, Elegy and
Iambic poetry, as they originated in Ionia, were Ionic : Melic
poetry drew on the oilier dialects. Choruses, having originated
both amongst the Itorians and tin; Civilians, contain both /Koiic,
and I )oric, though the latter came in course of time to pre-
di>minate. Melic songs, as oppo.-ed to choruses, had no lixed
Tli
meiits made in the ilute in 1 'hrvda. Klegv spread with th
be regarded as a (iivek one, although whetiier it is derived
from an Armenian wrd (< li-iju] meaning a tlute or reed. i,r
from another Armenian word (jilariiknn) meaning ''mournful,' 1
is uncertain. The original meaning of tip' W"rd in (Ire.-k
seems to liave iiiehiilcd lioth ideas, and to have been a funeral
112 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
distiches. It is only in Roman and late Greek times that
elegies were written to be read. Before then, elegies, like all
other poetry of the creative period of Greek literature, were
composed for oral delivery, and were always sung or recited to
a flute accompaniment. The history of Greek elegy falls into
three periods. The first extends from the origin of elegy,
ahout B.C. 700, to the rise of the drama. The next extends to
Alexandrine times, which constitute the third period. The
elegy originated in Ionia, always continued to be written in
Ionic, and the best representatives of this division of lyric
poetry were lonians, e g., Callinus and Mimnermus. During
the first and most flourishing period of elegy, it was used for
many other purposes than that of expressing lamentations and
regret. Callinus used it for martial purposes. With Tyrtseus
and Solon it served to convey political precepts. In the hands
of Theognis it was largely gnomic or sententious. Mimnennus
brought it back to its originally mournful character. In this
period also it was used for lighter purposes, love, epigram, and
the praise of wine. In the second period, elegy was over-
shadowed by the drama, which absorbed the best lyric talent
and grew at the expense of elegy. In the Alexandrine, the
third period, it became, as we see from the specimens preserved
in the Anthology, the vehicle for conveying the mythological
learning and the love-songs of the literati of the time.
The tirt elegiac poet, as far as we know, was Callinus of
Ephesus. His date cannot be fixed with precision, but as it
seems from iiis fragments that the town of Magnesia was still
in existence in his time, and as from the fragments of Archi-
lochus it seems that by his time Magnesia had been destroyed,
Callinus was probably rather senior to Archilochus, and lived
about B.C. 700. "Whether Callinus invented the pentameter
and combined it with the hexameter, we do not know. His
elegiacs are not rudimentary, but we have no reason to believe
that any other poet had cultivated this form of verse before
him, and there is nothing improbable in supposing that he may
have invented them and yet brought them to the stage of
development which we find them in with him. In point of
metre, the, elegiac is not greatly difi'erent from the verse of epic
poetry, for the pentameter is only a mutilated hexameter. In
style, too, we see from the fragments of Call inns that Greek
poetry only gradually developed from epic to lyric, and did not
pass by a bound from the one stage to the other. The language
of Callinus reminds us of Homer, and the spirit is much the
same. For the fragments which we possess (one of twenty
LYKIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I I 3
lines and three insignificant ones) we are indebted to Stobauis
tlie anthologist and Strabo the geographer. Strabo probably
knew little or nothing more of his works, and took these quota-
tions from works by Demetrius of Skepsis (a pupil of Aristar-
chus) and Callisthenes. That Callinus' elegies should have
been lost so early is not astonishing, when we reflect that they
were probably not committed to writing, and that having only
an oral, not a literary existence, they would be peculiarly liable
to perish as fast as other elegiac poets arose with competing
verses. The long fragment which has come down to us is of a
maitial kind, encouraging his fellow-citizens to advance against
the foe by picturing the disgrace of a coward's death and the
glory of falling nobly. For what occasion these verses were
composed, whether for the war which was carried on between
the poet's own city, Ephesus. and Magnesia, and which even-
tually resulted in the victory of the former, or in ant cipation
of an attack by the Cimmerians, who about this time invaded
Lydia, defeated Midas, and threatened the Greek cities, is un-
certain. But the verses themselves have a fine vigour, and ring
out like a true call to battle. It has, indeed, been maintained
that most of this fragment is not by Callinus, but by Tyrta-us ;
but the weight of critical authority is against the supposition.
About the same time as, but junior to, Callinus was Archilo-
chus, who also wrote elegies, but whose fame is his iambics. As
other poets also frequently wrote both iambics and elegiacs, wo
shall find it convenient to treat the two classes of writers side
by side; and this mode of proceeding has the further justifica-
tion that, different in character as iambic originally was from
elegiac poetry, the two kinds of poetry had certain important
features in common, and they ran through much the same
care-T. They resemble each other, in the first place, in be'ng
of Ionian origin, being written in the Ionic dialect, and being
peculiarly and di.-tinctively expressive of the qualities of the
Ionic character. Their careers are alike in that both soon lust
the character which they at first possessed; elegy, as we have
seen, came, soon to be employed for many other purposes than
the e.xpressi. n of lamentation, and iambic poetry, as we shall
see, was at first the. means used by Aivhiloclms for conveving
personal satire, but lost that character in the hands of Si. ion,
although he u>ed iambic verse as a means of c^ini'at m-- his
personal opponents. Eventually, as the v<-r.
tragedy, it served to express every eiiMtioi
Finally, as elegiac poetrv was uvttr.shadov
the drama absorbed iambic poetry, which,
I I 4 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
like elegy, revive again, except in the modified form of the
choliambics used by late fable writers, such as Pabrius.
Although Archilochus was the founder of iambic poetry, he
can hardly be regarded as the inventor of the iambus, and the
origin of the verse is uncertain. The usual account is that it
originated in the worship of Demeter. At the festivals of this
goddess a license was permitted which resembled that of the
saturnalia at Rome. Every restraint at other times put upon
the tongue was on these occasions removed ; abuse, jests, deri-
sion, and satire might be cast by any man against any other ;
and from this custom, and from a Greek word meaning " to
cast," the word iambics and the abusive nature of the verse are
usually derived. With this view further harmonises the fact
that the worship of Demeter was in great favour in the isle
of Faros, where Archilochus was born. P>ut the word iambus
suggests, by its resemblance, a connection with the words dithy-
rambus, thriambus. which are in all probability not of Greek
origin ; and the only evidence for the connection of the iambus
with Demeter is the story that it was the maid lambe who, by
her jests, first brought a smile to the face of Demeter after the
loss of her daughter.
About the life of Archilochus we know little more than is to
be inferred from the fragments of his works. These are unfor-
tunately few; but his poetry is so subjective, the man is so open
and frank on all that concerns him, that there is scarcely a frag-
ment, however inconsiderable in size, which does not give us
some information about his life and character. In estimating
his character it is necessary always to bear in mind his complete
innocence of disguise and his even reckless frankness, because
the best known fact in his life- the vengeance which he took
in his verses on Lycambes for first betrothing his daughter
Xeobule to him and then refusing him her hand is liable to
misinterpretation ; and the more so since the later Greeks, in
order to enhance perhaps to comprehend the tremendous
nature of his onslaught, added the story that in consequence
of his versos both Lycambes and Xeobule committed suicide.
This might lead us to infer that there was something underhand
or even cowardly in this mode of vengeance that Archilochus'
weapons were not only as keen but as venomous as Pope's. Put
tliis would be to entirely misread his life and character. Archi-
lochus was not only a poet of unsurpassed vigour, he was a man
of energy and action who touched life at all points. Impetuous
and daring, he led a life of adventure and romance. Porn in
the island of Paros, a block of purest marble, whose perpendi-
LYRIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I I 5
cular clilTs run up two thousand feet from the sea, and whose
beauty he saw with a poet's eye (Fragment 51), Archilochus
there became familiar with a sailor's life, and learned to love
the sea, over which he was to wander often. When quite
a youth, having his youthful and ardent imagination fired
with fabulous reports of gold-mines in Tliasos, he sailed for
that ancient seat of Phenician mining. His expectations were
high, and his disappointment therefore profound. The vehe-
mence of his expression marks the force of the impression
which Thasos made on him ; it is as rough as a donkey's back,
there is not one fine or lovely or beautiful place in it (Fr. 21).
In this frame of mind he would be ready to believe that his El
Dorado, if not situated in the island of Thasos, might be on the
mainland over against it ; and, even if gold were no more
to be found there than on the island, at least there would be
lighting. Thither, therefore, he went, and there he was not
disappointed in the fighting. After this, he must have returned
to 1'aros, and there have met Xcobule. His love for her was
as passionate as might be expected in a man of his poetical and
impetuous temperament, and SOUK; of his fragments (84, 85) still
breathe the flame with which he was consumed. That he was
capable of deep feeling is shown by his elegy on the death of his
sister's husband, and his capacity for suffering may be gauged by
the fact that he could only find for it a remedy which is no
remedy to endure and not whine like a woman (66). This
capacity for the depths of snifering implies a corresponding
capacity for the exaltation of joy, and it was with all the
ardour and all the tenderness of this richly endowed nature
that he loved Xeobule. He sighed "were it to touch but her
hand" (71), and we have the fragments (29, 30) of a perfectly
lovely picture of Xeobule (in which she was drawn with all her
own beauty and the beauty lent to her by the eye of her artist-
lover), with a myrtle branch and rose in her hand, and her
tresses overshadowing her shoulders. As his love bad been
great and beyond all measure, so when he was betrayed his furv
knew no bounds. Every taunt which the violence of passion
could suggest and the force of satiric genius could launch he
directed against her who had deceived him. To us this attack
on a woman has something cowardly in it ; but the standard of
morality is a shifting one, and Archilochus, whether jud_vd by
the standard of his own or of our time, was not a coward.
This will lie best understood if we consider the famous verses
(6 1 in which he relates his flight from a battle in Thrace, and
of the loss of his shield. He tells th" story lightly. Some
I 1 6 HISTORY OF GEEEK LITERATURE.
Saian has the shield, and exults in the trophy. Archilochus
did not abandon it willingly, but he only just escaped death; so
he bids good-bye to the shield ; he can buy another. This view,
that the cost of a shield was the only loss he suffered in running
away, throws a light on the character of Archilochus. These
verses are due neither to the effrontery of shamelessness nor to
the self-torture of a morbid mind. For the former to be the
case, Archilochus must have been a coward ; for the latter, he
must have thought himself one. Horace, who abandoned his
shield at Philippi (and imitated these verses of Archilochus),
was no warrior, and consequently, being a man of the world,
felt that he was not disgraced. Demosthenes, who fled from
Chaeronea, was also no warrior, but had a higher nature, and
felt, probably unreasonably, that he was disgraced. But Archi-
lochus was a warrior ; he was a free-lance (24) ; he sailed from
shore to shore, trusting, as he says (23), his life to the embrace
of the wave ; he fought in many lands, and eventually, in
Euboea, he fell in battle. If, then, he could jest over his flight,
it was partly because his valour was tried and above suspicion ;
partly because his frank nature scorned concealment ; and
mainly because his fighting experience had taught him that
victory does not always crown the brave, and that there are
times when even the brave must fly or be killed uselessly.
In other words, on this point his morality was that of the
mercenary. Unfortunately, that was his morality on other
matters also. There was, indeed, much chivalry in his nature,
e.g., he will not insult a dead foe (69), nor be overweening in
the hour of triumph, nor abject in defeat, and will take arms
against his troubles (66) ; but supreme over all motives is ven-
geance (65). "One thing I can requite with great ill the man
who docs me ill." This limitation of his chivalry explains his
attack on Keobule.
As a poet, a warrior, a sea-rover, a colonist, a political par-
tisan, an accepted suitor, a disappointed and infuriated lover,
Archilochus touched life at all points, and there was no quar-
ter of the activity into which citizen-life was then breaking
which he did not throw himself into with all the force of hi.s
vigorous nature. If from the poetry of Tyrtonis and Solon
we learn much of the internal political condition of Sparta
and Athens, from the poetry of Archilochus we get valuable
light on the life, manners, and thought of the time. Thus
we see that the position of women was one of much greater
freedom, socially, than was the, case in Athens and among
the Ionic Greeks generally at a later date ; and we find, rather
LYRIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I 1 /
to our surprise, that marriage was preceded by a term of love-
making. At the same time we see (if 19 is really genuine)
that the hetaera was already in the field, and that her position
was as openly recognised then as later. The thought, too, of
the time is reflected even in our scanty fragments to a certain
extent. Archilochus no more propounds to himself or his
audience the great problem of the meaning of life than did
Homer. The Greeks had not yet, apparently, begun to think.
The old gods still in appearance hold their old place. They aro
still there to be prayed to ; but in one important respect they
are not quite the same as they were in Epic, for in Archilochus,
as in Greek lyric poetry generally, they have ceased to do any-
thing. Motionless they remain, and Archilochus recognises
them in a general way, especially when he is giving moral
advice to a friend ; but he speaks with more confidence when
he says fate and fortune settle everything. His enjoyment of
the beauty and pleasures of life was marred by no speculative
doubts on religion and morality. Suffering led him to no
searchings of heart ; his comment was that weeping would not
diminish, and enjoying himself would not increase the evil (13).
The sunlight and open air of his life did not allow him to be
haunted by such a question as, Why should we live ? He is
even far from the stage at which the advice to eat, drink, and
b" merry can be given ; for to him and to the Greeks of his time
such a recommendation would have seemed superfluous. The
only indication, and that is casual and indirect, of any reflec-
tion on the deeper problems of life which is to be found in
Archilochus is interesting, both as being characteristic of him
and as showing that, although the old religion remained exter-
nally much the same, there were at work beneath the surface
tendencies of a destructive nature. In one of his fables (88) the
fi>x prays, " () Zeus, Father Zeus, thine is power in heaven ; thoii
seest the deeds of men that they are good and bad, and in beasts
too thou vi.-itest insolence and justice." To thus say that the
beasts are quite as moral as man, and that the gods take as much
interest in rewarding and punishing the one class as the other, is
a piecv- of cynical cleverness which required the genius and the
recklessness tif Archilochus to conceive and to utter, as it also
sliM\vs that, when thought was turned in this direction, it was
not in support of the old creeds.
FiMm Archilochus to Sinmnides of Amorgos what a falling
off! Siinonides, like, Archilochus, was a colonist, and moved
fiom his native, island Samos to tie' island Aniorg.is, t'r.i'u
which he gets the epithet which .-erves to distii:_:ui.-h him
I I 8 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
from the later and more famous Simonides. But Simonides of
Ainorgos was a very different kind of colonist from Archilochus.
Instead of the romance in which Archilochus, the poet-warrior,
seemed to always move, we become conscious in Simonides of
the principle of strict attention to business, which better suits
grocery than poetry. "VVe have, indeed, in passing from Archi-
lochus to Simonides, passed from the action of one set of the
general conditions under which lyric poetry developed to that
of another. The liberty of the individual citizen was fostered
in its growth not only by the violent revolution of the sword,
but also by the quiet revolution effected by the expansion of
commerce. The wandering and reckless Archilochus, whose
weapons were at the service of those who could pay fur them,
but whose allegiance was rendered to none but the god of war
and the Muses, represents the former set of conditions, while the
prosaic, domestic, and querulous Simonides breathes the air of
the latter. The only fragments of Simonides of importance are
one (i) of 24 lines and another (7) of 118 lines, both in iambics.
The former is good advice to a young man. Simonides explains
(probably to his son) that one never knows what will happen;
that some men fall ill and die ; others fight and get killed ; others,
for the sake of a living, go to sea and get drowned, and others
commit suicide : trouble is universal, and the moral is to avoid
it as much as possible. It is sometimes said, we may remark,
that the poetry of Simonides is sober, and it has at least the
appearance of having been written in old age. The other
fragment is in the same strain as this. It is a description
of women, who are divided into ten classes: to the first class
Heaven has given the qualities of the pig, to the second those of
the fox, to the next those of the dog ; and so the poet plods
on conscientiously through his 119 lines and his ten classes,
each of which he dockets and puts by carefully labelled with its
ticket; and, in conclusion, for fear any specimens of the race
should be left unprovided for by his methodical treatment, he
utters an anathema on women in general. To these two frag-
ments should perhaps be added another, which is generally in-
cluded amongst the remains of Simonides, the younger, of (Jos;
it is an elegy, which quotes the famous line of Homer that com-
pares the generations of men to the leaves of trees. "\Vith this
line as a text, the author proceeds to remark that hope springs
in the breast of young men, who think they will never die or
be ill, in which they are very foolish.
The first tiling that strikes us in reading the remains of
Simonides is hew limited is his horizon ! "\Vh"ii in the first
LYRIC POETRY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC POETS. I I 9
fragment his eye takes the widest sweep over human life and
activity that it can, he comprehends precisely what is seen by
the smug bourgeois. He knows that some men spend their lives
on the sea, but when he goes beyond the fact, and presumes to
divine their motive, the only one which his range of emotions
and experience can suggest is that they do it to earn a living.
Such people, he tells his young friend, get drowned. "With
this, contrast the line in which Arehilochus (51) bids farewell
to life on the sea. Simonides also knows that men fight (and
get killed), but their motives for doing so he does not attempt
even to conjecture. ]>ut when he returns from his excursion
into those unfamiliar fields of human activity, and plants his
foot within the domestic circle, and gets on the subject of that
domestic grievance woman then what he says possesses, if not
great depth, at any rate great length.
The roving, fighting life of Arehilochus, chequered by victory
and defeat, by the adventures of the gold-seeker, by the passion
and disappointment of love, by the carouses of the cam]), and
the strife of politics, afforded a rich variety of material to the
artist's eye and the poet's mind ; but the dull weary round of
daily work could a f lord Simonides no stimulus to poetry. It
would, in fact, seem that commerce may have as Freytag shows
in his novel "Soil und Haben " its romance, but its poetry
hardly. The result of the conditions under which Simonides
produced his work is that there is no joy, no sense of beauty,
no play of fancy in it. He bids no farewell to the beauty of
his native island. That life may be beautiful and joyous he
does not seem to know. He knows, indeed, that if you are
married, you can never have a whole day's peace (7. 99), but
beyond this negative idea he cannot lift his thoughts. Of
all vigour and eager activity he is quite innocent : the most
energetic demonstration he seems to contemplate is not to
dwell on one's misfortunes (i. 24). The public for whom
Simonidos wrote indicates the difference between him and
Arehilochus. The hitter wrote his verses to be sung over the
wine to his boon-companions, amongst whom, we may be sine,
were to be found all the wittiest and cleverest men of the place
in which he hap] enod to bo, and with whom his reckless strokes
of irony and satire, and his finest poetic fancv, would tind ready
appreciation. Simonides' verses, as we have said, are advice to
a young man.
Touching the question of how much truth there is in Simon-
ides' views on the women of his time: in view of the resem-
blance then. 1 is between him and Ib-siod, both in the narrow,
I 2O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
carking spirit of their verse and in their unfavourable esti-
mate of women, we might at first be inclined to think that
Simonides was not drawing on his own observation, but was
simply working out in a spirit of literary conventionality and
tradition a theme which he had borrowed from his epic prede-
cessor. But towards the end of the fragment we find a couple
of verses (112, 113) "Every man praises his own wife and
depreciates his neighbour's : but we are all in the same plight
without knowing it" which seem to show that, when Simon-
ides and his friends met together for the recreation of quiet
conversation, their wives were a frequent topic, and that Simon-
ides in his verses is but giving expression to the views of the
honest burghers of Amorgos. The last twenty verses, too, of
the fragment, when the author has conscientiously discharged
the task of labelling all the ten classes of women, and speaks
with that burden off his mind, positively rise to a modilied
warmth of feeling which in Simonides must be taken to repre-
sent the fire of conviction. He even, when hinting at a scandal,
ventures on an audacious aposiopesis, which the sympathetic
reader at once understands to have been originally accompanied
by a solemn motion of Simonides' head conveying much mean-
ing. We may then regard what Simonides says on this subject
as not a mere literary exercise, but as the result of his observation
and experience ; and we have to estimate it. In the first place,
we see from his other fragment (i), addressed probably to his
son, that he took a gloomy view of life. He saw trouble every-
where and no remedy for trouble. It is probable, therefore, that
when, out of the ten classes into which he divides women, he
only admits one the women to whom the qualities of the bee
have been assigned by the gods to be good, he is colouring his
observations with the same subjective and gloomy view which
in the other fragment permits him to see nothing but miserable
ends to human lives, and in the elegy, which is probably by
him, and not by the other Simonides, permits him to see nothing
in lift; but death. His condemnation of the women of his time
contains then some falsity : how much truth it contains we cannot
say. What we learn from Archilochus makes it improbable that
the custom borrowed by the Tonians from the East --which
certainly prevailed later, of shutting women up, was dominant
at this time; and all we are in a position to say is, that if it
was, there was probably a considerable amount of truth in his
diatribe. One other reflection we have to make : the hctajra,
we learn from Archilochus, had already made her appearance ;
and it is when liaisons with such women are frequent among
husbands that in literature we find complaints about wives.
LYRIC POETRY : MELIC. I 2 I
There remain three writers of elegiacs for us to mention, of
whom one was a poet : Tyrtams, Mimnermus, and Solon. The
fragments of Tyrtseus are, in accordance with the legend which
represents him as inspiring the Spartans with courage, warlike
in character. As poetry, they are but "the hoarse monotony of
verse lowered to the level of a Spartan understanding." Their
effect on the Spartans, however, was great. During a campaign
his elegies were sung in camp after the evening meal. His
Embateria or March-songs were sung before and during the
o o o
battle ; and as the custom was handed down from generation
to generation of singing them before the king's tent, they
became something in the nature of a national hymn, to which
they are the only approach in Greek literature. Mimnermus
of Colophon (or Smyrna) was indeed a poet, and the scanty
remains of his elegies make us regret what we have lost of him.
Sol' in wrote in verse because prose was not yet invented, and
hi- fragments, valuable as they are to the historian, have little
Lute rest for the student of literature.
CHAPTER II.
LYRIC TOETRY : MEMO.
MELIC, the third division of lyric poetry, derives its name
from the (.'reek word mclut, which originally means a member
or p:irt. then a strophe- or part of a poem, and then vers<
to music. Melic poetry was composed in strophes, and :
ot the
second
meaning that Homes, which are certainly melic, are not writ-
ten in ftrophes; on the other hand, although melic poetry was
always accompanied by music, so too- in the creative period
( ( Ireek literature were the other divi-ions of lyric poetiv,
ele-iac and iambic. It is, however, clear that niu.-ic took
a much more prominent part in melic than in the other two
kinds of lyric poetry. Elegies and iambics were pr ibably imt
always sun_r, but mostly recited ; ami were nut accompanied by
music throughout, but prefaced and followed by a prelude and
symphony; and probably in the p;uinas and Thaletas
and the genius of Alcman. In the second period the scene
shifts from Sparta to Lesbos and to Sicilv ; and to the change
in area there corresponds a dill'ereiice in the character of melic,
for it \va- in Lesbos and in Sicily that the son_'s of the people
were developed into lyric song ; and witii this branch of lyric
poet ry t lie great names of Alcani- and Sappho are associated. In
this period also flourished Stesichorus, who, in the quality of
his genius and the nature of hi- ar;, was the foivi uiiiier ,,f
Siiiionides and Pindar. In the third peri"d we leave the homed
124 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
of the people for the courts of tyrants, and return from song to
chorus. This was the period of Simonides and of Anacreon,
though not of the works which commonly pass under the name
of Anacreon. The fourth was again a period of choral lyric,
but it had ceased to be local, and in the hands of Pindar and
Bacchylides became universal. In this period, too, the dithy-
ramb reached its greatest importance.
The part which Sparta during the first period played in the
development of melic is remarkable and instructive. It is re-
markable because, although it was in Sparta that melic grew,
scarcely any of the melic poets were Spartans. It is instructive
because it shows both how important is the function of the
public in the history of art, and how dependent the growth of
poetry, and of literature generally, is on non-poetical and non-
literary conditions. If Sparta was the home and not the mother
of lyric poets at this time if she produced no genius, but sup-
plied the conditions necessary for its growth, it was because
there existed in Sparta a sympathetic public, which by its
education was capable of furnishing the ready and appreciative
welcome which is the best atmosphere for the growth of art,
and the best stimulus on the artist to excel himself. In the
next place, it is no casual coincidence that the time when the
greatest poets of the age invariably found their way to Sparta,
as did Ter pander from Lesbos, Clonas from Thebes, and Thaletas
from Crete, was precisely the time when, in power and reputa-
tion, Sparta was the foremost state, without a rival in Greece.
Doubtless each poet had an appreciative public in his native
city, but the greatness of Sparta offered him the same superior
field for achieving fame as that Athens gave later, and as at
the present day Paris and London present to the provincials of
France and England.
With the musical reforms of Terpander the extension of the
tetrachord of the cithara into an incomplete octave l we shall
not deal. AVe have to speak of him as a poet. Unfortunately,
the few and insignificant fragments which we possess of his
poetry afford us no moans whatever of estimating his quality
as a poet or his method. His place in the history of lyric
poetry has to be inferred mainly from the not always satisfac-
tory account given of him by Proclus. The species of reli-
gious lyric to which Terpander's compositions belonged was the
noine. Of the meaning of this word no more satisfactory
LYRIC POETRY ! MELIC. I 2 5
nccount c"lphi, Terpander won the
prize with his nomes in one of the musical contests then'. This
would seem to point to the cultivation at helphi of such reli-
gious lyric as existed at the time, and in this, as Terpander did
not invent but developed the nome and gave it a place in lite-
rature, there is nothing improbable. lUit the records, when
relating to events of such great antiquity, are reasonably open
1 The names of tho four original divisions woro : d/i^d, \-arar,io7ra, 6u.a\6s
and (TcVa-,t's : <>f Terpiuuler's seven divisions : ri/>_\\a. Aa-ar,.i>?rd t
litTLLKaruTfiOTrd, o/oy-aXos, /ia-yt'j, <'rrt\o-,os. Tin 1 main hody of the liymii
was. MS tii" word implies, tin- ou0:i,Vi5. Thr iTrf>/>a-,is \v;is tin' " seal " which
stamped the conclusion. To tlv " MM! " Tel-pander add. d the ejnlo-ur ; to
tho d.'\T. the ^era/i^a, mid to the KaraTfOira the ^i(7a\ararf>ojra. Set;
J'ollux, iv. ot>.
I 2 6 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
to doubt. From Delphi Terpander is said to have been sent
by the oracle to Sparta. There he instituted the celebrated
festival of the Carnea in honour of Apollo, and in the musical
contests which were held regularly ever afterwards at the festi-
val, the prize was for long carried off by the school of Terpander,
the most famous member of which was Kapion. 1
The innovation which Clonas of Thebes made in melic was
to compose nomes designed, not for a cithara, but a flute accom-
paniment. In this ho was followed by Polymnestus of Colo-
phon, and Sakadas of Argos, and Echembrotus of Arcadia. As
we possess not even a fragment by any one of these composers
of nomcs (except a dedication on an offering by Echembrotus),
we need not say more of them.
The development of the pa3an is ascribed to Thrdetas of
Crete. Of his works we possess no fragment, and know
nothing; but he seems to have exercised a decisive influence
on the course of melic, for, after his time nomes gave way to
the pcnpan, solo to chorus, and the cithara to the flute. It is
interesting to note, too, that his connection with Sparta was
set down to the action of the oracle of Delphi, as was also that
of Terpander and of Tyrtseus. AVhatever may be the historical
value of the incidents with which this connection is clothed in
the case of these three important early lyric poets, the fact that
they were said to have been sent by the oracle to Sparta shows the
closeness of the relations between Delphi and Sparta, and that
lyric poetry was associated with Delphi. The new path marked
out for melic by Thaletas was followed by Xenodamos, who
brought from Crete the hyporcheme, a species of melic in which
the mimetic dancing was the most important element, and by
Xenocritus, who took as the subject of his poems the adventures,
not of the gods, but of heroes, thus paving the way for the
dithyramb.
In Alcman we at last come to a poet of whom, from his frag-
ments, few and mutilated as they are, we can form at least
some idea for ourselves. His date is uncertain, and of his life
we only know two things that his poetry was performed and
composed by him in Sparta and that he came from Sardis.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus said, indeed, that Alcman was a
Spartan by birth; but Stephanus of liyzantium quotes some
1 One of the ei_'ht nomes which Terpander was said to have composed was
called Kapion, after this favourite, pupil. The others are said to have heeii
called Ai'Aios and Houinos, after the musical .sealer-; or keys of tho.-e names ;
()[iUios and Tpoxa'os, after the metres, and '(Jus, Ttrpaoioios, TtpTra^o/jcios,
for itasioiiH which cannot be discovered.
LYRIC POETRY: MKLIC. 127
verses from Alcinan which explicitly state tliat he came from
lofty Sanlis. Whether he was a slave, as Suidas, following
Crates, allirms, and Dionysius denies, or a freeman ; whether
he was a Lydiau or a Greek, and how he came from Sardis to
Sparta, whether as a slave, or as an artist attracted by the
chance of fame in Sparta ; and at what age, whether as a child or
as a man these are all questions which cannot be satisfactorily
settled. It seems improbable that, if he were a slave, he would
ever have been permitted to obtain the rights of citizenship in
Sparta, and take such an important part in the direction of
public worship. About his nationality his name proves little,
for though it is Greek, it may not have been his original
name; nor do the two alternative names which Suidas gives his
father, though both are Greek, prove, more ; for neither may be,
genuine. Finally, whether he left Sanlis before he was old
enough to have been materially influenced by Lydiau art, or im-
jorted Lydian tendencies into Sparta, is a question to which
the fragments we possess are insufficient to give an answer.
Turning from these questions, let us try to see what were,
his contributions to melic, and why the Alexandrine critics
regarded him as a classic, and placed him in their canon of the
nine great lyric poets. The direction in which Alcinan made
his advance, and the nature of his work, were determined by
the previous history of melic and the existing conditions in
Sparta, That is to say, Alcman found melic exclusively de-
voted to religious worship in Sparta, and accordingly it was to
the lyric of worship that he directed his genius. Ho found
that Tiialetas had diverted the current of lyric from nonies in
solo to worship in chorus, and he followed out the channel thus
opened, composing p;t>ans, hymns
or processional hymns. Hut his
eoiiiineil to meivly working out
already existing. ,\lthouji he started from and developed the
religious and choral elements of lyric, lie eonlined himself to
neither. It is the function of Ivrie to give poetic form to all
the emotions, not to that of worship only, and it is the essence
of lyric to give more prominence to the subjectivity and the
personality of the poet than choral poetry, at any rate in iN
earlier ,-tages. permitted. As a true lyrie poet, then, Aleman
felt the need to teach in song other feeling-; than the religions,
and to -et forth his own experiences with more directness than
the inn ersonal nature of choral poetry, as i; then existed, was
compatible with. At the same time these tendencies were con-
ditioned by the character o[ his public, which, being Spartan,
128 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
demanded religious and choral poetry. Alcman had, therefore,
to seek for some variety of Dorian melic, which should satisfy
Spartan' taste and yet admit of being developed into an instru-
ment for conveying his feelings and his own views on life as his
own. This he found in the Parthenia, or girls' choruses, which
had long existed in Sparta. Such choruses, sung and danced
by girls, imply that women were allowed to freely appear in
public, and that they received some education in music and
dancing. It is, therefore, interesting to note that the history
of the condition of Greek women receives some light from the
history of these Parthenia. In the oldest times they were pro-
bably common to all the Greeks, for dances of this kind are
mentioned in Homer and the Homeric hymns. 1 For some
time they continued to be usual, not only among the Dorians
and ^Eolians, but also among the lonians. Eventually, how-
ever, the Athenian practice of secluding Avomen, of allowing
them to leave the house only for religious worship, and of
teaching them nothing but the most elementary household
duties, caused the Parthenia to decay among the Athenians. In
Sparta, however, where the state took the education of girls
into its own hands with as much care as that of boys, and
where women occupied a place of some independence by the
side of man, the Parthenia long continued to flourish.
Arion is not represented by a single fragment, for the hymn
of thanksgiving commemorating his miraculous escape on the
back of a dolphin from death at the hands of a treacherous crew,
which /Elian (H. A. xii. 45) quotes as the work of Avion, is
generally regarded now as the work of a later hand. It is the
more to be regretted that we should possess nothing of his,
because he not only wrote hexameters (to the number of 2000)
and iiornes, but first gave a place in literature to the dithyramb,
which was the seed out of which the drama was to grow ; and
the early history of the dithyramb is a matter of some obscurity.
The worship of Dionysus was probably of great antiquity in
Greece, and may reasonably be supposed to date from before
the composition of the Homeric hymn to Dionysus. The power
of wine had excited by its mystery the wonder of man in
Aryan times, for it is celebrated in the Vedns, where the virtues
of sorna are the marvel of the poet. But as the worship of
Dionysus was a different thing from the praise of soi/ia, so the
dithyramb was not the same thing as the early hymns to
1 Iliad, xvi. 182; Hymns, x.xx. 14. The dance of Artemis and hrr train,
Hymns, xxvii. 15, was probably suggested by the practice of ordinary life,
a.s was also Hymns, v. 5.
LYRIC POETRY : MELIC. I 2 9
Dionysus. The proper, and presumably the original, subject of
the dithyramb was the birth of Dionysus, as we learn from
Plato (Laws, iii. 700), though eventually any portion of his
history came to be matter for dithyrambic poets. But it was
less in the matter than in the manner of delivery that the
dithyramb differed from the hymns. The dithyramb was
orgiastic, and this, together with the name (for which no
Greek etymology can be found), seems to point to a foreign
origin. This view of the nature and origin of the dithyramb
is strengthened by the fact that it was in Corinth, which en-
couraged orgiastic rites and was specially connected with the wor-
ship of Cotyto, that the dithyramb first found a home in Greece ;
and that it was from Methymna in Lesbos, where phallic wor-
ship flourished, that Anon brought the dithyramb to Corinth.
The first mention of the dithyramb is in a time before
Anon, in a fragment (yyn) of Archilochus, who says that he
knows how, when he is smitten by wine as by a thunderbolt, to
lead off the dithyramb. From this fragment, as well as from
the general course of melic poetry, it probably follows that the
dithyramb was, until the time of Arion (who was a contem-
porary of Periander, B.C. 628-585), sung not in chorus, but in
monody, as was the case with other melic poetry until Tha-
letas, and still more ell'ectively Alcman, brought choral poetry
into the position of importance which nomes originally occu-
pied. At any rate, the singing of the dithyramb by an organised
and trained chorus (as opposed to the extempore singing of a
refrain, as in the case of the earliest preans and wedding-songs),
was clue to Arion. The position of the chorus in the dithy-
ramb, too, was new, and was due to Arion. Instead of being
drawn up in a rectangular body, as was the case Avith all
Dorian choruses, and moving from right to left, ami left to
right, round the altar, the chorus was arranged in a circle
round the altar, and hence was culled a Cyclic chorus. Another
innovation made by Avion was to dress the chorus as satyrs ;
the choreuta 1 , or members of the chorus, thus came to be
called in Greek ira;/o/\ goats or satyrs, and their song was
the goat- or satyr-song, trci'i-cedia. This, and not the offering of
a goat as a prize, it is which is the origin of the word " tragedy."
The number of choreuta? in Arion's time is not known. The
first mention of the number fifty is later, an I occurs in a frag-
ment of Simonides (147) ; whether this was the number of
Arion's chorus there, is nothing to show. A further innova-
tion ascribed to Arion is, that he gave a "tragic turn '" 1 to the
1 retry j.vos rpOTTo;. Hesychiu.s.
I 30 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
dithyramb, and what this means is uncertain. It has been sup-
posed to mean that Arion did not confine himself to the birth
or the adventures of Dionysus for the subject of his dithyrambs,
but substituted heroic myths. 1 But probably it refers to the-
nature of the dancing with which the dithyramb was accom-
panied. This was more lively and more extravagant than in
the case of other choral poetry ; it was probably highly mimetic,
and, as danced by the satyr-clad choreutse, dramatic.
CHAPTER IIL
MELIC POETRY : ALOEUS AND SAPPHO.
WHILST the lonians had been developing elegiac and iambic
poetry, and whilst in Sparta melic poets, attracted from all
parts of the Greek world, had carried nomes as far as the simple
nature of such poetry permitted, and then had begun to lay the
foundations of choral poetry, in Lesbos the other division of
melic poetry, which consisted of odes, individual and subjective
in character, and which corresponded rather to what we under-
stand at the present day by lyric poetry, was being quietly but
steadily developed. Of the stages between the songs of the
people in Lesbos and the poetry of Alcams absolutely no trace
has come down to us ; we have neither a word nor the name of
a single poet. It is indeed only inference, but it is a necessary
inference from the developed character of Alcoeus' rhythm, that
such stages occurred.
At the beginning of the sixth century B.C., in the time of
Alcaaus, who was a contemporary of Solon, Lesbos was in a state
of political convulsion, the shocks of which threw down one
form of government after another, oligarchical, tyrannic, and
democratic, until the wisdom and power of Pittacus, the Solon
of Lesbos, secured peace for his country. In these revolutions
and counter-revolutions Alca'iis took an eager part. Born of a
noble family, and reared in the political faith of his fathers,
Alcaeus was by nature and by education an ardent partisan of
the oligarchy, which in his earlier years ruled Avithout fear or
check in Lesbos. But the good time of oligarchy was drawing
to an end, and that in Lesbos was exploded in the usual way
from within. Finding the position which he shared in common
1 A change of tLis kind was suppressed at Sicyon by Cleisthenes. Hclt.
v. 67.
LYRIC POETRY : ALGOUS AND SAPPHO. I 3 I
with his fellow-oligarchs not of sufficient freedom, Melauchrus
contrived to constitute himself tyrant; and this proceeding led
to a complication of revolutions, tyrannicides, exiles, imprison-
ments, usurpations, conspiracies, and insurrections, which at this
distance of time it is almost impossible to disentangle. Melan-
chrus was eventually assassinated, but the oligarchy was not to
be restored. In the division, however, between, the oligarchs
and the people, who had united to -verthrow the tyranny, but
split on the question of oligarchy or democracy, another oligarch,
Myrsilus, throwing over his own party, forced his way to the
tyranny. Probably at this time Alcseus and his brothers were
driven into exile ; and we may perhaps measure the force of
this political eruption by the distance to which, and the divers
directions in which, these exiles were ejected ; for Alceeus landed
in Egypt, and took service under the Pharaoh Hofra, while his
brother Antimenidas was projected east, and entered the army
of Nebuchadnezzar. Myrsilus shared the fate of Melanchrus,
and was assassinated, and after this a popular government was
established by Pittacus. But AlcaHis was impartially opposed
both to the usurpations of tyrants and the people's encroach-
ments on the rights of the oligarchs, and he made war both
with his sword and his verse on Pittacus and the popular govern-
ment. The insurrection failed, however, and Alcaeus was thrown
into prison. There he implored for release from Pittacus, whom
he had despised and abused. Pittacus released him with the
comment, " To forgive is better than to take vengeance." After
this we know nothing more of Alcfeus' history.
Alc;rns' compositions made at least ten books, and included
hymns to the gods, as well as the odes for which he was more
famous. The latter are sometimes divided into political (staxio-
tika), drinking ($/,-< >'i'i), and love (iTotika) songs ; but it is hard
to observe this division of classes, fur the wine seems to have
got into all of them, and they were probably all delivered in the
same way, to the same audience, and on the same sort of occa-
sion. That is to say, they were probably sung by Alcfeus, to his
own accompaniment, over the wine to his political and personal
friends. Hence his songs, when they are something more than
drinking-songs, would still naturally contain allusions to wine,
and even those which began as drinking-songs might, without
any inconsequence, turn to love or politics. The fragments of
his works are disappointing reading, and this is not because
time has, so far as we can judge, treated Alcaeus more hardlv
than other lyric poets of the same or greater antiquity. Rela-
tively, indeed, to the elegiac poets, Alca?us is not fortunate in
I 3 2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the size of the fragments from which we have to form our opinion
of him, and we can assign a natural reason for this : the lines
of cleavage are not the same in elegiac poetry as in odes of a
more complex metrical formation. A large proportion of the
fragments of Alcseus have reached us embedded in the works of
grammarians, who quote Alcseus only to illustrate a metrical
point or a peculiarity of dialect ; and such quotations, usually
short, never necessarily contain a complete thought. Quotations
from the elegiac poets, on the other hand, are made not for such
purposes, but usually for the sake of the thought contained in
them. Hence M r e have complete elegies by Solon, Tyrtam.s, or
Mimnermus, but only fragments of Alcseus. Still, compared
with Archilochus or Alcman, Alcseus is well represented ; but
whereas in the little that survives of Alcman there are to be
found two fragments which at once put him at least on a level
with his reputation, in the more extensive fragments of Alcajus
there is nothing which is worthy of the great name that Alcajus
enjoys.
The fragments of his hymns to the gods contain nothing
which is above poetical commonplace ; and probably the hymns
in their entirety were of no great merit, for Alcseus was not by
inclination likely to excel in. nor was he in after-time famous
for, religious and choral lyric. It is his political and martial
verse which antiquity is unanimous in extolling as constituting
his greatness as a lyric poet. Bionysius of Halicarnassus (2. 8),
Athenseus (xiv. 62yA), Qumtilian (10. i. 63), and the epigram-
matists in the Greek Anthology, all select his stasiotika as his
distinctive excellence. Wo turn, therefore, with interest to the
fragments of these odes, and lind that fortunately among them
are seme of the most considerable and famous of his fragments.
For instance, we have the original of Horace's " navis ! refe-
rent in mare te" (C. i. 14), in which, under the metaphor of a
ship, the distress of the state is pictured (18). "We have, again,
the original of Horace's ''Xmic est bibendum," with the re-
joicing over the murder of Myrsilus (20). And, as the expres-
sion of Alcseus' martial spirit, we have a description (15) of
his room decorated with helmets and greaves and bucklers, and
all the appurtenances of war ; and also (33) his welcome to his
brother, who had returned from his service under Nebuchad-
nezzar with a beautiful ivory -hilted sword, which he had taken
from a giant whom he had slain in fair and open tight.
All these fragments arc good, and they con i inn what Biony-
sius and Quintilian say, that he is not clifl'u.se. and that his
style possesses grandeur; but they do not roach the level of
LYRIC POETRY : ALCLEUS AND SAPPHO. 133
the highest poetry. The finest is the metaphor of the ship,
with the waves rising against it on all sides, and its sails in
rags. Compared with the diligent but lifeless work of Horace's
imitation, the Greek has the merit of being sketched after
nature ; but if we wish to see the difference between this and
the best poetry, "to know the change and feel it," we have
only to compare the lines in which Homer 1 describes, not a
storm Alcaeus' stanzas are not very stormy ; he has to tell us
that the weather is bad but the motion of a ship. Setting
aside other differences, in the one case we feel that we are on
the ship, and in the other we do not. In the description of
his room, too, we are sensible of a somewhat similar deficiency ;
but in this case the deficiency is in the spirit, not in the reality
of the description. As a picture of an artistic interior, it would
rank in literary merit with similar work in Theophile Gautier
or Balzac, and have the advantage of brevity. When, how-
ever, Athenseus (1. c.) asks us to admire in this the martial
spirit of a man who was more than warlike enough, our atten-
tion is at once drawn to the difference iu spirit between these
verses, in which weapons play the part of aesthetic mural decora-
tions, and those in winch Tyrtaeus describes the Spartan warrior,
with teeth set, feet firmly planted on the ground, covered by
his shield, holding his burly lance in his hand, learning in
battle how to light.
Thus, then, not only do the fragments which we happen to
possess fail to bear out the high opinion which the ancients
held of the ^tasiotika, but one of them is actually a passage
which Athenseus quotes to prove his opinion. If Athenseus
has thus misjudged the merit of Alcanis, it becomes worth
while to examine the criticisms of Dionysiiis and Quintilian
more closely, and with some independence of judgment. What
J'ionysius singles out as above all excellent in Alc'_'ins to emerge. It is Himerius who reveals to us the existence of an
appreciation of Aleajus' sympathy with nature, when hu says of some ode
that the birds siug in it as you would expect birds to sing in Alcitms.
LYRIC POKTHY : ALGOL'S AND SAPPHO. I 3 5
Greeks did not make the sharp severance between man and
nature that we do in modern times. The Greeks were from
two to three thousand years nearer than we to the time of those
primitive stories in which the hero is addressed by and talks
to a snake or a bird or a stream or a rock as familiarly as to
any other of his acquaintances. In Greek literature, too, the
relations of man and nature are the same : nature is always
conceived of as sympathising with the sufferings of man or
ministering to his joys. Nature was still the mother of the
Greek, and he was old enough to sympathise with her, and to
go to her to be comforted and consoled, but not old enough or
self-conscious enough to know as well as feel that he loved her.
A Greek might perhaps have felt, but could not have said, with
{Shelley
" I love snow and all the forms
Of the radiant frost ;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Kvrrythin^ almost
Which is Nature's, and may lye
Untainted by man's misery."
Still further was the Greek from discovering that nature is
indiileivnt to man, with an indifference which Jiurns has given
expression to
"Ye hanks and braes o' bonnic Doun,
How can ye bloom sau 1'ivsh an' fair !
