AUTHORS OF GREECE

By the Reverend T. W. LUMB, M. A. 

With an Introduction by

The Reverend CYRIL ALINGTON, D. D. 

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

Greek literature is more modern in its tone than Latin or Medieval orElizabethan. It is the expression of a society living in an environmentsingularly like our own, mainly democratic, filled with a spirit offree inquiry, troubled by obstinate feuds and still more obstinateproblems. Militarism, nationalism, socialism and communism were wellknown, the preachers of some of these doctrines being loud, ignorantand popular. The defence of a maritime empire against a militaryoligarchy was twice attempted by the most quick-witted people in history, who failed to save themselves on both occasions. Antecedently then wemight expect to find some lessons of value in the record of a peoplewhose experiences were like our own. 

Further, human thought as expressed in literature is not anunconnected series of phases; it is one and indivisible. Neglect ofeither ancient or modern culture cannot but be a maiming of that greatbody of knowledge to which every human being has free access. No mancan be anything but ridiculous who claims to judge European literaturewhile he knows nothing of the foundations on which it is built. Neither is it true to say that the ancient world was different fromours. Human nature at any rate was the same then as it is now, andhuman character ought to be the primary object of study. The strangebelief that we have somehow changed for the better has been strongenough to survive the most devilish war in history, but few hold itwho are familiar with the classics. 

Yet in spite of its obvious value Greek literature has been damned andbanned in our enlightened age by some whose sole qualification for theoffice of critic often turns out to be a mental darkness about it sodeep that, like that of Egypt, it can be felt. Only those who knowGreek literature have any right to talk about its powers of survival. The following pages try to show that it is not dead yet, for it has adistinct message to deliver. The skill with which these neglectedliberators of the human mind united depth of thought with perfectionof form entitles them at least to be heard with patience. 

CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

HOMER

AESCHYLUS

SOPHOCLES

EURIPIDES

ARISTOPHANES

HERODOTUS

THUCYDIDES

PLATO

DEMOSTHENES

INTRODUCTION

I count it an honour to have been asked to write a short introductionto this book. My only claim to do so is a profound belief in thedoctrine which it advocates, that Greek literature can never die andthat it has a clear and obvious message for us to-day. Those who sat, as I did, on the recent Committee appointed by Mr. Lloyd George whenPrime Minister to report on the position of the classics in thiscountry, saw good reason to hope that the prejudice against Greek towhich the author alludes in his preface was passing away: it is astrange piece of irony that it should ever have been encouraged in thename of Science which owes to the Greeks so incalculable a debt. Wefound that, though there are many parts of the country in which it isalmost impossible for a boy, however great his literary promise, to betaught Greek, there is a growing readiness to recognise this state ofaffairs as a scandal, and wherever Greek was taught, whether to girlsor boys, we found a growing recognition of its supreme literary value. There were some at least of us who saw with pleasure that where onlyone classical language can be studied there is an increasing readinessto regard Greek as a possible alternative to Latin. 

On this last point, no doubt, classical scholars will continue todiffer, but as to the supreme excellence of the Greek contribution toliterature there can be no difference of opinion. Those to whom thenames of this volume recall some of the happiest hours they have spentin literary study will be grateful to Mr. Lumb for helping others toshare the pleasures which they have so richly enjoyed; he writes withan enthusiasm which is infectious, and those to whom his book comes asa first introduction to the great writers of Greece will be moved totry to learn more of men whose works after so many centuries inspireso genuine an affection and teach lessons so modern. They need have nofear that they will be disappointed, for Mr. Lumb's zeal is based onknowledge. I hope that this book will be the means of leading many toappreciate what has been done for the world by the most amazing of allits cities, and some at least to determine that they will investigateits treasures for themselves. They will find like the Queen of Shebathat, though much has been told them, the half remains untold. 