How can y3 chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care ! "
It was, then, characteristic of Greek lyric, and not a peculiar de-
ficiency in Alea-us, that he, could only treat nature as a back-
ground to man, could not- work with his eye solely on nature to
tiic exclusion of man, as Shelley did in his two verses beginning,
" A widow bin! sate mourning for her love." lint within the
limits between which Greek thought moved, Alcams does not
in his pictures of nature attain the excellence of Alcman, or of
/Kschylus in the /'rn//>/, or Sophode- in the Aja.r.
Of the love-songs of Alc;eus nothing remains but fragments,
which give us no idea of their worth ; and the names of the
objects of his affection, ''.;/., Lycus, show that these odes would
nut have been acceptable to modern ears. Having eon-iT'-d
the hymns, the stasiotika, the skolia, and theerotika of Ah-eiis,
we have now to r.-timate his work as a whole. To he_riu with
his rhythms, not onlv was the lo^un-dic verse which b'-ars his
name his invention, und still, by the name Alcaic, teslities to
his excellence in this form of ,-ti'ophe. but sapphies also were
136 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the product of his genius. The fragment which describes his
room is in a metre peculiar to Alcseus, and he tried many other
experiments in the combination of metres. In the next place,
the qualities of his style are, as Dionysius said, and as even we at
the present day can to some extent see, brevity and magnificence.
His matter except in the hymns, which are not characteristic
is personal, and, like his metre and his style, genuinely lyric.
Occurring in the period of growth and creation in the history of
Greek literature, he is original in his matter as in his metres ;
and this gives to his work the note of reality which we miss in
Horace. AVhen Alcasus shows us the ship of state in distress,
he, at least, pictures himself as on board ; but to the Roman ship
of state Horace in his ode stands in the attitude of an apostro-
phising spectator on shore. The difference between an original
and an adaptation comes out even more strongly in the ode,
which in Alcaeus celebrates the assassination of Myrsilus, and
in Horace is adapted to the suicide of Cleopatra. Alcaeus had
indeed suffered at the hands of Myrsilus, had been perhaps
exiled by him, certainly deprived of his oligarchical privileges.
He, therefore, when Myrsilus was killed, could sing, " Xow
must we drink," and mean it. But Cleopatra's existence had not
been, as Horace would imply, a crushing weight which scarcely
permitted him or any other Roman to breathe while it lasted.
When, therefore, Horace whose digestion was a source of
anxiety to him says, " X'ow must we drink," it is because the
word of command has been uttered by Augustus.
In the choice of his subjects Alc;rus is limited. He found
his main inspiration in good wine and inferior politics. I>ut
if his range is narrow, within its limits he shows considerable
variety of treatment. Athenseus remarked that there was no
circumstance or occasion which Alcseus could not convert into
an excuse for drinking ; and summer and winter, joy and sorrow,
love and politics, do all lead to the bowl with him. Lut this
fact should not be interpreted to mean that he was solely de-
voted to the worship of wine. Unfortunately this was not the
(.use, or his drinking-songs would have been better. He never
wrote anything so thorough as the lines in the Cyclops of
Euripides
" I would give
All that the Cyclops feed upon their mountains
And pitch into the hrinu off some white clilF,
Having got once well dmnk and clortivd my brows.
How mail is lie whom drinking makes not glad ! " *
1 Shelley's translation (with Swinburne's additions).
LYRIC POETRY : ALC^EUS AND SAPPHO. I 3 /
The wine, and that which Alcaeus mixes with it, both suffer in
the mixing. The explanation of all things ending in wine
with Alcieus is, as we have already said, the occasion and the
audience to which he addressed himself. But if his treatment
of his themes is varied, it is not profound ; he does not com-
pensate fur the narrowness of his range by intensity of feeling.
Herein he differs from Archilochus, with whom he has exter-
nally points of resemblance. Both lived in unquiet times, both
wandered far, and both spent much time in camp. Neither was
troubled by the deeper problems of life, and neither found a
better remedy or a better moral for suffering than " Let us
drink." But here the resemblance ceases. When Archilochus
used his iambics as weapons, he struck home. Alcseus only
abused Pittacus ; and his verses on the death of Myrsilus, which
are flown with wine and insolence, are marked by the impetu-
osity of vouth, not bv the strength of genius.
*f it . O O
Contemporary with Alcsous, and a native of Lesbos, was
Sappho, or, as the name is written in her own dialect, Psappha.
Of her life we know remarkably little. Herodotus (2. 135)
tells us that her father's name was Skamandronymos, and that
her brother Charaxus wasted his money on the famous courtesan
Khodopis (or Doricha), whom he brought home with him from
L'gypt, for which Sappho ridiculed him much. From the Parian
Marble (36) we learn that she went into exile to Sicily along
with the other aristocrats of Lesbos, but as the inscription is
much obliterated here, the date is matter of conjecture. From
Aristotle (Rhd. i. 9), we learn that Alcseus addressed an ode
(55) to Sappho, to the effect that he had something which he
wished to say, but shame prevented him ; and that Sappho
replied with an ode (28) saying that had his wish been for any-
thing good and honourable, shame would not have prevented
him from speaking. If to this scanty information about the
life of Sapj-ho we, add the tradition, on which antiquity is
agreed, and which the fragments of her works coniirm, that, in
accordance with a practice not infrequent among the -Kolians
and the I)orians, she collected round her a number of young<-r
women, in much the same way as younger men collected round
Socrates, then we shall have before us all tiiat is known about
the life i if Sappho. Other and probably erroneous statements
owe their existence to misunderstandings and uncertain infer-
ences from her works and m<>dc of life. Thus, because niie frag-
ment (S=5) says, "I. have a fair daughter, like, a g< Ideii b!"S-
s. im, my beloved Kleis, whom 1 wovdd not part with fur all
Lvdia," it has been inferred that Sappho was married and had a
138 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
child, Kleis ; which is as though we were to infer from a
fragment of Campbell that the poet was " the chief of Ulva's
isle " and married " Lord Ullin's daughter." It is probable
that the story of her hopeless love for Phaon had its origin
in a similar misunderstanding of some of Sappho's verses ;
but it was the existence of her school, following, " fringe,"
coterie, or club none of the words will convey at once the
idea both of the literary and artistic objects of these meetings
and the personal affection which was the indispensable basis of
the connection between the teacher and the pupil that afforded
an application for the meaning of her verses, and gave to the
coarsest imaginings of exhausted lasciviousness an opportunity
and an appetite for stripping Passion of her poetry and violating
her in the name of history. The process of outrage was be-
gun by the comedians of Athens, and is carried on, openly and
secretly, in the literature of to-day by writers whose knowledge
of literature is profound enough only to enable them to misspell
the name of Sappho. The amount of freedom which the ^Eolians
and Dorians allowed their women was unintelligible to the
Athenians, or at least to the Athenians of a later time than this,
the beginning of the sixth century B.C. ; and though the ^Eolians
or Dorians might think that such meetings as those of Sappho
and her followers were for literature or art, the Athenians
especially those who were separated by two centuries from the
facts which they undertook to explain possessed much more
discernment. Ameipsias, and then comedian after comedian,
throughout the old, the middle, and the new comedy, took
Sappho as the subject and the name of works, of whose refine-
ment the Lysistrata, the ThesmopJioriaznsa;, and the Kcclesiazusce
of Aristophanes may give us some faint idea. Then ancient
historians of literature, c.rj. Chameleon, in their search for
materials for a biography of Sappho, seized on these comedies
as trustworthy sources of information thus proving, fur in-
stance, that amon_; Sappho's lovers were Archilochus (who lived
a century earlier), or Auacre-n (who lived about as much later)
and thereby left future workers in the same field only their
imagination to draw on for their facts. ]>ut so alarmingly
luxuriant did this prove, that even the name of Sapph<> ; by-
word of shame as it had become, was not regarded as capable
of bearing all that was thus put upon it, and relief was afforded
whence the burden came ; for a new and wholly imaginary
Sappho was invented, who walks the pages of lexicographers
like Suidas with the honour in dishonour of the name, she
bears.
LYRIC POETRY : ALGOL'S AND SAPPHO. 139
But none of these mcphitic exhalations from the bogs of per-
verted imaginings availed to dim the glorious light of Sappho's
poetry ; for ancient critics, at least, seem to have judged a work
of art by the standard of art, and not by referring to the morality
of the artist. Many, indeed, of the expressions of amazement
at Sappho's work which are to be found in Greek writers are
open to some suspicion, as being based on not wholly satisfactory
grounds. "When Strabo (xiii. 617) calls Sappho "a marvellous
phenomenon," he seems to do so because no other woman could
approach her in merit ; and the same inadequate standard seems
to be implied in the expressions "a Homer among women,"
"a tenth Muse," "a Pierian bee," and so on, which are fre-
quently applied to her in Greek writers. If this were all that
could be said of Sappho, that no other woman who wrote in
Greek could rival her, her rank would not be high, for although
a considerable number of women in Greece did write, they did
not attain great excellence. It is a better testimony both to the
criticism of ancient critics and to the value of Sappho that she
was ranked among the nine great lyric poets by the Alexandrine
school. But even this does not convey the full tribute to " that
ineffable glory and grace as of present godhead, that subtle
breath and bloom of very heaven itself, that dignity of divinity
which informs the most passionate and piteous notes of the
unapproachable poetess with such grandeur as would seem im-
possible to such passion." 1 "The highest lyric work is either
passionate or imaginative," Mr. Swinburne has said; 2 and as
Coleridge is the greatest representative among lyric poets of
imaginative poetry, so Sappho's poetry stands highest in the
passionate lyric of all times and ages. Her work has no more
variety than Coleridge's, and sutlers no more for want of it.
But though it is one, it is not the same, as the sea is one
but not the same. In one as in the other, the languid volup-
t tii nis s\vcll, which reflects now the sun, now the midnight
nn'oji (52), and the stars which by the moon ''pale their in-
fll'eciual lires " (3), is ruflled into darkness by the winds, or
Hashes with "the lightning <>f the noontide ocean." It is to
the sea rather than to tire that Sajipho should be likened ; for
although her verses are indeed, as ancient critics remarked,
mixed with lire, and her pal S/inUcj. p. 90.
14O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
" And a tone
Arises from its measured motion
How sweet ! "
Some of the fragments which we possess (e.g. 95 and 109) have
been preserved expressly because of the beauty of their sound,
and in all we hear " the echo of that unimaginable song, with
its pauses and redoubled notes, and returns and falls of sound,
as of honey dropping from heaven as of tears and fire and
seed of life which, but though run over and repeated in thought,
pervades the spirit with ; a sweet possessive pang.'" 1 Her
grasp of the mechanism of verse, which is implied in this com-
mand of melody, was greater, as is the number (15) of her
metres, even in the fragments we have, than any other lyric
poet possessed.
Amongst the remains of Sappho's poetry are one complete
ode to Aphrodite (i) and a considerable fragment four stanzas
of another ode (2), imitated by Catullus (51). The passion
of these odes is such as elsewhere is portrayed as only existing
between a lover and his mistress ; but in these odes the object
of Sappho's passion is a woman, and the fragments of the rest
of the odes (as opposed to the epithalamia and hymns^ resemble
these. This has driven many respectable commentators into
taking refuge in a various reading, thereby making the first
ode applicable (as they vainly imagine) to a man. The second
ode cannot be thus remedied ; and commentators back abashed
into a cloud of words all true about climate, social conditions,
the difference between the modern and the Greek view of
friendship, &c. First, however, the mystery of Sappho's pas-
sion cannot be dispersed, or be anything hut aggravated, by
various readings : next, it is not scientific demonstration which
can make any man feel what is the real beauty of a thing ; and
to set down to the heat of the climate or the conditions of life
in Lesbos that passion which gives to Sappho's music "a value
beyond thought and beyond price," is to do a very poor service
to her poetry for the sake of arming her reputation with a
treacherous and superfluous weapon. Lut this error, radical as
it is, will do Sappho but little harm, for, as a critical estimate,
it lacks even that grain of truth without which no error e;ui
exist. More serious is the mistaken view of Sappho's quality
as a poetess which is conveyed in Horace's phrase "muscuia
Sappho;'' more serious because there is enough truth he-re to
make the error current. It is perfectly true that the language
of Sappho is that of a lover to his mistress : whoever can read
1 Swinburne, p. 92.
LYRIC POETRY : ALGOL'S AND SAPPHO. 1 4 I
Sappho can see that. It is the most obvious and the most
superficial trait in her work. To take this characteristic, and
oiler it to the world as the sum of Sappho's poetry, as though
it were the inversion and not the intensity of passion which
we are to admire, is a shallow misconception which serves to
mark the standard of taste for lyric poetry in Rome in Horace's
day. To discover the sex of Sappho's poetry and passion was
reserved for Rome and for the curious in such matters. The
author of the treatise on the Sublime, and Dionysius of Hali-
carnassus. critics from whom we can learn how to understand tho
beauty of Greek literature, were not thus misled, but, with un-
erring instinct, at once seized on the perfection in delineation
and colouring, and on the marvellous fidelity in her representa-
tion of the, passion of love. The former critic says (10), "Tho
feelings which result from the madness of love Sappho always
draws after their symptoms and from reality itself. And where-
in does she show her excellence? In that she is marvellous in
selecting and combining the extremest and most violent of
them." He then quotes the second of our fragments, and goes
on to say, " Are you not amazed how she beats and drives
into it soul, body, hearing, speech, sight, complexion, all things
which are regarded as disconnected with each other; and how
at one and the same moment she is both frozen with chill and
consumed by fire, distraught of reason and perfectly logical,
alarmed with fear and all but dead all that her feeling may
seem to be, not a single thing but, a melfie. of passions?"
Athenaeus (xv. CSjA.) calls Sappho a thorough woman, although
a poetess, and this is a view which has been adopted by some
modern critics. Hut although she expresses all a woman's con-
tempt for a rival who cannot hold her dress properly (70), and
say.- (68) to another, "When you die, no one will remember
//"W, for you have no share in the mses of Pieria ; " still it is
not these fragments bv which Sappho rises to the pre-eminence
which she enjoys. Her love of flowers, however, of the rose,
for which, .-ays I'hilostratus (Kp. 71), she always lias some new
chaplet of praise ; her tender sympathy for the hyacinth which
is crushed under the feet of the shepherds on the mountains
and stains purple the ground (94), for the tender tlouvr of tho
grass whieh is trodden down bv the dancers (;.}); her joy in
"the sweet-voiced harbinger of spring, the nightingale '' (39) ;
her pity for the doves which are shot by men, "and their l:f-j
become^ cold and their wings fall " ( i<>) : all the-.' are emotions
which are more common in women than in men, but in poetry
142 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
are not peculiar to or distinctive of poetesses. Wordsworth's
heart
" with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."
Shelley loves
" The fresh Earth in new leaves drest,"
or
" a rose embower'd
In its own green leaves ; "
and Keats
"The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild,"
and "all little birds that are" fill English lyric "with their
sweet jargoning."
In point of style, Dionysius (de Comp. Verb. 23) takes Sappho
as the greatest lyric representative of smoothness and polish
of style, and in illustration of his meaning he quotes the ode
which now stands first in Bergk's collection. He goes on to
say that the grace and beauty of this style consists in the flow
of its melody. To express the quality of Sappho's verse we
must borrow a comparison from Sappho herself; it is "more
delicate than water" (122). It makes a pleasant noise
" A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune."
Dionysius also says that it is flower-like ; not that beauties are
woven into her style, as Demetrius (de Eloc. 166) says, but her
verse is itself (again we must borrow from Sappho herself)
"more delicate than the rose''' (123). For examples of her
"redoubled notes and returns and falls 5 '' of song we thank
Demetrius, although he does present them to us with the labels
"anaphora," "anadiplosis," attached (ib. 141); but most grate-
ful are we to a scholiast (Hcrmug. vii. 983) who has preserved
us three lines ' ; more precious than gold '" (123), in which Sappho
likens an unmarried girl to an apple which reddens "atop of
the topmost twig," and the apple-gatherers have forgotten it
no ! not forgotten it ; they were not able to reach it.
Astronomers have calculated the law of the distance which
separates the planets from each other, and have discovered
thereby that in one region where, according to this law, there-
should be a planet, there is no planet, but asteroids. These are
the fragments of what once was a planet. Of Sappho's poetry
we have only fragments, but they, like the asteroids, show where
a planet was once.
LYRIC POETRY : ALC^EUS AND SAPPHO. 143
Amongst the school of Sappho are usually placed Damophila
and Krinna. No fragment by tlie former has come down to us,
nnd with regard to her life we know nothing. About the latter
more information is forthcoming, but on every matter concerned
with her either our authorities are in hopeless conflict or grave
doubts have been raised in modern times. Tenos, Telos, Rhodes,
and Lesbos have been assigned as her birthplace, but the fact
that the epigrams which go by her name are written in Dorian
lias inclined most modern critics to regard Telos as the place of
her birth. Still greater are the discrepancies with regard to her
date. On the one hand, she is made to be a contemporary of
Sappho, and a doubtful reading in one of Sappho's fragment
(77) may conceal her name. On the other hand, Eusebius gives
as her date u.c. 3^2, a difference of two centuries or more. This
uncertainty as to her date makes it difficult to decide whether
the story of her untimely death at the age of nineteen is pro-
bably based on good authority, or is a misinterpretation of some-
tiling in h'T own writings. She is said to have written a poem
of 300 hexameters, which was entitled the l)i*tr he mav hav
Hiniera : but the time is
hi- birth, and all we can
tir.-t half of tin- sixth century u.c.
aU-lutely nothing, for the stury t
144 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
he was smitten with blindness by Helena because he had in b
poem declared her to be the source of Troy's woes, cannot be
made to yield any residuum of fact. Probably he did make
some such statement in some poem, and he certainly in another
poem, from which Plato quotes, declared that the story about
Helen was untrue ; that she never crossed the sea to Troy (32).
The contradictory nature of these two statements may have led
to the second being regarded as a recantation, for Plato terms
it " the so-called palinode." The next step would be to speculate
on the poet's reason for recanting, and thus the story of his
blindness would arise. The mode of expression which Plato
uses, " the so-called palinode," suggests that the poem was not
really a palinode or recantation, and the lines which he quotes
rather imply that the story which Stesichorus was denying was
one told by others, not one of his own telling which he was
recanting. However, although the so-called palinode cannot be
made to yield any information as to the life of Stesichorus, it
has a value in the history of literature ; for in it the story which
Euripides took for the plot of his Helena, and which was known
to Herodotus, that Helena stayed in Egypt and her phantom
went to Troy with Paris, made, so far as we know, its first
appearance in literature. In connection with the life of Stesi-
chorus another story is told, that he warned his fellow-citizens
against the designs of a certain tyrant by the fable of the horse
which, for the purposes of vengeance, obtained the assistance of
man, and found that he had to pay for his vengeance by the
loss of his liberty. The warning was disregarded, the tyrant
was successful, and Stesichorus had to fly to Catana, where he
is said to have died. The uncertainty as to Stesichorus' date
makes it uncertain who the tyrant was, whether Gelon or Pha-
laris, but we are most likely to be safe if we cling to the autho-
rity of Aristotle (Rlict. 2. 20), who says it was Phalaris of
Aeragas. This story too has its interest in the history of litera-
ture, for it is one of the subjects treated of in the famous letters
of Phalaris.
Although Stesichorus was later in date than Alcnian, he is in
no other sense his successor. Stesichorus did not take up choral
lyric where Alcman left it, but made a fresh departure. Alcman
had imported the subjective and personal element into choral
poetry, and had thereby helped to purify it of the narrative
character which is alien to lyric, and into which poetry cele-
brating the deeds of the gods was peculiarly apt to fall. Stesi-
chorus was not affected by the advance thus made by Alcman ;
he started from and belonged to an earlier stage in the history
LYRIC POETRY : ALCLEUS AND SAPPHO. 145
of choral lyric, although in time he was later than Alcinan.
The epic element is even more visible in Stesichorus than tho
subjective in Alcinan, for in the former poet the epic element
is not qualified by any other. The poems of Stesichorus are
sometimes spoken of as "epic lyric" or " melic epic." They
seem to have been long narratives of the exploits of various
heroes. Thus the Geryonis related the combat of Heracles with
the triple-bodied Geryon ; the Cycnus, Heracles' combat with
Cycnus, the son of Ares ; the Cerbenis told how Heracles
fetched the dog Cerberus from the nether world ; the Scylla his
adventures with Scylla. The Oresteia, as its name implies, was
the story of Orestes, and the title of the Sack of Troy tells its
own subject. These poems or ballads were as purely narrative
as epic, but were -written in lyric metres, and were sung by a
chorus. Thus they were lyrical in form but not in spirit, and
yet their spirit, as far as we can judge, was not that of epic;
for Ste.-iehorus abandoned the purely objective character of epic
poetry without attaining the subjective character of lyric poetry.
That is to say, he did not in his narratives confine himself to
narrative, but developed the psychological interest, and is thus
the forerunner of the earliest Greek novelists. But he was still
further removed from the spirit of epic in that he was not in-
clined to accept and hand on the old tales with implicit belief,
but assumed an attitude of criticism historical and moral
with regard to them, and altered them to suit his own rational-
ism. It is diflicult to see how Stesichorus, being thus out of
sympathy with his subject-matter, could have treated it success-
fully, and (, v >uintilian (10. i. 62) implies that his treatment was
not wholly successful. Quintilian, however, apparently thinks
that, tins was because the subjects handled by Stesichorus were
too great to admit of lyrical treatment; hut this only shows
that Stesichorus had misconceived or failed to realise the proper
province of his art. Vet, although Stesichorus was not pos-
sessed by the spirit of either epic or lyric, and his -'epic lyric"
was consequently neither epic nor lyric, he, still enjoyed con-
siderable reputation both as a writer and as a pioneer in tho
lield of lyric. How was this]
As Stesichorus' poetry was lyrical only in form, it is to the
form of lyric that we, must look for the innovations and im-
provements which ln> made. The earliest form which melic
took in literature was that of noines, .-ongs of wor.-hip and
praise delivered a-s solos. This firm of melic was succeeded hy
choral lyrics, and it was by giving to chrul lyric the distinctive
form which it ever afterwards bore that Stesichorus acquired
K
146 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the place which he holds in the history of melic. The fact
that the invention of hymns is ascribed to him conceals beneath
its surface the real innovation which he introduced. Hymns
had existed long before the time of Stesichorus and before
the beginning of the history of lyric poetry. They also had
existed even in the history of melic before Stesichorus, for the
choral odes of Thaletas were hymns. But the division of the
hymn into the three parts strophe, antistrophe, and epode,
which corresponded to the movements of the chorus round the
altar, was, even if not invented by Stesichorus, but borrowed by
him from existing usage in Sicily, at any rate introduced and
established in choral melic by him. In this tripartite division of
the choral ode Stesichorus left his mark permanently on lyric.
In another and minor point he also opened a path which his
successors followed : he carried the length of the strophe and
antistrophe much farther than had ever been done before, and
by thus increasing the length gained additional room for varying
and developing the metre.
But in addition to the services he rendered to lyric, Stesi-
chorus has the reputation of being a great writer. On this
point we have to rely upon the opinion of Dionysius of Hali-
carnassus, the author of the treatise on the Sublime, and Quin-
tilian. Stesichorus' treatment of the subject-matter, as we have
seen, Quintilian defends with little zeal and less discretion ; but
both he and IHonysius (Script. Vet. Can?. 2. 7) say that Stesi-
chorus excelled in character-drawing. There is nothing in the
fragments which in the least degree enables us to check or con-
firm this statement ; but this quality is the other and better
side of that tendency to psychological analysis which marks
Stesichorus as alien to the spirit of epic and allied to romance.
In this connection we should mention that, as well as the hero-
mvths which Stesichorus used in the poems we have already
mentioned, the Geryms, C<-rlx>ru*, S<-ylIa, Cyctms, &c., love-
stories and pastoral scenes were taken by him as themes. Thus
Stesichorus was the forerunner of bucolic as well as of novel-
writers. Whether his erotica and bucolica were of the same
form, and were sung chorally as well as his other lyrics, is a
point on which no evidence is forthcoming. The poems which
celebrated the deeds of Heracles or other heroes would naturally
be performed at some festival in honour of the hero ; but it is
hard to imagine on what occasion such a poem as the Kalylia,
which told how Kalyka fell in love with Euathlos, and having
prayed in vain to Aphrodite that she might marry him, hanged
herself, could be sung publicly as a chorus. On the other hand,
LYRIC POETRY: ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC WRITERS. 147
to suppose that this and the Railina were composed for solo
recitation or sinking in private has nothing positive in its sup-
port. In connection with the subject of Stesichorus' character-
drawing, we may note as interesting that Athensens (xiv. 6191)),
from whom we get the sketch of the plot of the Kalyka, remarks
with evident satisfaction that the character of Kalyka, as drawn
by Stesichorus, was extremely moral. She desired the love
of Euathlos, hut only on the condition of becoming his lawful
wife.
CHAPTER IV.
ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC WRITERS (continued).
UXDER the name of Theognis two hooks of elegiacs have come
down to us. of which the lir.st consists of 1230 verses, and the
second, which is preserved only in one manuscript the best,
the Mutinensis, A of 159 verses. These books do not consti-
tute one single poem, but contain a great number of aphorisms,
gnomes, reflections, elegies, epigrams, parodies, and amatory
verses, arranged on no uniform principle, though at times pieces
seem to follow each other because of their resemblance ; at others,
because of their contrast ; and at other times, again, the juxta-
position of the pieces seems to be satirical ; while repetitions are
not unfrequent, and have given rise to many hypotheses as to
the original arrangement of the contents of the books. J)ut
although all the manuscripts give the name of Theognis to their
contents, these are not all by Theognis, nor was the collec-
tion originally intended to be passed off as the work solelv of
Theognis. It was rather intended as an anthology of the older
elegiac writers, and as that part of its contents which is poli-
tical is violently oligarchical, it was unless put together at a
time when, or a place where, political feeling was extinct
addiessed to aristocratic readers. In course of time the value for
practical life of its shrewd maxims seems to have caused it to be
regarded as eminently suited fur educational purposes ; and its
adaption as part of a (ireek biy's education may have been
helped by the feeling, which was growing up even in 1'lato's
time, that the old system of confining a hoy to one or two
authors, whom he learnt by heart, miu'ht with advantage be
replaced by a cuiriculum of wider range, a u.>e to which this
anthology would lend itself excellently.
148 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
As it is by reference to the life and times of Theognis that
his works in the Theognidea are to be distinguished from the
poems which are not by him, the question arises, what do we
know of his life and times? And at the outset it must be
confessed that it is unfortunately from this anthology, the
Theognidea, which undoubtedly contains poems by Theognis,
and also undoubtedly contains poems not by him, that we have
to get our information. But suspicious as this circular mode of
argument naturally makes us, we can reasonably accept the out-
lines, if not the details, which it puts before us. Theognis was
born in Megara the Megara in Greece, not in Sicily and,
although his date is disputed, probably in the first half of the
sixth century B.C., so that he flourished about the middle or in
the latter half of that century. When Megara had thrown off
the yoke of Corinth, she began to display great activity in
colonisation, arid especially in planting colonies on the shores
of the Black Sea. This activity was accompanied by a great
extension of her commerce and by a considerable increase in her
wealth. But the distribution of this wealth was unequal : riches
grew, but poverty also grew, and the gap between the two
widened until the social fabric split. An oligarch was, as always
in these times, found to betray his fellow-oligarchs and to delude
the people. Theagenes put himself at the head of the reform
party, and utilised his position to make himself tyrant. Even-
tually he was overthrown, and then oligarchy and democracy
found themselves face to face. A time of confusion and strug-
gling followed, in which sometimes oligarchy, sometimes demo-
cracy, got the upper hand, and neither, when victor, showed
mercy to the fallen. Each took from the other what was to be
hail : the democrats confiscated the oligarchs' property, and the
oligarchs, to use an expression of Theognis' own in this con-
nection (3 14), "drank the blood " of the democrats. Weight
tells in these encounters, and victory finally remained with the
democracy.
Thc.se were the political and social conditions under which
Theognis lived. The part which he personally took in the
struggles of his time we know little about, except that, fls is
plain from the hatred which his verses show for the democrats,
lie belonged to the- oligarchs. He probably lost his property
(345) and went into exile, but afterwards returned to his native
country. OIK; elegy (7X3) states that the author went to Sicily
and to Eubo>a, and that he was received kindly, but that
nothing could reconcile him to exile from his native country.
.Another couplet (209) complains that an exile has no friends.
LYRIC POETKY : ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC WRITERS. 149
It has been inferred (from 261, 257, and 1097) that the woman
whom lie loved \vus given in marriage by her parents to some
rotnrii'f because of his wealth, and that after marriage, as before,
she preferred Theognis. J5ut although the frequent and bitter
complaints of poverty which occur are probably by Theognis
(e.g. 619 and 649), it is rash to draw such detailed inferences as
the above solely on the strength of a combination of passages
which may be by different authors and not contain even a word
by Theognis. It is better to abandon the attempt to extract
personal details, and to content ourselves with the picture which
our collection gives of the morality, the society, and the poli-
tical feeling of the time. The fierce savagery which seems to
have been latent at all times among the Greeks, displayed
itself in all its murderous cruelty when political conflicts neared
or reached the stage of revolution. Theognis prayed " to drink
the blood' 1 of the democrats. Elsewhere (847) he says, "Tram-
ple on the people, smite them with the keen goad," and so
on. It is, however, impossible to live at high pressure always,
and Theognis cannot keep up to this level continually. In
default, lie has a pair of " perpetual epithets," which serve to
quietly mark the ever-present oligarchical feeling in his mind
towards the mob. Whenever he speaks of "the good," it is
understood that he does not mean chiefly men who are dis-
tinguished for exemplary lives and morality of conduct, but
those, who were of the same political views as himself. So
when he speaks of "the base," "the craven," lie not only
meant to connote all that is bad, but also to denote the people.
There was one other class of men whom the oligarchs of the
time hated as much as, perhaps more than, they did the mob:
these were the oligarchs who betrayed their fellows and made
themselves tyrants. Not only <1> >es Theognis decline to associate
with tyrants or mourn over their tombs (1203), he even advo-
cates tyrannicide ( i i S i ). 1'erhaps it was because he hated
tyrant.- on the one side and the democracy on the other, and
also because he had the wit to see that even oligarchical rulers
did not always govern in the best possible manner (855), that
he imagined he followed a n'a m?'.(ii;()\
for from them come irood a nd evil (171); they are to be prayed
to in tribulation (5541, for lh"V can _'i.int our request- ( i i i z,*.
Courage is not made so much of by him as we should have
152 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
expected from the high place which it took in antiquity among
the virtues. The references to it and to war are singularly few.
Theognis does not expressly enjoin courage anywhere, but he
implies that cowardice is disgraceful (889), especially when the
country is in danger (825). Against lying he speaks frequently
and decidedly (85, 118, 875, 1071), on the ground that it does
not do much good, to begin with, and always proves disgraceful
(607). Children should honour their parents, because the days
of those who do not are few in the land (821). Justice, too,
is inculcated : give no man except what is his own (332), and
do not yield to the temptations of lucre (465) ; in justice is
comprised every virtue (147). But the golden rule for conduct
is, Exceed in nothing; the mean is best in all things (335).
This is the better side of the morality of the time ; the worse
comes out in Theognis quite as nakedly as in any other Greek
writer, perhaps more so. It is folly to treat the bad well ; you
may as well sow the sea, for the good you will reap (105). There
are two good reasons for doing no such thing : you waste your
own things, and you get no gratitude (955). Theognis goes on
a different principle : he prays to Zeus that he may get his ene-
mies on the hip (338), and have revenge (345), plunder them of
their property, and drink their blood (561). " Speak your enemy
fair," he says (363) ; " then, when y u have him down, strike,
and heed not his prayers."
Invaluable as this collection of elegiacs is for the light which
it throws on the manners, thought, politics, and morality of the
time, it has little value from the point of view of art. There
is from beginning to end scarcely a single beauty of thought,
expression, or imagery, to be found in it. What apparently
was the proem of Theognis' works (19-24), which is addressed
by Theognis in name to his friend Cyrnus, rises above the
other pieces in the confidence with which the anther promises
Cyrnus and himself eternal and universal fame. There is also
another elegy (667-682). comparing the condition of the state
to a ship in a storm, which is of considerable beauty, and is far
above anything else in the collection but it. is doubtful whether
this is the work of Theognis. As a rule, these elegiacs are
"lowered to the level of the Dorian understanding." Simple
the poetry of Theognis is; sensuous scarcely ever, and never
impassioned. Not only does it lack beauty, but it rarely shows
any profundity of thought ; though, perhaps, this is the common
defect of the age, for it is only when the drama and philosophy
appear that the Greeks seem to have pondered much on the
problems of life. There is no trace of any such speculations in
LYRIC POETRY: ELEGIAC AND IAMBIC WRITERS. 153
ihe early iambic writers or the niclic poets, whether writers of
choral poetry, as Alcinan or Stesichorus, or of personal lyric, as
Sappho and Alrixnis. Among the elegiac writers we find melo-
dious plaints on the necessity of death in Mimncrnuis, and
querulous fretfulness about the miseries of life in Simonides ;
hut it is not till we come to Solon that we see signs of earnest
thought. In Theognis we find that the poet marvels at Zeus,
who possesses honour and might, and yet treats the just and the
unjust alike (373) : how do the gods expect any one to worship
them if they continue this course? (743). The conclusion is
that the will of 1 leaven is not plain, nor the way in which a
man should walk to please the immortals (743)-
To the middle of the sixth century B.C. also belong Demo-
docns of I.eros and Phocylides of Miletus. About the former
we know nothing, except that he wrote iambics and epigrams,
of which latter one served to suggest to Person his verses on
Hermann. iVinodoeus said, "The Chians are bad; not one
here and one there, but all, except Procies, and Procles is a
Chian." With similar wit he attacked the Milesians, of whom
he said that they were not stupid, but they acted stupidly.
Am on '4 the elegiacs of Phocylides we find a couplet which,
with the substitution of Lerian for Chian, is word for word the
same as that of Demodocus. From this it is inferred that the
two poets engaged in a warfare of wit, and that in these two
couplets we have the attack and retort. But for the credit of
Greek humour it is to be hoped that the inference, which has
no basis except the existence, of the two couplets, is erroneous.
Phoeylides, of whose life nothing is known, wrote in hexa-
meters as well as in elegiacs. Usually his utterances in hexa-
meters were brief and gnomic ; but we have a longer poem,
which was a satin 1 on women, conceived in the same strain and
form as that of Simonides. Phocylides, however, instead of ten,
has four classes of women, one of which is derived by extraction
from the do'.:, another from the bee. another from the sow, and
the fourth from the mare. The shorter utterances are good,
practical common sense, and as far removed from being poetry
as possible. A MII ill city well governed, he says, is better than
a "Nineveh (:;). Piirth is no good if a man can speak neither
pleasantly nor sensibly (4). First get a living, then think about
improving yourself (10).
Under the name of Phocylides there pas ed, until the six-
teenth century, a lon;_j poem in hexameters of jco verses, con-
taining a string of moral precepts. ''The useful poetry "f
Phoeylides/' as it is entitled in some manuscripts, is arranged
154 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
in a very disorderly and disconnected manner, is not unfre-
quently ungrammatieal, is mixed in its vocabulary, and contains
many sentiments quite foreign to Greek thought and ethics. It
was this last fact which aroused the suspicions of Sylburg in
the sixteenth century, who, however, only ventured to point out
that some lines were probably not the work of Phocylides, but
of a Christian Avriter. Joseph Scaliger declared the whole poem
to be a forgery and the work of some Christian or Jewish writer,
but, after contenting himself with throwing out the hint, left it
for some one else to work out. This Jacob Bernays did (Ueber
das phoJcylideisclie Gediclit, Berlin, 1856), and showed that
although there are many traces of Jewish beliefs (e.g. 84, 139, 140,
147, 207), there is none of any acquaintance with the New Testa-
ment. The poem, then, may be set down as the work of a Greek-
speaking Jew, who lived probably not before the second century
B.c. The place of its origin seems likely to have been Alexandria,
for it was there that the Jews came most in contact with Greek
learning. The object of the author does not seem to have been
a literary forgery, such a^ have been famous in modern times,
for there is no attempt to imitate the style of Phocylides or the
brevity of his utterances. Rather the writer seems to have
been so concerned with winning acceptance for the morality he
preached as to be willing to sacrifice the fame of authorship,
if only the name of Phocylides would gain a hearing for him.
The decline of the Alexandrine school removed an effectual
check on the circulation of forgeries of this and other kinds,
and we may thus probably date the pseudo-Phocylidea.
The claim of Hipponax to fame is based on the invention of
a new kind of metre, the choliambus or scazon. It is in reality
the iambic line with the substitution of a spondee or trochee for
an iambus in the last foot. This change gives the line a limping
effect whence the name choliambus or scazon and deprives it
of all beauty, thus making it the appropriate vehicle for the
unlovely contents with which Hipponax charged it. Appropriate
as the metre was to the use lie put it to, its essential deformity
prevented it from becoming a favourite or common form of verse,
except among fable writers such as Babrius. Hipponax nourished
about B.C, 540 as we learn from the Parian Marble (42). He
was born at Ephesus, and seems to have been expelled thence.
Possibly he may have attacked the governor of the city in his
verses, and have therefore been turned out ; but we have nothing
but conjecture to rely on fur this. From Ephesus he wont to
Clazomenae, and there he seems to have spent the rest of his
life, with no very pleasant feelings towards his old home.
LYRIC POETRY : MKLIC AT COURT. I 5 5
From Clazomenje ho was not expelled, but he spent a largo part
of his tinio in writing and declaiming defamatory verses against
most people he came in contact with. His person seems to have
been remarkably ugly : this, which is hard at all times, was par-
ticularly so for a Greek, for whom nothing intellect, virtue, or
wealth could redeem this defect. In the case of Hipponax it
was doubly unfortunate, for it gave the enemies he made by his
verses an invaluable means of attack, and one which a sculptor,
such as ]!upalns, could turn to great account. The merits of
this encounter between scax.ons and sculptors are unknown to
us, as also is the result. "Whether the poverty which Hipponax
complains of was much, exaggerated by him or not is uncertain,
and we are equally ignorant of the date and manner of his death.
In addition to the scazon, parody is put down to his invention,
but before him Asius had written parodies. As Archilochus
wmte iambics and used them against his enemies, it is usual to
compare Hipponax with him. I5ut Archilochus was a man of
education, refinement, and genius, and he was a poet ; whereas
Hipponax possessed none of these qualities. His language is
that of the gutter when it is not that of the brothel; his vitu-
peration is noisy and not effective ; his parodies, such as we
have, possess no humour.
Of Ananius. a writer of parodies in iambics, scarcely anything
is known. He is said to have been less personal than llipponax ;
but there seems to have been some difficulty in deciding whether
the works ascribed to him were by him or by Hipponax.
Amongst other writers of elegiacs or iambics in later times may
be mentioned the tragedian Ion of Chios; Evenus of Faros, the
sophist : Critias. one of tin; thirty tyrants; Hermesianax of Colo-
phcn; Hennippus, Herodas, and Kerkidas of Megalopolis.
CHAITF.R V.
ME LIC AT COURT.
IN the verses of Theognis and Aleoeus we have seen how oli-
garchy and tyranny fell oin, and democracy such as it w.;s in
ancient times came by its own 1 lemocracy having triumphed,
did not prohibit freedom of sp-ech, and the oligarch.- <_'ave vent
in their verges to the feeling,- which exile, confiscation, and loss
of power roused in their breasts. It is only from .Solon's verses
I 56 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
that we see the other side of the shield, and learn to understand
how under oligarchy the people were robbed of their land, driven
from their native country, and sold into slavery. But demo-
cracy did not triumph everywhere ; in various cities tyrants
established themselves and their dynasties with more or less per-
manence. The iirst use to which they put the wealth that came
into their hands by usurpation, was to fortify their position by
means of mercenaries ; the next, to surround themselves with
all the splendour which art and literature could lend to their
bad eminence. Thus nielic poetry, which had been originally
attracted by the fame which Sparta could extend to genius,
now left Sparta " in gilded courts to dwell." Some tyrants,
as the Pisistratidae at Athens, turned the resources of art to the
adornment of the city over which they exercised their unlawful
rule. But most tyrants, as those of Samos and of Syracuse,
required artists to celebrate, whether in marble or in poetry,
their own virtues, magnificence, exploits, and victories in the
national games of Hellas. In both cases, however, what melic
poetry now shows us is no longer the spirit animating a nation,
as in Tyrtseus, but the luxury of court. The tyrant was now
the state ; the sufferings or the aspirations of the people could
find no voice, and naturally tyrannicidal verses, such as those of
Theognis or Alcseus, no hearing.
We may form some idea of the force which the attractions of
court exercised when, remembering the difficulties and dangers
of ancient travelling, we learn that Ibycus was drawn from his
native town in Italy, Rhegium, across land and sea to Samos.
Beyond this fact we know little of the life of Ibycus. He
seems to have spent some time in Himera and Catana, and
may, as is conjectured, have gone to Samos on the invitation of
the tyrant /Eaces, for the purpose of educating the young Poly-
crates. But to decide this we ought to know the date of Ibycus,
which cannot be given more precisely than that he lived in the
latter half of the sixth century B.C. The story of his death,
according to Suidas, is that he was plundered and killed by
robbers. "While, dying he pointed to some cranes flying over-
head, and declared that they would be his avengers. The
robbers returned to the neighbouring town, the name of which
Suidas does not give, and were sitting in the theatre, when one
of them, seeing a crane, remarked jeeringly to his fellows,
"There is one of Ibycus' avengers." This was overheard, and,
as Ibycus had disappeared in a remarkable manner, the men
were seized, made to confess, and executed. This account lias
an air of improbability about it, the more so because it is a type
LYRIC POETKY : MELIC AT COURT. I 57
of story not uncommon in folk-lore. When, further, wo find
that the earliest authority for it is an epigram by Anti pater of
Sidon, who lived about a hundred years B.C., i.e. four hundred
years after the fact which he professes to relate, we have very
good reason for doubting the accuracy of the story. The origin
of the tale, as applied to Ibycus we are not in a position to
trace ; but the name of the poet bears sufficient resemblance
to the Greek word ibylces, which means birds of some kind, to
make it probable that a false etymology attracted this floating
story to the name of Ibycus.
We have very few fragments by Ibycus, and very little in-
formation about his work in ancient authors. Consequently
there is considerable doubt as to the character of his poems and
the occasions on which they were delivered. That some of his
work must have been of the same nature as the "epic lyric"
of Stesichorus seems to be shown by the fact that ancient
critics were doubtful whether certain fragments were by Ibycus
or Stesichorus. Further, the metre, the length of the strophes,
and the large number of mythical allusions in the fragments
of Ibvcus, show that in method Ibycus followed Stesichorus.
Hut .-ide, by .-ide with these pieces of evidence we find in the
fragments indications of a wide difference between the two
poets. Jt seems reasonable, therefore, to conclude, that whilst
Ibycns was in Sicily he was influenced by Stesichorus, and
wrote " epic lyric " such as his master wrote, and as the Sicilians
had been accustomed to hear from Stesichorus. But to endea-
vour, on the hints afforded by casual and doubtful mention of
mythical names, to determine the subject and the titles of
poems of which we have only the most inconsiderable fragments,
and which only conje.cturally come under the head of "epic
lyric," is an attempt which not even Welcker or Flach can
induce us to share in.
hi Sainos Ibycus sterns to have modelled himself on Anacreon,
who had come, to the court of Polycrates before him. as in Sicily
on Stesichorus. Love and wine were the themes which the
luxnri' nis surroundings and the native taste of Anacreon pr anpted
him to .-ing of; and though we have no reason to believe that.
Ibyeus sang of wine, love was the never-ending burden of his
mdo iics. In the ardour and violence of his passion. Ibycus,
according to Cicero (7'.-r. iv. 33. 71'), far outstripped Anacreon.
Siesichorus had treated of love in his poems, but in his poetry
it had either been subordinate to the epic interest of his lyric,
or. if it, had formed the main .-ubject of some of his p-cms, as
it probably did in the Itaduia and the Calyca, it \\as treated
I 5 8 HISTORY OF GKEEK LITERATURE.
of by him in narrative form, and he related the hopeless love of
some imaginary hero or heroine. But Ibycus treated of love,
not in a narrative, but in a lyric strain. It Avas his own feeling
which he was pouring forth in his verses ; and although he
sought for parallels in ancient story, and interwove mythological
incidents into his odes in the fashion of Pindar, the source and
the subject of his s^rig were his own emotions. In short, in
passing from Sicily to Samos, he left behind the somewhat cold
and artificial mode f conception which characterised Stesi-
chorus, and entered the glowing atmosphere which developed
^Eolian lyric.