C. A. ALINGTON. 

HOMER

Greek literature opens with a problem of the first magnitude. Twosplendid Epics have been preserved which are ascribed to "Homer", yetfew would agree that Homer wrote them both. Many authorities havedenied altogether that such a person ever existed; it seems certainthat he could not have been the author of both the _Iliad_ and the_Odyssey_, for the latter describes a far more advanced state ofsociety; it is still an undecided question whether the _Iliad_ waswritten in Europe or in Asia, but the probability is that the_Odyssey_ is of European origin; the date of the poems it is verydifficult to gauge, though the best authorities place it somewhere inthe eighth century B. C. Fortunately these difficulties do notinterfere with our enjoyment of the two poems; if there were twoHomers, we may be grateful to Nature for bestowing her favours soliberally upon us; if Homer never existed at all, but is a merenickname for a class of singer, the literary fraud that has beenperpetrated is no more serious than that which has assignedApocalyptic visions of different ages to Daniel. Perhaps the Homericpoems are the growth of many generations, like the English parishchurches; they resemble them as being examples of the exquisiteeffects which may be produced when the loving care and the reverenceof a whole people blend together in different ages pieces of artisticwork whose authors have been content to remain unnamed. 

It is of some importance to remember that the Iliad is not the storyof the whole Trojan war, but only of a very small episode which wasworked out in four days. The real theme is the Wrath of Achilles. Inthe tenth year of the siege the Greeks had captured a town calledChryse. Among the captives were two maidens, one Chryseis, thedaughter of Chryses, a priest of Apollo, the other Briseis; the formerhad fallen to the lot of Agamemnon, the King of the Greek host, thelatter to Achilles his bravest follower. Chryses, father of Chryseis, went to Agamemnon to ransom his daughter, but was treated withcontumely; accordingly he prayed to the god to avenge him and wasanswered, for Apollo sent a pestilence upon the Greeks which raged fornine days, destroying man and beast. On the tenth day the chieftainsheld a counsel to discover the cause of the malady. At it Chalcas theseer before revealing the truth obtained the promise of Achilles'protection; when Agamemnon learned that he was to ransom his captive, his anger burst out against the seer and he demanded another prize inreturn. Achilles upbraided his greed, begging him to wait till Troywas taken, when he would be rewarded fourfold. Agamemnon in replythreatened to take Achilles' captive Briseis, at the same timedescribing his follower's character. "Thou art the most hateful to meof all Kings sprung of Zeus, for thou lovest alway strife and wars andbattles. Mighty though thou art, thy might is the gift of some god. Briseis I will take, that thou mayest know how far stronger I am thanthou, and that another may shrink from deeming himself my equal, rivalling me to my face. " At this insult Achilles half drew his swordto slay the King, but was checked by Pallas Athena, who bade himconfine his resentment to taunts, for the time would come whenAgamemnon would offer him splendid gifts to atone for the wrong. Obeying the goddess Achilles reviled his foe, swearing a solemn oaththat he would not help the Greeks when Hector swept them away. In vaindid Nestor, the wise old counsellor who had seen two generations ofheroes, try to make up the quarrel, beseeching Agamemnon not tooutrage his best warrior and Achilles not to contend with his leader. The meeting broke up; Achilles departed to his huts, whence theheralds in obedience to Agamemnon speedily carried away Briseis. 

Going down to the sea-shore Achilles called upon Thetis his mother towhom he told the story of his ill-treatment. In deep pity for his fate(for he was born to a life of a short span), she promised that shewould appeal to Zeus to help him to his revenge; she had saved Zeusfrom destruction by summoning the hundred-armed Briareus to check arevolt among the gods against Zeus' authority. For the moment the kingof the gods was absent in Aethiopia; when he returned to Olympus onthe twelfth day she would win him over. Ascending to heaven, sheobtained the promise of Zeus' assistance, not without raising thesuspicions of Zeus' jealous consort Hera; a quarrel between them wasaverted by their son Hephaestus, whose ungainly performance of theduties of cupbearer to the Immortals made them forget all resentmentsin laughter unquenchable. 

True to his promise Zeus sent a dream to Agamemnon to assure him thathe would at last take Troy. The latter determined to summon anAssembly of the host. In it the changeable temper of the Greeks isvividly pictured. First Agamemnon told how he had the promise ofimmediate triumph; when the army eagerly called for battle, he spokeyet again describing their long years of toil and advising them tobreak up the siege and fly home, for Troy was not to be taken. Thisspeech was welcomed with even greater enthusiasm than the other, thewarriors rushing down to the shore to launch away. Aghast at thecoming failure of the enterprise Athena stirred up Odysseus to checkthe mad impulse. Taking from Agamemnon his royal sceptre as the signof authority, he pleaded with chieftains and their warriors, tellingthem that it was not for them to know the counsel in the hearts ofKings. 

 "We are not all Kings to bear rule here. 'Tis not good to have many Lords; let there be one Lord, one King, to whom the crooked-counselling son of Cronos hath given the rule. "

Thus did Odysseus stop the flight, bringing to reason all saveThersites, "whose heart was full of much unseemly wit, who talkedrashly and unruly, striving with Kings, saying what he deemed wouldmake the Achaeans smile". 

He continued his chatter, bidding the Greeks persist in their homewardflight. Knowing that argument with such an one was vain, Odysseus laidhis sceptre across his back with such heartiness that a fiery wealstarted up beneath the stroke. The host praised the act, the best ofthe many good deeds that Odysseus had done before Troy. 

When the Assembly was stilled, Odysseus and Nestor and Agamemnon toldthe plan of action; the dream bade them arm for a mighty conflict, forthe end could not be far off, the ten years' siege that had beenprophesied being all but completed. The names of the variouschieftains and the numbers of their ships are found in the famouscatalogue, a document which the Greeks treasured as evidence of unitedaction against a common foe. With equal eagerness the Trojans pouredfrom their town commanded by Hector; their host too has received fromHomer the glory of an everlasting memory in a detailed catalogue. 

Literary skill of a high order has brought upon the scene as quicklyas possible the chief figures of the poem. When the armies were aboutto meet, Paris, seeing Menelaus whom he had wronged, shrank from thecombat. On being upbraided by Hector who called him "a joy to his foesand a disgrace to himself", Paris was stung to an act of courage. Hector's heart was as unwearied as an axe, his spirit knew not fear;yet beauty too was a gift of the gods, not to be cast away. Let him beset to fight Menelaus in single combat for Helen and her wealth; letan oath be made between the two armies to abide by the result of thefight, that both peoples might end the war and live in peace. Overjoyed, Hector called to the Greeks telling them of Paris' offer, which Menelaus accepted. The armies sat down to witness the fight, while Hector sent to Troy to fetch Priam to ratify the treaty. 

In Troy the elders were seated on the wall to watch the conflict, Priam among them. Warned by Iris, Helen came forth to witness thesingle combat. As she moved among them the elders bore their testimonyto her beauty; its nature is suggested but not described, for the poetfelt he was unable to paint her as she was. 

 "Little wonder, " they exclaimed, "that the Trojans and Achaeans should suffer woe for many a year for such a woman. She is marvellous like the goddesses to behold; yet albeit she is so fair let her depart in the ships, leaving us and our little ones no trouble to come. "

Seeing her, Priam bade her sit by him and tell the names of the Greekleaders as they passed before his eyes. Agamemnon she knew by hisroyal bearing, Odysseus who moved along the ranks like a ram shemarked out as the master of craft and deep counsel. Hearing her words, Antenor bore his witness to their truth, for once Odysseus had comewith Menelaus to Troy on an embassy. 

 "When they stood up Menelaus was taller, when they sat down Odysseus was more stately. But when they spake, Menelaus' words were fluent, clear but few; Odysseus when he spoke, fixed his eyes on the ground, turning his sceptre neither backwards nor forward, standing still like a man devoid of wit; one would have deemed him a churl and a very fool; yet when he sent forth his mighty voice from his breast in words as many as the snowflakes, no other man could compare with him. "

Helen pointed out Ajax and Idomeneus and others, yet could not see hertwo brothers, Castor and Pollux; either they had not come from herhome in Sparta, or they had refused to fight, fearing the shame andreproach of her name. "So she spake, yet the life-giving earth coveredthem there, even in Sparta, their native land. "