In one important point, however, the melic of Ibycus differed
from that of Lesbos ; his odes were choral, whereas those of
Alcreus and Sappho were for solo delivery ; and this raises the
difficult question, how did Ibycus reconcile his subject witli the
occasions and manner of choral execution 1 In his attempt to
fuse the expression of the personal feelings of the lyric poet
with that of the sentiments associated with a public festival
or ceremonial, Ibycus reminds us of Alcman, who in Sparta
attempted the same experiment, and it is natural to conjecture
that Ibycus set to work in the same way as Alcman. But there
are no traces in the few fragments we possess of any such
addresses of the poet to the chorus or individual members of
the chorus as are found in Alcman's odes, and nothing in any
ancient authority to support the conjecture. The suggestion
that these choral odes were composed and sung in honour of
the victors in contests of personal beauty, such as were indeed
held in various Greek cities, seems to be rebutted by the con-
sideration that there is no evidence to show the existence of
such contests in Samos, and that such contests were for female
beauty only. The solution of the difficulty must be sought
elsewhere. The fact that the odes of Ibycus were, as is shown
by their metre, choral, and therefore performed in public, shows
that the young men who were thus celebrated had achieved
some success which called for public congratulation ; and it
seems easiest to suppose that this success was in the public
games, and that the odes thus resembled the encomia and epi-
nikia which Pindar wrote.
Few as the fragments by Ibycus are, they give us a high
opinion of his poetical merit ; and small as most of them are,
they bear the mark of grace and beauty. In reading them we
are transported into a region of sweet sounds and beautiful
fights. We are surrounded by roses, violets, and myrtles (6) ;
there are kingfishers (8) in the flowing streams which run
LYRIC POETRY : MELIC AT COURT. I 59
through maidens' gardens (i) ; tlie nightingales (7) sing as the
stars shine the long night through (3); all breathes spring,
nnd joy, and peace, except the poet's heart, where a blast as of
Boreas rages beneath the lightning (i).
Among the literary consequences of the introduction of
tyranny into the system of Greek politics was not only the
crystallisation of choral poetry round tyrants' courts, but also
the attraction thither of poets such as Anacreon, who wrote
Ivric songs after the fashion of the JEoYuin ode. To assign this
centripetal force as the sole cause of this phenomenon would,
however, be an inadequate explanation ; we must consider the
negative as well as the positive conditions, that is, why lyric
song did not survive; under democracies on the fall of oligarchy,
as well as why it migrated to tyrannies. That department of
melic poetry of which the greatest representatives were Sappho
and Alcu'ii-, and which, to di.-tinguish it from choral melic, we
will call lyric song, although its roots are to be found in the
songs of the. people, attained to literary form and merit only in
oligarchies. It was only among the ruling classes of oligarchi-
c-ally governed states that there existed the literary and musical
cultivation necessary for the, production of high work, and for
the intelligent appreciation and encouragement of it when
produced. The public to which the lyric poet thus addressed
himself was narrow, but it contained all whose criticism was
worth obtaining, and whose praise the poet cured for. Further,
the very narrowness of the poet's circle, in which all were ac-
quaintances and most were friends, was the most favourable
condition under which a kind of poetry, whose essence is the
expression of the poet's personal emotions, could possibly bo
developed : for the poet's mode of life was that of his hearers,
his feelings were their feelings, his prejudices their prejudices,
his polities, when he touched on them, his beliefs and his mo-
rality, the same as theirs. All this, when oligarchy was over-
thrown, was changed. At first sight it might appear as though
there were no reason why, when democracy succeeded oligarchy,
lyric song should not have continued to flourish, if only the poet
would address himself to the new public which was grow-
ing, and seek his inspiration in the wider circle of emotions and
beliefs which all Greeks felt in common. Hut this is to overlook
an important condition which regulated the development of (ireek
literature, and was the cause of the difference in iorm between
the literature of (iivek and of mudeni times. \Vithoiit a public,
ait and literature cannot exist. The manner, therefore, in which
an artist is brought into contact with his public is a matter of
I6O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
the greatest importance in its effects on the course and form of
literature. Until the time of Isocrates, a Greek author obtained
publicity, not by means of the multiplication and circulation of
copies of his works, but by means of the oral delivery of his
productions. In the case of choral poetry, the performance by
the chorus constituted this oral delivery ; and as choruses were
performed in public and on public occasions, the audience con-
sisted of all the citizens of the state, and was the largest to
which an author could address himself. In the case of lyric
song the poet was his own performer; the occasion was private,
not public, being some banquet at which the author's friends
were gathered together, and his public was consequently con-
siderably smaller. It is this fact which mainly explains the
decay of lyric song under democracy. Under an oligarchy the
poet's public was small, but it was practically in intelligence
and power the state. When democracy supervened, the oligar-
chical classes no longer had the monopoly of government and
culture ; they sank into the subordinate position of a party, and
of a party out of joint with the times. The audience of the
poet thus became narrow in all senses of the word : and although
Theognis was an elegiac and not a melic poet, he shows in the
confined and lifeless flight of his verse how evilly a clique
reacts on an artist. Within the area, then, of democracy, lyric
song disappeared, and in tyrannies it survived, for there the
court formed a centre of art and cultuie, and provided a public
whose appreciation was for some poets as powerful an allure-
ment as were the more material rewards offered by the tyrant
to others. I5ut before proceeding to consider the effect which
the change from oligarchy to tyranny had on lyric song, we
have to notice a fact which confirms and completes our theory
of the disappearance of lyric song under democracy. It is this,
that as soon as in democracy occasions and means were found
by which the lyric poet could reach the great public, i.e. the
whole body of citizens, then great poets were forthcoming to
give expression to emotions and beliefs which all their fellow-
citi/ens, and not merely a clique, could feel and understand.
The contrivance which, under democracy, put the poet into
direct relation with the great public, was the theatre : lyric
si.ng, choral poetry, and iambics were fused and transmuted
into drama; and in the melic parts of tragedy we hear the lyric
poet uttering, to an audience greater than that which he ad-
dre.-sed, hi meditations on the meaning of life.
Anacreon, who was born of good family and connected with
Solon, was a native of the island of Teos. When the tide of
LYRIC POETRY : MELIC AT COURT. I 6 I
Persian invasion swept over Teos as over other islands off the
coast of Asia Minor, Anacreon seems to have emigrated with
his fellow-citizens to Abdera in Thrace. How long he remained
there we do not know, but thence he proceeded to Samos. probably
a few years before Ibycus arrived there. From the time that
Polycrates was a boy until the time when ho was treacherously
murdered by the Persian satrap Oroetes. Anacreon enjoyed the
friendship an 1 confidence of the tyrant of Samos. Doubtless
it was as a minister to the pleasures and as an ornament to the
court of Polyrrates that Anacreon chiefly figured in Samos, but
he also exercised an occasional influence over the greedy and
cruel policy of the despot. After the assassination of Polycrates
Anacreon went to Athens, though whether he went straight
there or fir.-t went to Asia Minor or to Abdera, is uncertain.
In any case, his reputation a- a poet was so well established that
Hipparehus. the t\ rant of Athens, invited him to his court, and
sent a vessel to convey him thither. It was at Athens probably
that Anacreon died, in his eighty-fifth year, in the enjoyment of
a fresh and green old age.
Anacreou wrote some short hymns to the gods, but his chief
work, and that on which his reputation was based, comprised
five books of elegies, iambics, and lyric song. He did not open
up any new field in lyric, lint contented himself in following with
less genius and less earnestness the paths which Archilochus
and the Lesbian poets had made before him. At the same time
he availed himself of all the technical improvements in metro
and music with which successive generations of poets had en-
riched their art, to a degree and with a skill in which Sappho
alone surpassed him. It is in finish, not force, in workmanship,
not genius, in the lightness of his touch, not earnestness of
feeling, that the merit of Anacreon lies. Dionysins (.
Verb. 23) select- him, after Sappho, as representative of the
" smooth" style or harmony. < >n this authority we may take
it that in the Dualities of melody Anacreon excelled. Unfortu-
nately the few notes which are left are so scattered that we can-
not reconstruct the melody, lint in perfect music there is, as
well as melody, harmony; and in th" fragments of a perfect
poet, although time may obliterate much, harmony is left, tie >U'_rh
the melody b" past reconstruction. Tims Sappho .-truck chords
which still vibrate, but in Anacreon the melody has perished ;
harmonies there never were. Thi- want of depth in Anaereon's
poetry corresponds to and is the ivsnh of a want of depth in
his nature. ]'>y this \ve do not mean m-Tely the absence of
any reflection on the more serious problems and a>p<-cts of l.le.
1 62 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
There is no obligation on the poet to treat of such subjects, and
the absence of such reflections does not constitute a poetical
delinquency. iSo subject is forbidden the artist which he can
make matter of art; but having chosen his subject, he must treat
it as art. He must deal with morality, if he chooses the sub-
ject, or politics, not as a moralist or a politician, but as an artist ;
and whether his work be good moral or political philosophy,
or whether it be bad, are considerations which, when settled,
obviously do not in the least help us to decide whether his work
is or is not good poetry. It is therefore, on the terms of art, no
charge against Anacreon that he did not philosophise on life,
and did sing " the praise of love and wine ; " but it does detract
from his worth as a poet that his notes are not full, and that
his song lacks expression.
Of the three qualities necessary to poetry, that it should be
"simple, sensuous, and impassioned," Anacreou's work possesses
the first only in any eminent degree; and it is in the compara-
tive failure of the other two that his weakness consists. Images
are rare in Anacreon, and in this rarity we have a partial expla-
nation of his inferiority to Sappho, who also sang the praise
of love, anil whose smallest fragments may contain a picture, a
vision, and a thing of beauty. The most serious defect, however,
is that Anacix-on wrote of love and wine, the sources of violent
emotions, and his poetry is inadequately impassioned. As there
are things to the beauty of which a certain magnitude is neces-
sary, so for the emotions a certain intensity is requisite ; and
this intensity Anacreon failed of. There is no impetuosity in
his drinking-songs, and no irresistible enchantment in his love-
songs. Love and wine are amusements with him, and the
amusements of a man who has nothing to do but amuse himself.
They aroused only superficial feelings in him there was nothing
more to arouse and his expression of them is superficial. His
touch was light, but nut tender.
Anacreou's defects as a poet made for his success as a court
bard. In a court in which ministers of pleasure of both sexes
were collected from all parts of Europe and Asia Minor for the
entertainment of the tyrant, Anacreon naturally attained a high
position. His verse? were not too high for the intelligence,
or too deep for the feelings, of his patron and his audience.
His character, too. was equally well suited to his surroundings.
While avoiding all excess he lived to be eighty-live he is
described (Critias in Afh. xiii. 6ooi>) as charming in manner, a
deceiver of women, and the life of a drinking-party. His con-
que.-ts wcire as facile as his verses, and his potations as deep
LYRIC POETRY : MELIC AT COURT. 163
as his poetry. Anacreon reflects life at court as faithfully as
Alcanis docs the life of an oligarch. But the difference between
the latter, who wrote " because the numbers came," and the
court poet, who celebrated in lyric verse the reigning beauty of
either sex from time to time, was great. In Alcaeus or Sappho
we have a poet singing songs unbidden
" Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not."
In Anacreon we have a poet who wrote, not to command, in-
deed, but on all occasions ; and the poet who writes indifferently
on any occasion is in danger of writing indifferently on all.
However, the poetry of Anacreon marks the highest point to
which the atmosphere of tyranny would allow lyric song to
grow ; and that, it grew so hi'_di and so shap.'ly was because the
temperament of Anacreon harmonised so well with the demands
of his post and his patron. The passion of a Sappho would
have found little sympathy, or the pride of an Alcanis little
room, in such a court as that of Poly crates. Anacrcon's nature,
less deep and less lofty, was adapted to the environment, and
was further endowed with the gift of a finished literary stvle.
lint this conjunction of qualities did not occur afterwards or
elsewhere, and tyranny, though it promised to support lyric
song, proved more barn-n of substance than did democracy.
Sinioiiides, as we learn from an inscription (Fr. 1471!) which
he wrote to commemorate the victory, in a choral contest at
Athens, of the tribe Antiochis with a poem of his composing,
was the son of Leopivdes, and was eighty years of age at the
time of this victory. AS he mentions the archnship of Adei-
mantus as the date of this event, it follows that he was born in
the year H.c. ^o. The place of ins birth was a >m ill island,
Ceos, one of the Cyda les. The inhabitants of the i-land were
Ionian-, but the neighbourhood of the Peloponnesus all'ected the
('can.- in various ways, and, what is important for our purpose,
famiiiari.-ed them wi'h the choral worship of Apollo, and with
the custom of purtlieiiiu or choruses sun;': by girls. The culti-
vation in Ceos of choral ] try decide, 1 the line which Simon ides'
impulse to poetry \\as to take. At an earlv age he was con-
cern, d in the production of choruses, and fuliided the duti.-s of
choir-master. Although, unlike Anaciv"!). he posses.-ed some
patriotism, and celebrated his country in his song (^-^), h" was
not content to remain for ever a choir-master in Ceos, out w is
attracted, by vi-i"iis ,.f fame, fortune, and themes greater than
Ceo- could atlord, to travel tar and wide to bnlliani courts au 1
1 64 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
centres of cultivation. In Athens the tyrant Pisistratus had
been succeeded l>y his sons Hippias and Hipparchus, and they
were carrying on the work, which their father had begun, of
decorating Athens and educating the Athenians by means of
everything which art, literature, and learning could supply. In
pursuit of this policy the Pisistratidaa freely lavished money,
and Simonides received large sums from them.
The form of choral poetry which at this time was chiefly cul-
tivated at Athens was the dithyramb. This, which at once \vns
a religious service, a form of literature, and an entertainment for
the people, was not in its origin, nature, or object specially sul>
servient to tyranny. It was not performed for the gratification
or the honour of the tyrant ; nor was it merely an entertain-
ment for the people, to keep them in good-humour with the
tyranny ; it was also an entertainment by the people. As in
later times dramatists competed for a prize at the festivals of
Dionysus, and each poet applied to the state for a choregu* to
put his play upon the stage, and the chorus which performed in
the play was furnished by one of the tribes ; so in the times of
the Pisistratidce and of the dithyramb, the author of a dithy-
ramb applied for a choregus and a tribe which should supply a
chorus to learn, rehearse, and finally perform his dithyramb in
the contests at the festivals of L>ionysus. When the drama
developed out of the dithyramb, this manner of procedure con-
tinued ; and this explains how it was that in th ' time of the
drama the choregus, although he bore all the expenses entailed
by the maintaining, teaching, and dressing of those members of
his tribe who formed the dramatic chorus, had not to bear any
part of the rest of the expense incurred in the production of the
play. The prize which the successful poet in a dithyramb con-
test won WHS not any pecuniary benefit to the victor, for it Avas
dedicated by him as a votive offering to the god. The gold
which Simonides carried off from Athens came to him as gifts,
either from tin; tyrant, who was gratified to have so good a poet
compete in his city, or possibly from rich citizens for whom
Simonides had specially composed poems in celebration of some
victory they had achieved in the public games or in the memory
of snme relative they had lost. The epinikia which he thus
composed remained popular in Athens for generations, and were
in the months of thu Athenians in the time; of Aristophanes. 1
"\Yith his competitors, amongst whom at Athens was Lasus,
Simonides never seems to have got on well. He was a formid-
able rival not only in the exercise of his art, but even more
1 EH. 407 ; Nub. 1356.
LYRIC POETRY : MKLIG AT COURT. I 65
so in the tact, the worldly wisdom, anil the courtly deference
which won him so much success in dealing with the great.
In Thcssuly, as well as in Athens, Simonides was the truest of
tyrants. We still have almost complete (5) an encomium or
eulogy written l>y Simonides in honour of Scopus on his death.
Scopas was a tyrant whose rule does not seem to have been light
nor his character amiable. l>ut Simonides, having to eulogise
him professionally, adroitly and artistically steers between the
risk of oil'ending the Scopada3 and the danger of exciting ridi-
cule by lauding virtues which the deceased had not. lie con-
iines himself to generalities : perfectly virtuous men do not
occur; practically we have to take the good with the evil. Pit-
tacus, the sage, much understated the fact when he said that it was
hard to be good that is an attribute of God, not man ; the man
wiio does iidt voluntarily do anything disgraceful is much to bo
praised, but against destiny, of course no one can iii:ht. The
skiil of this cannot be denied ; and although Simonides takes
up the di-ad Scopas very tenderly and delicately, he cannot be
accused of servility. To only hint that Scopas had his failings
may have been gross adulation. We do not know. Hut having
to write an encomium and to write it for gold, Simonides could
not have well sold less of his conscience. Other poets with less
sense of artistic propriety would have sold more. AVe know
little about the Scopadce. It seems probable that the whole
dynasty perished suddenly and together; and this is perhaps
the, only kernel of fact which is contained in the story that
Sconas u'ave Simonides half the reward he expected for a eulogy,
and bade him apply to the ])ioscuri, whom Simonides had also
praised in the eulogy, for tin; other half. At this moment
Simonides was summoned fr-m tin 1 hall to sin-ak with two
strangers, and no sooner was he in the open air than the build-
ing fell with a cra.-h, killing Scopas and all his family. The
1 >;o-curi had paid their debt.
The Scopada 1 , were not the only tyrants in Thossaly that
Siiiioiudes visited. He, al-o went to I.ans-a. and placed Ins
services at the disposal of the Aleuad;e, who were maintaining
secret and treacherous relations with the 1 Vivian kim:. and were,
otleiinj; to as.-i-L him in his invasion of Greece. From tn:s
court Simonides went au'ain to the city which was the MHI! and
the centre of the Greek resistance to IVr.-ia -Athens -there to
celebrate by the epigrams, on which hi- fan.e principally rests,
the delYat i.if the iVr-ians at Marathon, at Salami-, and at
1'iataM. In Athens the democracy had triumphed over the
tyranny; Ilipparchus had been slain, liippias had ll d tolVrsin;
I 66 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
and Simonides became as much at home under the democracy
as he had been under the tyranny. He was as intimate with
Themistocles as with the Pisistratidse, and he glorified the
assassins of Hipparchus as readily and as artistically as he had
honoured Hipparchus himself. His former relations with the
tyrants did not prevent the Athenians from intrusting him
with the honour of celebrating in verse their victories over the
Persians, nor induce them to prefer the epigram on Marathon
by their own ^schylus to that written by Simonides. In
Corinth and in Sparta he was welcomed as much as in Athens,
and he made himself the friend of the haughty Pausanias as
successfully as he had won the friendship of the astute Themi-
stocles.
But- at this time art, literature, and culture found their best
field and their most munificent reward in Sicily, at the court of
Syracuse. Not only was Epicharmus performing his comedies
there, but .^Eschylus voyaged thither, and there wrote and put
on the stage tragedies, of which some were inspired by his visit,
as the Women of ^Etna, some had been already performed in
Athens. To Syracuse, also, Bacchylides, the nephew of Simo-
nides, was drawn, and, greater than either, Pindar, now only
a young man, but great enough already to defeat Simonides.
Between Simonides and Pindar there existed the same rivalry,
embittered by personal feelings, as at Athens had intervened be-
tween Simonides and Lasus ; and, though the fragments of Simo-
nides show no traces of this rivalry, it appears in passages of
Pindar. With ]Iiero, however, the tyrant of Syracuse, Simo-
nides was on the best of terms, and we find him assuring
Hiero's wife, with the courtier-like suavity which characterised
him, that wealth is before wisdom. It would not be altogether
fair to condemn Simonides of insincerity in saying this, for
he was the first poet who wrote for gold. This shocked the
Greeks, as teaching for p'iy also shocked them. Art and learn-
ing were sacred tilings. .It was as disgraceful to traffic in them
as in beauty. This feeling is probably largely re.-pon.-iblc for the
accusations of avarice which were made against Simonides, though
there, was also much in his conduct to give countenance to the
charge. Sicily he mu.-t have found a fertile field, for com-
missions wen; not forthcoming from Syracuse and Hiero alone,
but from Agrigentum, Khegium, and Croton as well. Up
to the latest year of his life he seems to have worked, and
his command over the technical resources of his art. his tact,
skill, and adroitness in managing his subject-matter, seem to
have gained more and more as he gained more experience,
LYUIG I'OKTKY : MELIC AT COURT. 1 67
until he died B.C. 467, in Syracuse, at the age of eighty-
ninc.
Simonides was a writer of choral poetry, not of lyric song,
and in his long life lie attained a mastery over every form of
choral nil-lie, lie composed hymns to the gods, pagans to
Apollo, dithyrambs in honour of Dionysus, hyporchemes with
tlu-ir accompaniment of dancing, prosodia or processional
hymns, and parthenia ; hut his poetry was not confined to
the worship of the gods, he applied it also to honouring and
commemorating men, both for their public achievements and
their private virtues, and with this object he composed en-
comia, epinikia, and threni or dirges, and in addition to these
choral forms of poetry also skolia or drinking songs, elegies, and
epigrams. In the domain of religious poetry Simonides did not
atiain such celebrity as in the rest of choral melic. His com-
mand of language, his exquisite diction, the smoothness and
sweetness of his style, his mastery over all the technical re-
sources of his art, raised even his religious poetry to a high
staml-ml ; but this formal excellence could not compensate for
shallowness of fei-ling and the, want of profound conviction,
lint even here, where his natural defects were most conspicuous
and most damaging, his grasp was so firm that he set dithyramb
on the path it was to follow, though he wrested it from the
special service of the god whom it was originally intended
to honour. We have nothing left of his dithyrambs except
the titles of two, the MiTunon and the Rnjip of tinn^a. and
although we have no conception of the way in which he con-
trived to harmonise these subjects with the form and the tradi-
tions of the dithyramb, the titles are enough to show that
Sinionides abandoned the custom of taking the adventures of
J>ionvsus as the Mibjeet (.f the dithvrainb. Tins was a step of
great importance, for it determined the subsequent history of
this form of choral poetry.
Thus even on religious nielic Simonides left hi
on the rest of choral lyric he exercised even gn
He elevated the thlviloS or dirge from the leVi
the dignity of choral performance, lie gave
public celebration of a victory in the national games,
which they were destined to ivtain. Kin 1 >mia. wine
to the same genus as epinikia, but were laudations
private character, were the work- of hi
not choral, epigram, though its funct
by his predecessors, SinionidfS exalted t
literature to winch no other puet cuuld
1 68 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
was to these forms of poetry that Simonides gave their make and
shape in literature, it was in them that lie attained his highest
excellence. In epiuikia, smooth and finished as his work was,
and high as he ranked, he could not be compared with Pindar.
Setting aside the difference between the inspired and the unin-
spired poet, w r e find that even in respect of style and excellence
of form Pindar was superior, though in a different way, to Simo-
nides ; for \\hereasSimonides shares with Anacreon the honour
of the second place in representing the "smooth "style of lyric,
Pindar occupies without rival the highest position in the
"severe" style. In encomia, which were a lower form of art,
Simonides achieved greater excellence. These eulogies on people
who frequently had but little worthy of eulogy afforded admir-
able opportunities for the exercise of the tact, courteousness,
and knowledge of the world which Simonides possessed in an
eminent degree, and which explain both his invention and his
successful cultivation of encomia. In dirges or threni his repu-
tation stood even higher: in these poems not only was the
style excellent, as always with Simonides, but that which it
clothed was also excellent. Simonides' poetry rarely soared
with the bold flight of genius, but in the threni it did affect the
emotions. It was pathetic and extremely moving. This form
of poetry Simonides must have cultivated with affection with
the affection which comes of and to successful work ; for he
did not content himself with composing dirges for real persons,
as, e.ij. on the Scopadse, but took mythical heroes and heroines
as subjects. Tbis gave him more room to work in, and he
accordingly produced better work. It fortunately happens that
we still have a fragment of his threnos on L>anae (37), amongst
the most beautiful of the bequests from Greek literature
which time has allowed to come down to us. Acrisius having
been Avarned by an oracle that he would meet his death at
the bands of a child born of his daughter L'anae, committed
her and her child Perseus to the waves in a chest to perish.
The fragment by Simonides pictures Danae and Perseus in
the darkness of the coffer driven by the wind over the stormy
sea. ]>anae, with her arm round her sleeping child and his faee
against hers, talks to him : he sleeps and she is so full of care ; lie
would not .-leep if he knew their dai.uer. Then she says to him,
" ])ut sleep, baby; and sleep, sea and trouble too. Zeus! grant
us respite and forgive my prayer." This fragment enables us
to see for our.-elve.s the two inialiti's which ancient critics
recognised as existing to a high degree in Simonides 1 poetry
his clearness and his pathos. 15y clearness is meant the poet's
LYRIC POETRY ; MELIC AT COURT. I 69
power of convoying to the reader's or hearer's mind the very
picture which the poet himself sees with his mind's eye. In
this fragment the pathos consists partly in the picture of the
child sleeping " avec 1'ignonince de 1'ange, ' and of the, mother
talking to the child of the danger which he does not under-
stand. Pathetic, however, as Simonides, by the testimony of this
fragment, was, he was probably inferior even in this quality to
I'imlar. \vho stood to him in the same relation as /lischylus to
.Kuripides. Pathos has been considered the special province of
Kuripides as of Simonides, but the strength of ^Eschylus enabled
him on fitting occasions to excel Euripides in intensity of
pathos, as probably Pindar's strength gave him pathetic powers
greater, if more, rarely used, than those of Simonides. The
department of poetry in which Simonides stands without a rival
is that of epigram. The glorious victories which the (Ireeks
achieved over the Persians were celebrated by offerings to the
gods, and these offerings required some inscription worthy of
the deeds commemorated, as did also the graves of the warriors
who fell nobly for their country. In Simonides was found the
poet capable of composing the epigrams thus called for. ilis
sticces- in this form of completion was due to the quality of
self-restraint that is the chief merit of all his poetry. The
defeat of the Persian was a theme on which a contemporary
would find it difficult to be anything but expansive. It fur-
nished Phrynichus and /Kschylus with the material for monu-
ments of genius in the shape of tragedies depicting the down-
fail of tiie innumerable ho.-t of the barbarians. The tribute of
tragedy to the heroes of Hellas was properly monumental, hut
in epigrams, whieh wen; themselves to be but inscriptions on
monuments, whether to the gods or to the fallen patriots,
qualities of another kind were required. .Description, such as
was appropriate in tragedv, was excluded bv the brevity that
the form of epigram necessitated. Prai.-e, in any direct foim.
would be su[ errluoiis, and even otl'en.-ive, on memorials, and for
deeds which were themselves their own praise. Many words
were to be avoided ; self-re.-traint was above all necessary, and,
considering the pride of patriotism, above ail difficult. The tact
that could select precisely what should be >aid, and, saying little,
ceuld yet .-ay all, was the prerogative of Simonides. It was not
to much LTenius as arti-tic feelinir, the .-en-e of propriety and
perfeet workman.-hip, that epigram called for; and the.-e quali-
ties were precis. 'ly those in which ihe < xce'deiice of Simoiii'les
consisted, Ami this may stand for "tir judgment on the poe'ry
of Simonides in general. Tho piai.-e which we have accorded
I/O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
to him all will admit to be deserved, and for adjudicating hia
claims to genius we have the authority of Pindar (01. ii. 86),
who, although he was a rival of Simonides and spoke with
somewhat of the acerbity of rivalry, was likely, even if he struck
harder than a more impartial critic, not to strike at the wrong
place, but to detect more surely than any modern critic the
weak point in Simonides.
The low estimate formed by Pindar of Bacchylides has been
generally accepted. Bacchylides was the nephew of Simonides,
who probably initiated him into the service of the Muses. Like
Simonides, Bacchylides cultivated all kinds of lyric poetry, and
in all cases Bacchylides seems to have faithfully followed in the
footsteps of Simonides. Other choral lyric poets of this period
were Lasus of Hermione, who was cultivated by Hipparchus,
was devoted especially to the composition of dithyrambs, and
was said to have given instruction to Pindar; Melanippid.es
the elder, Apollodorus of Athens, Tynnichus of Chalcis, Lam-
prokles, Kydias, Hybrias, and Diagoras.
CHAPTER VL
PINDAR.
PINDAR was born B.C. 521 (less probably B.C. 5 17) in Cynos-
cephalae, a suburb of Thebes, and, appropriately enough in one
who was to sing of victories achieved in the national games of
Hellas, he was born in the month Munychion, during the cele-
bration of the Pythian games, lie belonged to tin; illustrious
family of the /Kgidoi (J'l/th. v. 72), who traced their pedigree
to the time of Cadmus, and counted distinguished branches in
])orian lands as well as in Thebes. Tims by descent Pindar
wus inclined to sympathise with .Dorian and aristocratic ten-
dencies, while the connection of the ^gidjc with the temples
and oracles of Greece may partly account for his cultivation of
the choral poetry that was devoted mainly to the worship of the
L r oils. In spite of the contempt which the Athenians had f6r
the IVrothns ' l'>o"itian swine" was one of the expressions
in which this contempt found vent the Boeotians were neither
whollv excluded f I'oin refining influences by their depressing
climate, nor wholly destitute of native art.i>ts. The music of
tin- flute was cultivated with much success, and Pindar, though
by far the greatest, was not the only poet whom Ikcotia pro-
LYRIC POETRY: PINDAR. 171
duced. The existence of Pindar would of itself point to the
cultivation of music and choral poetry in l>ceotia, if we knew
nothing more, as the knowledge of the position of some of the
stars possessed hy some ancient nations proves their acquaintance
with a certain amount of mathematics, though these have left
no other trace. ]!ut we are not reduced to conjecture of this
sort in the present case. The earliest instruction given to
Pindar, and the earliest artists who lired his poetic instincts,
Avere Ikeotian. His knowledge of the flute was derived from
iScopelinus, who is sometimes stated to have been his father,
sometimes his stepfather ; and from the poetesses Myrtis and
Corinna, Pindar learned something, though whether in the way
of instruction or rivalry is uncertain ; probalily they affected
him in both ways. There is a story that Corinna criticised his
early etlort- adversely, on the ground that they displayed a
poverty of mythological content. This is a charge which can-
not justly be brought against those odes of his that we. possess ;
and Corinna herself seems to have recognised this, for later
.-die warned him ''to sow \\ith the hand and not with the
sack."
The earliest fact that we know with certainty in Pindar's
literary career is the composition of the tenth Pythian Ode,
which lie wrote at the early age of twenty. The Pythian games,
which were one of the four national games of Hellas the
Olympian, the Pythian, the Nemean. and the Isthmian derived
their name from Pythius. an epithet of Apollo, given him in com-
memoration <'f his slaving the dragon Pvtho. They weie held
on tin; Crissa'an plain in tin' neighbourhood of Delphi, the
oraeie of Apolio. Originally the contests at this festival were
mu-ical, and the subject of the nomes that were composed
for the contest was the praise of Apollo. In Course of time
athletic game- were added, in imitation of the < Mympian sanies ;
but at all times the musical, literary, and arti.-tic competitions
were the distinguishing feature of the Pythian, and excelled even
tho>e of the. Olympian game-. Although athletic games were
added in imitation ,.f the Olympian f.-.-tival. the Amphictyons,
who had the management of the Pytiiia. did not slavishly con-
hen i selves to the pr< gramme of the Olvmpia, but introduced
- which the Olvmpians subsequently borrowed. Among
th
I 7 2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
importance of the victory celebrated. That is to say, chariot or
horse races are rankeil first, and then come hoxing and wrestling
matches, the pancratia, and finally the foot races. Odes com-
posed in honour of a victor in the national games were sometimes
sung on the spot, but more frequently they were performed by
his friends on his return home. The celebration of the victory
was not merely a public, but also a religious ceremony, for thanks
were publicly paid to the gods for the honour which by their
favour the victor had won for the city. A solemn procession
was made to the temple, thanks and a sacrifice were offered to
the gods, and the proceedings closed with a banquet. During
some part of the ceremony the triumphal ode, which some
friend of the victor engaged a poet to compose, was sung by a
chorus trained for the occasion. Sometimes the ode was sung
during the procession to the temple, but more frequently at the
banquet. The tenth Pythian Ode, which was composed by
Pindar at the request of Thorax, one of the Aleuadse, who reigned
at Larissa, was probably sung at the banquet. The subjects
which Pindar had to treat of in this ode were, as we can see,
pretty well defined beforehand. Hippoclea?, the victor, and
Thorax would naturally be mentioned : and as they both belonged
to the family of the Aleuadae. some myth connected with that
family would naturally suggest itself. Again, as the father of
Hippocleas had himself won victories in the national games, the
fact would appropriately be referred to in a triumphal ode honour-
ing his son. Finally, the god Apollo, at whose festival the victory
had been won, would claim some verses from the poet. To these
necessary topics Pindar confines himself; but in this, the first
of his triumphal odes, he already shows complete skill in inter-
weaving his subjects in such a manner that they seem to rise as
a series of pictures spontaneously to the poet's mind, and not to
be the ingenious mosaic of a professional writer of occasional
verse. The Aleuadse claimed to be descended from Heracles,
whose descendants ruled also in Lacedaemnn ; and with an allusion
to this connection between the two states -a connection of which
Thessaly would be proud to be reminded Pindar opens the ode,
justifying this compliment to Thessaly on the ground that it is
of one of the Aleuada?, Hippocleas, the winner of the J)iaulos,
that he is about to sing. To Apollo is due the praise for this
victory, as fur the victories of Hippocleas' father at Olympia and
at the Pylhia. Father and son have, thus attained the greatest
hai'pines- and pride which are possible for mortals : to do more,
to afhieve such an exploit as to penetrate to the. mysterious land
of the Hyperboreans, is only for the gods, or for such a hero aa
LYRIC POETRY : PINDAR. 1/3
Perseus (an ancestor of Heracles and therefore of the Aleuad;* 1 )
aided by a god. Pindar then describes the happy race of Hyper-
boreans, who know neither sickness nor death, labour nor war,
but laugh, sing, dance, and carouse "with golden bay-leaves in
their hair." From this story of Perseus Pindar recalls himself
suddenly fur ''his song of praise flitteth like a honey-bee from
tale to tale " J as though he had been carried away by his verse ;
and, with a compliment to Thorax and the Alcuadse, who govern
the Thessaliuns well, he concludes.
Although Pindar received his earliest instruction in Thebes
from Scopelinus, Myrtis, and Corinna, he went to Athens to
learn more. There he found Apollodorus. Agathocles. and Lasus
of Hermione at work, and them he took as his masters. At
this early period of his life was laid the foundation of that
friendship which ever after existed between him and the
Athenian people, in spite of Pindar's Theban birth. This visit
to Athens probably had its influence on Pindar's style, as it
certainly had on his vocabulary, though we cannot trace it very
precisely.
The next fact which is known to us in Pindar's literary
career is the composition of the sixth Pythian Ode, at the age of
twenty-eight (B.C. 349). This ode commemorates the victory of
a chariot driven by Thrasybulus, to whose father, Xenocrates, the
brother of Theron, tyrant of Agrigentum, the chariot and horses
belonged, and who was consequently proclaimed as victor. The
ode is short, is addressed to Thrasybulus, and was probably sung
at Delphi ; for this ode, like the tenth, celebrates a Pythian
victory, it is indeed probable, seeing that the four earliest
odes by Pindar celebrate victories at the Pythia, the festival of
the Ljod of Delphi, that Pindar's family connection with Delphi
determined the direction of his iir>t efforts to the. celebration of
Pvthi.m victories. The sixth Pythian Ode is short and simple
aiik' j in style and composition : this victory in th chariot race
has earned for Xenocrates a treasure of song which >; neither
wind nor wintry rain-storm coining from strange lands, as a
fierce host born of the thunderous cloud, shall cany into the
hiding-places of the sea." Thrasyhnins, the son, and also the
charioteer of Xi-noeratos, ha- honoured his father; and in his
1'lial piety he is like Antilochus, who. when his father's horses
were killed in the battle by Paris, and his iatlnT, NYstor. was
being attacked by Mcmnon, boiiirhl hi< father's lit'.- by his own.
"These things are of the past," I'indar admits, "but of men
1 Tliroiuhoiit thii cliMi'tt-r tin- 1 ipidt. it-Mi,-. ;uv fnun th.' mhniniblt; traaala-
tinii uf I'imlar Uv Mr. Kniest Mvcrs 'M.icim
1/4 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
that now are, Thrasybulus hath come nearest to our fathers'
gauge."
In the same year (B.C. 494) that Xenocrates won the chariot
race at the Pythian games, Midas of Akragas, for whom the
twelfth Pythian Ode was -written, won the flute-playing match.
The same player was winner in the same contest in B.C. 490,
and it is uncertain for which victory the ode was composed.
The twelfth ode is shorter, and even more simple in structure,
than the sixth. It was probably sung during the procession
to the temple, for it contains only strophes and antistrophes ;
whereas those odes which contain also epodes were probably
sung at the banquet ; for it was customary for the chorus to
stand still during the singing of the epodes, a fact which would
seem to point to the conclusion that odes containing epodes
could hardly well be sung during a procession. The ode opens
with an appeal to the fair city of Akragas to welcome Midas,
who has beaten all Hellas " in the art which once on a time
Pallas Athene devised, when she made music of the fierce
Gorgon's death-lament." By means of this transition Pindar is
carried on to tell the story of Perseus, who penetrated to tho
dim mysterious country of the three Grey Sisters, robbed them
of the one eye which they possessed in common, and slew the
Gorgon Medusa, whose head even in death possessed the power of
changing to stone whatever it was turned on. Armed with the
Medusa's head, Perseus took vengeance on Polydectes, his mother's
oppressor. Tims Perseus, like Midas, achieved a victory ; but
(and, with this implied warning to Midas not to exult overmuch
in the moment of triumph, the ode closes) there, shall be a
time that shall lay hold on a man unaware, and shall give him
one thing beyond his hope, but- another it shall bestow not yet.
In B.C. 490 Pindar wrote the seventh Pythian Ode to com-
memorate th<- victory of Megacles, the Athenian, in the chariot-
race. The ode is short, which is not strange, as it was sung at
Delphi on the evening of the victory ; and it is perfunctory.
Megacles belonged to the distinguished family of the Alcmaeo-
nidif, who had contributed large sums to the rebuilding of the.
temple of .Delphi. He had himself won many victories in tin:
various national games, and had been banished from Athens
twice. Pindar touches very briefly on these topics, and dis-
misses the whole matter in a score of lines. The year B.C. 490,
the thirty-second of Pindar's life, was the date of something
more important even than victories in chariot-racing. It was
the year in which the Athenians defeated the Pcr.-ian? at Mara-
thon. On this great victory, however, Pindar at the time looked
LYKIC POETRY : PINDAR. 1/5
with the same eyes as his fellow-Thebans. Liter, indeed, lie
came to understand the value of the services which Athens at
this time and in the second Persian \var rendered to all Hellas ;
but at first he probably, like, his fellow-citizens, only saw in the
battle of Marathon a victory for the .-tate with which Thebes
was frequently at war, and for which she always entertained
feelings of hostility. AVith any victory won by the democracy
of Athens the aristocrats of Thebes could have but little sym-
pathy. Between the battle of Marathon, B.C. 490, and the
battle of Salamis, B.C. 480, there are only three odes written
by Pindar that are preserved. The tenth Olympian Ode was
written in honour of the victory of Agesidamus, an Epizephy-
rian Locrian in the boys' boxing-match, B.C. 484. The ode is
one of those which were composed and sung on the spot. It
is brief, and consists mainly of a promise to compose a more
elaborate work in the future. The promise was, after an un-
certain interval, and probably not before B.C. 476, redeemed in
the eleventh Olympian Odo. In the latter ode Pindar acknow-
ledges his debt, praises Agesidamus and his trainer, and says
(86-90), " Even as a son by his lawful wife is welcome to a
father, who hath now travelled to the other side of youth, and
maketh his soul warm with love for wealth that must fall to a
strange owner from without is most hateful to a dying man -
so also, Agesidamus, when a man who hath done honourable
deeds goeth unsung to the house of Hades, this man hath spent
vain breath and won but brief gladness for his toil.'' Hut
Pindar's song is washed along as the rolling pebble is by the
wave, as he himself says (10), and from the victor in the Olym-
pian games tlie poet turns to the games thems- -Ives and tells
the mythieal story of their institution. Accoiding to this
account, Hi.-racles havim,' been cheated of the reward promised
him by Au_ r eas for clean-in,;' his stables, proceeded to tike
vengeance, and Augeas " saw his rich native land, his own city,
beneath tierce lire and iron Mows .-ink down into the deep moat
of calamity," Augeas liim.-elf was slain. "(if stnfe against.
stronger powers." says Pindar in one of the gnomes that he is
famous for, ' it is hard to be rid." After his victory, I ["melt s
gathered together his host at Pisa,
made ollerings fiom the spoil and h
The third ode. \\]i;ch falls betw
and Salamis, is the tiftli Neincan.
of Pyth'-as of .Egina. winner in
Neiu'-.-m games. Tne kernel of
the gods showed to the -Eacuhe. the patron her
176 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Having thus brought the victor into connection with the heroes
who before him brought glory to JEgh\a, Pindar proceeds to
select from the myths connected with the ^Eacidre one which
was told of Peleus, the eldest of the sons of ^iacus, and which
conveyed the moral lesson which is to be found in most of Pin-
dar's odes. The moral value of athletic training is the self-
control which it necessitates; and the story which Pindar relates
of the continence of Peleus. and his reward in gaining Thetis
for his wife, evidently means that the self-control which Pytheas
had exercised as a boy, with the glorious reward of victory, was
equally necessary throughout life,. and equally certain to meet
with a fitting return. Apart, however, from the myth and the
moral winch constitute the substance of the ode, the introduc-
tion is interesting as showing the function of odes of victory in
Greek life. A triumph in the national games not only brought
honour and joy to the victor and to his city; it was also a mark
of the favour of the gods, for it was by their goodwill alone so
great a glory could be bestowed. The commemoration, there-
fore, of this act of divine favour was a religious duty, and
claimed the services of the arts. Sculpture and poetry vied in
giving expression to this sentiment of obligation to the gods and
of public rejoicing. But poetry, Pindar says in the introduction
to this ode, has a wider range than sculpture, for poetry travels
everywhere. "No statuary I, that I should fashion images to
rest idly on their pedestals ; nay, but by every trading ship and
plying boat forth from ./Egina fare, sweet song of mine, and
bear abroad the news, how that Lainpon's son, the strong-
limbed Pytheas, hath won at Xemea the pankratiast's crown,
while on his cheeks he showeth not as yet the vine-bloom's
mother, mellowing midsummer."
In the odes composed between the battles of Marathon and
Salamis no mention occurs of the services of Athens to Greece
in the Persian wars ; and it is probable that Pindar's Theban
feeling prevented him from recognising -what perhaps was not
then generally recognised- how great these services were, lint
pome time after the ]>ntt lc of Salamis how long after, it is dilli-
cult to say he did realise the magnitude of the danger which
had been averted from Greece, and the pity of it that Thebes
had had no share in the glory of patriotic self-sacrifice. In the
seventh Isthmian Ode he alludes to the grief thus caused to
him: "I, albeit heavy at heart, am bidden to call upon the
golden Muse. Yea, since we are come forth from our sore
troubles, let us not fall into the desolation of crownlessness,
neither nurse our griefs ; but having ease from our ills that are
LYIilC rOKTRY: PINDAR. I 77
past mending, we will sot some pleasant thing before the people,
though it follow hard on pain : inasmuch as some god hath put
away from us the Tantalus-stone that hung above our heads, a
curse intolerable to Hellas."
At the time of the battle of Salamis, Pindar was about forty
years of age. He was then entering on the second period of his
literary career, and his reputation was spreading beyond the
seas to the farthest colonies of ( 1 recce. Even before this he had
received commissions from Sicily, and his name, and to a certain
extent his works, must have been known there. But now we
tind him writing odes for the king of Gyrene, and for other in-
habitants of that distant colony. Indeed, it is inferred from these
odes that Pindar himself travelled to Gyrene. However this
may be, it seems beyond reasonable doubt that Pindar visited
Sicily, and stayed for a long time in the island. Of the forty-
four odes of victory which have come down to us, fourteen were
composed for Sicilian victors. With Iliero, tyrant of Syracuse,
Pindar seems to have been on terms of some intimacy. The
odes in his honour (< >. i, P. i, 2, 3) reveal a close acquaintance
with the private affairs as well as the public policy of the tyrant.
But Pindar's acquaintance with Sicily was not confined to the
court of Syracuse- ; beseems to have been known in Akragas
(O. 2. 3, P. 6. 12, I. 2), Gamarina (0. 4. 5), and Himera(O.
12). Next to Sicily, ^-"Kgina tills the most important pla<-e in
Pindar's epinikia or odes of victory. One fourth of the odes
have to do with /Kginetan victors ; and Pindar seems to have
had an especial atl'ection for the place. He calls it "the com-
mon li.x'ht of all, which aideth the stranger with justice;" the
place "where saviour Themis, who sitteth in judgment by Zeus,
the >t ranger's Miccour, is honoured more than anywhere else
ani'ing men." ''From the beginning is her fame perfect, for she
is .-ung of as the nurse of heroes, foremost in many games and in
violent tights : and in her mortal men also is >he pre-eminent."
AVe tind Pindar's odes also in Ar-os, I.orris, Corinth, Orcho-
nieiius, Athens, and Thessaly : and we may reasonably suppose
that the poet himself visited these places.
is that Grene \vas said to have been coio
178 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
clants of Euphemus, one of the Argonauts. The ode appears to
have had another object than the ostensible one of celebrating
the victory of Arkesilns : it seems to have been designed either
to reconcile or to mark the reconciliation of Arkesilas with his
kinsman Demophilus. who had taken part in an unsuccessful
aristocratical rebellion, and had been exiled in consequence.
The ode is on a larger scale than is usual with Pindar; the
myth is much longer, and the introduction is proportionately
increased. The work is consequently not so close ; and as the
parts are exhibited in greater magnitude, their relation is more
easily discerned than in odes of greater condensation. The
narrative is exquisitely beautiful ; the scenes which succeed
each other in the history of the expedition are painted with all
the brilliancy of Pindar's opulent vocabulary, and with a dis-
tinctness and reality not surpassed by any other poet. The
simplicity of this ode is much assisted by the fact that Pindar
devotes himself purely to the business of narrating the myth ;
whereas in ether odes he seeks to cast light on some central
idea from all points of view, and to do this he shifts his ground
with a rapidity which is dazzling, and before one myth has had
time to die away from the retina, as it w r ere, of the mind's eye,
he throws on it another and yet another. The greater sim-
plicity of the ode, it should be remarked, is not confined to
the clearness of the narrative merely ; the metre is not of the
highly elaborate character to be found elsewhere in Pindar. It
approaches to the hexameter, as the tone of the narrative ap-
proaches the style of epic: and we may conjecture with proba-
bility that the greater clearness of the narrative and the greater
simplicity of the metre point to a much less elaborate musical
accompaniment than was designed for the other odes.
The third period of Pindar's literary career extends from the
time when he was sixty-live years of age to the date of his death.
"When he died is uncertain. The tradition usually accepted
makes him to be eighty years of age at his death. All that
we know is that the fourth Olympian Ode was in all pro-
bability composted in I! c. 452, and we cannot be certain that
any of the odes we posse:-s belong to a later date, although the,
eighth Olympian is sometimes considered as having been com-
posed in Ji.c. 450. To the third period belong, in addition to
the two odes ju.-t mentioned, the tifth and ninth Olympian
Odes and the sixth Isthmian. A decline <>f power is traced in
the odes of this period by some critics, but it is only to a slight
extent that Pindar falls below himself.
In addition to the collection of od>-s of victory that have sur
LYRIC POETRY: PINDAR. 179
vived to our time, Pindar also wrote pseans, parthenia, prosodia
or processional songs, hymns, hyporchemata, encomia, drinking-
songs, dirges, and dithyrambs ; but although we possess frag-
ments of some of these, the fragments are inconsiderable. It
is, however, fortunate for the history of Greek literature that
we should have specimens of choral lyric such as the odes of
victory which have been preserved. They serve to show us the
connection of choral lyric with previous genres of poetry, and
its difference from the chorus of tragedy, and thus they ex-
hibit a link in the development of Greek literature which other-
wise would have been lost. As regards the connection with
earlier kinds of poetry, we may notice that choral lyric shows
that its roots are in epic poetry, not only by the epic words
which we find in Pindar, and by the myths and legends which
he borrows from the epic poets, but essentially by the fact that
it possesses the element of narrative, which constitutes epic
pot-try and is absent from personal lyrics. Put under the term
"epic" poetry is included not only narratives such as those of
Homer and the Cyclic poets, but also the didactic poetry of
Hesiod and his school. With this class of epic also the choral
lyric of Pindar has points in common. As a rule, Pindar has a
moral lesson to teach even in his odes of victory, and thus he
reproduces the spirit and the characteristic of Hesiodic poetry.
The epic of Homer and of Hesiod was followed by the personal
lyrics of the ^Kolian poets, Alcams and Sappho, and in the
choral lyric of Pindar we iind comprised the leading qualities
of personal lyrics as well as of epic and of didactic poetry.
Choral docs indeed ditler from personal lyric in the occa.-ion
of its composition and production. The lyric poets of Lesbos
were not b.und down by times and seasons, hm gave expression
to their emotions as their emotions prompted them, whereas
the composer of ch"i';d lyiic had to \va;t t<>r a commis.-ii'ii. Put
the two kinds of lyric poetry have this in common, that in both
the poet appears in peison, whereas in the liiad or the Odyssey
the i t never brings hini>df before the reader. In Pindar
t'n is self consciousness is extreme. In virtue of his genius and
hi- divine gift of >ong, lie feds him.-elf the
and di the victor, ^reat as victory makes him,
will can confer a boon second only to victory it.-
til" ch"ial lyric of Pindar sums up in itsdf
before in (I reek poetry. .Ve have now to sec
and why, choral lyii'- chanyvd wh.-n it bci
th" drama. In the lii>t plac", the. dement of narrative ;n this
kind of Ivric was reuuced to a minimum in the drama. Mvths
I 8O HISTORY OF GEEEK LITERATURE.
are alluded to rather than narrated in the chorus of tragedy;
and the reason is obvious. Narrative in the drama found its
place in the speeches of the messengers or other subordinate
characters, who in all, or nearly all Greek tragedies, relate the
events which, for one reason or another, could not be performed
upon the stage. In the next place, choral lyric in becoming
the chorus of tragedy lost its personal character. We cannot
look to the chorus for the personal views of a Greek tragedian
on the moral or other problems raised in his play. The drama-
tist holds up these problems for investigation in all kinds of
lights, from the point of view first of one character, then of
another. But his own personal view need never find direct
expression ; and frequently the chorus simply sums up the
action of the play, so far as it has proceeded, and does not
express any opinion thereon, or at the most reflects the feel-
ings which the audience may be expected to experience. In
fine, the difference between choral lyric and the chorus of
tragedy is partly of degree, partly of kind. In degree, because
narrative is minimised; in kind, because the opinions expressed
are not professedly the poet's. In one respect, however, choral
lyric underwent no change when incorporated into the drama.
It still remained highly musical. In the tragic chorus, as in
choral lyric, the musical accompaniment was at least as impor-
tant as the words. In both, the function of the words seems to
have been, not so much to present a logical series of definite
ideas, as to evoke a .series of emotions, and to pass before the
mind's eye bright and beautiful or impressive images, which
succeeded each other too rapidly for analysis, but not too rapidly
to produce the feeling designed by the poet.
If, now. in conclusion, we must say a word of Pindar's quality
as a poet, it will be to point out that it is in the special func-
tion, as just described, of choral lyric that his special excellence
consists. Image after image is presented by him to our eyes :
from this point and from that, and from yet another, light of
the brightest is thrown on the point which lie wishes to illumine.
To endeavour to discriminate between the effects which thus
rapidly succeed each other is to lose, the total impression which
the whole is intended to convey. Doubtless there always was
a thread running through all the ideas contained in an ode;
and in many cases the thread by diligent study can even now
be distinguished ; but it seems improbable that the audience,
whose attention was claimed by the music as well as the words,
either were able or were expected by Pindar to analyse logically
the ode as they heard it. The ideas and emotions aroused in
LYRIC POETRY : PINDAR. I 8 I
the audience were as satisfactory, but probably not more definite,
than those aroused by music. The two chief qualities of Pin-
dar's poetry art; rapidity and radiance. In his desire to illus-
trate his thought from every point of view, he not only Hashes
from one illustration to another before the mind of the hearer
has wholly taken in the force of the first; but within a single
sentence lie fuses two conceptions, whose joint eii'ect is more
rapid and more dazzling than that which would be produced by
their separate enunciation. As for the radiance of his poetry,
it is seen not only in his fondness for epithets of brightness and
effulgence, but in the vividness and persistency with which the
images of the persons and things described by him remain on
the mind's eye ; and we cannot conclude better than by quoting
from the fourth Pythian as an illustration the description of
Jason: ''So in the fulness of time he came, wielding two
spears, a wondrous man ; and the vesture that was upon him
was twofold, the garb of the Magnetos' country close fitting to
his splendid limbs, but above he wore leopard->kin to turn the
hissing showers ; nor were the bright locks of his hair shorn
from him, but over all his back ran rippling down. Swiftly he
went straight on, and took his stand, making trial of his daunt-
less soul, in the market-place when the multitude was full."
Connected with Pindar are the names of Myrtis and Corinna.
The former is said to have been born at Anthedon in P>u?otia.
We should not even know that she composed lyric poetry, were
it not that Corinna has recorded the fact that she competed
against Pindar. Corinna, born in Tanagra, is said, like Pindar,
to have been taught by Myrtis. She too competed against
Pindar, and is said to have live, times defeated him for the
pri/c--a result which Pausanias conjectures to havi
to the fact that she composed in the local dialect, whilt
employed .1 >oric. Here we may mention the name
other poetesses. Tele-ilia of Argos, who lived at the
sixth century B.C., not only composed verses, but took up arms
again-t the Spartans when they invaded Ar_ r ' is under Cleomenes.
Pnixiila of Sicyon. who flourished about !',.<'. 4^0, composed
dithyrambs, lyric poetry, a >mall epic, gave her name to two
kinds of metre, and was especially dis'.ingui>iied for h r drink-
ing-.-oiigs or >ko';ia. which we re extremely popular in Athens.
Chtagora tluri-hed between i;.r. vo and H r. ;.:;, and wa-
famous for a .-kolion she composed. ( Mla-r p >etes-cs, whose
dates ai 1 ' 1 unknown, and who mav or mav not ln-loni: to the,
classical period, are Charixena, Kriphanis, Saip", Mvia. Ciito,
Leaivhis, Meiuiivhis, Teiaivlii.-, Mvst;.-. Praxigoris. and Ari_ r ii"te.
I 82 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
"With Pindar choral lyric reached its highest development ;
after him not only was there no poet, except Bacchylides, who
cultivated all kinds of lyric poetry, but many kinds, e.g. par-
thcnia, prosodia, hyporchemata, ceased to be cultivated at all,
while others, such as paeans and hymns, were comparatively
neglected. Dithyrambs alone continued to be cultivated, but
in such a way as shows that the period of choral lyric is past.
Pindar had allowed the musical accompaniment quite its full
importance, but the dithyrambic poets of the next generation
made the music of more importance than the words. The
clearest sign of the decay of chcral lyric is the fact that the
dithyramb was no longer true to its type, but sought to produce
effects by means properly peculiar to a distinct branch of art,
the drama ; just as the decay of the drama was indicated by the
tendency to oratorical effects in the plays of Euripides. The
symptoms of decay in the dithyramb were first noticeable in
Melanippides of Melos, in Democritus of Chios and Crexus,
contemporaries of Pindar. During the Peloponnesian war, the
most celebrated composer of dithyrambs was the younger Mela-
nippides, who bought Philoxenus of Cythera as a slave, taught
him lyric, and saw him achieve success in dithyrambs. Con-
temporary with the younger Melanippides was Phrynis of Myti-
lene in Lesbos, who gained victories in the dithyramb contests
at the Panathensea. After Melanippides, Cinesias became the
favourite dithyramb writer at Athens, and was much attacked
by the comedians. Cinesias was succeeded by Timotheus of
Miletus, who visited the court of Archelaus in Macedonia, but
spent most of his time in Athens. He seems to have possessed
greater talent than any of these later dithyrambic poets. To
Athens also were attracted Polyeidus, Kekeides, Licymnius of
Chios, Telestes of Sclinus, Ariphron of Sicyon, Anaxandridea
of Kaneiros, Theodoridas of Syracuse and Argas, who all com-
peted at various times for the dithyramb prize.
BOOK III.
THE DRAMA.
CHATTER I.
EARLY TRAGEDY.
" "Bom tragedy and comedy wore originally improvisations.
The former had its origin with the choir-masters of the dithy-
ramb, the latter with those of the phallic hymns, which even
now in many cities remain in use. Tragedy gradually advanced
by such successive improvements as were most obvious, and,
after many changes, reposed at length when it had acquired its
pmpor form. The number of actors /Kschylus first advanced
from one to two ; lie abridged the chorus, and gave the dialogue
the principal role. Sophocles introduced three actors and stage
decorations. Further, the originally short fables acquired a
proper magnitude, and the number of episodes was increase. 1.
As tragedy developed from the safyric drama, it was late before
it threw oil' comic lang'ia _e and assumed its proper dignity.
Iambics displa>vd trochaic tetrameters; for originally live ha ic.s
Avere u>ed because tra.edy, like tin,- .sityric drama, was com-
posed for dancing. Hut when dialogue was introduced, natur"
pointed out th' 1 appropriate metre; for ol all metres the iambic
is tip- most coll' '(filial. "
This is what Ari.-l"tl" says 1 of the origin and earlv h:-t'>rv
of tiie drama, and it is almost all W" know on the subject.
From this it would seem that in tin. 1 earlie.-t stage of tia^edy,
the a'lthor of th" dhnyramb, who was ai.-o th" c'n ir-ma.-t'T,
duriu,' a pans be i ween one part of th" dithyramb and th" next,
came forward and improvise, i a sin>:1 story, relating probably
to s .me adventure "f th" ir"d I >ioiiy-i; . in \vhos" honour the
dithyramb \\ as beim: p..-rf, : ;:i".i. Tin- st> TV was t. 'Li in tio 'haie
veise, contained much thai was comic, involved a good deal "f
184 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
danctng, and was accompanied by music. At first the choir-
master appeared only once during the dithyramb in his charac-
ter of improvisatore, but in course of time such " episodes "
became more numerous. At first, too, the poet simply recited
his story, probably to the accompaniment of sympathetic and
explanatory gestures, and dancing ou the part of the satyr-
chorus, which had come to be associated with the dithyramb.
Even thus the actor might, by retiring during the dithyramb
and changing his dress, appear at several times in various cha-
racters, e.f). as a hero reciting what he had done, or as a mes-
senger reciting what had been done, and thus produce an effect
not unlike that of a Avhole play. Jkit it could not have been
long before the poet conceived the idea of addressing himself to
and provoking replies from the chorus ; thus dialogue naturally
arose, and when it did, the metre naturally changed from tro-
chaics to iambics.
It will be noticed thnt Aristotle in his account of the origin
of tragedy does not mention Thespis, to whom the introduction
of an actor, and consequently the "invention" of tragedy, is
usually ascribed. 1 Whether Aristotle was acquainted with this
view and (as in that case his silence would show) tacitly rejected
it, or whether the view only originated after Aristotle's time, is
hard to say. The earliest reference to it that we have is in the
pseudo-Platonic JUinot*, which was not composed until after the
death of Aristotle. There 2 we have the statement that " tra-
gedy did not, as people think, originate with Thespis or Phry-
nichus," Avhieh implies that some people at the time of the
writing of the Minus ascribed the invention of tragedy to
Thespis. But if the evidence in the possession of Aristotle
did not lead him to ascribe the introduction of an actor, and
subsequently of dialogue, to Thespis, we may infer that the
claims made for Thespis had no strong basis; in which inference
we are confirmed by a passage in the grammarian Pollux, 3 which
expres.-ly mentions the existence of dialogue before Thespis.
The ascription of the "invention"' of tragedy to Thespis was
1 Horace, A. P. 285 :
4i lu'iK'tuin ti'airicje jrcims invenisse Canine-rue
JHdtur, ft ]>!;iustris vexisse poeniata Thespis,
Qua; ciiiierent agtriMitqun peruncti f.'ecilms era."
The '' wascons " ticlong to the early history <>f comedy, which Horace mixei
up with that, of tragedy.
- 52 i. \, 77 ot rpayifloia iffri Tra\at(jv ivOadf, oi : x us oiovrai dwo QiffiriOos cl/>-
^aufi'ij, ovS O.TTO <&pvvixov.
'' iv. 123, f'Xfos 5' ^v rpdtrefa dpxo-ia tip' ty ir[>a Ge'crTriOi.s eis TIS dramas
rols ^opfiTaTs air tKpiva.ro.
THE DRAMA : EARLY TRAGEDY. I 8 5
probably due to the difficulty which the Greeks had in under-
standing the action of a process, and their consequent tendency
to ascribe all things to the intentional action of persons. All
good laws were at Athens ascribed to Solon ; the constitution
of Sparta, the result of a process of external pressure operating
during many generations, was ascribed to Lycurgus ; and so the
invention of tragedy was ascribed to Thespis. Thespis must
have rendered considerable services to tragedy to have been
credited with its invention, but what these services were we
do not know. The orator Themistius 1 (who lived at Constan-
tinople and flourished about A.D. 360) refers to Aristotle as say-
ing that Thespis invented prologue ami rhesis; but no such
passage occurs in the I'oefuv, and although possibly Themistius
may be referring to some now lost work of Aristotle. .//. that
On I'oi'fti, it is more probable that here, as elsewhere, he is in-
accurate, and that the quotation does not come from Aristotle.
In any case, it is difficult to know what the statement means ;
for although Thespis may have been the tirst poet who appeared
before the audience before the dithyramb began, and thus may
Vie said to have invented the prologue, the statement that he
invented the rhesis (i.f. a long passage of iambics delivered
by the actor, and spoken, not sung) is hard to understand. If
it refers to the improvised recitations of the earliest choir-
masters, or if it refers to the subsequent introduction of spoken
iambics in the place of the melic trochaics, it is hard to recon-
cile with the passage quoted above from the J'ovlir,-; which does
not ascribe either invention to Thespis.
The character of the drama of Thespis must be inferred from
the fact that it was neither tragedy nor satyrie drama, but tin;
common ancestor from which both these forms of dramatic
representation were shortly to he evolved. The chorus con-
sisted of satyis,- but the argument of the play was not therefore
always merry. :i The I'< nf/n //.-; fiom its title, could hardly have
been anything but tragic, and the fact that tragedy was de-
scended from the drama of Thespis implies that it contained
the elements of tragedy.
1'ratinas of 1'hlius (ILL', =;oo) is said to
1 XXVI. }H>1), Oil IT pOCTt \OU(V ' \/>LffTOTt\ti UTl .
leal pf;cr' i^fC'fifv.
- Tin- f:n t, imurv.-v, that 1'ratinas is said tn ha
il ran ia may iiu]ily tli.it Tin 'sj'is -avu U[> tin 1 chorus of
ivuitloi'uicrcl t In !ii.
:i I'.iMir'i y ( iif.iiti-ii/.t, 2-0 t'.nUL'l:' otherwise. I'.ut tin- vi.-vv i;iveti in the
S'!. . Jao.'h \Qi.-ted of Phenician
1 Inasmuch, Imw.'ver ,is oi r^ d ; )\v;! Ta/)'.'"f.!U ]iro'>aMy iipi c:inM in this
play, it has 1). 'I'll inf.-nvil ti:;.t I'iiiymchus su'miivid, .1 tin' i-iiiirii-i, :ii:ni>'ii, t iir other nf IVr>:an rhirm.
Tint t'hc ciiorus I'onsisli'ii. in 1'iiry niclm^ tiiiif. nf tiny rlnn'i-init 1 nhr i.nin-
brr i 'f Arimi'.s cyciiiin ciit n \ i :infi>ic ciim n> i is inf'-rr. .1 fivtn ti.f f.,rt rtut m u
of iiis i i;iys \viii uititlrii ti.i' Ji.unt't '.-, \vhd-f 1 1 ;! i i t i<>t,;i 1 i IIIU'KI r \v;i< !if-y.
I'l'Dlll tilfSe t\V(> illfi'l'l'lH-CS Wi' lli:iV fll!'! luT L;itl;(!' lllMt It U,> til tills >.UIl-
division that tln> ri'ihh-tiiin of tin' num!T ,,f tiif cl;tiri'iit;i' t" twdvi- it'ne
jnnnher in ^F.M'liyhis) w;:s iiuo. It im^ ;ilso in m c- ( i] ; j,-c: u i nl tinit tin 1 riYmo-
tion is coMii-i-tfil with tiic inrrnnic: ion nf the tft i u.t'jy . the ciiorus of tifiy
bt-ii::.' ilivi.icii I'l.'twuen tiiu four {'lay.-.
I 88 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
had probably been present, while he invested those events with
the poetry and interest attaching to a representation conceived
from a new and impressive point of vie\v. By introducing the
news of the Persian defeat at an early period in the play, he
lost the interest of expectation which might have pervaded the
tragedy ; but this was due rather to the undeveloped state of
the drama in his time than to any fault of the author.
Removed as he was so little from the dithyrambic origin of
tragedy, it was natural that Phrynichus should display more
command of the lyric element than of the economy of the
drama. Accordingly the Plienician Jl'omen consisted mainly of
lamentations over the Persian defeat, uttered probably by Atossa
and Xerxes. The audience were agreeably and delicately nat-
tered, and the poet gained an opportunity of displaying his pecu-
liar powers.
It is a tribute to the genius of Phrynichus that ^Eschylus,
when he subsequently took up the same subject in his Persians,
adhered in several important points to the treatment of his
predecessor. It is also interesting to notice that in the Phe-
nidnn Women we observe the counter-influence of /Eschylus
on Phrynichus. The elder poet in this play avails himself of
his junior's innovation by introducing a second actor. This
must have conduced to freedom in the action of the play,
though precisely to what extent it did so we are not in a
position to infer.
But Phrynichus not only availed himself of the innovations
of others, he was himself an innovator. He not only developed
the music and the dances 1 of the drama, but also introduced for
the iirst time female characters on the stage. He did this not
only in the Pl-nician Women, but also (as is indicated by the
titles of the plays) in the Women of I'leuron, the Daughters
of Dani'uii*, and the Alccstis.
After B. c. 476 \ve hear no more of Phrynichus, and the earli-
est date at which he is mentioned as winning the tragic prize is
r,.c. 511. His contemporary, Chcerilus, is suid to have appeared
before the public as early as u.c. 524, and to have lived to a
great age. AVe are not able, however, to assign to him any
share in the development of tragedy (though he is suid to have
done something for the costumes of the actors),- or to form any
opinion of his merits as a dramatist. 3
1 Thus in the Ih'/j/j/xcu the chorus jirobably danced an intricate sort of
sword-dance,
- Kara rims TO?S Trpoffwirtiois Kal rrj aKcvri ril'V &TO\WV t'7rex e '/ )7 ?< re '
Suidus .t. r. X.
' J I'hotius (Patriarch of Constantinople about A.O. 850) quotes a verso
THE DRAMA : EARLY TRAGEDY.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I.
METRE, DIALECT, AND DIVISIONS OF TRAGEDY.
ni the dra^ia had its origin
in tin' choral songs in honour of
Dionysus, the essence of drama is
the dialogue. In that early stage
of the drama, when tragedy and the
satyric drama were not yet diffe-
rentiated, and when consequently
tragedy proper was not yet marked
by the statelincss which after-
wards characterised it, the metre of
the dialogue was the trochaic tetra-
meter. With the separation, how-
ever, of the satyric element from
tragedy there came a change in the
metre of the dialogue. Troehaics
were probably still the form into
which the lively dialogue of the
satyrs was thrown ; but for the
dialogue of tragedy the iambic tri-
meter was perceived to be the ap-
propriate expression. Iambics are
the verses into which the conver-
sation of real life most frequently
unintentionally fall, and iambics
were the versus into which the con-
versation of tragedy was instinc-
tively thrown. The tendency to
model the dialogue of tragedy on
that of life, which displayed itself
thus early, continued to develop
steadily throughout the hi>t<>ry of
tragt-dy. It shows itself partly in
the metrical constitution of the
verse, and partly in the disposition
of tiie verses. Of ail the tragedians,
J-'.schylus observed the strictest
rules of versification, and his suc-
cessors worked with irreuter free-
dom, udmittinir, ' .'/., with increas-
ing livquency divisions wldeh lie
avoided. The iambic verse thus,
although it grew laxer. came to pos-
sess more variety and more move-
ment, and to reflect more diivctlv
the emotions of the speakers. The
disposition of the verses shows the
same growing tendency to lightness
and rapidity ol action. Set speeches
of any considerable length must re-
tard the movement of a play ; but
the conflict of wills, which is the
basis of all tragedy, demands for its
adequate representation a duel of
words, in which the thrust and
parry of argument follow on each
other with the rapidity of foils in
a fencing-match. Hence the prac-
tice, common to all the tragedians
but less frequent in .Kschylus than
in his predecessors, of stichomuthia,
or dialogues in which each speech
consists of one line only. Hence,
too, the further process (of which
only two instances are to be found
in -Kschylus, Sept. 217 and /'. T.
980) of dividing a single line be-
tween two or even three characters
(the portions of a line thus divided
received, by a metaphor from wrest-
ling, the name dvTtXa/ioi). Finally
may be here mentioned the recur-
rence of interjections outside the
verse altogether, a device adapted
for the expression of outbursts of
feeling, which is more frequent in
Kuripides than in Sophocles, and
ill Sophocles than in .Kschylus.
\ ivaeity and rapidity were not
all that was aimed at in the dispo-
sition of the iambics of tragedy.
Symmetry also was sought after;
and as the antistrophe of a chorus
corresponds to the strophe, so the
iambics which stand connected wi: h
the chorus not unfrequently corre-
spond in number. 1 Icii.v t h, prac-
tice of symmetrical iii~!" >-!!i"ll eX-
t^nded to speeches which stand in
t, /,'rivn u.(f .iarnXfes 'i>' XoiniXo! e 'jarivois ii:i. 3"),
s taken to mean tiiat Chii-rilus excelled in satyric .iraina.
ibscure. ami, if it were intelligible, not kliuwing wlio was
the author, we should Uot know what value to put on the verse as evidence.
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
r-o connection with the chorus ; and,
especially in Euripides, we find that
in the set speeches of two contend-
ing persons, the number of lines in
the reply corresponds exactly to
that of the speech to which it is an
answer.
The dialect of the chorus is not
real but conventional Doric, because
the choral odes were originally
Doric dithyrambs, and the various
kinds of literary composition tended
in Greece to adhere to the dialect
in which they were first composed.
It is in the history of the chorus
that we find the explanation of its
dialect ; and there, too, we find the
explanation of its metres. The
chorus originated in the worship of
Dionysus, and thus it inherited and
transmitted to tragedy the nume-
rous kinds of metre which the in-
genuity of poets and the approval
of the people had stamped as pecu-
liarly adapted for expressing the
various emotions roused by the
worship of the wine-god. Hymns
of praise, processional songs, strains
of exaltation or lamentation, had
provided for tragedy various metri-
cal systems, the dactylic, anapfes-
tic, trochaic, iambic, iambo-troehaie,
choriambic, logacedic, and cretic.
These metres tragedy worked out
in its own way, developing some
and neglecting others. Trochaic
strophes, simple in structure and
profound in their ell'ect upon the
feelings, gave way, as tragedy de-
velops! its own style, before iambic
strophes, which adapt themselves
more speedilv to sudden changes of
feeling. A still further result of
the tendency thus shown was the in-
troductionprobably by Euripides
of iambo-trochaics, and the culti-
vation of logatedie versos larjvly
to the exeiusion of other metres.
]>ut although some metres were
thus specially cultivated by the
tragedians the chorus was all the
time declining in importance- and
giving way before the development
of the ess'-ntially dramatic elements
of the drama. Thus the lyrics of
the chorus became not only re-
duced in length, but less carefully
composed and less wealthy in variety
of metres.
The ode which the chorus sang
when it first entered was called the
Parodos ( Pollux, iv. 108, ij ntv efoodot
TOV %opou Trctpooo? KciXf ITCH). Origi-
nally it was prefaced by some ana-
ptests delivered by the Coryphneus
or leader of the chorus as it marched
in. Then the melic part was sung
by the whole chorus grouped round
the altar or thymele in the middle
of the orchestra. After that, the
chorus took its proper place between
the thymele and the stage. This
dated from the time before tragedy,
when the dithyramb was sung
round the altar of Dionysus in
honour of the god. lint in course
of time the anapaests were dropped,
and a piece of music substituted in
their place. The chorus marched
straight to its place in the orchestra,
and there not round the altar
sang the strophe and antistrophe of
which the melic was composed. In
the Persians, the Suppliants, and
the Rlte^is. the play opens with the
parodos ; but in all the other plays
we possess, the parodos is preceded
by a speech or speeches from one or
more of the actors, which speech or
speeches are called the Prologue..
The introduction of a prologue is
ascribed to Thespis in a passage
professing to be quoted from Aris-
totle (Themistius. xxvi. p. 382. 17,
oi> Trf>offi~oi.i.ev TUI 'ApiffTOTf\ei on r6
fj.iv TTpCiirov 6 xopos eidul'v ffOtv ei'r
TOL>S 6(oi' i s, Qfiriris Of irp6\oyov re
/ecu pTJa'tf fif i ,ofj / ). In the Ajar,
the Alctftiy, and the lit Una, the
chorus leaves the theatre in the
middle of the play If.;/, in older
that Ajax may kill himself) ;
its re-entry was called Epiparo'ios
(Pollux, iv. Iu,S, TI o( K r J.-a Xjitiu.v
eo<3o? d'j wdXif iLGivVTw /.'.fTairra-
<7iS, 7] 06 p-tTO. Tai'TIJV ffuOOOS tTTLTTa.-
pooos i.
The other songs of the chorus
were called Sta.-rima, because they
were sung Lv the, chorus, not
THE DRAMA : EARLY TRAGEDY.
whilst entering or at the altar, but
when standing in its usual place
in the orchestra. The number of
stasima was usually four, thus
dividing the play into five parts.
Three of these parts were called
Episodes, i.f. the three which were
both preceded and followed by a
stasimon, for the prologue and the
exodos were not called episodes.
The name "episode" goes bick to
the time when an netor was intro-
duced to give the chorus breathing-
time. The chorus first made its
entrance, efcroSoj, sang its dithy-
ramb, ami then the actor made
his appearance, (weiffoOLov. Thence
the name episode was extended to
all that occurred between two
fetasima. Normally the stasim.on
summarises and comments on that
part of the action of the play which
precedes it, but in Euripides it
frequently bears no relation to it:
the chorus has become as foreign
to the drama as the actor originally
was to the dithyramb.
"We have considered those parts
of a Oreek tragedy which are pecu-
liar to the chorus, and those which
are peculiar lo the actors : we now
have to examine those which arise
from communication between the
chorus and the actors. With re-
spect to ordinary dialogue between
an actor and the l-ader of the
chorus, there is nothing to add to
what we have said as to dialogue
between the actors: it is in iambics
and in conventional oid. Attic. Hut
wh< n the ac tors enter into the
melic (i.f. the | art sun,') of the
tragedy, there arise new divisions
of the play, First we have the
('ommos : the commos is a Ivric of
laineiitatinii. In metre and dialect
U resembles tiie nilier lyrics of the
chi'i us, but it iiiit'i-rs from thi-m in
that, a.- the a 'tors take part in it,
it is dr.iiintie. Tie- si.isima ac-
company, the coiunii partake in
the action of the play. Next we
have the s >lii;s !rm the sta^eiro.
tnrb TT)S ffKvi>is\. When once the
dramatic element had been allowed
in the coinmos to have a share in
the lyrics, it was inevitable that it
should encroach ; and the result
was the songs from the stage, which
were lyrics sung by the actors
alone, either by several (TO d/j.o3ala)
or by one, solo (fj.ov^Sia.). Eventu-
ally the songs from the stage be-
came, as lyrics, more important
even than the chorus, and Euri-
pides carried the composition of
monodies to its greatest height.
The musical instrument used in
the theatre was the flute; not so
much, as is sometimes said, because
the penetrating notes oi this instru-
ment were needed if the music was
to be heard all over the theatre,
but probably because of the tradi-
tional connection of the flute with
ecstatic worship, such. e.t stately o; trie/
dances in trugeuv, to the indecent
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
cordax of comedy. To associate by the movements and the grouping
dancing with tragedy is hard for of the choreutae, would naturally
us at the present time ; but we among the Greeks tend to take
may understand it if we reflect that harmonious and recurring forms,
the chorus during the action of the and thus be "dancing." In this
play could not stand cold and im- respect, as in others, less and less
passive, but must by some byplay attention was paid to the chorus as
have expressed the feelings sup- the drama developed. Pratinasand
posed to be aroused by the events Phrynichus made much more of
of the drama ; and this expression the dances of the chorus than did,
of feeling by gesture aud attitude, Sophocles and Euripides.
CHAPTER II.
AESCHYLUS.
THE facts of .^Eschylus' life which are known to us are unfor-
tunately insignificant, alike in number and in meaning. They
tell us little of his mental growth or of his artistic development.
He was born B.C. 525 and died B.C. 456. These dates imply
that the whole of the mature life of ^Eschylus fell in the period
of the Persian wars, and so came under the influence of all the
feelings which the great events of that period caused or inten-
sified among the Greeks. Before these wars the Greeks were
conscious that they were one people. Their community of
language, customs, and religion was an internal force and co-
hesion which resulted in a Pan-Hellenic sentiment. But the
consciousness of unity thus generated might have remained
sterile had not hostile pressure by the Persian power brought it
into operation, and converted the mere barren consciousness into
a sentiment of Pan-Hellenism fruitful both in the world of
action and the world of thought. In later times, as the fear of
the Persian passed away, the feeling of Pan-Hellenism again
ceased to be operative. But ^Esehylus was exposed to the full
strength of the sentiment, and his view of tilings w r as much
influenced by it. He was exposed to it not merely as a Greek,
but as a citi/en of that state in which the feeling was deepest.
Athens profited by the sentiment of nationality among the
Greeks at this time, not because she was looked upon, as was
Sparta, as the head of the Greeks, but in that she made sacrifices
for the common interests and the liberty of Hellas unparalleled in
(5 reek history. Also /Kschylus' interest in the public events of
his lime was not merely that of a spectator philosophical or
political or that of a historian, but that of an actor. He fought
THE DRAMA : ^SCIIYLUS. 193
with conspicuous courage at Marathon, at Platsea, and at Salaniis.
As one of those Athenians who were said (inaccurately) to be the
first Greeks that dared to even look upon the Persians, he had
risked his life at Marathon and had sacrificed his home before
Salamis, and had thereby shown that he, like his fellow-citizens,
felt and was proud of his nationality as a Hellene. And he shows
in his poetry the effect which the overthrow of the Persian
had upon his religious views. To all Greeks the hand of the
gods was clearly visible in the Persian defeat. To Herodotus it
was only the greatest of many instances of the Xemesis which
visited the too-powerful. To ./Kschylus it was a confirmation
of the awful might of the gods and the nothingness of the
mightiest of men. That the gods showed their strength at
Marathon and at Salamis was a national conviction, of which
./Kschylus, least of all men, could escape the effects. Horn at
Kleusis, he must from his earliest years have been moved by
the mysterious processions he beheld there, and still more by
the mystery of the rites which he was not yet permitted to see.
Sprung, too, of a noble family which was connected with the
celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries, he must have felt the
effect of family traditions fitted to develop his speculations on
the might and majesty of the gods. That his family was noble
and had taken an energetic part in politics, and that his brother
met a glorious death at Marathon, are facts which go to account
for the bold and powerful character of the poet, but otherwise
throw no light on his life or work.
/Eschylus died in Sicily, hut whether he paid only one visit
or more to that island, there is no evidence to show. If, as is
assumed with some probability, he went there at the invitation
of Iliero, this must have happened before Iliero's death in n.o.
467. J'.ut as he lived eleven years ionger, and during this
period several of his plays were produced on the Athenian stage,
it has been supposed that he made at least two, perhaps three,
journeys to Sicily. We do not know, however, that it was at
Iliero's invitation he went to Sicily; while, if Aristophanes
could L r et his comedies produced by friends, perhaps the tra-
gedies of .E.-chvlus rouid also be put on the Mage in the author's
absence. That .Eschylus composed a play, the 1C
A'llint, in celebration of. or su^Lf-Med by, the foundatii
town .Etna in H c. 476, leave,- ii quite unsettled
was in Sicily immediately after that, date; nor .nili<>r'i ,and the Eumeiiidi-8, requires three
actors : and although the Prometheus H is the conflict of Xerxes with the Greeks ; hut
no attempt is made to put this on the stage : it is brought In-fore
the audience, not as a dramatist would now be expected to bring
it, but as an epic poet would have done, i.i'. it is simply related
by a Messenger.
The third point in which the
turity of the drama at this time
second actor is put. What dia
mainly carried on between tin- (
not between the two actors ; and
although he uses two actors in hi.-
them than could have been efl
As to the date of the Su-jiji/itaifs, there is no external evidence,
198 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
and its composition and style do not enable us to settle its date
relatively to the Persians and the Seven against Theses. The
action of a story may be said to consist of the attempt of a
central figure to do something, and of the opposition encoun-
tered by, and the consequences following on, this effort. In an
epic this action is related ; in the drama it should be acted before
the audience. Now in this respect the Suppliants as a work of
art is in advance of both the other plays. In the Persians the
formal influence of the epic is still so strong, that the action of
the play is related, not acted. In the Seven against Thebes
the action of the play is partly carried on before the spectator,
inasmuch as the central figure, Kteocles. appears on the stage,
although the opposing figure, Polynices, does not appear, but
is only heard of. In the Suppliants, both the central figures,
the chorus and the herald, the representative of the sons of
-^Egyptus, come upon the stage, and thus the attempt of the
chorus to obtain protection in Argos is made, and opposed,
and carried out before the eyes of the spectator. On the other
hand, the Suppliants is in some respects less mature than the
Seven. The latter play requires a supernumerary in addition to
the two actor?, while the Suppliants contains only three char-
acters and needs only two actors. More important is it that
in the Suppliants the chorus, both in the number of lines
assigned to it and in its importance for the plot, occupies the
greater part of the play. On the ground, then, that the advance
of the drama may in some degree be measured by the decline
of the chorus, the Seven might be put later than the Suppliants.
lint the Eumenide* may serve to show us that logical develop-
ment and chronological succession are not always identical, for
the chorus plays a more important part in the Eumenides than
in the Seven, yet the Eum v\ e see the f.>ive of
tradition. When only one actor appeared in a tragedy, he ap
2OO HISTORY OK GREEK LITERATURE.
peared successively in different parts, changing his costume
during a choral ode, and although, with the introduction of a
second and a third actor, the necessity for this severe distribu-
tion of the play ceased, the distribution was not at once cast
aside. Even in the Agamemnon, the greatest of the works of
vEschylus. this tripartite division of the play is observed. Yet
not only is the Agamemnon the grandest of the plays of ^Eschy-
lus, but the command which it shows of the advances then
being made in the management of the drama by Sophocles
indicates that it must be one of the latest. A third actor is
required, and the chorus is increased to fifteen choreutre. The
character of Clytemestra is drawn in such detail as shows the
influence of Sophocles on his rival. Pathos appears, fur the
first time, in the treatment of Cassandra, and the irony which
is distinctive of Sophocles is clearly to be discovered in the
Agamemnon.
The Choepltori is but little connected with the Agamemnon.
Each drama is independent of the other. The connection of
the Choephori ; ^]i the EuYii<:nis is closer. The latter drama
takes up the s*^ry of the former immediately, and the scene of
the Eumenides (Delphi) is, as it were, formally announced at
the end of the C/ioephori.
The characters of yEschylus are not drawn with minute detail,
but in majestic outline. There is little of the psychological
analysis which is the result of a developed art. His figures
are commanding or terrible, and their very silence is such as to
inspire awe. 1 In the Persians, the queen-mother, Atossa, listens
in long and painful silence to the news of the Persian disaster. 2
In the Prometheus JJound, Prometheus endures in impressive
silence all the taunts of his mocking torturers. In the Af/a-
memnon, Cassandra is present but speechless, whilst Clytemestra
receives with over-acted affection the husband she is about to
murder. ^Eschylus' employment of the eloquence of silence is
interesting:, not merely because of its effect in his hands, but
because it illustrates vividly the art with which he turns to
advantage the very obstacles which the rudimentary state of
the drama in his time threw in his way. AVhen the dramatist
had only two actors to perform a play, he might, by means of
supernumeraries, have on the stage m< re than two characters at
once, as in the I'roiiT'tlums Bne is /Eschvlus pathetic. AVhenthe spirit of prophecy leaves
her she becomes a thorough woman, and a woman whose mis-
fortunes and impending death unite to touch us with a pity
whieh /Eschvlus does not at other times appeal to. In the
delineation of Clvtemestra we have detailed work such as is not
to be found eL-ewhere in /Eschylus. In the quiet contempt
with which, in almost her first words, she receives the chorus'
suggestion that she has learnt the news of Troy's fall by means
of a dream, she reveal- her impiety. Her unwomanly self-
reliance is shown in tiie disdain with which throughout she
ignores the Argive elders. To appreciate this, we should com-
pare her with Atossa in the I'^r^iai'i^, /Eschylus' type of a
womanly woman. Atossa, in the same situation as Clytemestra,
puts a belief, fully justified by the event, in the dreams sent bv
Heaven, consults the chorus of a-jed Persians, and follows their
adviee \vitii the most implieit reliance. In the welcome with
wiiieh ( '1 vtemeMra receives Agami-mnon, the unreality of IIT
words i- d"l:eal<-'.v revealed by the rhetorie witn whieh sue
s'.uhlly overacts h-r pait, and by the self-consciousness with
which she ha-!''iis to assure Agamemnon tnat she i~ not deceiv-
ing him. l";> t" tiiH point of the play, any indications of h"r
r>-al fei'lin ;< which have escaped her have been invohintaiv.
When, however, Agamemnon is safely in h^r toils an>i she is
left alone with ( 'a-sandra, then Ciytemestra, parlly in ICT S'-cu-
^ . '--' o-,-s a little of h.-r
a bad woman's
-- with be:ng a
slave. To all ClytiMiiestra's attempt < to extort a wont from her,
( 'a-sandi'a r''pli'-s with a silence more powerful :n a wo:nan
above ail than words. ( ';ytem"-tra then enters the pua< p eto
comnrit lier crime, and when afterwards she i.- r'Ve.dod in th>)
2O2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
triumph of her deed, she glories in what she has done with an
intensity of passion terrible even for /Eschylus. This speech,
which is soaked with blood, is the culmination of the violence
of Clytemestra's character. The reaction now slowly begins.
Hitherto, absorbed in the excitement of entrapping her prey,
she has had no thought for aught else. Xow she begins to
justify her work, and her self-justification and her self-reliance
are of so little avail that she must openly declare that she looks
for her "great shield of courage" to /Egisthus, who even yet
has not mustered spirit enough to crawl from his hiding-place.
The chorus in the /Eschylean drama has a double function.
As the representative of the lyrical element of the drama, it is
the means by which ^schylus conveys speculations on moral
and religious problems, a belief in the justice of the gods,
and above all in the righteousness of Zeus. 1 On the other
hand, the chorus takes a part in the action of the play. The
actors represent gods or heroes ; the chorus represents averngo
humanity. 2 Accordingly we find in ^Eschylus the character of
the chorus drawn in firm outlines. In the Aga?nemno?i, the
chorus is composed of old men, and, as is natural in old men,
they like to dwell on old memories, 3 they prefer the gloomy
view of things, 4 are doubtful and cautions, 5 and are* reliant on
oracles and dark sayings. 6 At the same time, old and weak as
they are, under the spur of a crime so revolting to humanity as
that of Clytemestra, they speak out in open condemnation " and
brave vEgistluis' threats. 8
In the Prometheus, as in the Eumt>nim the time of Aristophanes' at least, the choric odes
of ^-lv-chylus have been accused of excessive length, and their
length is one of the conseijiiences of the original predominance
of the chorus and the rudimentary state of the drama in his
time. Although by the introduction of a second actor he made
the dialogue the most important part of the drama, 10 Mi 11. like
the spee-ches of the actors, the odes of the chorus for some time
retained an inordinate length. Those long speeches and odes
are, from a modern point of view, a drag upon the action of the
THE DRAMA: AESCHYLUS. 203
play, and contribute largely to the immobility of the vE-chylean
drama. On the, other hand, the variety of emotions depicted in
an ode gave an amount of light and shade which, to a people
accustomed to recitations and new to the drama, doubtless,
compensated greatly for the absence of dramatic action.
In the style of /Eschylus we see the man. His indepen-
dence and force of character are shown in the words he coined, 1
in his martial expressions, 2 in his fondness for imagery drawn
from the action of the more pugnacious or dangerous animals, 3
from the chase, 4 from Held or river sports, 5 and his naval
metaphors. 1 ' His metaphors and similes are usually bold, and
sometimes startling ; thus Iphiirenia is described as having, not
a fair face, but a fair prow ; 7 the sea covered with floating
corpses after a storm is likened to a Held spotted over with
flowers ; and Clytemestra compares herself, drenched with the
blood of her husband, to a field wet with rain from heaven.
To claim simplicity for /Eschylus' style may sound para-
doxical, but his type of sentence is simple. He prefers co-
ordinate to subordinate sentences, ami asyndeton and anacolu-
thon by their frequent occurrence mark an early simplicity of
syntax. His obscurity is largely due to his abundant meta-
phors ; these are based on close observation of nature, 8 but are
too luxuriant. He suffers from a plethora of ideas and a pleo-
nasm of imagery, and hence becomes obscure. 15ut this is
throughout the spontaneous overflow of a poet's mind, and not
the overcrowded decoration of artificial and laboured rhetoric.