When the news came to Priam of the combat arranged between Paris andMenelaus, the old King shuddered for his son, yet he went out toconfirm the compact. Feeling he could not look upon the fight, hereturned to the city. Meanwhile Hector had cast lots to decide whichof the two should first hurl his spear. Paris failed to wound hisenemy, but Menelaus' dart pierced Paris' armour; he followed it upwith a blow of his sword which shivered to pieces in his hand. He thencaught Paris' helmet and dragged him off towards the Greek army; butAphrodite saved her favourite, for she loosed the chin-strap and boreParis back to Helen in Troy. Menelaus in vain looked for him among theTrojans who were fain to see an end of him, "and would not have hiddenhim if they had seen him". Agamemnon then declared his brother thevictor and demanded the fulfilment of the treaty. 

Such an end to the siege did not content Hera, whose anger against theTrojans was such that she could have "devoured raw Priam and hissons". With Zeus' consent she sent down Pallas Athena to confound thetreaty. Descending like some brilliant and baleful star the goddessassumed the shape of Laodocus and sought out the archer Pandarus. Himshe tempted to shoot privily at Menelaus to gain the favour of Paris. While his companions held their shields in front of him the archerlaunched a shaft at his victim, but Athena turned it aside so that itmerely grazed his body, drawing blood. Seeing his brother woundedAgamemnon ran to him, to prophesy the certain doom of the treatybreakers. 

 "Not in vain did we shed the blood of compact and offer the pledges of a treaty. Though Zeus hath not fulfilled it now, yet he will at last and they will pay dear with their lives, they, their wives and children. Well I know in my heart that the day will come when sacred Troy will perish and Priam and his folk; Zeus himself throned on high dwelling in the clear sky will shake against them all his dark aegis in anger for this deceit. "

While the leeches drew out the arrow from the wound, Agamemnon wentround the host with words of encouragement or chiding to stir them upto the righteous conflict. They rushed on to battle to be met by theTrojans whose host

 "knew not one voice or one speech; their language was mixed, for they were men called from many lands. "

In the fight Diomedes, though at first wounded by Pandarus, speedilyreturned refreshed and strengthened by Athena. His great deeds drewupon him Pandarus and Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite and the futurefounder of Rome's greatness. Diomedes quickly slew Pandarus and whenAeneas bestrode his friend's body, hurled at him a mighty stone whichlaid him low. Afraid of her son Aphrodite cast her arms about him andshrouded him in her robe. Knowing that she was but a weak goddessDiomedes attacked her, wounding her in the hand. Dropping her son, shefled to Ares who was watching the battle and besought him to lend herhis chariot, wherein she fled back to Olympus. There her mother Dionecomforted her with the story of the woes which other gods had sufferedfrom mortals. 

 "But this man hath been set upon thee by Athena. Foolish one, he knoweth not in his heart that no man liveth long who fighteth with the gods; no children lisp 'father' at his knees when he returneth from war and dread conflict. Therefore, albeit he is so mighty, let him take heed lest a better than thou meet him, for one day his prudent wife shall wail in her sleep awaking all her house, bereft of her lord, the best man of the Achaeans. "

But Athena in irony deemed that Aphrodite had been scratched by someGreek woman whom she caressed to tempt her to forsake her husband andfollow one of the Trojans she loved. 

Aeneas when dropped by his mother had been picked up by Apollo; whenDiomedes attacked the god, he was warned that battle with an immortalwas not like man's warfare. Stirred by Apollo, Ares himself came tothe aid of the Trojans, inspiring Sarpedon the Lycian to hearten hiscomrades, who were shortly gladdened by the return of Aeneas whomApollo had healed. At the sight of Ares and Apollo fighting for TroyHera and Athena came down to battle for the Greeks; they foundDiomedes on the skirts of the host, cooling the wound Pandarus hadinflicted. Entering his chariot by his side, Athena fired him to meetAres and drive him wounded back to Olympus, where he found but littlecompassion from Zeus. The two goddesses then left the mortals to fightit out. 

At this moment Helenus, the prophetic brother of Hector, bade him goto Troy to try to appease the anger of Athena by an offering, in thehope that Diomedes' progress might be stayed. In his absence Diomedesmet in the battle Glaucus, a Lycian prince. 