The seven plays by /K>chylus which we have were certainly
far frrm being the only plays he wrote. The rest have, how-
ever, perished, and all we know about them is what is to be in-
ferred from the quotations made from them by various ancient
writers. These ([notations, when gathered together and placed
under the names of the plays from which they were quoted, are
1 /.'.'/. in tho Annm'-rmiiin : SffJ,yior^p7j^, yvio.SapTjs, \ayooalrri^, Kti>a.- l yri<;,
8?;uio7r\?if')js. 7ra\iu i UT/\'77S. aii'oXa.uTTTjs, /uf \ctu7ra-, 7)5. jT\r7ipfC"/s, oaoicfrpf TT/;?,
iiH'oua.f.'!S, \u(u('j'7;s, iouTfH.-jijS, 5i]U.oppl(j)l]S, :md I()1 ' others ;;.*, 7>~'8.
- A'.;/. xui'bs fK 5opiird\Tov, ''on the upear-throwini; h;uul," for the right
hand, A;i. 115: or -, i rcu/roi cu'x'/j?} for "u \v<>ni:in's disposition."
3 /-.'..'/. Mitnnvs. A' 40; ,>. 239; lions, Ay. 696;
Wolves, (.'if. 413; vij>. s, Clui. 240 ; slinks, J'crs. 8t.
* /.'.;/. A'/. 12-. 840, n';2, ii v>, 1347 ; ('fin. 5^17; I'ITS. 97.
8 E.'i. Ail. 340, 67-. 0:5, 10^0, ic" i, IT;;. 134'"', itoor.
6 /.".'/. A i. 775. 97'! i .-<'./.. 1500 ; C/iii. ^i.
' crrouaroj Ka\\LTrpupov, Ay. 227.
8 For this cf. Aft. 548, ?65, 887.
2O4 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
called the " Fragments " of ^Eschylus. Tlie play from which
more quotations happen to have been made by ancient writers
than from any other is the Prometheus Unbound. The reason
is that in the Prometheus Unbound ^Eschylus inserted some
geographical descriptions dealing with remote nations, which
proved to be useful to later writers on geography, such as Strabo
(born B.C. 66, died A.D. 24) or Arrian (born about B c. 100),
who quoted from them.
Many of the citations from -^Eschylus occur in lexicographers,
such as Hcsychius (who lived about A.D. 400), who inserted in
their lexicons strange or remarkable words found in the tra-
gedians, and explained them, appending the name of the play
in which they occurred. Many quotations, also, consisting of
single words, occur in the grammarians of various periods, who
quote to prove the usage of Attic writers. From such quota-
tations as these we can learn little more than the names of the
lost plays, and we find the names of altogether eighty-two.
Many of these plays were on the same subjects, and some have
the same names, as those of later tragedians. Thus yEschylus
as well as Euripides wrote an Iphigenia and a Ileracluhe. The
Bastarides and Eni were on the same subject as the Bacchae of
Euripide>. The Women of sEina was probably an outcome of
the tragedian's visit to Sicily. The Psyrhostasia or Weighing
of the Souls seems, according to the description of it given by
Plutarch, to have been very characteristic of ^Eschylus. In the
first place, the author had the daring to lay the scene in heaven
(this we learn from Pollux, iv. 130, a grammarian who lived
about A.D. i So). This was probably the only time in the Greek
drama that Zeus was brought before the eyes of the spectators.
Xext, he took the subject from Homer ; third, as in the Kume,-
niifi is based to ridicule Homer. Both
,/E-chylus and thn Homfromastix sei-m to have been ignorant of the specific
difference between dramatic and narrative poetry.
THE DRAMA : AESCHYLUS. 2O5
stage, high in the air, on which lie made Zeus and the other
gods appear.
Finally, there are a number of quotations from the lost plays
of /Kschylus in an anthology made by Stobosus (about A.D. 520),
which .-hows that, even then, many plays survived which have
since been lost. These quotations were apparently chosen by
Stoba-us on account of their general applicability to life and
human affairs, rather than because they surpassed in poetic
merit the rest of the play from which they were taken, e.g.
" useful, not extensive, knowledge makes the sage," or "bad
men successful arc not to be borne." " I!rass is the mirror of
the body, wine of the mind," may remind us that water and
brass were what the (/.recks used as looking glasses. Late
learning, which provoked the mirth of Plato and Theophrastus,
is not always matter for raillery. '' To learn wisdom is an honour
even to the aged." Until Christianity taught us otherwise, men
la-Id that "death is preferable to a hard life, and to never be,
better than to have been born to suffer." Again, /Kschylus said,
"An oath is no pledge for a man ; the man is the pledge for the
oath." If "a fool fortunate is a grievous burden,'' yet there is
a word of hope for us in " Heaven helps the man who works."
The si ins of /Esehylus, and his descendants for some genera-
tions, appear to have followed the dramatic profession, as also
did those of Sophocles and Euripides; and it is accordingly
u>ual to speak of the family or school of .-"Kschylus, or Sophocles,
or Kuripides. Then 1 is. however, no evidence to show that
such a sell, i, 4 worked on a common arti.-tic method, whether
inherited from their illuMrious ancestor or peculiar to tiiem-
selves : nor is there evidence to show that they had any bond
of community beyond that of th>-ir common a:ice.-try. The,
ti.at they alone bad the right to produce tln'ir
lays, 01 iin the case of the school of /K-chylus) that
. irked by an adherem 1 - to the tril_ r y. arc di.-pi.ivrd.
ons containing the < Hicial didascalia 1 . The-e in-
how t'nat certainly in n.c. 340 three i lays were not
igy of ^Kschylu.
not by the sch
prota-_ f oni; to
us with Pericles in conducting the naval war
n_ainst Sanios. His duties t",ik
ly we hav
wiio met him there
tuohiijjs lie s.. excited ulioul an unknown cnini'iv
titni ': i.;l 1 he Ar 'imn liuil i.o I..AVIT TO reject tin- lewdly appointed ju.i^-s.
" lint it is uniy a (Inillitf ill c'onjert urefi niii I'hn. N. II. xvia ':'.
(\ I. .\ i. 2,^7: ilo^MvXf/s Ko\wi'j'}^fv'K\.\7;i'0-auia? ? r .-.
s Al'istojihulH'S nf l!y/:uitintii. wiin \vu!>! in 1 an aut horit v. i'..n-s Hot
guarantee til" st at eiin^nt , in tin- \r_niiiri.t to tin' An'ii ;!. that Sonhoolrs
eleiaidii wa-; due to tiie An*iiii'i/e, not u\v;il or military ciiiiiin.ui'l, \va.s awar.l.-a to ;i vi':torious jioL-t.
2O8 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
in his Epidemic l (a record, of the visits of celebrated men to
Chios) says : " I met the poet Sophocles in Chios at the time
when he came as strategus to Lesbos. He is a playful man
over his wine and witty. He was entertained by the Athenian
consul, Hermesilaus. a friend of his. In the course of conver-
sation, Sophocles happened to quote the line of Phrynichus,
' In purple cheeks there shines the light of love.' Whereupon
a schoolmaster from Eretria or Erythrae remarked, ' You are a
great poet, Sophocles, but, for all that, it was inaccurate of
Phrynichus to speak of purple cheek?. If an artist were to put
purple cheeks in a picture, they would not look beautiful. It
is utterly wrong to compare what is beautiful to something
which is not.' Sophocles replied with a laugh, ' Then, sir. in
opposition to universal opinion, you do not approve of Simonides'
line, " A maid who speaks with purple lips," nor of the poet
who speaks of golden-haired Apollo 1 ? for if a painter made the
god's hair gold and not black, the painting would be a bad one.
is or of the poet who talks of rosy-fingered Dawn 1 for an artist
who used paint of a rose-colour would give her the hands of a
dyer, not of a pretty woman 1 ' " A roar of laughter extinguished
the schoolmaster, ami Ion goes on to say that Sophocles, having
cheated a pretty child into giving him a kiss, explained to the
company, ' Pericles says I am a poet, not a general ; so I am
practising generalship. Do not you think my stratagem suc-
ceeded very well?" Ion adds, ''Public business he did not
know or care much about, except as belitted a decent Athenian."
The story is equally creditable to the discernment of Pericles
and the good temper of Sophocles. Pericles, moreover, seems
to have acted on his opinion. Ucing the chief stratogus, Peri-
cles directed the movements of the other generals, ami accord-
ingly, so far as possible, engaged Sophocles with fetching up
reinforcements and such work. In fact, it \vas because he was
sent to Lesbos for reinforcements and supplies that Sophocles
got an opportunity for the stiatagem which Ion describes. It
was the most succc-.-sful stratagem of the war, so far as Sopho-
cles was concerned, for when Pericles had to leave him to con-
duct the siege of Sainos, he at dice contrived to get defeated.
Few other facts are known with regard to his life. Whether
the Sophocles whom Aristotle mentions- as having been one of
the ten Probuli who consented to establish the tyranny of the
Four Hundred in I! c. 4 13 is the poet is uncertain. The story of
bis being accused by his son loplion of madness, and of his
vindicating his sanity by reading the CZ',V//<,s, is full of dilli-
1 Aiiii-n;i.-us, xiii. 6o4E. - Hint. iii. 18. 6.
THE DRAMA: SOPHOCLES. 2O9
culties. 1 Sophocles died about B.C. 405, and there are various
supernatural stories as to the manner of his death. 2
Before proceeding to consider the tragedies of Sophocles, we
may say that the -supposition as to Herodotus and Sophocles
having been acquainted is extremely probable. There are simi-
larities in certain passages of the two authors, 3 though too
much weight must not be as-igned to these similarities. We
have the beginning of an elegy by Sophocles dedicated to Hero-
dotus, 4 and Herodotus spent so much time in Athens that it is
almost impossible that he should not have met Sophocles. It
has been imagined that there are in Herodotus' history traces
of views and information which would naturally come only
from Pericles ; but at any rate, it is not unreasonable to imagine
that Herodotus may have met Sophocles at the house of Peri-
cles. Wherever they met, they would sympathise. Their way
of looking at the world, their views of Fate and Xemesis, were
the same.
P>y bringing down philosophy from the skies to the earth,
Socrates gave a ne\v directii.m to philosophy, which philosophy
1 It is not impossible that the story is bnsed on a misunderstanding of a
scene in some comedy in which Sophocles and lophon m;iy have, been made
fun of. At any rate, a charge of madness could not have been brought before
the Phratores, as the story lias it, for such cases were brought before the
Archon only. Lex. Se>/. 199. 10, and Poll. viii. 89.
The story that he was choked by a grape originates in a stupid misun-
derstanding of the younger Simonides' epigram (Anth. Pal. vii. 20)
'E e'peTrro/xero?.
These linos, which mean that Sophocles died whilst engaired on a tragedy,
which, being a tragedy, was dedicated to Uacehus, were taken lift/rail v.
3 A'.'/, the dream of ( 'ly temest ra. El. 417, and of Astyages. Ildt. i. i )8,
the reference in Tr}. the description of the Egyptians in <>. ('. 5157. Tno
passage in Antii. 905 (,15 is almost identical with Hilt. 3. 1 1 j. In both
cases tiie argument is that a sister, when her parents are dead, is bound to
sacrifice everything to her brother, because lie cannot i.e replaced. As to
the Anti /in', hou.-ver. it has I.eeii sai.l that this ar^uim-nt is inconsistent,
sophistic il. i.-nohic. and mist. laced. Fiotn this s.-:iie liave i'lfi-rred that
Sophocles has iiorrowed from Herodotus, or that the passage in the Antii>nii the other hand, it is >aid tiiat Sophocleti >iio\vs his truth to
nature in making Aiitigone'.-, fi-.'lini;-. befm e ami at" NT 'her de.-d liili'erei.t . an 1
that tii" ar^'.im-'iit is not sophistical or misplaced, but primitive, and appro-
priate in drt'ek. tii"U_;ii not :n modem times.
1'lut. .l/'.r. 70515; -
2IO HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
has retained to this day. In a different sense, Sophocles brought
down the drama from the skies to the earth, and the drama
still follows the course which Sophocles first marked out for it.
It was on the gods, the struggles of the gods, and on destiny
that zEschylus dwelt ; it is with man that Sophocles is con-
cerned. From this difference flow all the differences between
the two poets, and herein consists the advance which Sophocles
made in the development of the drama. Such action as the
plays of ^Eschylus possess they derive from the force of destiny.
"What is done by a character in the /Eschylean drama is, it is
true, consistent with that character. The murder of Agamem-
non could be expected from Clytemcstra alone. But although
she is suited to the deed and the deed to her, if we ask
icliy she murdered Agamemnon, we shall find that the reason
lies, not in her character nor in her circumstances but, in
her destiny. This conclusion is confirmed by the fact that
one critic attributes her act to wounded maternal feelings,
another to her adultery, and each critic rejects the reason
alleged by the other; whereas Clytemestra herself says it was
not she who killed Agamemnon, but the evil " destiny of the
Atridae" taking her form. In Sophocles, on the other hand,
the motive force of the drama is always to be found in the
passions of men, and not in the external action of destiny.
The Ajax of Sophocles commits suicide, not because he is fated
to do so, but because to him, after his disgrace, life is not
merely distasteful, but impossible. The force at work here is
internal, and consists in the feelings of Ajax. On the contrary,
the Orestes of /Eschylus has no proper motion of his own. He
is simply the channel through which the action of the gods
flows. "What he does is not his own doing, but what Apollo
bids. The force is from without, not from within. Contrast
this with Sophocles. Every action of (Edipus is the natural
necessary outcome of his character and his circumstances, and
vh'-n peace does come to him. it is from within ; whereas, in
the case of Ore.-tes, there is a purely external conflict between
Apollo and the Erinyes, and Orestes' absolution comes not from
within, but from without. In /Eschylus we have symbolism,
in Sophocles poetic truth.
Although, in Sophocles, the mainspring of man's actions is
men's passions, we ^till find fatalism in Sophocles, but not the
fatalism of /Eschyius. "With /Esclnlus, Atreus commits a
crime, and the punishment falls upon his children for genera-
tions in the shape of a destiny compelling them to crimes.
With Sophocles, the house of the Labdacidse is indeed under a
THE DRAMA : SOPHOCLES. 2 I I
similar curse, but the cause of CEdipus' deeds is not destiny, but
circumstances and himself. The fatalism of Sophocles is that
of Hero lotus, and probably of the ordinary Greek of the time.
It may be, illustrated from Herodotus. According to the his-
torian, (Jra-sus. the father of Atys, learning from an oracle that
his son was destined to perish by an iron weapon, confined him
to the house with the purpose of evading the doom foretold by
the oracle. The son, however, persuaded Croesus to allow him
to go to the chase, and then was accidentally killed by the very
person to whose care Croasus, in his dread of the oracle, had
intru.-ted him. This is the worst kind of fatalism, for it teaches
that man cannot avoid his fate, whatever he may do, and thus
encourages helpless and indolent resignation to an imaginary
necessity. 1 This was the fatalism which Sophocles found and
accepted. But if lie adopted this and other common beliefs,
lie, as a poet, by adopting them elevated and refined them.
It is probably impossible to discuss Sophocles' attitude to-
wards fatalism without reading into him at least some ideas
which could not be present to the mind of any Greek. It is
difficult to always realise that Sophocles knew nothing of the
free-will controversy, and consequently felt no alarm at fatalism.
Remembering, however, this fact, we shall not consider it a
paradox to say that Sophocles shows how men run on their fate
of their own free-will. (Edipus is warned by Apollo of his
doon:, and he fulfils his doom ; but all his acts are his own ;
neither man nor God can be blamed. The lesson as well as the
art of Sophocles is that man's fate, though determined by the
gods, depends on his actions, and his actions on himself and his
circumstances. The contradiction which to us is involvi d in
this did not exist for Sophocles. If Sophocles did n-t find
out any incompatibility between fiee \\i.l and fatalism, neither
did he see in fatalism any imputation ou the justice of thesis.
lnd"-d, the contrary is tin- case. Tin' action of the gods in
foretelling to (Kdipus and to Atys their fate j s open t > a double
con.-;ructi"ii. It is possible to regard it as mere cruel deception
(for the parents of whom (Kdipus wa- told were not the parents
that he supposed to be meant, nor w;is the weapon that actually
proved fatal the weapon which Atys supposed). I'.nt if this
vi"\v of the god-; was held by others, it wa< not the view of
Sophoele-;. ]n him we find IM complaint of the inju.-tice of
tin L.'"ds. On the coiitrarv, the gods warn man, a::d vet man
doe.- what they have, tried to save him f:o:a. The heavens
1 Auti j.,<; 2j'3. Cf. Jiseh. S. C. Th. 203. Plat,) (G-jr<). SUE) calls il a
2 I 2 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
speak to man, but he understands them not. If CEdipus is not
to be blamed, neither certainly are the gods. For Sophocles,
fatalism was consistent both with free-will and with the justice
of the gods ; on neither subject had he any doubts to solve.
Kor does his tragedy concern itself to give an answer to the
question, why do the innocent suffer 1 ? The innocent do sufl'er,
and that fact is the tragedy of life. His plays are not works of
theology ; their object is not to solve problems. The sufferings
of the innocent cause pity and fear, and thus serve in tragedy
to redeem the crudity of fatalism. When Deianira in her love
for her husband innocently causes his death, we feel the pity
Avhich it is the part of tragedy to excite ; and when we read of
CEdipus and his undeserved sufferings, we feel so much fear as
is implied in obeying the utterance "Judge not."
In this connection w r e may consider the ''irony of Sophocles."
In argument irony has many forms. That which best illus-
trates the irony of Sophocles is the method by which the
ironical man. putting apparently innocent questions or sugges-
tions, leads some person from one preposterous statement to
another, until, perhaps, the subject of the irony realises his
situation and discovers that when he thought he was most
brilliant or impressive, then he was really most absurd. There
are, or may be, three persons who assist at an ironical argu-
ment the ironical man, the subject, and the spectator ; and
they appreciate the irony at different times, the subject retro-
spectively, the ironical man prospect ively, and the spectator
contemporaneously. Their feelings will vary according to cir-
cumstances. The spectator may sympathise with the ironical
man or with the victim, and his feelings will be accordingly
those of enjoyment or of compassion. What the ironical man
feels will depend largely on his motive. He may feel amuse-
ment simply or triumph, or his object may be that of Socrates,
whose irony was intended to rouse men to a sense of their
ignorance and to a real desire for knowledge. In the case of
Socrah . successful irony must have been accompanied by the
consciousness of having rendered a service to philosophy, to
the person with whom he conversed, and to tho.-e who li.-iened.
We are no\\- in a position to si e how the term irony mav
be extended from its use as applied to argument, and be also
applied to human action. When (Kdipu.swas told by Apollo
that he would kill his father and commit incest with his
im>ther. he at once fled from his home at Corinth, and found
his way to Thebes. There he married the queen, became king,
was bie=t with children and a <'Ioriuus reign. When the
TIIK DRAMA : SOPHOCLES. 2 I 3
revelation comes, lie looks Lack upon his life only to see that
the flight from Corinth, which \\as to take him far from his
parents, led him to meet and kill his father and to wed his
mother ; that the children in whom he thought himself blest
are the fruit of incest, and that the glory of his reign was a
revolting horror. I>ut if his glance was retrospective, that of
the gods was prospective. Jlis feelings are such as no one
can help him to Lour the burden of : ' what, are those of the
gods'? That is a question to which Sophocles never gives an
answer. Perhaps he thought it inscrutable. But as ihere is
a third party to the irony of argument, so there is to the irony
of life, that is, the spectator. His feelings are not inscrutable.
Pity he will feel, and if the irony of Socrates could teach the
bystander a lesson against intellectual pride, the irony of Sopho-
cles may teach the spectator a lesson against moral pride.
For the full appreciation of the irony of Sophocles, and of
its artistic value in heightening the interest of the drama,
it must be remembered that whereas the torturing contrast
between the condition of (Kdipus. as he fancies it, and as it
really is, is only discovered by (Kdipus at the last moment,
this contrast is perpetually present from the beginning to the
spectator. The artistic value of this is double. In the lirst
place, the spectator having known the real state of things from,
the first, has all along been in the state of mind in which
CEdipus finds himself when the revelation has come ; and the
consequence is that the spectator needs no explanation from
CKdipus of his slate of mind, but comprehends and sympathises
at once with (Kdipus when lie blinds himself. Thus the
action of the drama is enabled to proceed with a directness and
rap;di'y which would be impossible if (Kdipus had to explain
the motive- of his self-niutiiation. In the second place, the
jimtra.-t between (Kdipus' fancied height of glory and his really
- position is piv-ent to the mind of the spectator through-
Thus every word in the drama has a doubled effect upon
lings.
drama owes its origin to nTr_'i"ii and its development
It is but another way of staling this fact to >ay that
of t'ne growth of the (ireek diaina was the diminution
religious significance. This is partly illustrated by the
dimiiii-hing importance of the ehoru-. It is ;uso illu-ti.it -d in
that di>plaeemen1 of de.-tinv by character as the motive force.
The characters of Sophocles arc bound up with his plots in
such an aiti-f.c and harmonious whole, ti.ut to attempt to cuu-
1 (.. T. 1414.
2 I 4 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
sider his characters apart is an unsatisfactory proceeding His
plots depend upon his characters, for the plot of a play consists
of the actions of the dramatis persona', and it is part of the
excellence of Sophocles that the actions of his dramatis personal
are motived, not by stage necessity or by an external destiny,
but by the character ascribed to them. On the other hand, it
is equally true that his characters depend upon his plots. The
frequent revolutions and the catastrophes of the Sophoclean
drama do not by themselves constitute the interest of the play,
as neither does the painting of character constitute the whole
or the most important part of his tragedies. The plot has its
intrinsic interest, but it also develops the characters. For in-
stance, unless Electra were deceived into believing that Orestes
was dead, the spectator would witness neither her despair, nor
the bold resolve which that despair serves only to create. If
Philoctetes were not first exalted to hope and then reduced to
helplessness, his pertinacity in abiding by his resolution would
not be brought into relief. Sophocles shows us not oidy the
action and outward bearing of a King (Edipus, but also the
inner struggles of feeling which result in action and outward
bearing. The spectator of the Agamemnon knows little more of
Clytemestra's character than does the chorus, or perhaps it is
that there is little more to know. The spectator of the Ajax,
on the contrary, knows of Ajax' inward struggles what no other
character but Ajax knows.
The criticism 1 that Euripides drew men as they are, Sophocles
as he ought, must not be understood to mean that Euripides
drew them with greater truth. Euripides' characters have not
unfrequently that worst of faults, faultlessness ; whereas Sophocles
never makes that mistake. Oedipus is proud and hasty ; Kleetra
is hard; Neoptolemus consents to practise a deception against
which his better feelings protest ; Antigone, when the moment
of action is over, becomes a thorough woman. Finally, the
truth with which Sophocles makes Antigone and Ajax regret
the life they are about to lose is apt to escape modern notice.
Christianity has so familiarised us with man's immortality that
we forget he is also mortal. But no (!reck writer forgot it,
least of all did Sophocles, and to this unforget fulness we owe
passages in Sonhocles of the grcatc-t beauty.
If we now proceed to examine the position and functions of
the chorus in the Soplioclean drama, we shall find its func-
tions much the same as in ./Kschylus, but its position much less
prominent. There are choral odes in Sophocles as in^'Eschylus,
1 Aristotle, Potties, 25, gives it as Sophocles' own criticism.
THE DRAMA : SOPHOCLES. 2 I 5
but they are much shorter. The chorus takes a ]>nrt in the
action of the play, but it is unimportant. In /Eschylus the
chorus is sometimes, e.g. in the I'C/'MC or the Eumenides, the
chief character of the play. In Sophocles the chorus is, as
it were, enclitic ; it always depends on one of the principal
characters, 1 in sympathy with whom it grieves 2 or rejoices 3 or
prays t> the gods. 4 In harmony with these duties, the chorus
always consi>ts of free people (not of slaves, as in the Choepliori
of /Eschylus), cither in a humble position, as the sailors in the
Pkilodetes ami the Ajax. or of an age or sex from which action
would not be expected, e.ij. the old men of the Kinrj Qtdipux,
the (Eut sometimes, ;i ; ; in the I'/iilnctclcs or in
th" .1 nii : !, in,', on the cln.raeler opposed to the hero or heroine.
- K.(i Aj. r^i i. (i. i'-^-i'7; El. 121-123. 130, 137 ti 1 ^'/., i^^etsuf., 173
tt fi'i/. ; Ti'itfii. ITS. 125 tt ni'i- , ij'-> it Sit/.
3 /.'..','. Ant. icx) 154.
4 I-'..'!. <>. T. 1^1, 187, 202, 2o.i, 2-/> ; Trnch. 04 ; FJ. 162. 17^.
5 Stv Aj. 165, 22 ,,'245. SOo, 925. 1185-1223; J'lti/vf 16.-)," 708-718, 721,
8v\ 85;. v'\;-^"5, n-'fi, i-K'v- <' <-' ^by--~o, 82^, ct ?t>j., 1054 cf .vi^., 1211
it .-',.'
' /.'.' -ilu:i-
tioii. tii. i? is, tin- [liairue. At't.-r tlie .^oer.e with Teiroi.is. in hieii (lv i;inu
is hiinself iicmiscii of hcinu' the i-iiusc of the phe^iie, ( 'reoii is excect'-i to
foine :tinl ilefeiici iiiiiisi-lf f i "in ( EC 1 i j -U s" ch .1 1 u'e ''f eol'iiision witii '['ii\'>:;is.
The interv.il ol w.iitii:^' is filled up by an ude, exi'ivs.Miig the lioiibt :c tu w;,,j
is tiie L,'iii!ty in. in ; and so on.
7 As .E>cuylus einiiloys thret? actors in the Orcstcia, this innovation must
Lave beirii n;:ide by Sophocles before B.C. 400.
2 I 6 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
The real change effected by Sophocles was not that he intro-
duced a greater number of interlocutors, but that he transferred
the burden of the piece almost entirely to the actors. At the
same time that he practically excluded the chorus from the
development of the action of the play, he developed the func-
tions of the chorus in the sphere to which it was now confined.
He raised the number of the choreutae from twelve to fifteen,
and it is reasonable to suppose that, as a consequence of this
change, he introduced the Tritostates by the side of the Para-
o 7 v
states and Coryplueus. So long as the chorus numbered only
twelve, the movements of the Coryplueus were to a certain extent
limited. For instance, when it was necessary for the chorus to
divide into two Hemiehoria, the Coryphaeus was bound to range
himself with one of the Hemiehoria, and so far for the time
abdicate his position as leader of the whole chorus. When,
however, the chorus numbered fifteen, it might divide into two
Hemichoria of seven choreutae each. Then the two Hemiehoria
would l)e under the command of the Parastates and the Tritos-
tate?, while the Coryphaeus would be at liberty to attend wholly
to those parts of the dialogue in which he had a share, and to
leave the evolution of the chorus to the care of his two subordi-
nate oflicers. the Parastates and the Tritostates.
The style, like the character-drawing, of Sophocles bears a
closer relation to life than does that of /Esehylus. The work
of each poet has beauty and truth, but the means by which
they obtain the same end are different. The structure of the
/Esehylcan sentence resembles that of Cyclopean masonry. It
consists of huge words roughly thrown together. The con-
struction of Sophocles' sentences resembles that of his plays.
Under an appearance of simplicity is concealed an amount of
thought almost inexhaustible. In this respect, and in the
ductility of his sentence, Sophocles may be compared with
Thucydides. Though the words of Sophocles have become
simpler, his syntax is more complex than that of yEschylus.
The hearer may be set thinking by Sophocles' expression?, but
he is not startled by them. The harmony with which Sophocles
combines the most various elements of the drama is equally
characteii.-tic of his style. He borrows wi nls fiom /Kschyhis ;
IK; invents -words of his own : he naturally, from the study of
tin; founders of iambic verse, brings away Ionic words ; and on
him, as on ^Eschvlus, the study of Homer has its t-liect. Yet
the whole is marked by a predominant Attic colouring, and by
a sweetness which is distinctive of Sophocles.
Of lo.-t plays of Sophocles we have fragments and the titled
THE DRAMA : SOPHOCLES. 2 I /
of about one hundred. Of these, nearly one-fourth apparently
drew their subjects from the- tale of Troy: and it is .signifi-
cant, both for the temper of the time and for Sophocles' tendency
to psychological analysis, that Odysseus frequently appeared in
the.-e plays. Of the character of Odysseus as conceived by
Sophocles we can fortunately form an idea from the sketch in
the surviving play, P/ti/ocfetf-f*. Several of the lost plays were
on subjects also treated of by Euripides, e.rj. the Women of
Colrlns, the Kryth*, and the RJiiwimni (or Witches), which all
dealt with the tale of Medea; and the Pl/'t'/lrn, Iphif/f/iut,
Alfiitron, and Alexander. Some of the lost plays, such as the
Ti-i/>fii/ennis, Oniihuia, Nwbe, and Thamyra*, may have treated
of their subjects in the yEschylean way. and may thus belong
to the first period of Sophocles' style, while he was yet under
the influence of /Kschylus. 1 Finally, we may notice the names
of a considerable number of satyric dramas, such as the Relation
(a gn >me whose story, as we have said above, was connected
witn L'olonus), l'li>r, M"/mi.i, I<-lni''uii.c, ll< r'icl>^ at r l\enr)>/f!i$, Jl'li'h'ti W<:d/, Amiihinrcos, Syinlt ij>ni, Dio-
iit/xtni-it.-*, AT.
Among the fragments which are too long to quote, we may
refer to two beautiful descriptions of love;- two i assag'-s, one
on the changes, the other on the injustice, of fortune: 3 two
others on money and poverty ; 4 another on the discoveries of
Paiamedes ; 5 and finally, a tender, graceful, and sympathetic
description of the hard lot of women, 6 conceived in the spirit
of til-- Trufltiiiin'. To the latter we may add the ni'-t:u>hor,
quoted from the J'/i-nint, by winch Sophocles s:>eaks of children
chin's of a mother's life: 7 and contrast a line from the
nd)odyii;'_' tiie current view that silence is a woman's
Amoiiu' the shorter fragments, the nio-t inter. -sting
in which tin- psy.-hoL igjeal penetration of Sophocl>-s
seen, as when in the CrtHxil he says that a lost oppor-
1 rint:in'li bus jirosorveil sy I'iutai-fii, still o>li\ry .-"ini 1 liit('|-]];.iti"ti wiiirii Wf >h"iiM e'i..-iwise
i'iir |iess.'~s. Sti|ihK'U"! (li>tiii^uislir(l tiii-.-f >t:...-s in i'is..u: ; il. vi-i.ijiini-tit.
! ii >t Sdj'iiipclfs \\a- irtlu.'iiri' i i.y tiir- ina_'!a;i. > ii'-c nf .KM-':I\ his' style ; thfti
In 1 l'-_';in i i'iiiinu' iinii--'! f i if iiii>ciu ity ami :irtitiria!ity ; ai,.i t'.n.illv h' t nriifil
liU :ittfiiti.'M UP tin- i-xiii'i-s^ioii i.f i-hiiuii'ti'l-. (if ttio !::>t nf tli.--- t'hii'O
stasis u.' iiavi' iii. tiiiu;; loft : Ii' tip 1 tiiiia, th: n A i,t',,j-,n>: ;iinl ti.u tA'u'u'iij' at
C< I" /'.- nui.-t, ah.i all tin' sur\a\in_' dr. .inas ma\ , in i"iu'.
- N:nj,-k. 15} jili.i cv-,
' /i'. 1 , i 4. oco, 3^7. '" 521. " 619. ? 61.
2 I 8 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
painful of things. 1 From the Laocoon 2 we have an anticipation
of Virgil's reflection, "Forsan et base olim meminisse juvabit;"
and from the Mi/si a poetical expression of the psychological
law that contrast heightens pleasure, 3 another exemplification of
which may be found in a fragment of the Tympanista}, which
dwells on the pleasure after a voyage of being under a good
roof and listening to the ruin with drowsy mind. 4 The con-
nection between mental and bodily illness had not escaped
Sophocles' fine observation. 5 His wisdom comes out in his
reflections in the Aletes that justice and kindliness profit more
than sophistry: 6 in the Alcadoe that the right always has
great might : 7 in the Acrisius that a lie cannot flourish long; 8
iu the Aleadce on the beauty of silence. 9 Finally, it is con-
sonant with the amiability of Sophocles' character that there is
a limit to the questions which a man with consideration for
others' feelings can put. 10
As belonging to the "school" of Sophocles, there are men-
tioned his son lophon and his grandson Sophocles. lophon
won the second tragic prize in B.C. 429. and seems to have been
suspected of receiving assistance from his father. In spite,
however, of this, he is criticised as being frigid and tedious.
The grandson, if, as is reported, lie won the tragic prize twelve
times, was a more successful, if not a better tragedian than
lophon, and won the prize oftener than did any one of the
three great tragedians. Sophocles, the grandson, produced the
(L'dijma at Colonus after his grandfathers death, but whether
the play had or had not been produced before, and what share
the grandson had in the play, are uncertain points.
An interesting figure among the tragedians contemporary
with Sophocles is that of Ion. IJorn in Chios and possessed
of considerable wealth, he travelled much in Greece, and met
all the distinguished Greeks of his time, lie is, perhaps, the
earliest recorded instance of an universal genius. His works
included not only tragedies, but elegies, dithyrambs, epigrams,
skolia, the "'antiquities of Chios," and personal reminiscences,
from tin: last of which a specimen was quoted at the beginning
of this chapter. He first produced plays on the Athenian stage
in li.c. 452, and we know that, in B.C. 428, when Euripides and
lophon carried off the first and second prizes, Lin won the third.
He died some time before B.C. 4 i S, the year in which the Peace
of Aristophanes was produced : for his death is alluded to in
that comedy (835). The subjects of his tragedies were largely
323. z 344- 3 372. < 574- '" The T>/r<>, 597.
98. ^ 7 3. 8 59 . 9 79 . in Ilx 8l
THE DRAMA : SOPHOCLES. 2 I 9
taken from Homer ; but in other cases his plots departed widely
from the ordinary form of the myths piwalent among the
(> reeks. For instance, he makes Antigone and Ismene in bo
burnt in the temple of Hera by the son of Eteoeles. His
plays, though correct and careful, lacked the vigour and origi-
nality which mark a tragedian of genius. In point of style, he
was at times forcible, and his figures were bold, but he was apt
to become pompous, and occasionally obscure. His vocabulary
differs from that of Athenian tragedies; he uses words of his
own invention, retains many lonicisms, and borrows a large
proportion of word-' from epic writers.
The age of Neophron of Sicyon is doubtful ; but if it is true
that he first introduced a PaBdagogus on the stage, he must date
from before the Kledra of Sophocles. It is, however, more
interesting that Neophron wrote a KL-dt'a, to which Euripides'
play of the same name was indebted. The fragments of Neo-
phron's drama show that he was a poet of no small merit, and
also point to the conclusion that Euripides, if indebted to his
predecessor, borrowed in the treatment of the plot rather than
from the style of Neophron. Yet in one point, even in the
economy of the play, Euripides seems to have departed from
Neophron's treatment; for whereas the latter makes ./Egeus
come expressly to consult Medea, the former makes him come
to consult I'ittheus, and thus what is essential to the plot is left
by Euripides, as it was not left by Neophron, to chance.
Among the older contemporaries of Sophocles must be placed
Carcinus of Agrigentum. His plays were of an antiquated
description, and choral songs and dances predominated in them.
He is better known as a founder of a '-school " than as a poet.
His son XeiiocK-s defeated Euripides in B.C. 41^, and Carcinus,
tin- son of Xenocles, is distinguished by Aristotle's references to
him in the P/ntn's and the Jili'tut i<\ lie seems to have been
careless in th" treatment of his plays, anil at times artificial.
Amongst other plays of his are mentioned an (Eiiiiiii*, a M/'ft,
and an O/v.s-//>'. His style was flowing, he was inclined to he
sententious, and had a tendency to philosophy. His ver-iticuliun
is lax and somewhat conversational.
22O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
CHAPTER IV.
EURIPIDES.
EURIPIDES was born B.C 485, in the island of Salamis, where
his parent?, with the rest of the Athenians, had taken refuge on
the approach of the Persians. We have the express statement
of Philochorus (who lived about B.C. 300) for the fact that his
mother, Clito, was of good family ; and his father, Mnesarchus,
must have been possessed of some wealth, for Euripides led
the chorus of boys at the Thargelia, and later in life attended
the lectures of Prodicus, whose fees are well known to have
been exceedingly high. It is said that Euripides was at first
trained as an athlete, and that he subsequently became a painter.
The latter statement is somewhat confirmed by the numerous
allusions in his plays to painting and to art generally, and by
the fact that his situations were so arranged that they became
the subjects of many works of art. In his marital relations he
is said to have been unhappy, though on this point we are
treated to much scandal, but to no facts. Some, at least, of
these stories * were invented to account for a misogynism which
does not exist in his tragedies. If he says many severe things
against women, he draws pure, affectionate, self-sacrificing
women with a grace and tenderness unsurpassed. It is not
strange that a poet who could conceive such characters should
find in the women of Athens much that came short of his ideal.
Under the system of seclusion which then prevailed in Athens,
theiv is littie reason to hesitate in accepting Aristutle's opinion, 2
that women might be good, but were generally inferior. If
Euripides spares not the faults of women, he at least sees, what
most other Greeks did not see, that the system under which
they lived was to hlame. :! He is said to have been married
twice, and to have had by his first wife three sons, the younger
Euripides and two others. At the age of twenty-five he brought
out his first play, the lost r<'lin c. 420. The next four
pl-iys whose dates an; known to us are, the Troa^c.-t, B.C. 41^ ;
the I/t'h.'ita, B.C. 4 1 2 ; the I'/nnt/x^i', B.C. 411 : and the (tr','*,
B.C. 408. When the Ion, the //('/'////> l-'urrns, the //'/.'/' aid
in Tanri,<, or the FJffra was produced we do not know, though
on grounds of style and metre various dates have been assigned
to them. Th' 1 date is al.-o unknown of the Cy<'l')i>t>. the only
surviving specimen of the satyric drama.
In B.C. 409 Euripidrs went, for what reason we do not know,
to the court of Archelaus, king of Macedonia. Th-Te he pro-
duivd the Archelaus in honour of his royal host ; and there too
1 Ho represents Athens as (_'r<>\%ini; irreiit liv her cliivnlnni^ d.'ffi;re of the
weak in the Xtif-pli-nitx ;md the //' r-/ihi i> -oph y of
her i^ruwtii i" the wonls h' ro. : s 7r< rodTd' CU";TCU. >i///v. 323. The ii.tro-
diKMicin of Tlu.-.eiis into the Mfim. th"ii.yth of uim-'n h;.s no coinifctupii \viih
Ati.i'iis, the conclusion of the On ./!,, Far, ,,,<. ;ire other
ii'.>l;iiicrs of Mniipiiios' p:itrioti>u,. ( /. also //"'. 4' .) . 'I'r- . 210, 216. 220,
980; Greet. 1666; Hiracli. 183; Aui, 192, 272, 281, 683 ; Ha;-, fur. 477,
1409.
222 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
he wrote the Bacchce. The subject of this play, which is a
celebration of the power of Dionysus, was doubtless suggested
to Euripides by his visit to a country in which the worship of
the god greatly flourished. The Bacclice is not only interesting
as the only surviving play which has the cult of Dionysus for
its subject, but is also, from the point of view of art, one of the
finest of Greek tragedies. It further has an interest as showing,
that although Euripides felt deeply the inconsistencies and the
frequent immorality of polytheism, 1 he never so utterly aban-
doned the religion of his country as to find it impossible to
acquiesce in at least some part of traditional religion. In this
respect, as in others, Euripides faithfully mirrors the life ot
Athens. The difficulties which he felt with regard to poly-
theism were not felt by him alone; and although, as might be
expected from a friend of Socrates, he occasionally attained to
higher conceptions, 2 still in not finally or wholly renouncing
polytheism he is again the faithful exponent of his age. The
Bao'hce and the Ipliirjenia at Aulis, were only put upon tho
Athenian stage after his death, which took place in Macedonia
in B.C. 406.
The popularity of Euripides was in ancient times very great.
His plays were performed even in Parthia, and many of the
Athenians who became prisoners in Sicily after the disastrous
termination of the Sicilian expedition, regained their liberty if
they were able to recite from Euripides' works. He is referred
to and quoted frequently by ancient writers ; and although the
fact that he is much quoted by composers of anthologies and
such works tends to show that his popularity was partly due to
the ease with which general reflections, aphorisms, &c., might
be detached from his works, still, on the other hand, the
1 E.g. Here. Fur. 344, 1341 ; /on, 444 ; Iph. T. 380. There are many such
passages; but to imagine that Kuripides is always covertly ridiculing the
myths which were almost necessarily the subjects of his plays, and that
Euripides' plays were designed for twoaudiences for the ignorant crowd, who
did not see any of th<- poet's mockery, and for the author's fellow-sceptics in
the audience, who enjoyed the mockery is going too far. It is the logical
consequence of .such criticism that a German writer maintains that the
]iacchfj> is a burlesqin a pi.ro ly on the poet's enemy, Aristophanes, and a
travesty of the worship of Dionysus.
- E.I/. .Frag. 960 (Nauck) :
Qfbv 5 iroiov ilirl /JLOI vor\riov
rbv TrdvO' bpCcvra K airov ofy opi&fltvop.
Or Frag. 968 :
TTCHOS 5' av oiA.'or TCKTUVUV Tr\aa6(is I'TTO
5('/ias rb Bflov irtplj3e. TinioTiiachus painted subjects from the Ffilii'tmia in /'((>/.< and J/V'(Y<7.
Scopas M-itiptured a I.a.vhunte from t'ne description in the I',i<-,-i,a', and
the Fariiese hull rei>res'iits a sci'iie from tin'! Atitinpr. Tweiitv-thrci' of
Euripides' play-; furnish ^uhjects for painting or sculpture to our knowledge,
and probably the nuini'er would be increased if we knew more abt'Ut the lost
jiiiiys.
6 Ar. Pol. \. c. 3. p. 12^ ",b, 14 and 20.
" S.. c Ai,il. 313 ;
/", '-74, 854; (h;ft. i;-:j ; //,v. 291, 54 ! &/.. 358; Tf'1'l. 302. .;, L \) ?>/. ;
J/t . I"; \ ~~"', 74-1 : Alt'. I v-f, i>lo. He >rrs pi;. inly that slave> h.i\e f.tuit>,
1'iU that is due to their ^lavery. /-'/. o^ ; drift. I i I ", i S- 1 - I In, i.S 5 ; and
1'rity. 40, 5", 5J. 2^3, (90, i,')6.
8 Not oniy docs he. maintain that :t slave may oc the eipiul of ids master in
point of worth, and frequently show that it was du>' ~olely to the cruel acci-
dents of war that men and wom-n were pnshtved, but hi 1 is m-vi r weary of
dwelling on the horrors or' war, and of dt'monstrutini: to his audience that a
man or woman need not he a (inek to siillYr an i tod. ^er\e sy nip.itby. /:.'/.
t'ne Hecuba and the Mtdia. In the latter play, not only lioes Euripides, the
224 HISTOKY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
But if, on the one hand, Euripides owes some of his success
to his anticipation of the spirit of the age, on the other hand,
it is to this very cause that most of his faults must be attri-
buted. He exhibits all the awkwardness and defects of a
transition stage. If Sophocles laid his scenes in " a past which
never was present," he at any rate adhered to his imaginary
period with fidelity. But Euripides lays his scenes in a time
which is neither past nor present, hut an incongruous and
impossible epoch, in which Theseus defends the republican in-
stitutions of Athens, 1 and Hecuba regrets the high price of
Sophists' lectures. 2 Euripides was impelled towards reality by
a true instinct and by dramatic feeling, but it was impossible
for him to discard myths as the subjects of his plays, and on
no other condition could the reality he wished to depict be
attained. At the same time, if the history of tragedy and of art
drove him in the direction of real life, comedy already fully
occupied the field on which he wished to enter.
If now, commencing with the plot, we proceed to examine the
elements of the Euripidean drama, we shall find that throughout
Euripides is hampered, and is conscious that he is hampered, by
a tradition which he fuels is antiquated, but has not the power
entirely to abandon.
The two most obvious changes or additions which Euripides
introduced with regard to the plot are the prologue 3 and the
" dc/i* ex ma<-hina" to assist the denoument. 4 The prologue is
generally spoken by one of the characters taking part in the
play, although occasionally, as. for instance, in the Hecuba, by
woman-hater, show that the woman is ri^ht and the man wrong (a paradox
which he insists on in the chorus of 41'-). but lie also chains sympathy for the
" barbarian "' woman against her Greek lover.
1 Sn/ip. 415 ct tiiq.
'- II, c. bv,.
3 A 71-^6X0705 iti the Greek sense (Arist. Pott. xii. Zan 5^ 7r,iiXo7os /JLV
/if'pos 6\oi> Tpay(ji5ias TO irpb ^onou Trafioooi') is to bo found in jEschylus and
Sophocles, and in both p"et-> the irpoXo-, os includes an exposition of thoo natural or necessary to tin; action of the play as not
to hav- the appearance of hein_- devised for the benefit of the audience.
(Tnis. however, cannot be said of the two eaiiie.-,! plays of ./Ivchylu*. the
I'criiCK and the >>//<;// nuts, which have no 717)6X0705, and a very artificial
exposition.) Euripides, however, inves up all attempt at dramatic illusion,
and puts into the moir.h of an actor a j.anathe, tin; avowed object of which
ig the enlightenment of the audience.
4 The P/tilfji-t(tfs is terminated by means of a ' drus t.x machina," but here
Sophocles was possibly taking a hint from Euripides.
THE DUAMA : EURIPIDES. 22 5
a character who does not again appear. Frequently the pro-
logue is something considerably more than what we understand
by a prologue, that is to say, it not only includes a narration of
those events of which a knowledge is requisite for the apprecia-
tion of the play, but also gives a sketch of the plot of the play.
Sometimes, however, as in the Electra or the Ipliigenia in
Taiiri*, the prologue contains no foreshadowing of the play,
and gives no information which could not, in the absence of
the prologue, be inferred from the play as it proceeds.
The object with which the deus ex machina is made to
intervene is tolerably apparent. The poet thus gains much
time which would otherwise be spent in unravelling the plot.
This on the whole is probably also the object with which the
prologue, is written. Even when the prologue sketches the
play which is to follow, Euripides only gives the myth as it
was generally known. The particular means by which the
various events notified by the prologue are to be brought about
are, of course, not alluded to. In both cases the motive seems
to have been to give as little time as possible to the myth as
traditionally related, in order to concentrate attention on the
incidents and situations of Euripides' own making. Euripides
could not throw oil' the myths altogether, but got rid of them
as much as possible by relegating them to the prologue and to
the daw ex machina. Whatever the motive with which these
two devices were used, they are none the less bad art; 1 and
although historically they may have been demanded by circum-
stances, this is a consideration which explains but hardly justi-
fies them. Setting aside the prologue and this form of denou-
ment, we cannot but be ama/ed at the interest which Euripides
contrives to put into his plots. There is an excitement about
them which is not to be found in Sophoeles, nor to be looked
for in .Eschylus. The inventiveness and fertility of Euripides
in this respect shows hi< technical skill as a playwright. These
remarks, it muu ,'h they do apply to tho-e whi-h
are chara -teii-tie of him. It is almost impossible to make anv
one assertion whieh shall be true of all his plays, so mudi does
lie vary. Not being separated by time from the form ,,f the,
drama which ['recedes his own, but seeing it year aft'-r year put
226 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
on the stage by Sophocles, Euripides did not experience the
difficulty which would be felt by an author endeavouring to go
back to a style of composition which had ceased to be practised.
On the contrary, in the drama of Sophocles Euripides saw a
method of composition living with success, which it was com-
petent for him to try, and which he did try. Hence it is that
we have from Euripides plays such as the Heradidoi, the
Supplices, the Hecuba, &c., which do not rely upon exciting
the spectator's curiosity, but depend for their interest on the
pity, or, in the case of the Bacclue, on the religious sentiment
which they evoke. But his powers are not limited to any one
or to some few resources; they extend to all the resources of
tragic art. Exciting plots, as in the Iphiyenia in Tauris,
terror, as in the Hercules Fur ens or the Medea, pathos of the
purest and most simple kind, as in the Iphigcnia at Aulis, the
Alcestis, and many other plays, constitute the excellence of
Euripides. His character-drawing is in some cases of the
highest kind, but he frequently sacrifices consistency in the
delineation of character to the temptation of producing a strik-
ing situation ; or perhaps it is more accurate to say that he
did not possess the power which marks Sophocles of conceiving
a character whose actions naturally and necessarily result in
impressive situations. Euripides possesses the technical skill
of the playwright to a much greater extent than he possesses
the genius of the dramatist.
There are plays of Euripides in which the chorus discharges
the functions of sympathy and comment in the same way, and
with as little awkwardness, as in Sophocles. Such plays are the
Uacchce, the Heradidu:, and the Hecuba. In the luti, indeed,
the chorus is made to take an important share in the action of
the drama by revealing Xuthus' intentions with regard to Ion,
and thus the central event of the play, the attempted murder of
Ion by his mother, is brought about. Lut in spite of these ex-
ceptions, it is characteristic of Euripides that he feels (and makes
little attempt to conceal) that the chorus is a clog on the develop-
ment of a play. Even Sophocles had found that the continual
presence of the chorus throughout a tragedy was inconsistent
with ends and eii'ects which a poet may legitimately endeavour
to attain, and in the Aja.r Sophocles boldly dismisses the chorus
from the stage;, in order that Ajax may deliver his famous soli-
loquy. It is strange that alt in nigh Euripides himself repeats
this experiment in the A/r/ntfig and the llt'lma, he never de-
veloped it into a regular practice. The strength of tradition
was so great in this case, that Euripides, rather than break
THE DRAMA : EURIPIDES. 22/
through it, retained the chorus even when its presence produced
etlects tlie most inartistic. There are many occurrences in real
life which are lit subjects fur dramatic representation, but are
not such as are conducted in the presence of twelve or iifteen
comparative strangers. Although even the private life of an
Athenian was considerably more public than i.s modern private
life, Kuripides, whose strength lies in domestic scenes, was likely
to tind the chorus a greater difficulty than did Sophocles. At
the same time, the surprises and complications which he aimed
at producing by the construction of his plots were, by the con-
tinual presence of the chorus, rendered difficult to obtain. Thus,
in the lli/']>nia at Anils Euripides aban-
dons all attempt at dramatic iilu.-ion. and allows the chorus to
be present at a secret interview between Agamemnon and Mene-
laus, without reference to the fact that the chorus would natu-
rally reveal what it knew to Clytemestra and Iphi'_ r "nia.
In Si.; liocli-s the continual presence of the rh< ru> is rendered
plausible, because the chorus is placed in relations of symi'athy
or confidence with M>me leading character (with the heroine in
the AY" //-,/. "i- witli the character opposed to the heroine in the
Aiiti'j/nii'), who occupies the.-ta'_re almost continually. 1 Owing
to tiie more intricate plots of Euripides it is almost impo.-sible
for one character to remain perpetually present on the stage;
plans and events have to be revealed \o the spectator which
mu.-t. be concealed from the hero, and thus the chorus, winch
still in Euripides continues to .-land in a closer r> lation to the
hero than to any other character, is frequently left, by the neces-
sary absences of the hero, in an i.-"laled and .-omewhat false
position, as is the case in the //;///;/ nin t .-I //.>.
228 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
As the presence of the chorus is without effect on the action
of the play, so the odes assigned to it have usually in Euripides
little to do with the subject of the play. They often bear no
special relation to the scene which has preceded, and occasion-
ally have no reference to anything in the play. Euripides thus
closely approaches the practice of later dramatists, whose choral
odes might be with equal propriety sung in any play, and were
merely designed to afford the spectator that relief which is given
in modern times by an interval between the acts. 1 In Euri-
pides the choral odes are poems, which rely on their intrinsic
beauty as poetry rather than on the interest which attaches to
expressions of the poet's own opinions on religious and moral
questions. ^Eschylus frequently conveyed his opinions on such
subjects through the odes of the chorus, but Euripides dis-
tributes the duty of expressing his views among all his charac-
ters impartially ; and hence we have slaves, kings, and heroines,
all uttering sentiments admirable in themselves, although some-
what frigid and unnatural under the circumstances.
The constraints of a transition period which cramp Euripides
elsewhere have left their mark upon his character-drawing also.
Compelled by the tradition of the tragic art to take his subjects
from mythology, Euripides was impelled by his instinct as an
artist to draw his characters from real life ; and to present the
heroes of mythology acting from everyday motives and with
everyday feelings, was to attempt in most cases an impossible
fusion. The slaying of Clytcmestra by Orestes is a proper sub-
ject for the art of Sophocles or ^Eschylus, but is wholly unsuited
to the new form of art which Euripides was making for. To
the Greeks, accustomed to the figures of Sophocles or ^Eschylus,
it must have seemed, as it seemed to Aristotle, that the dramatis
2y>rsoi>m of Euripides often had characters unnecessarily bad.
In his endeavours to substitute truth to nature for truth to lite-
rary tradition, Euripides had to work upon materials and with
tools not designed for the effects which he wished to produce.
It is, then, striking proof of his power that he rose above all
these obstacles, and gave to the world such triumphs of charac-
ter-drawing as his Alcestis, Medea, or Iphigenia. He depicts
the madness of Hercules and the passion of I'hnedra with the
force and intensity of a master ; and it is true that, great as
Euripides is in the anatomy, he is still greater in the pathology
1 "Tiio ]>oi foi mors in the orchestra of a modern theatre are little, I
heli'-vi', awaie that they occupy the place, aiul rnay consider thein-elv.-s
as the- lineal descendants, of the ancient chorus." Twining's Aristotle.
p. 103 n.
THE DRAMA: EURIPIDES. 22Q
of the soul. But love and madness are not the only emotions
which lie is capable of representing, and if Phaedra is a subject
which is "neither morally nor artistically pure," 1 Alcestis may
be quoted to prove the power and the purity of Euripides both
morally and artistically. It remains true, however, that Euri-
pides is in artistic purity, as in character-drawing, inferior to
Sophocles, and in genius inferior to both Sophocles and /Eschy-
lus. The discords which exist in Euripides' plays between his
character-drawing and his situations, between his sentiments
and his mythical subjects, between the necessities of his plots
and the presence of the chorus, are discords which Sophocles
avoided and Euripides could not or would not convert into har-
monies.
Euripides' style is characterised by a smoothness and pli>h
which imply much hard work. In point of vocabulary, Euri-
pides made a greater advance 1 towards the ordinary Attic of the
day than Sophocles had done. In respect also of expression
and imagery, Euripides adopts a style far less exalted than that
of Sophocles or yEschylus. This difference in style between
Euripides and the two older tragedians is quite in keeping with
the difference between their art and the newer form for which
Euripides was preparing the way. If there are truths which
demand lofty language for their proper expression, there are
also truths which require more precise enunciation; and there
are few elnotions for which the simplest words are not the best
utterance. In the pleadings of an Iphigenia, the self-sacrifice
of a Macaria. the sorrows of an Andromache, we want no wealth
of words or luxury of ideas to stand between us and the beaiitv
of the character. Euripides, being an artist, appreciated the
worth of simplicity. The metaphors and similes of .'E-chylus
an* drawn mo.-tiv from nature from pugnacious nature. Tnose
peaceful aspect. In Euripidi
phor~ from art,- showing at once the. poet's susce;i;ii,ili;y, and
the etlect which the Athens of I'ericles made upon the citizens
of Athens.
Tlr.' frairir.eiits of Eui ii'ides' lost plays which are to lie found
in various anthologists, grammarians, lexicographers, ami others
are m<>re numerous than those either of .E-ciivlus or Sot'hocies.
1 Moimmrii, HUt. of n.>nn>, ii. 4-1.
- /,'; from iiivhitn'tmv. . I'V. qri. 4:7, .I/"/. ~ x\ "/. 1207, < '!/!. ^52,
353, 477, Tr.>. 480, l>i,ai,. 84, //('. 14, ' ?, If,/,'. T,iur. i ; '.:, Km-. ~'v.
77.1; I'roin sculpture. Hec. 561, Fr.i^. i- 1 ;; fiviu painun.;, Ht.1. -5,
Jhc. 807.
230 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
The best known is " Evil communications corrupt good man-
ners." 1 The knowledge of human nature which is shown in
this famous fragment appears again in a fragment of the
Alcmene, which declares the need of wisdom in the hour of
prosperity, 2 and in another which says that ' most evils are of
men's own doing." 3 The same knowledge takes a somewhat
cynical turn when he says in the Cretan Women 4 that "all
men are friendly to the wealthy." But the poet's own heart
was sound, for in the Dicfi/s b he notices that the poor are
oftener wiser than the wealthy, and often more pious with their
scanty offerings than the rich with their offerings of hulls. His
faith in the right shines out often in the fragments. " Gold
and silver are not the only currency," he says in the CEdipus ; 6
" Virtue is current everywhere." Justice may limp " claudo
pede " but she overtakes the wrong-doer ; " and all evil deeds
must out. he says in the Melanippe? This faith in morality
could not fail to have its effect on his religious beliefs, and we
find in the (Enornaus? " "When I see the wicked fall, then I say
there are gods." And although he does formulate the some-
what transcendental ist tenet that " the god in each man is his
inind," 10 at other times in a more ordinary strain he says,
" Without God there is no prosperity for man," u and " the
Avays of Heaven are mysterious." J - Among the fragments are
many relating to women ; and although we find such state-
ments in the CKdij/us as that "every wife is worse' than her
husband, should the worst man marry the best," 13 and in
the A/ope that educating women is a mistake, because "the
well-educated deceive us more than the neglected;" 14 still else-
where, in the Melanippe, he says that "though there is nothing
worse than a bad woman, there is nothing better than a good
one." 15 With sound common sense he declares in the Protesilans
that a man who classes all women together is a fool ; some are
_ f ood and some bad : 10 and el.-e\vhere that all men are not
unlucky in marriage any more tln-n all men are lucky ; it depends
on the wife a man gets; 1 " and in the M<'lani)>pe that "bad
women hav-- givt-n a bad name to the \vh"]c M-X.'' IS What
Euripides thought of marrinc."' with a good wife we may see
from such passages as this from the Antifjone,^ ''A man's best
possession is a sympathetic wife/' and "A loving husband, is
1 Niiuck, T. G. F. JOTS. - It>. 100. 3 Ib. 1015. 4 I],. 4 6 S .
'> Ib. 329, 940. Ib. ^46. 7 Ib. 969. 8 Jb. 509. Ib. 581.
10 Ib. 1007. 11 Ib. 1014. i- Ib. 941. 1:i Jb. 550. " Ib. 112.
38 Ib. 497. i 6 Ib. 658. i? Ib. ^042. ] 8 ib. 49 6. 19 !).,. 164.
THE DRAMA : EURIPIDES. 231
a woman's wealth." 1 In the Fhrixus,- too, he dwells on the
charms of a wife's ministrations in times of sickness and dis-
tress, and elsewhere :i on the influence of a good wife in saving
the home which a dissolute husband would otherwise ruin. In
the Dh'ti/** he has verses on the happiness of paternal, and in
the Ewlitltws* of maternal love. It is consistent with his just
remarks on marriage that both in the Anfiojie 6 and in the
(En, u ' "Whoso trusts a slave is
a fool." The problems of heredity seem to have exercised his
mind: good men have good sous, 1 - and a good child cannot
come of a bad father. 15 On the other hand, you may have a
fine child from inferior parents, he says in the Meleagcr.^
( iuod birth he thinks inferior to good acts; 15 and in the Alaw.ne 1S
we have a partial Greek translation for noltlvste olliije.
The only member of the "school" of Kuripides who is men-
tioned to us is the nephew Kuripides, who, after his uncle's
death, brought out the IplnijQnin at Auli,-*, the Ali'Wir-on, and the
Jiacchit', and won the pri/e with them. He is said also to have
written tragedies himself, but we know nothing of them, and,
indeed, are uncertain whether this Kuripides was the nephew
or the son of the famous poet.
Knir years older than Kuripides. and a rival of Kuripides and
Sophocles, was Ach;eu- of Kn-tria. Of his life we know nothing
except that he once won the tragic prize ; and since he is not men-
tioned by Ari-tophanes in the /'/"/.-as among the survivors of
Sophocles, it has. been inferred that he had died before the pro-
duction of that comedy. His satyric dramas, the titles of seven
me down to us. are said to have been in the
ts. of P( .
>f
- II'. 810. ;; I'). iajl. 4 Il\ ^3.
'' II) . 211. " ]i>. S~>2. 8 11). '-"3.
" II). (-V. 10 II'. 8=3 ' ''". jlj. " I'". 7. 1: H>. 76.
* IK 344- "Ib. 531. ' : 111. 9. '"' Ib. 99.
232 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
obscure, his diction is ornate and sometimes artificial, his de-
scriptions minute, and pushed rather too far.
The greatest, however, of Euripides' rivals was the Athenian
Agathon. Born probably about B.C. 447, Agathon was a man
of education and refinement. His natural abilities at an early
age impressed Socrates, and the charm of his character secured
him the friendship of Plato, whose Symposium was written to
celebrate Agathon's victory in the tragic contest of B.C. 416.
The time of his death is uncertain, but fell about B.C. 400.
Placed by the Alexandrine grammarians in their canon amongst
the first tragedians, he probably ranked next to the Three.
Aristotle not only mentions him several times in the Poetics,
but testifies practically to his merit, and shows his own fondness
for this tragedian by the frequency with which he quotes him
in the Ethics and the Rhetoric. Agathon's power as a tragedian
is shown by the freedom with which he treated the chorus,
the music, and the subjects of the drama. The musical inno-
vations which he made it is impossible for us to appreciate,
though the songs which Aristophanes makes him sing in the
Tliesmophoriazusce exemplified his changes in the music of the
drama. With regard to the chorus, we know that he first com-
posed odes capable of being sung with equal appropriateness in
any drama whatever, and thus these choruses 1 came to serve
only the same purpose as the music of the orchestra between
the acts in a modern theatre. In his selection of subjects he
had the courage to execute what Emipides had only the power
to conceive. That is. he. at any rate in the Aiit/ms (if this was
the name of the piece), abandoned the domains of myth and
history entirely, and composed a tragedy which was original in
its subject as well as in its treatment. In this proceeding he
.shows the influence of the circumstances in which he found
himself. All that could be made out of the my.hs suitable for
the stage had already been drawn from them by his predecessors,
and he was thus compelled either to have recourse to his own
imagination for a subject, as he did with success in the case of
the Ajtf/ifi.-', or to crowd into on<- play mythical incidents enough
to have furnished forth half-a-dozen dran.as in earlier times, -
a proceeding whii-h, according to Aristotle, proved fatal to one
play ("unnamed) of Agathon's, otherwise' not unworthy of success.
Agathon's style also, as was natural in an admirer of Gorging
shows traces of th" fatal induei.ee which rhetoric, was beginning
to at-s'-it over the drama. Antithfses and plays upon thoughts
and words, for instance, are frequent.
1 l(JL3j\lfM.
THE DRAMA: EURIPIDES. 233
Amongst other contemporaries of Euripides may be mentioned
Aristarchus, who is said to have lived a hundred years, to have
written a hundred tragedies, and to have won the prize twice ;
Morychus, Acestor, Gnesippus, Hieronymus, Xothippus, Stliene-
lus, Spintharus, Cleophon, Theognis, Nicomachus, who defeated
Euripides once, Pythangelus, Pantacles, and, finally, Critias,
the chief of the Thirty Tyrants. We have a long fragment of
the Si*>/}>h>is of Critias, which in ancient times was attributed
doubtfully to Euripides. The grounds for this seem to have
been an inadequate appreciation of Euripides' religious opinions,
and an erroneous assumption that no tragedian but Euripides
could have doubts on religion. The passage in question makes
the gods to be an invention of state-craft, designed for the
prevention of offences which elude the law. That such a dis-
sertation could have any artistic appropriateness in a tragedy is
impossible, and it serves to show the value of the drama of the
time. The style of the fragment is clear, but scarcely poetical ;
the metre is exceedingly lax.
The tragedians of the fourth century are little more than
names to us, as, for instance, Mameieus. Apollodoms, Timoi-
theu<, and Diceogenes. The elder L)ionysius, tyrant of Syracuse,
devoted himself with much zeal to the drama, and had some of
his tragedies put upon the Athenian stage in a manner regard-
less of expense, to the great amusement of the Athenians. 1 (If
more merit as a tragedian was Antiphon (not the orator), who
is quoted, as though generally known, by Ari-totie. Rheto-
ricians, such as Aphareus and Theodectes, continued to lie im-
ported into the ranks of the tragedians. Both Theodectes and
Aphareus were pupils of Isocrates. The style of the former was
Convet and elegant, and his metre exceedingly five. As was to
be expected, he developed the rhetorical element in tragedy to a
considerable extent, and being throughout an orator rather than
a poet, he not unnaturally conceived numerous ,-cenes in the
spirit rathr of the law court than of the stage. Ari.-tolle
seems to have been well acquainted with his works, for at
different times lie mentions seven of his tiagedies. Finally, we
mu-t mention Chaprciuon, one of the "Reading Tragedians."-
Among the symptoms of the decline of tra.edy is over :
n.ent and a striving after literarv (.'fleets which canno! le
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
legitimately obtained on the stage. At Athens the result was
seen in the composition of plays not intended for the stage,
but for reading. The disease showed itself not only in tragedy,
but in the dithyramb; and pcets whose works were not written
to be acted or sung by the dithyrambic chorus, but by their
fineness and detail were designed for a smaller and more
critical audience, were called Readers. It seems, however,
that Cha?remon also wrote acting plays. Indeed, he seems not
to have confined himself to any one kind of poetry, and, further,
to have invented a kind of his own, for his Centaur, which was
a medley of all kinds of metre, is sometimes called a tragedy,
sometimes a rhapsody, and sometimes an epic, and so may be
inferred to have comprised features peculiar to each of those
forms of composition.
The forces of disintegration were at work on the drama in
the time of Euripides, as we have seen above. He felt them
and recognised them, but the power and genius with which he
controlled them would be much better appreciated if we only
had a complete work of one of his successors to show us the
contrast between Euripides and the dramatists who followed
him.
Rhetoric invaded tragedy with more and more success, and
culminated in the work of Theodectes, who combined the pathos
of Euripides with the finish of Isocrates. Learning and philo-
sophy replace creative power and technical knowledge. In-
capacity for the real work of tragedy led to the insertion of
what was good, and even beautiful, but not appropriate. Indi-
viduality and distinctive characteristics are wanting, for political
exhaustion was accompanied by a tendency to mechanical and
routine work. Because the strength to deal with a tragedy as a
whole was lacking, attention was paid more and more to detail,
much labour was bestowed on trivialities of thought and of expres-
sion, ami as a result work became liner but feebler. When
genius ceases, ingenuity begins.
CHAPTER V.
COMEDY : ORIGIN AND GROWTH.
THE Creeks were not much given to the scientific investigation
of the early history of institutiuiis, anil it is matter rather for
rogret than for surprise that Aristotle should complain that little
THE DRAMA : COMEDY. 235
or nothing was known about the early history of comedy. Even
in liis lime, however, as may be inferred from the I'octi*-*, the.
" invention " of comedy was claimed both by the Athenians and
the Megarians, and the dispute renders it still further necessary
to exercise reserve in accepting the various statements on this
subject made by ancient authorities. If we proceed to investi-
gate the growth, and renounce the investigation of the "inven-
tion " of comedy, we shall see that the germs of comedy are of
two kinds, and that these germs may be found amongst various
members of the Greek race.
As tragedy sprang from the serious side of the worship of
Dionysus, so comedy has its root in the joyous aspect of that
ritual. "When or how the phallus became associated with the
feasts of Dionysus is uncertain ; but, at least in Graeco-Italian
times, the Ithyphalli were to be found associated with the wor-
shippers of Dionysus, and phallic songs were amongst the modes
by which they expressed the joy of their worship. In later
times this rude worship, practically dropped by the inhabitants
of towns, survived only in the villages Kminii and hence the
name of comedy. With regard to the phallic .songs we know
nothing. 1'robably they were sung in strophes by a double
chorus, and in matter and style were appropriate to the subject.
As Aristotle says that comedy was the creation of the leaders
of these phallic choruses, it is not improbable that the choruses
were originally followed by a monody from the leader of the
chorus. Tin's monody was derisive and abusive in character,
and was directed against anv person, whether unpopular or
merely conspicuous, who was regarded as a subject likely to
excite the laughter of the crowd.
The other root of comedy is to be found in the mimetic
(1 im-.'s which were practised by many of the Ciivcks. These
(1-inee-;, though nt confined to the f. <;ival> of Pioiiysus. were
particularly characteristic of th"in. The Spartans developed
the-e performances to a con.-iderable extent, and took LTivat
' oil'-nder
and his behaviour und>T the ci in-e[Ueii! penalties. The~e ; er-
formanees were not alwavs limited to dumb show, for the p. r-
fonners ' represented also f, ,;v:gn (piaek-doctors. and in this rase
the humour eon-i-ted in the j'a -\ that they were supposed to
ecause th-
236 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Such were the germs of comedy that were to be found in
various parts of Greece. For their development two conditions
were necessary. The first was, that there should be enough
political freedom to allow the trivial and personal abuse of the
Phallica to take on a political interest. The second condition
was, that the country worship of Dionysus should be taken in
hand and celebrated under the guidance of the state. The first
state apparently to realise the former condition was Megara,
and the expulsion of the tyrant Theagenes in the sixth century
was followed by a rapid development of comedy. The monody
of the leader of the chorus was developed into a dialogue between
the chorus and its leader, and eventually this dialogue was
invested with some dramatic form. The precise nature of these
short farces it is impossible to ascertain. Their literary value
cannot have been great, for Megarian comedy has left no traces
of any literary representative. Maeson of Megara is said to
have invented two masks, that of a slave and that of a cook.
This indicates, not only the nature of the figures out of which
the fun of these farces was obtained, but that the characters
were of fixed and traditional types.
Although the Athenians affected to despise the stupidity of
Megarian farces, Athenian comedy was influenced by them to
no small extent in its origin. Susarion, to whom the "inven-
tion" of Attic comedy was ascribed by the Greeks, was a
Megarian, and probably transferred to Attic soil the comedy of
his native slate. To what stage of development Megarian
comedy had attained in the time of Susarion is uncertain. The
plays of Susarion were never committed to writing, and there
is no good authority for supposing even that they were in verse.
They wen; not wholly extempore : Susarion probably communi-
cated beforehand to his actors the, general outline, and arranged
with them the principal situations. The rest would lie left
mainly to the, inspiration of the moment. The result would lie
a concatenation of loosely connected scenes of a broad and
burlesque description.
The conditions, however, in Athens at this time were, not
favourable for the, development of comedy. The rule of the
I'isistratidie did not admit of that political interest; which,
as the subsequent history of comedy at Athens showed, was
necessary to produce the action ami reaction of poet and public
indispensable for the growth of art. I Miring this period of (for
comedy) depression at Athens, we must look to Sicily for the
next stage of development.
The, Sicilians seem at all times to have been a merry people.
TIIE DRAMA: COMEDY. 237
In later times even the grinding weight of Roman government
and the oppressions of a Verres could not rob the light-hearted
Sicilians of their enjoyment of, and capacity for, a joke. Here,
as elsewhere in Hellas, mimetic dances existed, and the names
though little more - of an immense number of them have
come down to us. Indeed, Theophrastus ascribed the invention
of dancing to a Sicilian. There was, however, if the evidence
of vases is rightly interpreted, existing in Sicily and par-
ticularly at Tarentnm in Lower Italy another source of comedy,
and that was the practice of parodying myths. In later times
the actors of these parodies attained great celebrity, and were
much patronised at the courts of Alexander and the Diadochte.
The best known name is that of Rhinthon. He was a Tarentine
of the time of the lir.-t Ptolemy, and composed thirty-eight of
these parodies. Bia>,.sus, Sciras, and Sopater also were famous
for this kind of performance. 1 But it is supposed that not only
in these, later days, but before the time of comedy, mythology
was travestied. This interpretation of the evidence afforded by
painted vases is, however, not beyond dispute. If it is correct,
its importance is considerable, for in such travesties we have
what is conspicuous by its absence in the early efforts of comedy
that is, a real dramatic element.
The development of comedy in Sicily was assisted not only
by the disposition of a people naturally inclined to see the comic
side of things, and by their dances and possibly travesties of
myths, but also by the existence of a cultured and literary court
in Syracuse.
It was under these conditions that Sicilian comedy originated.
The three comedians of this island known to us. Dinolochus,
Phormus, and Kpicharmus, were, probably not the only come-
dians to whom Sicily gave birth, but it is certain that all others
were eclip-ed by the last-mentioned, Kpicharmus. Phonnus,
who is ranked by Aristotle with Kpicharmus for his services to
comedy, was tutor to the children of (Jelon. tyrant of Syracuse,
wrote, seven comedies, probably mythological travesties, and
contributed some improvements to the costume of the actors
and the decoration of the stage. Dinolochus is represented only
by a lew t raiments.
Kpicharmus was born in Cos
n.c. 532. When a few m iiitlis old
I lelot hales, to .Me^'ara in Sicily,
youth, and there' the boy mu>L ha
meutary farces which the Me_:aiian
1 Caik-d tXa.ior,
238 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
them from their mother country. It is also extremely probahle
that Megara was the scene of Epicharmus' own first attempts
at comedy, though we only have direct evidence that he worked
in Syracuse. Some time before this, however, he must have
visited Magna Grsecia, for he was a disciple of Pythagoras.
Whether he attained to the esoteric circle of the famous philo-
sopher or not, we cannot say. but the influence of Pythagoras
on Epicharmus was considerable in extent, and lasting in its
effects. Pythagoras died probably before no. 510, and, there-
fore, Epicharmus' acquaintance with him cannot be placed after
that date. Megara was destroyed B c. 485, and Epicharmus
probably proceeded before then to Syracuse. There he worked,
and there at an advanced age he died, probably shortly after
the death of Hiero, B.C. 467.
The points in which the comedy of Epicharmus constitutes
an advance on the rude farces of the Megarians are clear and
of easy comprehension. The Megarian farces were not com-
mitted to writing. The comedy of Epicharmus has a permanent
literary value. It is not certain, as already mentioned, that
the former were even in verse, and at all times they were un-
doubtedly little more than improvisations. Epicharmus, on the
other hand, was a poet, and his comedies were invested with
literary form. Megarian comedy was extravagant, and its
situations were connected in but the flimsiest manner. Epi-
charmus was possessed of psychological penetration, and he
endued comedy with a pint and imparted unity to it. Finally,
he did not coniine himself merely to the absurd side of human
nature, but gave expression to his reflections on life in the
shape of moral sentiments.
Epicharmus did not attain to these high results immediately.
His early efforts were probably in the spirit of the farces which,
as a boy, he had witnessed in Sicilian Megara, and to this
period must be assigned many of his parodies on mythology.
Hepluestus is a comic iigure even in Homer, and the C'n/'t((t:rnrl>_>x with
Pliohm was distinguished rather by humour of a rough-and-
ready description than by character-drawing or artistic plot.
In this rude stage of comedy, however. Epicharmus was not
di-stined to remain long. His poetical instinct, his powers of
observation, and his aesthetic feelings, urged him to work of a
THE DRAMA : COMEDY. 239
more refined kind, and his removal front Megara to Syracuse
must liavi' contrilmtt'il to this result. The action of Syracuse
on Kpicharmus was twofold. It gave liim a better public, and
it introduced him to the literary circle of the court of Syracuse.
The large population of this wealthy city probably possessed
at this time the same generous appreciation for genius as it did
in the time of Euripides. The literary circle of the court
embraced all the most cultured men of Syracuse, as it also
comprised all other (Ireeks of distinction whom I Hero could
attract to Sicily. Under these favouring conditions Epicharmus
proceeded to those comedies of character in which his real
strength lay. All that was refined in his work, careful in its
finish, and witty in conception and expression, was developed.
]>ut although studies of character, which, as the names of the
plays indicate, were contained in his Jionr 1 or his Mi/tjnrian
}\'iiia/i. necessarily fall within Epicharmus' later and Syracu.-an
period, when his observations of life had borne fruit, still they
do nut complete the sum of his activity at this period. Mytho-
logical travesties also give scope for artistic work. The figures
in such plays are indeed gods, but their absurdities are those of
men. In the heroes and gods of these parodies were parodied
the Sicilians of Epicharmus' own time. This is obvious in the
case of his play //*7>*>'x Wc7/<-'x \\'i '/'/in'/ a
chorus, that is, re-em'hlmj- much more that uf a modern comic
opera than that of a (Jivk play. Such a chorus would lie
require, i. fur the wedding-song in // '.-' II ''//'/, for the revel
in the /f']i/!" .-/'/. or (.'"///.-'/"', for the triumphal song in Am >/:,
and in all the>e cases, as. t-o. in the i'/ii'<-Kurtt'.-<, such a chorus
would naturally dauce. Hut there are no traces that the
chorus ever took part in the dialogue of any of Epieharmus 1
Thi- ch iracteristie ubsr-nee of a ch-rus. in the technical sense,
from Sicilian comedy seems to show that th- connection of ;ho
drama with I'mnysus was not. M. >ti'on_;iy tVit in Sicily as in
Athens. The presene.e of th'' chorus in Attic drama would, in
tin- ab-ctice of all other evidence, lie enough to >'m>w the origin
of the drama. Alongside of this absence of a chorus fioni
242 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Sicilian comedy we may place our ignorance of the occasions
on which, and the persons by whom, plays were performed at
Syracuse. As we do not know at what, if any, festivals they
were produced, nor whether they were, as at Athens, under the
direct and avowed control of the state, and as we do know that
the mimetic dances, to which comedy was at least in part due,
were by no means confined to, or distinctive of, the festivals of
Dionysus, it is merely conjecture supported, indeed, by the
analogy of Attic drama that Sicilian comedy is derived from
the Dionysia. It is probable that more than three actors wen;
required, but how many pieces were produced at a time, how
many poets competed, or. indeed, whether there was any com-
petition between the poets, are all points on which we have
no information. The Syracusans must, however, have learned
much from ^Eschylus, who, having done so much for the
theatre and in the way of stage-management at Athens, would
probably be helpful also to the Syracusan stage.
A? for the influence of Epicharnms on his successors, it is
probable that before Old Comedy definitely and finally assumed
a political cast, some of the older poets- Crates is especially
mentioned were influenced by Epicharmus. In the case of
the Middle and Xew Comedy, the traces of his influence are
clear. lie was the inventor of many types of character which
persisted in later Attic Comedy. Thus the drunkard, the
gourmand, the gourmet, and above all the parasite, are all
types which, by their persistence, testify to the influence of
Epicharmus.
Hen; we must say something of Sophron, if it is only to state
that we know little, almost nothing, about him. He was a
Syracusan who lived about B.C. 420. lie composed Mimes,
which were introduced into Athens by Plato. lie did not
invent Mimes, but lie iiivt gave them a place in literature, and
his literary powers must have been considerable, for Plato is
said to have slept with the works of Sophron by his pillow,
and to have been influenced by them in tin' composition of his
Dialo<_ r i;es. This seems to be confirmed by the fact that Sophron
composed in prose : that Aristotle classed the Dialogues of Plato
and the Mimes of Sophmn as belonging to the same form of
art ; and that there are traces in Plato's language of Syracu.-an
idioms and expression?. Ik-yond this, we have no information
about Sophron, and can only endeavour to form some idea of
his work from the Ailniti(t::uxM Comedy, whose limits may rou_rhiv be
considered to be nc. 460-390, was a public and a political
in>tituti"ii. The choregus was appointed by the state; the
choregia was a public duiy: and the comedian who obtained a
ch'iivgu^ from tic- state thereby and so far obtained the state
sanction fur his satire. Although the Old Coinedv ridieuled
every in-titution and evervthing out of which a lanu'n c^ul i be
raised, it was above all pi-r-oi:al. Laws to restrain thi- per-
sonal abuse were made at various times, in u.c. 443 and i: r.
410. and it i.- prohabl" that in B.C. .\\2 and H.C. 40;, when the
democracy was LMu'-^'-d. cmni'dv wa- gagged al>'>: but it was
only when comedy ceased to lie a state institutin thit it
ceased to be personal, and it was only \vh-n Ath'-ns io
pr>'iid con.-ciousiu'Ss of political independence that e.'inedy
ceased I.P be j-upportcd by state au'.horilv. Krom u.r. 3^0 t->
u.i'. 320, the Miiidie Comply, in whieh the chorus di-apirars,
relied for it- humour on its re: re-en: at: <\\ of so.-ial life aii'i iU
244 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
caricatures of philosophy and literature. Finally, from B.C. 320
to B.C. 250 Ave have the New Comedy, which is the comedy of
character and manners.
Between the time of Susarion and the period in which
comedy became a state institution at Athens, there fall the
names of some Attic comedians of whom we practically know
nothing. Euetes, whose very existence is doubtful, and Euexe-
nides are mentioned only by Suidas. Myllus figures in a pro-
verb, 1 which has given rise to various attempted explanations,
none satisfactory. Chionides wrote a Persians in imitation of a
play of the same name by Epicharmus. We have now reached
a time when Athens, having recovered from the danger and the
losses of the Persian wars, was reaping the fruit of her disin-
terested action in those wars. The powers, of which she had
become conscious then, she was now putting forth in all direc-
tions, and her political, social, and aesthetic life was showing in
all fields of action the quickening it had received in the great
struggle with the Persian. It is at this time, about B.C. 460,
that we find Magnes flourishing, the lirst comedian known to
us as having won a prize in a dramatic contest. He is said to
have won the comic prize eleven times, but to have lost his
popularity in his old age. Magnes is an interesting figure in
comedy, for in him we have a link between the mimetic dances
(which, as we saw in the last chapter, formed one of the sources
of comedy) and Aristophanes. One favourite form of dance
consisted in the imitation of all sorts of animals, and in this
dunce we must sue the direct ancestor of the Birdx and the
/><-}'/.>' of Magnes ; while these again rob Aristophanes of the
credit df originality, so far as the idea of making a chorus of
birds or other creatures is concerned. Indeed, these comedies
of Magnes had many descendants, such as the Uoatti of Eupolis,
the /-Vx/f/'x of Archippus, the Snakes of Mcnippus, the Nightin-
gales of Cantharus, the Ants of Plato, &c. These plays are
lost, and Aristophanes is left solitary and lofiy ; whether hi.s
height would be to us the same could his former rivals lie now
.-een by hi.s side, is an insoluble problem ; but at any rate, in a
history of comedy it must not be forgotten that, in the organic
development of literature, phenomena which to our fragmentary
knowledge, appear isolated were never actually solitary, bur,
were always connected in an unbroken line with what, preceded
them. Passing over Ecphantides, the '''cloudy,"-' we find in
Crates another link which might easily have been lost in the
chain of development leading up to Aristophanes. The con-
1 Mi'XXos Trdir cU'oi'a. - KaTrj/t'as.
THE DRAMA: THE OLD COMEDY. 245
trast which in the Clouds of Aristophanes the Just and tin;
Unjust Keason are mad*! to draw between the actual and the
old-fashioned mode of life, seems to have been anticipated in
the B>'a*ts of Crates. This piece is further interesting as con-
taining a very early plea for vegetarianism. The beasts who
formed the chorus urged on man that lie should give up meat ;
and we still have a fragment of the play in which one character
expresses comic dismay at the idea of giving up the sausages so
dear to heroes of Aristophanic comedy. Crates also produced
the earliest preserved specimen of nonsense verses verses, that
is, which are strung together with the intention of producing
only the semblance of sense. More serious services, however,
than these were rendered to comedy by Crates, according to
Aristotle. True to the tradition of its oriirin, comedy hitherto
at Athens seems to have consisted mainly of that personal
abuse which was characteristic of the country Phallica. Crates
lint only abandoned this, but is ranked by Aristotle along with
Epieharmus, and is credited with having iirst produced in Attica
comedies with a claim to real dramatic action. His subjects,
whether taken from his own imagination or from real life, were
transmuted by the poet's power into plays possessing general,
natural, and necessary truth, and were no longer bald reproduc-
tions of events which did happen, or might at least have hap-
pened, but would not strike one as probable in themselves.
Not only was the line followed by Crates analogous to that of
Epieharmus, but in some instances he directly borrowed from
the Sicilian comedian. Thus the character of the drunkard
was transferred by Crates from the comedy of Epieharmus to
the Athenian stage. His style was elegant and simp!", and if,
as Aristophanes alleges, his plays were somewhat thin, they
were ensured success at Athens by their fertility in ingenious
thoughts.
About the same time as Crates lived Cratinus, tl.ough
whether C rat inns i, to be considered as a predecessor or as a
succeor of Crates is a point on which our evidence scarcely
allows us to decide. It may, however, lie asserted with some
eerlai::ty that the .Cervices of Cratiniis (o Attic comedy were of
a much more decided and etl'ec; ive ch-iraeter than those of ( 'rate-.
Tne boisterous and reckless tendencies <.f Attic comedy found
a faithful exponent in Cia Inn.-. Ari.-tophanes, in the panhasis
of the J\ //i-i/, f.-t, t'-ils us on the be>; anthoritv for we stiii 'nave
extant Cratinus' own word- for i; -that the torrent of Cratinus'
words was so impetuous as to bear down everything before it.
His audacity of attack was considered bv th" ancient.- to exceed
246 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
even that of Aristophanes himself. He earned the title of
" the people's lash," and he certainly applied the lash all round.
Few things or men seem to have escaped him. Pericles he
pelted with abusive epithets unsparingly ; and he seems to
have Ijeen never weary of jesting at the peculiarly-shaped head
of the Zeus of Athens. That there was some reason for this
seems shown by the fact that artists found it uniformly neces-
sary to provide the statues of Pericles with a helmet to relieve
the fault of nature. Personalities and politics do not exhaust
the subjects of Cratinus' comedies. Philosophy is derided in the
Tarantini and elsewhere. In his Thracian Womrn he attacks
the worship of Bendis, which seems to have been then establish-
ing itself in Athens. In his KlcobulinfK he ridicules the fashion,
to which Athenian ladies were then devoted, of composing
riddles. Innovations in music were met with conservative deri-
sion in the Eunidie. The Nomoi demonstrated the superiority
of the old-fashioned ignorance of reading and writing to the new-
fangled education in such unnecessary acquirements, and the Solon
exalted the good old times as compared with modern degeneracy.
In all these sallies, the humour must have had a great deal that
was good-natured ; for so impartial is Cratinus in the objects
of his comedies, that he does not even exempt himself. His
affection for wine pointed the jokes of many contemporary
comedians. 1 Cratinus went farther, and made his own failing
the subject of a comedy, the F/a*k. When Aristophanes in
the Kni'jJifs treated him as a played-out old man. Cratinus
waited for the year to come round, and then at the next contest
of comedians defeated a piece of Aristophanes' with the Fla*k.
In this comedy Cratinus represents himself as wedded to
Comaedia, but unfortunately yielding to the charms of Methe.
Consequently his lawful wife proceeds to institute an action
for divorce and cruelty. 2 Mutual friends do their best to dis-
suade Cnm'i'ilin from this course, but she persists. Eventually
Cratinus abandons his mistress, and devotes himself entirely to
Comedy.
In addition to these plays, which are in the true spirit of the
Old Comedy. Cratinus wrote, probably during the action of one
of the gagging laws. 3 mythological travesties after the fashion
of Kpicharmus. In the face of the statement of Aristotle that
it was unknown who determined the number of actors in
comedy, it will not do to accept the assertion that Cratinus
generally accepted
THE DRAMA : THE OLD COMEDY. 2^J
rendered this service. In Cratinus we may see the /Kschylu.s
of comedy ; Init it is in the force of the impression which the
personality of Cratinus made on comedy that we must seek to
justify the comparison. Both poets possessed the audacity of
genius, and in each case the boldness of the man revealed itself
in both conception and expression. About the justice of the
criticism that Cratinus was happier in the conception than in
the carrying out of his plots, the fragments that are left do not
enable ns to judge. The purity and ' Atticity " of his style,
however, are shown by his fragments, and by the fact that
Aristophanes did not disdain to borrow verses occasionally from
him.
Although the Old Comedy is, on the whole, characterised by
the fact that it based itself on the amusement which was to be
made out of contemporary events, still there was always present
a tendency to mythological travesties, which did not depend for
their success on local or political allusions. Sometimes this
latter tendency received external aid, as when personalities were
forbidden by law ; but at other times the genius of a comedian
of itself turned him rather to the parody of myths than to the
ridicule of tho present. < >i such a comedian we have an instance
in Pherecrates. A contemporary and rival of Cratinus and
Crates, lie is said to have, start< d life as one of Crates' actors.
If this lie true, it is easy to under.-tand that Pherecrates fol-
lowed in the steps of Crates, who himself, as we have seen,
followed at Athens the line of direction originally traced by
Kpicharrnus at Syracuse. Gluttony, which atl'irded so much
material for Fpicharmus, was utilised as subject-matter by
Phercerates in his i;<><1 M< >/. Fixed types of character, such
as the parasite in the 'J'/in/df/n, or the helaira in the Cnrinnno
or the S';<-!i i*, <\.\ once .-how that his literary ancestor is Fpiehar-
nd demonstrate that the Middle and New Comedy were
r even i.e\v departure, but .-imply the per.-i.-teiice of
'inedy which had always existed, and which, in the
str.iLT'-'le for exigence, only needed the extinction of its formid-
able competitor in order to reach its full development. It must
not, howi-ver. be imagined that 1 'hen-crates cultivated nothing
but the F.picharmian tendency in comedy. As Ciatinus at
times turned to the trave.-ty of myths, so Pherecrates oeca-ioii-
aiiy made attacks, as on Alcibiades, of a political nature, or, as
('ii Melantbius, of a literary kind. Nor i> it merely as a preiie-
cessur of the New Comedv that he mu.-t be regarded, for Aris-
tophanes owes something to him. Pheiecrate.^ \\as cied'.led U)
248 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
antiquity with much, originality and power of invention, ana
although it is little more than conjecture that the Tijrannis had
for its subject the rule of woman, and, therefore, so fur anti-
cipated Aristophanes, it is certain that the i'lea of laying the
scene of a comedy in the nether world, as in the Froys, did not
originate Avitli Aristophanes, but must be placed to the credit of
Pherecrates. It is interesting to note that in this piay the
Crapatali ^Eschylus is brought on the stage, and is drawn
witli the same touches as is the character in the Frogs. Indeed,
from the fragment of a speech of ^schylus, 1 it would appear
that in the Crapatali, as well as in the Fro'js, the merits of
^Eschylus as a poet were in question.