 "Who art thou?" he asked. "I have never seen thee before in battle, yet now thou hast gone far beyond all others in hardihood, for thou hast awaited my onset, and they are hapless whose sons meet my strength. If thou art a god, I will not fight with thee; but if thou art one of those who eat the fruit of the earth, come near, that thou mayest the quicker get thee to the gates of death. "

In answer, Glaucus said:

 "Why askest thou my lineage? As is the life of leaves, so is that of men. The leaves are scattered some of them to the earth by the wind, others the wood putteth forth when it is in bloom, and they come on in the season of spring. Even so of men one generation groweth, another ceaseth. "

He then told how he was a family friend of Diomedes and made with hima compact that if they met in battle they should avoid each the other;this they sealed by the exchange of armour, wherein the Greek had thebetter, getting gold weapons for bronze, the worth of a hundred oxenfor the value of nine. 

Coming to Troy Hector bade his mother offer Athena the finest robe shehad; yet all in vain, for the goddess rejected it. Passing to thehouse of Paris, he found him polishing his armour, Helen at his side. Again rebuking him, he had from him a promise that he would be readyto re-enter the fight when Hector had been to his own house to see hiswife Andromache. Hector's heart foreboded that it was the last time hewould speak with her. She had with her their little son Astyanax. Weeping she besought him to spare himself for her sake. 

 "For me there will be no other comfort if thou meetest thy doom, but sorrow. Father and mother have I none, for Achilles hath slain them and my seven brothers. Hector, thou art my father and my lady mother and my brother and thou art my wedded husband. Nay, come, pity me and abide on the wall, lest thou make thy son an orphan and thy wife a widow. "

He answered, his heart heavy with a sense of coming death:

 "The day will come when Troy shall fall, yet I grieve not for father or mother or brethren so much as for thee, when some Achaean leads thee captive, robbing thee of thy day of freedom. Thou shalt weave at the loom in Argos or perchance fetch water, for heavy necessity shall be laid upon thee. Then shall many a one say when he sees thee shedding tears: 'Lo, this is the wife of Hector who was the best warrior of the Trojans when they fought for their town. ' Thus will they speak and thou shalt have new sorrow for lack of such a man to drive away the day of slavery. "

He stretched out his arms to his little son who was affrighted at thesight of the helmet as it nodded its plumes dreadfully from its talltop. Hector and Andromache laughed when they saw the child's terror;then Hector took off his helmet and prayed that the boy might grow toa royal manhood and gladden his mother's heart. Smiling through hertears, Andromache took the child from Hector, while he comforted herwith brave words. 

 "Lady, grieve not overmuch, I beseech thee, for no man shall thrust me to death beyond my fate. Methinks none can avoid his destiny, be he brave or a coward, when once he hath been born. Nay, go to the house, ply thy tasks and bid the maids be busy, but war is the business of the men who are born in Troy and mine most of all. "

Thus she parted from him, looking back many a time, shedding plenteoustears. So did they mourn for Hector even before his doom, for theysaid he would never escape his foes and come back in safety. 

Finding Paris waiting for him, Hector passed out to the battlefield. Aided by Glaucus he wrought great havoc, so much that Athena andApollo stirred him to challenge the bravest of the Greeks. The victorwas to take the spoils of the vanquished but to return the body forburial. At first the Greeks were silent when they heard his challenge, ashamed to decline it and afraid to take it up. At last eight of theirbravest cast lots, the choice falling upon Ajax. A great combat endedin the somewhat doubtful victory of Ajax, the two parting infriendship after an exchange of presents. The result of the fightinghad discouraged both sides; the Greeks accordingly decided to throw upa mound in front of their ships, protected by a deep trench. Thistacit confession of weakness in the absence of Achilles leads up tothe heavy defeat which was to follow. On the other side the Trojansheld a council to deliver up Helen. When Paris refused to surrenderher but offered to restore her treasures, a deputation was sent toinform the Greeks of his decision. The latter refused to accept eitherHelen or the treasure, feeling that the end was not far off. Thatnight Zeus sent mighty thunderings to terrify the besiegers. 