Teleclid.es seems to have been a political partisan, who sup-
ported Xicias, and was joined by another comedian, Hermippus,
in virulent attacks on Pericles. Hermippus availed himself
particularly of the feeling in Athens at the time of the first
Peloponnesian invasion to abuse Pericles for not risking an en-
gagement with the enemy. Pericles, however, has been treated
with more kindness by fortune than Cleon, for the attacks
upon Pericles have perished, whereas those of Aristophanes on
Cleon remain. Pericles was not the only victim of Hermippus ;
Hyperbolus and Hyperbolus' mother were also favourite sub-
jects for abuse, which, perhaps, had as little truth in it as Aris-
tophanes' slanders with regard to Euripides' mother. In Her-
mippus, again, we find the two tendencies of the Old Comedy
struggling with each other. !!< was not entirely devoted to
political comedy, but, in his Birth of Athene, he set the example
of a species of mythological travesty which found frequent
imitators among the poets of the Middle Comedy. About
Myrtiius. the brother of Hermippus, and about Alcimenes we
know nothing. Philonides was tin- friend and senior of Aristo-
phanes, whose Banqueters Philonides brought out. possibly
because Aristophanes was not of the ago required by law in a
comic poet. 2 Philoiiides also brought out the Frof/s on behalf
of Aristophanes. "With regard to the writings of Philonides
himself we can say little. His Coil/rrnti or '1'nrncoats may
have been written about the time when Theramenes earned the
epithet of Cothurnus, though it is going beyond our evidence
to imagine any causal connection between the two events.
In antiquity, Knpoiis. Cratinus. and Aristophanes were re-
garded as forming a triad among comedians comparable tc
^Lschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides among tragedians. The
1 'Ocrris -/ aiVoij trapfSwKa Tfxvrjv (Ue-yaArjp t!-oiKO$o/4Jiffa.t,
* But see below, chap. vii.
THE DRAMA : THE OLD COMEDY. 249
first comedy of Kupolis was produced upon the stage in B.C.
429, and it is said that he was at the time a mere boy of seven-
teen. The date and manner of his death, which have been the
subject of various absurd and impossible stories, cannot bo
decided : all that can be said is that he was not dead in B.C.
412. His relations with Aristophanes were originally of an
intimate kind, but eventually such as led to recrimination, and
our knowledge with regard to them is derived mainly from the
mutual abuse of the two comedians. That lines 1288-1312 of
the Knifjhtu of Aristophanes are the work of Kupolis was the
universal opinion of antiquity, and seems to be based on unim-
peachable tradition. Whether, however, this was a case of
literary piracy is another question. Cratinus in his Flush had
no hesitation in accusing Aristophanes of literary theft. It is,
however, safer to take Kupolis' own statement in the Jl'tpfa-^
from which it would seem that Kupolis collaborated with Aris-
tophanes in the production of the Kni was at once artistic anil inventive. The
vein of persona! abuse was strong in him: C'eon and Alcibiade-,
jioiiticians ]! fligates. and jihilo.-ophers. w.-n
partiality, Socrates was the object of a i<
a- can scarce. y be discovered in Ari.-topham
chief otlence, acc'irdin'.; to Kupolis. wa- hi- po
haps in con-equence of. certainly in accordance \\ i;
loe'n:an vein that Kup"ii> produced i.o myth"! _::<
With t'ne excejition of id- Cit/>ni, which, as f,r
wa> not of a di-tiiictivciv political tendencv, all
25O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
were probably concerned with events of the day. In his frag-
ments, as in the fragments of a shattered mirror, we may see
reflected imperfectly the history of his time, and that is largely
the history of the Peloponnesian war. As in Euripides and
Sophocles, the Spartans, when introduced in a tragedy, are
made to play invidious parts, so in the Helots of Eupolis we
may be sure that that institution, the most dangerous to Sparta
of all Spartan institutions, was not represented under its most
favourable light. In the TcKriarchi, Athens' naval hero, Phor-
mio, was introduced upon the stage. At the time of this
comedy, Athens was fighting with a light heart, and the hard-
ships of war were presented on their comic side, in the ludicrous
complaints of the effeminate Dionysus, who found in the Taxi-
archi military service as unpleasant as in the Froys he finds
rowing. Later in the war, service was more of a duty than a
jest, and in the Malingerer we have Eupolis directing his talents
to scorn of the young men who had not the stuff of soldiers in
them. Perhaps in no respect does Eupolis show more clearly
3iis claims to be considered a comedian of the Old Attic Comedy
than in his relations to the politicians of his time. His literary
activity begins after the death of Pericles, but not after the
clenth of Cleon or Hyperbolus, and hence the difference in his
attitude towards these statesmen respectively. Pericles, whom
Cratinus, Teleclides, Hermippus, and doubtless all real come-
dians, derided unceasingly, had now been elevated on the pedes-
tal of the " good old times/' and it is from comedy that Pericles
obtains his best known eulogy. Cleon and Hyperbolus, how-
ever, were guilty of the unpardonable fault of being yet alive,
and this fault is visited with condign punishment in the Mari-
cn* and the Golden Aye. "Maricils" is a foreign word, and is
used as an insulting epithet for Hyperbolus ; the G<>l.3, from which comes a celebrated tribute
252 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
to Sophocles. 1 From it, and from the title of the comedy, it
has been conjectured that in this play, as in the Frogs of
Aristophanes, there was a criticism of the dramatic merits of
Sophocles and Euripides. The Muses was put on the stage
at the same time as the Fro avrip KO.L 6f|t6s,
TroXXas Troujcras KO.L xa.Xus Tpa.-,(j}Cia.s'
/caXiis 5' trtXf iTTjo 1 ', oroec iVouaVas KaKiiV.
2 J.-S 7/5 1' T'I]V OdXarrai.' airit rf/s 7/}i opdv,
til fjLr/Tf'p, tern fj.Tj TrXfoyra fjtf]8afJ.ov,
8 A. ri orj en' 1 ar/j.io'i Ko.1 0//oi'f?s ot ; ra,' /j.eya ;
B. f^fffTl y
f a slave, and wrote comedies intended to bo read, not
acted ; Strut tis, whose jokes were weak, and who parodied plays
of Euripides; Alc;eus, Eunicus, Cantharus. Diocles, one of
wiiose fragments shows that he was a writer of some elegance
and reflection; Nicocharos, Nicophron. Philyllius, Polyzelus,
Sunnyrio, Demetrius, Apollophanes, Cephisodorus, Kpilycus,
and Euthycles. As to those writers, who, us was said above.
were placed among the writers of the Old Comedy by the
Alexandrine critics, we can say nothing more than that, to judge
from the names of their plays, they must have inclined much
more to the Middle than to the Old Comedy.
CHAPTER VII.
ARISTOPHANES.
ARISTOPHANES, son of Philippus, of the deme of Cydathenaion,
was born about B.r. 444. and died about li.r. 380. What littie.
we know about his life is mainly derived from the scanty and
u.-uaily ambiguous hints to be found in his own plays. The
fact that In' could be charged with being an uiieti, and, per-
haps, the complaint of Eupolis that the Athenians showed more
favour to foreign than to native comedians, show that there was
foiii'-thing which at least had the appearance of irregularity in
An.-t' 'phuiie.-' ext ru'-tioii. '
For u-, the life of Ari.-tophuties i- his works. These may 1 e
divide.! into two groups that which precedes and that widen
f. .llow< t'ne Sicilian expedition. In both groups there a:v.
comedies primarily political, but those of ti.e earlier group an:
di>; in_'!:i>hed by greater freedom of attack and nioi-.- umv-
strained personalities than those of the secor.il. In both tie-re
are C"inedies dealing with ihilosoi.hy ur literatuie, bui t'ne
eurher lines treat those subjects in their relation t < and eii'ect
1 Attempts have Wen made to cnniliiiit' ;iiis\vj;ii Ac'i. '>'?, :unl tn ii-fi-r
t'n it An^t.'p'n. ([:<> er 'n:-. t'.itlirr oicninr'l a \\?;i.'ii \,a ill .M^i:,:i : "inn it i-; un-
ctThiin wh.-tli.-r ti o ]>;ir;i!i;i^i-i n\ t i . e Ai'hiirni'tnt ri-f.-rs tn Ari.-tii|.ii:iii.-s lun,-
scl: cr In C.iii'.--tratus, in win. so n:iii-,e tin? j.ii-c.- w.i> i.n>u,'ht out, uinl cuus-.--
ij-.t ntly little ri-iiiu.co v-:m i.o 1'lacr.i en t'n. coiuhiiiution.
254 HISTOKY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
on the life of the nation, while the later ones treat them apart
from any such relation. The attitude Aristophanes assumed
towards the new tendencies of his time was at first that of un-
compromising hostility, subsequently that of qualified opposi-
tion, and later still that of his early years. But of this change
of attitude Aristophanes himself was hardly conscious, and it
does not correspond to the division into two groups which we
have laid down. It is, however, only in the Liter group that
we find such plays as the Plutus or Aeolosicon, which are of a
purely mythological cast, and belong to the Middle rather than
to the Old Comedy.
Before composing comedies of his own, Aristophanes seems
to have done something in the way of comic writing, assisting
his friends. 1 When he took to composing independently, he
brought out his first three plays not in his own name, but under
that of Callistratus, and perhaps Philonides. The reason for this
lias been supposed, on the authority of a scholiast, to have been
that the law forbade any poet of less than forty years of age to re-
ceive a chorus from the Archon. As, however, in all probability,
./Kschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Eupolis produced plays in
their own names before attaining that age, and as Aristophanes
himself was not even thirty years uLl when he personally
brought out the Kniijlits, it seems probable that the law in
question owes its existence to confusion with a law, which cer-
tainly did exist though disregarded, that no person under that
age should be choregus to the chorus of boys. It is reasonable
to suppose, however, that the Archon would decline to give a
mere boy of eighteen or twenty years of age a chorus. If to this
we add that, as Aristophanes himself gives us to understand in
the parabasis of the Kin : ilifsj- the training of the chorus and the
production of a comedy required much practical experience,
which Aristophanes at that age did not possess, we have a
sullicient explanation of his course of procedure.
The JJn-ta!t>/'.t or Itart^m'ters. B.C. 427, was the first comedy
produced by Aristophanes, 3 and it obtained the second prize.
Like the i'l>iwl*, this piece dealt with education, and represented
the older methods as exclusively productive of morality, and
the new tendency as making for the dishonest quibbles of
superficial rhetoric. In the following year Callistratus brought
1 Vesi>. 1018 :
oi> . ^254 ; \\liL-tiier iu the name of I'liilmiiJus or Cullistratus is un-
CL-I tain.
THE DRAMA: ARISTOPHANES. 255
out the Babylonians on behalf of Aristophanes. The date we
know from the parabasis of the Acharniana, 1 which shows that
the Babylonians contained some allusions to the embassy of
Gorgias, who had been sent by the Lcontini the previous year
to obtain the assistance of Athens against Syracuse. The title
of the play seems to have been a word used at Athens in a
general sense for foreign slaves, and the chorus consisted accord-
ingly of slaves branded on the forehead with the mark of the
owl. indicating that they were the property of Athens a view
of tilings which could hardly have been fi It as complimentary
by the allied states, whom this chorus of branded slaves was
intended to represent. As, moreover, this comedy was per-
formed in the spring, when large; numbers of the allies we're
present in Athens - for the purpose of paying their tribute, tin;
audacity of thus representing the oppression and extortion to
which these very allies were, according to Aristophanes, sub-
jected, amounted to recklessness. The consequence was a pro-
secution instituted by Cleon, 3 probably against Callistratus,
who would be legally responsible for the play, though every-
body would know that Aristophanes was the person really im-
plicated.
In H.C. 425, the next year, Callistratus produced another
comedy for Aristophanes, the Acharniaiist. This, the earliest of
the eleven plays which have survived to our times, obtained
the first prize. It may be regarded as a type of Aristophanie
comedy. Its object is simple : to set before tin; Athenians the
desirability of peace. Its machinery is equally simple and
direct. Dicscopolis concludes a private peace with the Lace-
d.Tinonians, and then there follows a series of scenes in which
the charms of peace ;nv presented, not by description, to the
minds of the spectators, but sensuously and concretely to the
eyes of all beholders. This trick of materiali.-in_ p an idea, of
drama! i>ing a Mmile, is at the base of Ari.-tophanic comedy.
Aristophanes does not call the allied .-tales "slaves" of Athens;
he brings them on the stage dressed an i branded as " Ilaby-
lonians." In
swarm of pe
similitude of
walking,'' 4 to describe the pur-uits
su-peiided in a hanging ba.-ket.
obviously can only be attained at th
often of possibility. At the festiva
*Ach.3T7-
256 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
rules and conventions were conventionally and as a rule sup-
posed not to hold, and the comedian's freedom of treatment was
shown by, and allowed in, not only his mode of dealing with real
events and persons, but also in his disregard for the limits of
time and space. Thus, in the Acharnians, the scene, originally
laid in Athens, shifts without warning or apology to the country.
The seasons are equally accommodating, and spring succeeds to
autumn at command. The moment Dicseopolis concludes his
peace with the Peloponnesians, the Boeotians and Megarians,
who have evidently been waiting behind the scenes so as to
appear without a second's delay, appear as if by magic to trade
with him. Xot only are the external and mechanical categories
of space and time treated thus cavalierly, 1 but the bonds of in-
ternal probability of connection between one scene or character
and another are equally despised. Of the twenty characters or
more that belong to the play, most appear upon the scene for no
other reason than that the author needs them, and, having
raised a laugh, depart, passing over the stage with as little con-
nection between each other as have the people who pass one in
a busy street or the victims who defile by the clown in a harle-
quinade. But the incidents in a comedy of Aristophanes,
though linked by no internal chain of causation or probability,
all subserve the main purpose of the play in the case of the
Acharnians that of proving the attractions of peace : and more
than this is nut expected from the primitive stage in which the
Old Comedy was. Moreover, each of the incidents is comic in
its own way. The variety thus gained precludes any danger of
monotony, and the absence of motive in the incidents is con-
cealed by the rapidity and force with which Aristophanes' tide
of humour carries his comedy along.
In the next year, B.C. 424, Aristophanes appeared before the
public of Athens for the first time in his own name with the
Kii'njlitx. In this comedy Aristophanes concentrates himself
again on one simple object, that of attacking Cleon. Whether
1 It 7MUst, however, always be remembered that as the Clott'ls and the
M'a.ifiti which have come down to us are probably not The f'foiii/s and tin;
Wat/n which wt-ro performed on the Athenian stai;e, but amalgamations or
"contaminations " of, in each case, two distinct comedies at least, so too
possibly the changes of place and time in the Achnrtiiniis are due to a " con-
tamination." ]!ut, on the other hand, the changes itt any rate of place in
the />".'/>' 'ire quite parallel to those of the Arliafniititx, and are above MIS-
I'icion. C.enerallv, too. we may say that these changes of place and time are
characteristic of the early sta^e. of drama (H}, and may be
readily distinguished from inconsistencies such as, in the Clinnig, making
the play turn first upon the stupidity and then on the cleverness of
Strepsiades.
THE DRAMA : ARISTOPHANES. 257
Cleon had been subjected to similar attentions on the part of
Aristophanes in the Balijloitiaus, we cannot say. It is, there-
fore, hard to decide whether the prosecution which Cleon then
instituted was due to personal motives, or was really prompted
by desire for the public good. It is, however, impossible to
deny that from the time of that prosecution the matter became
one of personal enmity between Aristophanes and Cleon. For
a year Aristophanes allowed the matter to rest, possibly not
caring to involve Callistratus in any further lawsuits ; when,
however, he came before the world in his own name he made
such an onslaught, in the Kitis :i is to be taken
literally to mean that Cleon thrashed Aristophanes, or caused
him to be thrashed, is uncertain. Only one thing is clear, and
that i.Sj that Aristophanes learned prudence, and for the rest of
his life did not allow his muse or his feelings to carry him into
danger again.
The knights who are represented by the chorus of Aristo-
phanes' comedy, are not to lie confused with the division of
citizens made by Solon into Pentacosioinedimni, Kniirhts, Zeu-
git;v, and T'netes. In the time of Aristophanes the knights were
chosen 4 from each tribe by the two hipparchs ; and as their
service was not limited to the dnn'_''TS of war, but brought much
distinction in peace, volunteers were always forthcoming. In
many festivals, and particularly in the I'anatheiuva, the knights
rode in the proces.-ions in full array. At all times the cavalry
lias 1 eeii the branch of the service whiVh the wealthy classes
have aileetcd, and Athens wa- no exception to the rule. ]'.-
tween this class and the lamp-sellers and tanners, who aspired
to rule the .-tate, then? were, in at
amuse could not be a good comedy, though it sent you away
with the most patriotic aspirations or the most virtuous resolves.
Further, it may bo questioned whether Aristophanes himself
wmild have claimed that his vocation was that of patriot rather
than poet. It is true that, in the Fraut Aristophanes
would not be the only man whose; practice was better than his
theory. The passages - \vhieh have' been quoted to show that
he regarded him.-elf as having rendered great services to, and as
having shown great courage on behalf of, the state, need only
be examined to show th''ir real nature. AVhen, for in>tanee. in
the AfJifii'in'itnn, Aristophanes says that the (Jreat Kim.: pio-
phe>ied that the Athenians were sure to defeat the Spartans,
because they had Ari-tophaises to guide them,
Spartans claimed .Egina ,-olely because they thr
deprive Athen> of their patriot comedian, it n
humour to appreciate the joke, and to see
ridicule spared nothing, not even hinnelf.
If it wer
26O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
direction imparted to it until the time of Aristophanes, if it
were true, as the passages in the Clouds and the Peace seem to
imply, that Aristophanes \vas the first comedian to attack public
men or, at least, the prominent statesmen of the day, then there
would be some reasonable ground for believing that Aristophanes
was a comedian because he was a politician. But comedy was
political long before Aristophanes wrote comedies, and, from
Pericles downwards, the greatest men of Athens were attacked
by the comedians of their day. If proof were needed that
Aristophanes Avas a politician because he was a comedian, and
did not become a comedian because he Avas a politician, it would
be afforded by the mere fact that when comedy ceased to be
political Aristophanes stiil continued to write comedies. That
Aristophanes wrote poetry because he was a poet, and not be-
cause he was a patriot, is proved by the lyrical passages, Avhose
pure and intrinsic beauty places him by the side of Shakspere.
That he Avas urged to comedy by the instinct of the comedian,
and not by the aims of the politician, would be shown by the
early age at which the instinct manifested itself, if it Avere not
sufficiently demonstrated by the irresistible flood of comic pOAver
Avhich carries off the loosely and inartistically connected scenes
of his comedies. Finally, Avhen in the Kiiii'ilt* Aristophanes
talks of his victory over Cleon, his own wurds show that the
triumph in which he gloried did not consist in the political
annihilation of Cleon, for Cleon flourished more than ever, but
in the Comic prize awarded to his play.
It is only those Avho do not understand that poetry and
humour can have merits of their own, and must be judged by
standards of their own, who will think that the fame, of Aris-
tophanes is impaired by recognising that oarnest'.i'-ss was not
always or primarily the object of Aristophanes' jests. Hut
although the que.-tion of Aristophanes' patriotism and his
politics has nothing to do with his literary rank, in considering
his character as a man they have to be taken into account. In
tii'- small city-states of (Ireeec, and owing to the very fact of
their smallness, tie- demands of the state up"ii the citizen weie,
much more considerable than in the iuiti"n-states of modern
day-. To the mind of Aristotle, indeed, it had occurred that
there Avert; other duties than those of citizenship, and that it
was possible to be a irr a better state of things, saw
it in the past. They looked before, not after, and pined for
what was not. Plato, Thucydides, l>oeiates, and Aristophanes,
were all aristocrats. Euripides, in whom, indeed, were concen-
trated all the new tendencies of his time, had no faith in the
future, and was as much estranged from the mass of the citizens
as the most reactionary of oligarchs. In his general political
views then, and especially in his longing for peace, Aristophanes
was undoubtedly sincere. In some cases, as in that of Cleon,
it is idle to deny that personal feeling had more to do with his
views than had anv other emotion, and in no case is it reason-
able to imagine- that the particular charges or epithets have
necessarily or probably any ground other than the humour
attaching to abuse. In his aristocratical sympathies and his
op; osition to the war, however, we may, as we have said, recog-
nise Aristophanes' sincerity, and. whether .-ueh views were or
were not adn.irable in themselves, he is at I'li-t entitled to ail
the m.-ri; ih.it is due to a man who tights an up-hill battle, and
who holds to the r-triiui'-rlc his life through. Throughout his
life, Aristophams was oppo>ed in polities to the majority of the
I'lM/'-Ils before whom his. comedies Were presented, and tids
r.iis.-s tin- ouestion as to the political influence of Aristophanes'
comedies.
In the lirst place, it is hard to imagine that a comedian would
have vi inured to attack so unsparing! v the views of ti^ m.ijority
of his audience, if the attack were to be taken seriouslv. In
tills IVSpeet We lllaV Consi
if the ndieule loured upon IHonys;
the audience in jest, and was not
serious argument aLTainst the woivhi
262 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
cule poured upon the politician they believed in. It was excel-
lent fooling, but did not prevent the Athenians from bestowing
offerings on Dionysus, or office on Cleon. It may, however, Lo
said that the ridicule of the gods, though not intended by Aris-
tophanes so to operate, yet did act as a solvent on the national
religion. This is true, but it does not follow that Aristophanes'
ridicule had a similar effect on the democratical party. It is
much more probable that in this case, too, the solvent operated
in a manner unexpected by Aristophanes, and that it destroyed,
not the faith of the democrats in democracy, but the faith of
the Athenians in the honour of their public men.
In the next place, if we look at history and endeavour to
trace the effect of comedy on politics, we see that whatever its
effect may have been, it was too minute to be visible at this
distance of time. Pericles, as we have already seen, if abuse
could have effected it, would have governed Athens but a brief
time. The effect of the Balnjlonians on the political fortunes of
Cleon is to be inferred from the fact, that it was only after that
play that Cleon reached the height of his power. Again, the
Athenians hear and crown the Kniyhts, and immediately de-
spatch Cleon to Thrace with full powers of command. Of all
the lesser leaders of the people, Eucrates, Lysicles, Hyperbulus,
&c. . not one, so far as we know, was prevented by the attacks
of the comedians from attaining and exercising influence over
the people. Aristophanes had nearly twenty-seven years in
which to persuade the people to make peace, but his efforts
"were not crowned with success.
To these considerations we may add what we have said above,
lhat even in the parabascs Aristophanes does not take himself
too seriously. lie puts forward his claims to have done sober
service to the state with such comic exaggeration, that it would
be quite open to his hearers to believe either that he did or did
not mean his words seriously ; and, as the majority of his audi-
ence would not have relished his words if they thought them
serious, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the majority
enjoyed them as a joke merely. Lastly, to dismiss the question
of the political influence of comedy, it must be acknowledged
that for a poet to select comedy as the means for doing service
to the state, would be a somewhat stupid choice. The very
nature of comedy is its negative character. As a weapon of de-
struction it may be elleetive, but as a tool for construction it
must be a failure. To understand this, we have only to ask
how many practical suggestions the political comedies of Aris-
tnnhanes contain for brin< r incr about the state of things which
THE DRAMA : ARISTOPHANES. 263
the autlior desired to see, and the very question is ridiculous.
In such comedies as those of Aristophanes, where every situa-
tion, character, idea, and allusion, depends for success on its
absurdity, we can expect, as we get, no more practical sugges-
tion for concluding the Peloponnesian War than that an ambas-
sador should hire a beetle to convey him aloft to interview
Zeus on the subject. In respect of only one thing does it seem
necessary to modify this view of the essentially negative char-
acter of comedy. The lyrical passages of comedy did give
Aristophanes an opportunity of dwelling with true poetic power
on the, charms of peace, and of this opportunity he does not fail
to avail himself. 1 But in all other respects, comedy is politi-
cally sterile.
The comedies of Aristophanes, however, are by no means
all or exclusively political, as the duii'l*, produced the year
(B.C. 4^5) after the Kn ///// /.>, may serve to remind us. Kvery
person or thing which for any reason occupied the public atten-
tion, was thereby potentially, and as a rule actually, a subject
for the ( )ld Comedy of Athens. The object of the Clr
t by his seeing the c
>f things, and by the fact that his fund
faction as an artist consist in giving a:>propi
that perception. Philosophers j n general, and a pinlo.-oph'T ill
1 Pa.r. -'.'. ;8r.
264 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
particular possessing the personal appearance of Socrates, offer a
fair field for the exercise of the comic faculty, and this itself
will account for Aristophanes writing the Clouds ; we are not
compelled to assume that the comedy could only be prompted
by the fervour of moral passion or philosophical conviction.
Certainly Plato, and therefore, probably, Socrates, did not regard
the Clouds in any such serious light.
But although a consuming zeal for his country's good was not
the sole or a dominant motive in Aristophanes' mind, it is quite
probable that his sober opinions on philosophy coincided with
his instincts as a comedian, nor is it any objection to this view
that he knew nothing about philosophy. A man may be earnest
in his opposition to what he does not understand. On the other
hand, the fact that Aristophanes ridicules philosophy would not
by itself prove that he did not believe in philosophy. Such a
line of argument would prove that he did not believe in the
religion of his fathers, in himself, or in anything. There can,
however, be no doubt that in respect of philosophy, as of every-
thing else, Aristophanes was opposed to the changes which he
saw going on around him. But although the general tendency
of his comedies is unmistakably this, it must not be ignored
that, living in a time of transition, Aristophanes, though oppos-
ing the new movements, is yet carried along by them to an
extent of which he was perhaps himself unconscious.
Based originally on family ties, the small states of antiquity
exacted from their members a subordination to the state as much
in excess of our notions of what is right, as the Konian jiatria
potwtax exceeded what we regard as the limits of paternal power.
But the intellectual growth of the sons of Athens was too great
to be restrained by any such bonds, and Aristophanes lived at
a time when these bonds were cracking in all directions. With
this intellectual growth Aristophanes had no sympathy indeed,
it may be doubted whether lie even understood that it was
growth. He only saw that the, bonds which had held Athens
together were breaking, and his intellectual rank was not high
enough to enable him to dimly look into the. future, and see
that these bonds must break before Athens could take her
proud and rightful place in the march of mind and the history
of the world.
The Sophists, in declaiing that man was the, measure of all
things, were I Hit giving expression to the struggle of individual
genius with the bondage, of tradition ; and Aristophanes himself,
though in the Clouds he declares for bondage, yet had outgrown
the limits which he desired to impose on growth. Though he
THE DRAMA : ARISTOPHANES. 265
fights against the future, lie is none the more in harmony with
the present. '1 he discord which exists 1 et .ween him and the
citizen community has the same root as that between I'lato or
F.uripides and the Athenians. They have outgrown the old
state of things. Hence the contradiction and inconsistencies in
Aristophanes. Socrates in the Clowlx is not more a satire on
the movement Aristophanes is attacking, than is Strepsiades on
the .-state of things which he is defending. The new-fangled
gods of the (7/oW.s- are not more ridiculous, or more ridiculed,
than the gods of his fathers. While abusing his political oppo-
nents for playing upon the greedy and mercenaiy instincts of
the people, Aristophanes relies for victory on outbidding the
demagogues in appeals to the very same feelings. At the same
time, he betrays his own estimate of his fellow-citizens by basing
his arguments for peace with the exception of some beau-
tiful lyrics in the J'a.r on the pleasures of eating and drinking
and on sensual enjoyments of a lower order. In short, discon-
tented without knowing that the cause of his discontent lay in
himself, he turns longing looks to an imaginary past the crea-
tion of his own romantic and poetic spirit and iinds in his
di- satisfaction with the present a suiiicient proof of the superi-
ority of the " good old times."
<)ur text of the ('hunts is in such an unsatisfactory condition
that to endeavour to draw any conclusions from it is dillicult,
and perhaps rash. We know that originally the play was pro-
duced in H.C. 423. and was unsuccessful. Whether it was again
put on tin.' ."tage. with the alterations necessitated by such a re-
is doubtful. In any case, the Cl<>u< en taking or are about t" take the
tivp-iad"s and Socrates, to change their ma-k- and
dresses. This difficulty might indeed be explained by as.-umin^
that the p'ay, as we have it. was i;ot intended to be acted, but
to be read. This hypothesis, however, would i;ot exiiain the
numerous other inconsistencies and pieces of bad workman-hit'.
For example, it would not explain how it is that Strep.-iades is
at tirst represented so incapable of taking <>n s>> h;-tie culture
that lie L, r ives ii up in ile pair, a: d then subsequently is n: :de
to appear a.- having been .-o completely successful in this so;-t
credit >rs. Nor would
266 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
this hypothesis give any satisfactory explanation of the parabasis
(518-562) being thrust into the middle of a scene, instead of
coining, as it ought to do, where there is some sort of pause in
the action.
These are only two of the many crudities which demonstrate
that the Clouds cannot have been given to the world by Aris-
tophanes as we have the play. Indeed, probably even in Alex-
andrine times, the grammarians stated that Aristophanes com-
menced not merely a revision x but re- writing the play, 2 and that
we have the play only half re-written. Incomplete the re-writ-
ing 3 certainly is, if it is by Aristophanes: but it is also so
bungling that even sober criticism may be allowed to wonder
whether we have before us Aristophanes' attempt to re-write
the Clouds, and not really two comedies of Aristophanes
jumbled into one by some would-be improver.
If now we recognise that it is unsafe to judge of Aristophanes'
attack upon Socrates solely by the Clouds as we have the piece,
we must look elsewhere for materials to correct false con-
clusions drawn on this subject from the Clouds. Fortunately
we find such material in Plato's Apology. Plato distinguishes
between the misrepresentations of Aristophanes and the charges
formally laid against Socrates by his accusers Anytus, Mele-
tus, and Lycon. Aristophanes, Plato says (19 B.C.), represented
Socrates as engaged in physical investigations, and walking in
the air and other such absurdities, whereas Anytus accused him
of corrupting the youth (243). From this it is. on the whole,
fair to infer that Aristophanes had not accused Socrates of per-
verting the youth, and hence that the " education " of Phidip-
pides, which makes a large part of our Clouds, was no part of
the Clouds as acted. It seems also to follow that the scene of
the Just and the Unjust Reason did not occur in the Clouds of
B.C. 423. If these deductions are made from the Clouds as we
have it, most of the sting is taken out of the attack on Socrates.
The picture of the philosopher still remains something more
than a caricature, for there arc points in it which are distinctly
Ullhistorical. Socrates did not. though the, Sophists did, accept
money, and Socrates was too practical a man to be guilty of the
extravagant asceticism put down to his teaching in the Clouds.
P>ut these details prevented neither Plato nor Socrates from
enjoying the picture ; and, apart from this, what remains of the
Cloud* was as much a satire on the people who imagined that
the Sophist* could impart the secret of fraud with impunity, as
it was on the new philosophy itself.
THE DRAMA: ARISTOPHANES. 267
Viewing the Clouds as a work of ait, we arc obviously hound
to bear in mind that -we have not hefore us what Aristophanes
would have wished u.s to have, and this will give us a hetter
appreciation of what is really admirahle in the work. The
manner in which the subject of the Clowls was worked out in
the original version can he fur us only a matter of speculation,
not of admiration. But we are still free to enjoy the poetry of
Aristophanes' conception of making the clouds of the sky to he
his chorus ; although some choral odes are lost, those that remain
are of exquisite beauty; and above all, in the speech of the Just
Reason, descriptive of the older education, we have work that
for its intrinsic literary merit would of itself establish Aristo-
phanes among the great poets of the world.
In the following year, u.c. 422, the Wasps gained the second
prize. This comedy is badly constructed. It is mainly based
on the absurdities of the Athenian jury system as linally shaped
by JVrides. Any Athenian citizen of the legal age who chose
to attend the law courts, nnd act as dikast or juror, received a
trilling sum in payment of his services. This payment was in-
tended to compensate the poorer citizens who otherwise could
not have all'onled the time, and would have been practically
excluded from discharging this part of the duties of an Athe-
nian citizen. But Aristophanes represents the mass of the
citizens as attending the law courts, not from a feeling of duty,
but for the purpose of getting a clay's wages without doing a
day's work. A further result was that the habit of attending
the law courts became a positive mania, according to Aristo-
phanes, with the citizens, who, in their capacity of jurors with
a tendency to convict, are represented in the chorus as wasps.
1'hilocleon. suffering from the mania, is confined to the house
by his son Bdelycleon, and calls to his assi.-tance the chorus,
who. however, together with l'hildcon himself, are eventually
r.'iivii'.c.'d by IMdydeon's arguments. I'hilodeon is induced
to forego attendance at court by being allowed to hold mock
trials at home, and here the character of the play suddenly
changes, and a set of totally diti'erent motives, ha\ing no neces-
sary or probable connection \vi;h the hitherto dominant idea of
<;_; in to work 1'idelycleon, it seems, as indeed his
>rts, belongs to the young and fashionable oligarchs,
the greatest enmity tii the lnw-caste leaders of tho
party. Bdelvdeon. having rescued hi- father from
poiit ical defilement, now pivct
I'a.-liion. But 1'iiilocleon, on
268 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
gets drunk, and the piece concludes with the comic situations
which result from this unsuccessful attempt at culture.
Judged by no higher standard than that of Aristophanes him-
self, the construction of the Waxps is faulty In the other
plays of Aristophanes there is only one central idea, and that
is of such simplicity and so dominates everything else, that un-
mistakahle and satisfactory unity is thereby given to the piece.
In the Watps we have nothing of the kind. The absurdities
of the dikasteria are at first the subject of the comedy, and the
fact that the chorus is related to this idea is enough to establish
its claim to being the central idea of the play. But the latter
part of the piece throws all the emphasis on the social and poli-
tical antithesis implied in the contrasted names, Philocleon and
Bdelycleon. In other comedies of Aristophanes the various
scenes have, indeed, no connection with each other, but they
gain all necessary unity by being all related to and exponent of
the central idea. But in the Wasps the latter part of the play,
if it is not co-ordinate in importance with what has hitherto
been considered the leading idea, cannot as a subordinate con-
ception be regarded as having any connection either with the
other scenes or with the leading idea. [See Xote A.]
Apart from the faults of construction the Wasps is amusing.
Except when Philocleon and his son are arguing for and against
the dikast system and then the piece conies to rather a stand-
still the comedy is full of life, movement, and business. The
trial of the two dogs has won a place for itself in the history of
literature which is not much threatened by the imitation in the
Plaidcnrs of Racine. The concluding scenes are in the bois-
terous humour of the Old Comedy, and are highly amusing.
Turning from the literary and comic side of the piece, we find
that the W'iKpt is of much importance for the history of Aristo-
phanes. At the beginning of his public life he threw in his lot
with tin' reactionary party in politics, and lent that party all
the fire of his youthful genius. Conspicuously in B.C. 424 in
the Knt'ilit* did he identify himself with the Cleon haters, the
Bdelycleon.*. But in B.C. 423 he temporarily left politics, and
applied his attention to the other forces which were growing,
and which by their expansion threatened to break up the old
slate of thing-. In is.c. 422 he returns to politics, in the Wii; ical or per.-' dial, it would
be forth con: in in the fact that thi
270 HISTORY OF GKEEK LITERATURE.
produced at a time when the psephism. of Syracosius l was in
operation.
The motive and the keynote of the whole comedy are given
in the first two lines of the epirrhema of the parabasis. 2 The
poet will leave Athens, its war, its party strife, its plague of
dikasts, its false philosophy, and seek a home in the realms of
poetry. His soul takes to itself the wings of a dove, and seeks
rest. And it is just because he is no longer tied down by the
necessity of writing for a purpose however good as a bird is
tied by a string, that Aristophanes in the Uirds soars to a height
of poetry, to which he nowhere else attains. Here he rises on
the wings of song abovje earth-born care. Mounting with the
lark, he ascends to pure and peaceful upper air, and takes
pattern by the birds who know no politics. " Come hither," he
says to his fellow-citizens, " come hither, come hither, here
shall ye see no enemy but winter and rough weather.' 1 The
whole comedy, delightfully simple and straightforward in its
construction, flows right on as sweetly and joyously as a bird's
song, and with precisely the same moral and purpose. It is
beautiful, as a poet's midsummer night's dream should be, and
nothing more. There is no bitterness in the play, and if the
mockery, from which in Aristophanes nothing escapes, occa-
sionally breaks out, it disappears again as suddenly as it came,
and by its gloom only serves to enhance the joyous beauty of
the whole.
Unique in ancient comedy, there is only one other work in
all the literature of antiquity that the litrrfs can be compared
with for pure play of fancy, and for sympathy with the beauty
of nature ; and that other work is the B<.u'chii'fls with our own Midsmnnu r Ni/jhfs
JJ/'f-am. In both, there is the same lightness of treatment, the
same absence of ivferenco to the realities of life, and. above
all, in both the pmvly poetic treatment of a purely poetic con-
ception. The birds themselves are drawn with a delightful
tenderness and love, which could only come of intimate and affec-
tionate acquaintance with their nature and their way*. Above
all, though for the good of us mortals they talk in human lan-
guage, the birds, remain birds. They are quite different from
those of Rabelais in his description of /'/>/*' */n(r/tf>, which
were, indeed birds, "///a/* l>i>'/i res^uibl'ijits an./' Jt>r/.-, was a literary
comedy, directed mainly again.-t F.uripides. The title means a
preliminary dramatic performance of some kind. The A>/t)>?/i-
(//'/., pr-dueed in the same year as the ////'/>. was, like the
on political character, and probably turned upon a
d to be, but not really eflect^d by. the miiaciilous
deceased hero, Amphiaraus. Possi
period the Lf much discussion. I'.oth the opinions of Euripides
terary form in which he fxpiv.-s'-d them are unspar-
iiinced by Aristophanes. In ids opinions Kuripides
ed with the intellectual and forward m 'Veui'-nts of
Aristophanus neither svmpathi-ed with nor under-
entirely iv\v pl:>v, \\ i,i<-'n, li
274 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
stood these intellectual movements. In order to take her place
in the intellectual history of the world, Athens had to lose her
importance in the political history of Greece. But Aristophanes
did not understand this. He only saw that if the new ten-
dencies were victorious. Athens, glorious in the past, could no
longer be what she once had been. From his own point of
view Aristophanes may have been right, but for us his point
of view is wrong. The Persian wars once over, the destinies of
mankind depended on the philosophers, not on the hoplites, of
Athens. Aristophanes, however, thought more of the hoplites
than of the philosophers.
Before proceeding to consider Aristophanes' criticisms on Euri-
pides as a poet, we ought to say one word on the immorality with
which the comedian charges the tragedian. On this point we
have in the plays of Euripides a good deal of evidence before
us, and there is consequently little excuse for a hesitating deci-
sion on the question. It is, however, necessary to remember
that in polemic?, as in other things, the standard of decency is
a shifting one. Terms which one age would hesitate to apply
to the most abandoned villain are in another century of such
frequent use as practically to be meaningless. Bearing this in
mind, and remembering the extremely excitable nature of the
Greeks, we shall not think it extravagant to say that the charges
of immorality which Aristophanes brings against Euripides and
his plays are simply Aristophanes' way of saying that on various
points lie totally disagrees with Euripides. In Ins literary criti-
cism Aristophanes is more fortunate. Living at a time when
the old was giving place to the new. Euripides shows in his
work all the inconsistencies of methods and uncertainty of
object which necessarily characterise a transition period. This
gives Aristophanes a great field for criticism, which, though
often one-sided, is often just. Aristophanes, not only as a poet,
and a great poet, possessed taste, but he also enjoyed the comic
power necessary for the most telling expression of his critici-m,
and a better poet than Euripides would have escaped scarcely
better from such a slashing attack. Indeed, oven /Eschylus,
the poet of Aristophanes' own choice, dues nut by any means
come off scot-free
After a long interval comes, in B.C. 393, th" next of the sur-
viving comedies, the Kci'lexinzni'CE, This, on the whole, is infe-
rior to the rest of Aristophanes' plays. Like many of them, the
J-'.cclf'S/u'i/i-ot reallv consists of a series of scones illustrating a
simple theme. Inasmuch, however, as in this case the theme
(that community of property and women is practically imnos-
TIIHDKAMA: ARISTOPHANES. 275
Bible) is of an abstract nature, the Erdcsiar.usa; lacks concentra-
tion and admits of no plot, even in the sense in which we, may
speak of Aristophanes' plots. The women of Athens disguise
themselves as men, attend the ecclesia, and by a snatch-vote
decree that the state shall henceforth be governed by women.
The women then institute communism, and a series of scenes,
most of them amusing, follows. Eventually the play stops, not
because any catastrophe has supervened, or because any appro-
priate period in the development of the subject has been reached,
but solely because the play must stop somewhere j and this is
the more unsatisfactory because, although the scenes chosen to
illustrate the practical consequences of communism show clearly
that the object of the piece is to demonstrate the, impossibility
of communism, yet when the play ends, communism is appa-
rently left ill possession of the field. The 7vvAwVc>/xoe bears
no reference to contemporary political (.-vents or personages, hut
simply enjoys itself at the expense of a philosophical theory,
which is stated also in the Republic of Plato. In conclusion,
the ehoric odes are of no great merit; there is no parodos, pro-
perly speaking, and there are no parabases or stasima.
In the Phil it*, as in the Ecdnttiazuxie, there is neither plot
nor that heightening of the interest towards the end of the, play
which, in the Ai'/xt)'>ti<()i*\ for instance, takes the place of catas-
trophe and denoument in a plot properly so called. Further,
the PI uf it.-*, like the /vv/cx/V/.-.v/xT, consists of a series of scenes
illustrating an abstract theme. The theme of the Pltttu* is the
desirability of the good being rich. This is the purpose for
which, ar.ii th" ph-a on which, (..'lin-mes, who has been fortunate
<-tio;:^h to catch the blind god of riches, persuades him to all i\v
himself to be cured ,,f his blindness. The god must have his
siu'iit to see who are e;ood, lint aithough this is the avowed
p:;r;>ose of the play, there is much in the piece that is not merely
inciinsistent, b;:t irreconcilable with this
Piutus has recovered his sight, \\'e ii;;d
at one ninment seem to sh>>\v that th
made rich and th" bad poor, and at am
stood on the assumption that everybo
been made rich. In fac;, Pnverty, aftei
banished from tin- earth, and the _"!- a
need, because, a< ail men have bee- mil
motive fur making ollerim,'- 1 t<> tie- g.
unity of purp"^ 1 in tin- /'////'/.-. and it'
came 1 1 1 ' iin t he hands i if An-i< 'tbai
lost his certainty of t>;ich, anil be:;;_' nn r
276 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
his own purpose, wavered between two inconsistent ends with-
out realising their incompatibility. 1
The Pining is sometimes said to belong to the Middle Comedy,
and sometimes to be a transition stage between the Old and the
Middle. If we look merely at the scenes which illustrate the
desirability of the good being made rich, we see that they have
the moral tendency which is a feature of the Middle Comedy.
If, however, we look at the scenes which illustrate the conse-
quences of all men being rich, we are reminded of the Ecclc-
siaziisa 1 , which illustrates the consequences of communism, and
of the Clouds, which illustrates the consequences of philosophy;
or again, looking at the distress of the gods when their sup-
plies are stopped, we are reminded of the Birds. There is, then,
in the Plutns a strain of the Old as well as of the Middle
Comedy. 2
To this period of Aristophanes' literary career, finally, must
be referred those lost plays whose titles show that they dealt
with mythological subjects, and therefore do not belong to the
earlier time when comedy was political in its nature. Such
plays are the Daughters of Dani'ius, the PJienlcian Women, the
Centaur p in which Aristophanes, like Epicharmus, made fun of
the tremendous appetite of Heracles; the Diedahis. 4 in which
Le^la appeared with her egg like a hen. There probably also
belong to this period the I/orcv, the Telmessenses, anil the Polyi-
(hts, which were directed against the new religions now creeping
into Athens. Polyidus, according to the story, recalled Glaucus
1 It characterises the tnste of the r.yzttntine scholars that the PI ut us was
their favourite comedy.
- Indeed, so distinct are the two strains, that it has been maintained that
in the Plutns, as in the Clunilx and the Wit*/**, we have an amalgamation or
"contamination" of two distinct comedies, and that, at least in the case of
the Plutns, one of these two comedies belongs to the Middle, and not to
Aristophanic comedy. Traditionally, however, our . Pint UK is regarded as hav-
ing been pioduced in B.C. 388, and as beinj; a revi.sion {OiOfit'tixris rather than
Staff Ktvj]) of an earlier form of t\ieP/iitiis produced in B.C. 408. Thus Phttits
I. possessed the choral odes which are wanting in I 'hit us II. F>ut the tradi-
ional view lias diiliculties of its own ; for instance, a scholiast commenting
in one passage s.iys this passage is taken from J'/utus II., as though lie had
lot -ot P/Htii* Il.'before him.
; This comedy had an alternative title, lirainatn, which was also appa-
vntiy an alternative title for another cmnedy, the Jii,>liu.i. Hut it is nncer-
ain whet he i- there was any diliVr -e between t 'he ( '> nlur and the Xi'-l-.nx,
xcept that one was a later \eision of the other. It is not even certain tiiat
tlie A'iofnis was by Aristophanes ; and unless Nh'biis w;.s :. male and comic.
Isioho, tin; subject of tiie play cannot lie guessed.
4 Tlif conn dian I 'la to al.-o wrote a comedy under this title, and there eem
tn liave b"eu recriininatioTis between the two poets on the subject of pla^i-
ai i-m. The >ame charge was brought by Aristophanes against Eu])olis( C/o in in,
55s), and against some unknown i net (1'r. loof tiie Aitiiifi/ritx), and by I'lato
a.an^t some poet, possibly Aristophanes (l'"rag. of the Plldurio).
THE DRAMA I ARISTOPHANES. 2/7
to life ; Telmessns, we learn from Cicero, 1 was famous for its
augury ; and in the, fragments of the Hvr- men. giMW more critical in culi-
nary matters as they grow old'T, probably this tendency was
the object of Aristophanes' satin.'. JJoth the (.'ncdlii-^ and the
../,'"/".-vVott, according to the author of the Greek life of A list o-
]ih i::es, belonged in character to the comply of Menander an I
J'hileinoii. They had no chorus or parabasis, and they had
plots.
APPENDICES TO C11A1TER VIL
A. ---' TIM: \VASP.S.''
Tnr ii i s Ivtw.'''!! tin 1 two lon^inc: to a liistinctly lii^'bor d'i-.-
j' i: :s of th'' \\''i<, ,- 1, iv>' Lrivi'ii ri-i' of sni-i.'ty. Air;iin. I'liil'i-'icon , i -,
In tif LMiiji'i'tiiri 1 ;K.: lii-ro t"'i. MS into ail sorts of (iitti"ultii's, ;unl tin
in th" IMS.' (' !:; ' i'li/ii.-i, \\-.' ii.-ivi' ]il:iv li-:i\'rs iiini in tii.'in. Fnrtlii-v.
11:1 :niiMl_::i!ii i:i":i o! t\v>> ili>tiin't tin 1 ciinnis is , i ii;i'ni;itcly ivi'irsi'iiti'il
rulil'-iii.--. 'I'l.l^ \\-\\ i-; 'lull-Hi' (ill! us li:!vi:;_r til" I'llerirv al. i viu'"U:'
l>v ;L r.M-.-p t'xainiiritiiiti et' t::'' cf ymin_ f \\M>]IS an i us ciii'iH-'ni. il
cein -,iy. I'iiiliM-l'-'iii i- at \\r>\ iv- by ulii M:>-. ^'untrasr io"o-ii't)
]'! -.:::'! :is i ai.iiL'ili,' 1" t'ii'- I'hi-s \\i:i: it>7' ION\ IOMI i it i \vi:'a
ni' |i'i'ir iliki.-t-i. in \\iii.ni tin 1 [My iii.ii- 1 1 j i ; so tn'i ia 4:1 4=;" li:- 1
w.i> o; iiuj'urtMiii'' . M]M 1 i. n M.- !.'- rl:"ru> utirr'.y aa>i ii; ' 'injiivlii'ii-
/' h r. i. 41 : Ti-liin:ii^ in C'.iri.i e-t, qua in ur'ne i-xi'i-il;! h.iru.-pioum
d i- 'ii'lina.
- Tin- wuivhiii of S.i'n.i/iii-i. tt:i -ki 1 i '\ \\ > 'i-i: i ii-'s. ini'i liv<.nii' quite
fiiMiiniiaiil-.' in tiir tiiiif uf Tn'-uniira-: n~. fur tin' lutc-lciirii'T (viii. ) '' wiien
initial. [ into th.' liti's of Sa'h,i/.u^, will bo u.i^L-r 10 auijuit iiiin-elf best in the
cyi.'.- uf the iTicst " (Ji-'oi/H trin^. i
278
HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
sibly belies the activity which it
displays immediately before and im-
mediately after). This lends colour
to the conjecture that the tirst half
of the Wasps is mainly taken from
the original comedy of that name ;
whereas parts of the first half and
most of the second half are taken
from some other comedy possibly
the Cicras or Old A'je, in which, as in
the Was^s (1333 f. and 1351 ('.), an
old man is made young again. Other
passages which are probably inter-
polated are the very inartistic pro-
logue scene, 8-135 '> the scenes with
the supernumerary chorus of boys,
248-272 and 290-317, who are not
wanted to carry the wasps' lanterns,
for the wasps carry them themselves,
218 and 246 ; the financial scene,
686697, in which the cost to the
state of the dikast system, 150
talents, is absurdly high, and has
probably been transferred from some
context in which the sum repre-
sents the expenditure not on the
dikasts, but on the ecclesia, the
Boule, theorica, kc.
B. THE PARABASIS.
The divisions into which a comedy
falls were the same as those of tra-
gedy, with one exception. In a
comedy, as in a tragedy, the ode
which the chorus sang when it first
entered was called the Parodos ;
those which it sang when stand-
ing in its usual place between the
altar and the stage were called
Stasima ; the parts between two
stasima were called Episodes ; and
that before the first stasimon was
the Prologue ; and that following
the last stasimon the Exoilos. lint
the Parabasis was peculiar to com-
edy. The point at which the Para-
basis occurred was not fixed by any
definite considerations, but was
inserted by the poet wherever ho
thought the ad inn of the comedy
rendered it most convenient. What
characterises the Parabasis is that it
bears no relation, as do the stasima,
to the, action <;f the play, but ex-
pounds the author's views, as the
views of the author, on any mutter
of interest on whieh he thinks lit
to directly addrc-s the audieiiee. It
is thus not only characteristic of
coined}', but is p'robably the oldest
clement of comedy. It seems to lie
a survival from the time before,
comedy, when, nt the conclusion of
the choral ode to ]")ioiiy.-us, the
lender of the chorus, who was also
tip- poet, calm' lotward and made
his jests and comments on the topics
and persons of the time. Possibly
the name Parabasis is a survival
from this stage in the origin of
comedy, and refers to the " coming
forward " of the poet to deliver his
views ; but the name is generally
referred to the "march by" of the
chorus, when it left its post between
the altar and the stage and marched
round the orchestra by the specta-
tors. A complete Parabasis (in the
widest sense of the word) consisted
of seven parts. First came the
Kommation, a few lines delivered
by the Coryphseus dismissing the
actors i who at this point left the
stage), and notifying the audience
that the Parabasis was about to be-
gin. Next came the Parabasis pro-
per (in the strict sense of the word),
delivered by the Coryplueus, who,
on behalf of the poet, stated the
poet's defence of himself or his
plays, or criticised his rivals, or
otherwise glorified or justified him-
self. The Parabasis is generally in
anapiests or trochaics. and is con-
cluded by the Pnigos or Makivn,
ver.-es still spoken by the L'ory-
pha-us on the same subject, as the
1'aralia^is, and gaining their name
because they had to be rattled out
in one breath, and thus left tho
Coryplueus hrcat bless and the audi-
ence laughing. These three parts,
tin: Kommation. the 1'arabasis. and
the Pnigos. convtitutt.-d the first
half of the Parabasis; and lu-re it
should be- noticed that the Komma-
THE DRAMA I MIDDLE COMEDY.
2/9
tion and the Pnigos were sometimes
dispensed with. The second half of
the Parabasis coinmciKvd with tlie
Strophe, which was Minij by the
chorus, and was generally an ode-
to sonic god. This was followed by
the Kpirrhema, delivered by a single
cliorentrs, probably the Coryphrcus,
and ridiculing some public event
or person. Then, continuing the,
same subject, came the Antistrophe,
sung by tin 1 chorus, and correspond-
ing in metre and music to the
strophe. Finally came the Antc-
pirrhema, delivered by a single
choreutes and corresponding, as
the name implies, to the epir-
rliema: this concluded the 1'arabasis.
"Whether the strophe and anti-
strophe were sung each by the
whole chorus or by the two hemi-
choria respectively is uncertain. If
by the whole chorus, then probably
the epirrhema and tho antepir-
rhema were delivered by the C'ory-
pha-us ; if by tho hemichoria, then
probably the leaders of the hemi-
choria delivered tho epirrhema and
antepirrhema. Sometimes there are
two I'ara bases in one play. Tliis
seems to be a survival from the
time when the chorus was the domi-
nant element in the worship of
Dionysus, and the actors were only
relicts to the chorus.
'\ he 1'arabasis of the Acharnitins
is divided as follows :
First Parabasis : Kommation,
626-627. Parabasis, 628-658. 1'ui-
gos, 659-664. Strophe, 665-675.
Epirrhema, 676-691. Antistrophe,
692-701. Antepirrhema, 702-718.
Second Parabasis : Kommation,
1143-1149. Strophe, 1150-1161.
Antistrophe, 1162-1173.
Those of the Kn'ujhts as follows :
First Parabasis : Kommation,
4'jS ^.'6. Parabasis, 507-546. 1'ni-
s . 547-55- Stn.phe, 551-564.
Epirrhema, 565-580. Antistrophe,
581-594. Antepirrhema, 595-610.
Second Parabasis : Strophe,
126^-1273. Epirrhema, 1274-1289.
Antistrophe, 1290-1299. Antepir-
rhema, 1300-1315.
CHAPTER VIII.
MIDIH.E COMKUY.
Tx order- to understand how the Middle C'liiedy differ?, on (he
one haiul. fi'iiiu O'.il (.'niii-'dy, ami, <>n tin. 1 cili.r, lV"in the X<-w,
it is iu'fcs-h ;liev iiccnr.
I; is triir that tin- ci'inedy nf Arisl"|'haiic-s doe? net rdl'-ct lh'
pliilosut'iiy i if Socrates or the policy nf I'ienn with histnrii-al
aci-tiracy, lnit it dues wliat is as valuable i; n-fliu-t- tin-ni as
Aristopliaiie.s saw them: and th"ir_'h tii'> Mi-i-il'- and NI-W
Cnniedy are inirrnrs of their time. l:n-y at 1 -- >]ialt--r'd mirr'T-.
f"f \ve pMssr-'rJ no rninplcti' play 1 H-'H in_ ; ;: _: \ lin-sr stages ..f
An ie C'l iiia-i'iv, lint only fra^iin'iits. Tie 1 thn-i 1 sta^'-'S of ccim-dy,
tli'-n, are alike, nia.-much as itu-y ali tellect the Athens of tiiu-ir
time: tin- later forms developed '">nt nf the oarli-'-r, and they
2 So HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
differ because Athens differed at these three periods. This is
not the sole cause of difference, but it is the one which we will
first consider.
Koughly speaking, the Old Comedy ends at the battle of ^Egos-
potami, and the Middle Comedy at the battle of Chseronea,.
From the end of the Peloponnesian War to the battle of Chae-
ronea. Athens was still free, although she was no longer the
first among the cities of Greece. After " that dishonest vic-
tory, at Chseronea, fatal to liberty," she, with the rest of Greece,
was no longer free. The period, then, between ^Egospotami
and Chseronea is politically and socially much more akin to
the time preceding than to the time following it. The period
between JEgospotami and Chseronea is the last period of the
creative power of Attic literature ; after Chseronea begins the
imitative age. The Middle Comedy, then, bears more resem-
blance to the Old than to the Xew. The comedy of Aristo-
phanes drew its material from everything which had an interest
for the citizens of Athens, politics, philosophy, religion, science,
literature, art. and scandal. The Xew Comedy drew its material
from that which most interested every Athenian of the time,
his private life : it was a comedy of manners, and its subject
was practically love only. Between those two well-defined
stages came the Middle Comedy, which, like the period it re-
fleets, was a stage of transition. Like the New Comedy, it had
its love-plays, but its subjects were mostly the same as those
of the Old Comedy. Plato and the Academy took the place of
Socrates ; Euripides was still attacked, although by that time
there were to be found also comedians to defend him ; mytho-
logy was still a fertile source of parody and ridicule ; but from
politics tin; Middle Comedy drew but scantily or not at all.
For this difference between the Old and the Middle Comedy,
the reason always given is that after the Peloponnesian war
Athens was politically played out. Aristophanes, it is said,
wr^te political comedies because politics interested his audi-
ence; the writers of the Middle Comedy, like those of the
New, did not write political comedies, fur the reason that their
hearers did not take an interest in politics, lint this would
not seem to be the case: never was the Assembly better at-
tended, and never had the oratory of its speakers attained to
the level which it reached in the period that culminates in
Demosthenes. Some other reason must be sought why politics
were not reflected in the Middle Comedy, and the same reason
must explain why the litigious tendencies of the Athenians,
ttronger at this time than when Aristophanes wrote the Wasps,
THE DRAMA : MIDDLE COMEDY. 28 I
furnished no more matter for the Middle Comedy than did poli-
tics. The explanation is that the Assembly and the Law Courts
were not less, but more interesting than ever, and this was the
result of the growth of oratory. The first of the Ten Attic
Orators was Antiphon, whose name is associated with the esta-
blishment of the Thirty Tyrants towards the end of the Pelo-
ponnesiaii war; and we may well say that the period of the
Middle Comedy is the time of the Orators. For the develop-
ment of oratory it is nece.-sary that the audience should be
critical. ladly educated hearers demand speeches not beyond
their own powers of comprehension and appreciation. Tiie
growth, therefore, of oratory in the period between the Pelo-
ponnesian war and the battle of Chteronea would of itself prove
that politics deeply engaged the attention of the Athenian^ of
that time. ]>ut in order to understand fully how much they
engaged tiie attention of the Athenians, it is neces.-ary to re-
meiuber that the Athenians were not a nation of readers : they
took in their literature through their ears, and not through their
eyes. Further, the largest audience which a writer could get
was the A-sembly or the Law Courts. Again, at this time,
with the exception of Plato, the literary genius of Athens was
all directed to oratory. From these considerations it follows
that the Athenians, who all the year got their iiteiary food
from the Law Courts and the Assembly, reipuiied a change of
diet at the festivals of Dionysus j and the writers of comedy
again, doubtle.-.-, felt not only that tiiis change was demanded
from them, if they wished to be successful, but also that they
were unable to rival tiie sj cakers in the Assembly and the
Courts on their o\vn ground. They had before them the warn-
ing of tragedy. Writers of tragedy had indeed entered on the.
contest; Kuripides had imported into trag-dy much that was
only appropriate in law.-uits, hut the measure of his ill succe.-s
mav.-howus how little- likely it i.- that hi> .-uece.-sors. in tragedy,
lacking his u'enir.s, were successful wheie he failed. The main
I'ea-on then that, in not reflecting politics, the Middle Coim dy
liili'efi-d from the Oul was that politics engaged tiie attention of
the Athenians more than ever, but engaged them only in tne
A-seinlih. and when treated oratoricaliy.
lUit the iVloooniiesian war had biuken the spirit of the
Athenians thus far; they would talk in i'ne A.--embly but not.
act minefield; and this fact is of importance as explaining
why. although tiie Middle Comedy ceased to be i optical, it yet
did not become the coined v of private life, as aid the New. In
the time of the Old Comedy, the public duties of a citizen uccu
282 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
pied most of his life, for he had not only to take in the Assem-
bly his share of governing the country, but he had at all times
to be prepared to fight for his country. There was, however, a
tendency to differentiate these functions, which was worked out
in the time of the ]^ew Comedy. Pericles was both a general
and the leader of the Assembly. By the time of Demosthenes,
it was impossible to combine these two functions ; Demosthenes
was an orator, but not a general. The same tendency was at work
amongst the body of Athenian citizens as amongst its leaders ;
and in the time of Demosthenes the military duties of the
citizens were frequently delegated to paid mercenaries. But
although the Athenian citizen of the time of the Middle Comedy
was putting off his military duties, he had not yet become, as
after Chseronea when the employment of mercenaries had re-
sulted in the loss of freedom he did become, wholly absorbed
in the relations of private life. Although he did not go in per-
son abroad on foreign service, and consequently took but little
interest in what was going on in Olynthus or in Thrace, he
still had a vote and a voice in determining the destinies of
his country, and this is the reason why at that time comedy
could not exclusively devote itself to private life.
"We began by saying that the difference in the ages they
reflect is not the only difference between the three stages of
comedy. One obvious distinction is, that the chorus is practi-
cally absent from the Xew and the Middle Comedy. Originally
the duty of providing and paying for a chorus fell upon some
rich citizen chosen by the "inspectors" 1 of the tribe to repre-
sent his tribe. The Peloponnesian war impoverished Athens,
and in consequence sometimes, even in the time of the Old
Comedy, no choregus and no chorus were appointed for comedy.
What was the custom between the end of the Peloponnesian
war and the battle of Cha-ronea we do not know, but the diffi-
culty which was experienced in providing a chorus for tragedy
the expense was thrown on two members of the same tribe
or of two tribes makes it probable that a chorus was only
rarely provided during the period of the Middle Comedy. From
i;.c. 306 the evidence of inscriptions shows that it was no longer
the custom to elect a choregus from a single tribe or from two
tribi-s, but to elect an agonothetes, win;) took (or might decline
to take) the duty of producing both the tragedy and the comedy,
sometimes furnishing a chorus and sometimes not. SOUK,' years
no agonothetes probably was elected, and some years he would
furnish no chorus either tragic or comic, but simply produce a
THE DRAMA : MIDDLE COMEDY. 283
tragedy and a comedy without a chorus ; and sometimes, wo
may conjecture, lie would furnish a chorus for tragedy but not
for comedy. On the whole, then, it would seem that it was
rather the exception than the rule for plays of the Middle and
IS'ew (..'"medics, to have a ch<>nis.
As to the cause of this. Horace has given wide currency to
the idea that the chorus was suspended by law on account of
the license of the poets of the Old Comedy. P>ut there is 710
warrant for this; nor is the reason wholly to be found in the
impoverishment of the citizens; for although the Pcloponnesian
war mav have produced some distress, in the time of the New
Comedy Athens seems to have enjoyed considerable material
prosperity. The reason is that the growth of the drama pushed
the chorus on one side. The. drama at Athens had reached the
point at which further development was impossible, if the chorus
was still to be retained. Euripides, in his attempt to show
" the very age and body of the time hi.-? form and pressure,"
was perpetually hampered by the chorus lie wished to take
the forward step which afterwards was taken by the drama, but
it was made impossible for him to do so by the restrictions
under which tragedy as it was conceived at Athens lay. The
development of modern drama, could only come alter those
restrictions had been removed. From some of them comedy at
Athens had at all times been free. The tragic poet was hound,
the comic poet was not, to adhere to myths. Tragedy had
always to remember that it was a religious function, but comedy
was apt to forget its religious functions. To reflect the life of
the time was almost as essential to comedy as it was incon-i.-;,-;.t
with tragedy. Science, rhetoric, and philosophy, when intro-
duced by Kuripides are felt to jar with the mythical scenes in
which they are placed; but in comedy no such discrepancy is
felt. The characters which Kuripides drew after average Athe-
nian- are ill at ease when appear: ir_ r under the garb and title
of heroes of mvth"lo'_ r but in the c"iii"dof Menander such
character
The one (
it undert
chorus.
who woul
;c_'' 'in itiiet
tie 1 ,,t her
wit iiout a
an ag<>n
vi led. th
284 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
there was not much inducement for a wealthy citizen again to
furnish comedy with a chorus.
"What the ditl'erence between Middle and New Comedy was
with regard to the chorus, we have no direct evidence 1 to show ;
we are reduced to conjecture, and it seems probable that in this,
as in other respects, the Middle Comedy was transitional, and
tli at the chorus gradually decreased in importance, being much
less frequent in Middle than in Old Comedy, and practically
disappearing in the New. "We do not know certainly that there
was no chorus in the Xew Comedy ; indeed, one authority
speaks of Menander as finally abandoning the chorus, which
would imply that until his time the chorus .-till survived, though
with little practical importance. This is what might have been
expected, and is illuminating for the history of the Greek
drama. Euripides, in his attempt to develop tragedy in direc-
tions untrodden by his predecessors, devoted much labour to the
production of more complex plots, and to the working out of
domestic scenes as a subject for tragedy. In both these experi-
ments he was clogged by the chorus. It remained for Menander
to throw off this clog altogether. If any confirmation were
needed of the fact that Memmder took up the struggle where
Euripides left it, it would be found in the similarity of the
circumstances of the two poets ; for the, comedian, like the
tragedian, was impelled to put the chorus on one side by the
development of his drama in the direction of domestic scenes
and complexity of plot. Greek drama originated in the chorus,
and finally threw it aside altogether.
Horace, is also responsible for the idea that the Middle and
Xew Comedy differ from the Old in being less abusive, and
that this fact was due to the action of the law. It is not, how-
ever, exactly true that personalities were wanting in the Middle
Comedy, though they wcie in the Xew: nor is it true that
covert attacks were made upon individuals, who were pilloried
under fictitious name-; on the sta'_ r e. We have the titles of
fifty or sixty plays of the Middle Comedy which take their names
from real persons, and although doubtless not ail of these were-
attacked, s^rne probablv were, lint then; was a diU'en-nce
bet \veeii tli" Old and Middle Comedy in the mode of attack, as
we learn from Aristotle: that of the Old ( Yunedy was abuse;
that of tin- Middle, raillery; and thus in this respect also the
Middle ('I'lnedy wa- but the stage which Attic Comedy passed
through in its transition from the 1 (I'd to the Xew.
In point of plot, the difference between the Old and the Xew
Comedy is unmistakable; but uith regard tu the Middle Comedy
THE DRAMA : MIDDLE COMEDY. 285
it is harder to form an opinion. A play of the Old Comedy
consisted of a series of scenes having no connection with each
other, but deriving their unity from their connection with the
central idea of the piece, which was some such simple theme as
that " peace is desirable." The plays of Menander, on the other
hand, had an intrigue and a plot ; the scenes developed out of
each other and ended in a denoument. This is indeed alnio.-t
implied in the statement that his were generally love-comedies,
which naturally result in a marriage after the obstacles to the
course of true love have been removed. In two respects Men-
ander's treatment of the plot reminds us of Euripides ; he em-
ployed a prologue, and. if not a daus ex macliina, at any rate
artificial means of proving at the last that, for instance, the
heroine, hitherto supposed to be a hetoera, is really a free-born
Athenian a discovery which was the, indispensable condition
of the marriages with which his plays ended. So far as our
scanty information extends, there seems to be no evidence that
prologues were common, if used at all, in Middle Comedy, though
" recognitions " certainly occurred ; and as the subjects of the
Middle Comedy more frequently resembled those of the Old
than those of the Xew, it seems probable that the treatment
also rather resembled that of the Old. Many of the Middle
Comedies do indeed take their name from he'aera? ; but thev
se<'in to have been treated of in those plays in their capacity of
public characters rather than, as in the Xew. in connection with
private life. A further consideration tending to show that the
plots of the Xew Comedy were superior in interest and illusion
to those of the Middle is the fact that by the time of the Xew
dy Aristotle's works on the drama were beginning to have
ell'ect. The period after Cha-ronea was one of study of the
diamatists. of retl-ction on their methods, and of ronscl
yment < >f t he knowledge thus
in the /'r/Ycx that tue plot
of a piay, and Menander is ivportei
ca-ion that his play was ail but r>-a iv
and Ind only tin.' verses to wi ite.
of the characters put MI the stage hv ;h<- Middle
iinedy. tin-re s>-rms (.> have be>'ii little diii'-'r-'i^-c.
emhlance to Sicilian comedy, which mL'ht he
tie similarity of the ciicum-tanees under which
in coni'-dv and tint of Ki>ichannus wt-re p;o-
luded ir<>iii taking political .-u';>-
\\ his characters from tiie society
TU Oedrpois, tv 5ia.TpL3a.~is, fv
avfiiroffiois, dvd~,vucTn.a. Ka.1 /^dOrj^a Kal d~filvi.fffj.it KOiv6ra.TOV &v rj 'EXXdj
ivt)vo\t KaXuv irape-wv TTJV Troirjcni>, ib. 1040. So, too, p. 867 and De
I'i:. Pud. xvi.
THE DRAMA: MIDDLE COMEDY. 289
that Antiphanes was a graceful and perspicuous writer. The
subjects of his plays, so far as they are indicated by the titles,
were the ordinary subjects of Middle Comedy. The number of
burlesques on mythology was considerable among his plays, e.g.
the Adonis, Deucalion, Omphale, Orpheus, c. Parodies of the
tragedians were also numerous, to judge from the titles, e.g. the
Alcextis, iJacchte, Mudea, Philoctetes, Athamas, &c. The frag-
ments, again, contain allusions to and parodies on Euripides 1
and Sophocles.- The titles of some plays also indicate clearly
that they contained literary criticism, e.g. Poetry, Scqtyhof &c.
From the Poetry there survives a fragment 4 of considerable in-
terest for the history of the drama, in which Antiphanes com-
plains that whereas the tragedian takes for the subject of his
plays myths known to all the audience, and consequently has
not to go to the trouble of explaining the situation at the be-
ginning of his play, or of narrating the antecedents of his char-
acters, the hard-worked comedian has to rely for everything on
liis own powers of invention and of conveying the necessary
information to his audience. Another feature of the Middle
Comedy, inherited from the Old, and distinguishing it from
the New, which occurs in the plays of Antiphanes, is the ridi-
cule of philosophy. Plato and his school come in for the,
satire which was levelled by the Old Comedy at Socrates, Ex-
ternals still catch the comedian's attention ; but it is the
neatness, no longer the negligence, of philosophers' attire which
furnishes matter for jest a fact which harmonises with the
stories told of the greatest of Plato's pupils, Aristotle, to the
ell'ect that he was foppish in dress, and carried hi- "fads" so
far as to cause it to be undcrsiood that he experts! people who
dined with him to come wa-ie-d. Thus Antiphanes describes an
old gentleman wearing a white mantl". beautiful brown tunic,
s<>ft cap. elegantly balanced can-- in till", the Acad'-my in Per-
son. It is ii"t, however, solely ill" philosopher's uttir" which is
mad" fun of ; his philosophy also is satirised.
Oth'T point.- in wnirh Antiphanes shows the common stamp
of the Middle Comedy are that he has some mild political ailu-
sions ; that h" is sarcastic on the matter of mania^e, >\'. \Yhat! married! and I left hi:n \\alk!:u r about
alive;" he is snva.-iic also on W"in"n in general : yon n: ay as
well, he says, proclaim a secret by the town-crii-r as tell u to
29O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
a woman. The practice of asking riddles, which is ridiculed
frequently in Middle Comedy, is also illustrated in Antiphanes.
The Parasite is drawn in some of the fragments that remain to
us with much care ; he requires no more invitation to dinner
than does a fly, and it is as hard to get him away as to get him
out of a well ; resentment he cannot feel ; his amiability is in-
exhaustible, his appreciation for your jokes unlimited ; he wishes
his friends nothing but prosperity. The Parasite's own view of
the matter is that he renders innumerable services to his friends,
is a regular earthquake at forcing doors, a thunderbolt in fight,
a slip-knot for strangling inconvenient people, arid ready with
his sworn testimony on any matter for the service of his friend.
True, some people laugh at him ; but they are only young
men, and he has the consciousness of his own good services.
What life is so happy as his, whose most arduous occupation
is to smile, to joke, and drink deep? The Parasite himself, at
any rate, ranks it next to being wealthy. To dine well without
having to think of the bill is the life of the gods.
Although Antiphanes resembles the other comedians of his
time in his philosophy of life, and advises men, being mortal,
to limit themselves to things mortal ; and although he holds
that if you take away the pleasures from life there is nothing
left except to die, still this is outweighed (at any rate in the
fragments we possess) by his moral aphorisms ; e.f/. base gains
bring little pleasure and much pain : the consciousness of a just
life is the best of pleasures ; since man must die, it is folly to
die for nothing; adorn not your body with bright colours, but
your heart with clean works ; honourable poverty is better than
base wealth. Antiphanes' humour peeps out in the fragment
in which he says that it is not on the perjurer, but on the man
who trusts him that divine vengeance descends, He was a man
of the worM, as is shown by his maxim that one should do at
Siarta as Sparta does; and he anticipated the expression that
the dead are not dead but ''gone before." Finally, we may
notice that in some re.-pects Antiphanns foreshadows the New
Comedy, and thus gives addil ioiial proof that the Middle Comedy
Ava.- but a tian-ition .-tage ; for the titles of .-nine of his comedies,
seem to show that their plots wen' of the more developed kind
Avhich were characteristic of the New Comedy. Such are the
J\lnrrta''/f, the 'J'trhiu. the Uiifurf'iit'.ife Lor* /;<, the Ih'.irdu, the
Lwt M'nnty, Arc. 1
The n-xt poet of the Middle Comedy of whom we possess
1 Add, iiTnongst others, l}ie'Ai>affu6/j.evot., which was ]t;rf'jrmed in B.C. 556,
according to the DidasciJia jire.-erved to us in a stone record. 6'. /. 67. i. 35,4.
THE DRAMA : MIDDLE COMEDY. 2 9 I
any considerable fragments is Anaxandrides ; and as Aristotle
several times quotes him, it is probable that he was a comedian
of some, merit. Anaxandrides, too, like Alexis and Antiphanes,
was not by birth an Athenian. He seems to have commenced
his career as a comedian about B.C. 376, and to have continued
until about B.C. 345 or B.C. 340. He did write dithyrambs, but
was best known as a comedian. Of his thirty-six comedies
whose titles we are acquainted with, one-third were mythological
burlesques ; and in respect of his subjects, literature, philosophy,
heta?ra3, Occ,, he seems to have been in accord with the other
poets of the Middle Comedy. Suidas says that he was the first
comedian to introduce love plots, but the author of the Greek
life of Aristophanes says that it was Aristophanes who first in-
troduced them in the lost play Cocalu*. Although in Anax-
andrides we find the usual attacks on marriage, we also find
him opposed to divorce. 15ut perhaps the two most remarkable
fragments are that in which he declares his agnosticism, 1 and
that in which he insists on the relativity of religions. 2 Thus
the Egyptians worship cows, the Greeks eat them ; the former
adore dogs, the latter thrash them ; and a similar variation of
the religious sentiment is to be observed in the treatment by the
two peoples of cats.
In Eubuius at last we come to a comedian of Athenian birth.
According to Suidas, he lived about B.C. 376, but his life must
have been prolonged for some time later, as he was contem-
porary with Demosthenes and Hyperides. "We possess frag-
ments and the titles of about fifty comedies; and from these
it would seem that Eubuius particularly affected mythological
burlesque. Allied with this is a fondue-.- for parodying the tia-
gedinn.-, particularly Euripides, and, with more, justice, Diony-
siu.-, the tyrant of Syracuse, whose traced
bad. Indiciiuii. Euluiiu-, from his Ira-ii
been terse and elegant.
( >f the other thirty poets of the Middle Comedy we have not
space to speak in detail. What remains of Amphis makes us
regret the loss of his plays. He had discovered that the iie.-t
solace for mi-fortune is work ; that one dislikes the scenes of
one'.- misfortunes ; that solitude is golden : that ,-ilence is invalu-
able, and that death is everlasting. A >till greater loss is that
of the plavs of Tim-cles. who si',,], is to have possessed an excel-
1 The Cl f >.< \\-. ('. M. i; i).
292 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
lent style, considerable power, and much audacity. Several
of his fragments contain political allusions, and in them he
shows that he belonged to the Macedonian party ; for in the
Delos, where he alludes to the Harpalus affair, he not only,
in accordance with the general suspicion of the time, accuses
Demosthenes of having been bribed by Harpalus, but also
makes the same charge against Hyperides. Elsewhere also he
attacks these, the most prominent orators of the anti-Macedonian
party. We also have an interesting fragment of nineteen lines
by Timocles expounding the theory of tragedy, to the effect
that men find consolation for their own misfortunes in seeing
represented the greater misfortunes which the heroes of tragedy
bear. Ephippus gives an amusing sketch of a foppisli young
follower of Plato, about to make a speech, and posed in a
beautiful attitude, with one foot (toe on the ground, heel in the
air) crossing the other ankle, displaying his carefully arranged
straps and elegant sandals, mantle aesthetically draped, and him-
self majestically leaning on his cane. The followers of Plato
also furnish the subject of a long fragment by Epic-rates, who
represents them as much exercised as to the definition of colo-
cynth, whether it is animal, vegetable, or mineral ; for, says
Epicrates, they spent their time in defining things. In the frag-
ments of Anaxilas we find a long diatribe against another class
in Athenian society, the hetserse ; it is illuminating for the
social sanction of the time to notice tint Anaxilas does not
complain that hetjrrse are immcr.d, but that they are expensive.
Elsewhere he complains that some people are as suspicious as
snails, who carry their very house- about with them. Dionysios
in a long fragment gives us an amusing picture of a cook, who
treats his art with the respect which its importance in the time
of the Middle Comedy entitled it to : it is above definition ;
any man may roast or boil, but t< be a cook is another thine:.
This cook seems to have been an Aristotelian, for the Stagirite
about this, time was drawing exactly the same, distinction ; any
man may do a just act, bin to be a just man is a different thing.
Aristophon draws a Para.-ite in a way which reminds us of the
Parasite of Antiphanes ; he is an Argive at ejecting drunken
guc-ts. a ram at hie iking open doors, and he is so regular in
appearing at dinner that he lias earned the nickname " Soil])." 1
Axionicus and Ijiodorus also draw the character of the Parasite,
but do not add any fre.sh traits to th-.- character. Theophilus
1 &v rts fOTiq., irapei/jti TrpcDros, (bar f/oi] irdXcu
. . . fw/i6s Ka.\ovfJ.rj.i.
THE DRAMA: MIDDLE COMEDY. 293
call- music a groat treasure ; ] and Mnesimachus has a beautiful
compan>on of sloop to death, for which there is no English
equivalent.' 2 The other poets of whose ]>lays we have frag-
ments and titles do not call for special mention. They are:
Araros and Nk-ostratus, sons of Aristophanes; Antidotus, Cra-
tinus (the younger), Dromo, Epigones, Eriphus, Eubulides,
Heniochns, lleraclides, Heraclitus, Orphelio, Philetserus, Phi-
liscus, Sophilus, Sotades, Timotheus, and Xenarchus.
1 In the Citharcedus (F. C. M. 628) :
/ie'7aj 6^ffa.vp6s fan Kal fiffiaios u ovcriicr/,
* Incert (F. C. M. 579) :
"frvos TO. fiiKpa TOV 6a.va.Tov /jLvar^pitk
part
HISTORY, ORATORY, AND PHILOSOPHY.
BOOK I.
HISTORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE BEGINNINGS OF PIIOSE.
POETRY precedes prose composition generally in the history of
a nation's literature, partly because poetry can be more easily
composed and transmitted without the aid of writing than can
prose, and partly because the charm of verse or rhythm appeals
more powerfully and more directly than that of prose. Further,
prose requires that the means of writing should be developed to
a certain extent ; and in the case of the Greeks, we mu.-t add
that a reading public only came into existence late and gradu-
ally. The Greek lived more in the open air than in his own
hou-e ; transacted bu-ine-s. private and political, orally more
titan by means of writing ; ami, by the con-ti;u;:o;i of the society
he lived in. li-tened lo rather than read hi.- lib rature. The
Gr>'i>k aver.-i'Mi to the solitary anil unsociable mode of acquir-
ing information by reading is illustrated in the I*li't-i* of
Plato. 1 wher' So. 'rates .-ays of written works: ''You would
imauiii" t'na; they had intelligence : but if you want tokn->w
inn t'nin^ an.! put a que-tion to one of them, tlie speaker always
pve- one unvarying iiiiswfi 1 . And when they have been once
written d'>wn, tiiey are tumliled about anywhere, aiming th"se,
who do, and amoii'_: tho-e who do not understand them. And
they have no reticences or proprieties towards ditl>
of persons ; and, if they are unju.-i Iv a-.-aiied
parent is ne"d>'d t> protect his oli'sprin^, f"r th
or defend them-elves/'
This passage siiows that people did read book
Ln; in the sixth centur B.C., wh^n rose lit
298 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
reading public, and prose authors composed their works rather
to be delivered as lectures than to be circulated as books.
Writing at the time seems to have been developed enough to
aid composition, but not enough to diffuse literature. As
was to be expected in a new art, the art of composing prose
was one which only gradually attained freedom and grace.
Indeed, the very idea of prose literary composition was one
which only occurred to the Greek mind when poetry had
made several unsuccessful attempts to narrate history and ex-
pound philosophy two functions which do not properly belong
to poetry. Laws and treaties between states had, doubtless,
been expressed in prose and inscribed on stone or metal before
the sixth century, but they are no more literature than are
the lists of Olympian victors, which also existed probably
before the sixth century. If, then, setting aside laws, treaties,
lists of officials, &c., as not belonging to our subject, we turn
to the earliest prose literature of Greece, we find that history
and philosophy are the two subjects which, having been de-
veloped in poetry, at least as far as was compatible with the
laws of poetry, were the iirst to burst the bonds of rhythm and
find expression in prose.
Prose, like other forms of Greek literature, although carried
to its highest pitch in the mother-land, originated in the colo-
nies ; and it is to Miletus especially that the honour of invent-
ing prose belongs. The earliest pvse writers, Hecataeus, Phere-
cydes the historian, Dionysius, Anaximander, and Anaximenes,
were either born in Miletus, or, like liion, Deiochus, and
Charon, in colonies founded by Miletus. Pherecydes of Syros,
who disputes with Cadmus of Miletus the honour of being the
first Greek prose writer, did not indeed belong to Miletus, but
to the colonies. The very existence of Cadmus has, however,
been disputed. Ac'jording to the ordinary account, he, lived
about L.C. 550 and wrote an account of the Foundation or
Colonisation of Miletus, which, according to Suidas, consisted
of four hooks. It seems, however, extremely improbable that
the works which in the time of Augustus went under tiio
name of Cadmus were genuine ; and although there may have
been a writer named Cadmus who lived in the middle of the
sixth rentnrv B.C., it must be .-aid that he is not even men-
tioned by any classical writer, or, indeed, by any author before-
Str;jbo. Tne existence, on the oilier hand, of a genuine work
by 1'liererydes of j^yros On 2\(ttur<: seems to bo generally
accepted ; but ti;e evidence as to his date is conflicting, and
it i> only C"iij'-cturaliy that he is placed in the middle of the
HISTORY: THE BEGINNINGS OF PROSE. 299
sixth century B.c , though the conjecture is confirmed by both
the language and the style of the few fragments which have
come down to us. The language is Old Ionic, and the style has
the "jerkiness" and abruptness characteristic of the earliest
attempts to write prose. It is in favour of the antiquity of
Pherecydes and the genuineness of the fragments that he is
mentioned by Aristotle. 1 From Pherecydes of Syros who wrote
a poem On Mature it is necessary to distinguish Pherecydes of
Leros, who lived about the time of the Persian wars, and wrote
on the Antiquities of Attica in ten books, beginning with the
beginning of the world and coming down to the Ionic coloni-
sation of Asia Minor. With regard to Dion of Proconnesus,
another early prose writer, who wrote on the early history of
Ionia, it is uncertain at what period ho lived. He is said to
have been contemporary with Phereeydes, but with which
Phereeydes is doubtful. Acusikus of Argos is said to have
lived shortly after Cadmus ; but, like Cadmus, his existence
lacks the satisfactory support of a mention in classical writers,
and we cannot, therefore, feel any great confidence in what is
told us about him. He is said to have composed a genealogical
work, which began with Chaos and came down to the Trojan
war, and which resembled in everything but metre the genea-
logical poems of the Hesiouic school. Even in the time of
Hadrian this work existed, but, as in the case of the works of
Cadmus, it seems more probable that we have to do with a
forgery than with a genuine work. The very nature of the
work is inconsistent with the idea involved in the term " logo-
grapher," which is applied to the early prose writers who paved
tin- way for history, wh'-n it at length appeared in the work of
Herodotus. I'.y the name " lo^ographer " is meant a person
who collects and commits to writing fact-, in contradistinction
to one who collects myths ; whereas, if the work which went in
Hadrian's time under the, name of Aeu-ilaus were genuine.
Acu.-ilaus would merely have paraphrased i:: r rose the myth- of
Ilesiod. I'efore proceeding to those logo_;raphers of whom we
know something, we will briefly mention those of whom
know little but their names. ]>ei
to have written an account of the
The most distinuished of the loo^rahers was Hecataeus of
H. 109215
30O HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE.
Miletus, a man who figures in the history of his country as well
as in the history of literature, and for whom we conceive a dis-
tinct admiration. The date of his birth and death there is
nothing to fix, but the time at which he nourished fortunately
admits of no doubt. Herodotus not only frequently refers to
him and quotes from him, but gives us valuable information
about his life. In the time of the Ionic revolt, Hecatseus was
a man of position, influence, and character. He was among the
leading men whom Aristagoras consulted when about to insti-
gate Ionia to revolt, and he showed iiis insight and his compre-
hension of the enormous power of the Persian empire by endea-
vouring to dissuade his countrymen from attempting to match
themselves against their powerful masters. This was from no
sympathy with the Persians, from no want of patriotism or of
love of freedom, on the part of Hecataeus, but because he, with
a cool head and with the knowledge he had acquired of the
resources of the Persian empire, foresaw the hopelessness of
the struggle. The revolt once decided on, Hecataeus showed
the same cool perception of the advantages possessed by the
lonians, and advised them, if they undertook the struggle, to
eini.'lov everv means to bring it to a successful issue. The trea-
1 i- v O
sures of the great Apollo temples at Branchidae would fall into
the hands of the Persians if left alone, and he therefore advised
the lonians to employ these temple, treasures for the purposes
of the revolt rather than leave them to be used by the enemy.
This advice, however, shared the same fate as his previous pro-
posal. A third time Hecatseus showed his practical wisdom,
and a third time his advice was rejected, when, just before the
battle of Lade, he proposed that the inhabitants of Miletus
should leave their city, withdraw to the island of Lcros. and
there, awaiting the issue of event-, watch for a favourable mo-
ment for establishing themselves firmly once more in Miletus.
Hecata-us was a man of good birth; he traced his descent to
a god, and must have been j ossessed of some wealth to make
the extensive travels, the fruits of which he embodied in his
Description of Hie World. This work consisted apparently of
two parts, one describing Europe, the other A>ia the Litter in-
cluding Egvpt and Libya. There are several points of interest
in connection with this work. In the fir.-t place, we lind that
iu it geography is hardly yet distinguished from history. The
plan of the work is indeed topographical, but the description of
the places mentioned in it included a history of the places as
wed. In the next place, it has been maintained, both in ancient
and in recent times, that Herodotus nut only quotes from this
HISTORY: THE BEGINNINGS OF PROSE. 301
work with acknowledgment, but has also " stolen " passages
from his predecessor's Description of lhf World, and tried to
pass tin m off as his own. Of this point, as far as it affects
the cha- actor of Herodotus, we shall have to speak subsequently.
In thi- pi ice we have to consider the question only so far as it
may tl.rovv light on the authenticity of the works ascribed to
Hecatnms.
Whether Hecatoeus gave names to the two parts of Irs work,
or even gave a title to the whole work, may, perhaps, be
doubted. 1 It may, however, be regarded as a certain inference
from the quotations in Herodotus that he did write a descrip-
tion of places in Europe and Asia In Alexandrine tini'-s and
later, there was in circulation a Description of the, Worlil pro-
fessing to be by Hecatoeus, and divided into two parts a
Description of Europe and a Description of Asia J'.ut Eratos-
thenes (horn B.C. 276) seems to have had great doubt whether
the latter part was genuine. Instances of literary forgery we
have already seen, in all probability, in the works which passed,
under the names of Cadmus and Ac.usilaus ; and it seems pro-
bable, that here too we have the w.irk of a forger, who, knowing
that Heeutanis had written a description of Asia which had
perished, proceeded to reconstruct the work, and in doing so
borrowed many passages, almost verbatim, from Herodotus' de-
scription of Egypt. 2 Then, in later times, there aro-e among
uncritical and not impartial men the belief that, since Herodotus
was later in date than llecatteus, these passages must have been
stolen by the later from the earlier writer. Whether the Da-
scrti ti'in of Knrnj,!'. the first part of the work, was accepted as
genuine by the critics of Alexandria, we do nut know. \Ve
have no express!, ui of their opinion for or a'^in-t it. T>ut the
spuri'Hisnc-s of the one part throws suspicion on the other.
Einailv, a work entitled the (/<<;[/<;_/'*', which was in circu-
lation until late times, was ascribed to ll>'cat;i'us. I'.ut tiio
mvthical character of the work is not much in accoid wi'h
what little we know of UeeaUe;is' writings; and frequently, as
1 Herodotus does not quote the work by name. lie s:\ys, e.;j. vi. 137,
E/vciTt:os uif o ' ll^ijcrafSfiov t('n;cr( ir rv.ai \ir ; fu