So far the main plot of the _Iliad_ has been undeveloped; now that thechief characters on both sides have played a part in the war, the poembegins to show how the wrath of Achilles works itself out under Zeus'direction. First the king of the gods warned the deities that he wouldallow none to intervene on either side and would punish any offenderwith his thunders. Holding up the scales of doom, he placed in themthe lot of Trojans and of Greeks; as the latter sank down, he hurledat their host his lightnings, driving all the warriors in flight tothe great mound they had built. For a time Teucer the archer brotherof Ajax held them back, but when he was smitten by a mighty stonehurled of Hector all resistance was broken. A vain attempt was made byHera and Athena to help the Greeks, but the goddesses quailed beforethe punishment wherewith Zeus threatened them. When night came theTrojans encamped on the open plain, their camp-fires gleaming like thestars which appear on some night of stillness. 

Disheartened at his defeat, Agamemnon freely acknowledged his faultand suggested flight homewards. Nestor advised him to call an Assemblyand depute some of the leading men to make up the quarrel withAchilles. The King listened to him, offering to give Achilles his owndaughter in wedlock, together with cities and much spoil of war. Threeambassadors were chosen, Phoenix, Ajax and Odysseus. ReachingAchilles' tent, they found him singing lays of heroes, Patroclus hisfriend by his side. When he saw the ambassadors, he gave them acourtly welcome. Odysseus laid the King's proposals before him, towhich Achilles answered with dignity. 

 "I hate as sore as the gates of Death a man who hideth one thing in his heart and sayeth its opposite. Do the sons of Atreus alone of men love their wives? Methinks all the wealth which Troy contained before the Greeks came upon it, yea all the wealth which Apollo holds in rocky Pytho, is not the worth of life itself. Cattle and horses and brazen ware can be got by plunder, but a man's life cannot be taken by spoil nor recovered when once it passeth the barrier of his teeth. Nay, go back to the elders and bid them find a better plan than this. Let Phoenix abide by me here that he may return with me to-morrow in my ships if he will, for I will not constrain him by force. "

Phoenix had been Achilles' tutor. In terror for the safety of theGreek fleet, he appealed to his friend to relent. 

 "How can I be left alone here without thee, dear child? Thy father sent me to teach thee to be a speaker of words and a doer of deeds. In thy childhood I tended thee, for I knew that I should never have a son and I looked to thee to save me from ruin. Tame thy great spirit. Even the gods know how to change, whose honour is greater, and their power. Men in prayer turn them by sacrifice when any hath sinned and transgressed. For Prayers are the daughters of great Zeus; they are halt and wrinkled and their eyes look askance. Their task it is to go after Ruin; for Ruin is strong and sound of foot, wherefore she far outrunneth them all and getteth before them in harming men over all the world. But they come after; whosoever honoureth the daughters of Zeus when they come nigh, him they greatly benefit and hear his entreaties, but whoso denieth them and stubbornly refuseth, they go to Zeus and ask that Ruin may dog him, that he may be requited with mischief. Therefore, Achilles, bring it to pass that honour follow the daughters of Zeus, even that honour which bendeth the heart of others as noble as thou. "

When this appeal also failed, Ajax, a man of deeds rather than words, deemed it best to return at once, begging Achilles to bear them noill-will and to remember the rights of hospitality which protectedthem from his resentment. When Achilles assured them of his regard forthem and maintained his quarrel with Agamemnon alone, they departedand brought the heavy news to their anxious friends. On hearing itDiomedes briefly bade them get ready for the battle and fight withoutAchilles' help. 

When the Trojan host had taken up its quarters on the plain, Nestorsuggested that the Greeks should send one of their number to find outwhat Hector intended to do on the morrow. Diomedes offered toundertake the office of a spy, selecting Odysseus as his comrade. After a prayer to Athena to aid them, they went silently towards thebivouac. It chanced that Hector too had thought of a similar plan andthat Dolon had offered to reconnoitre the Greek position. He was awealthy man, ill-favoured to look upon, but swift of foot, and hadasked that his reward should be the horses and the chariot ofAchilles. 

Hearing the sound of Dolon's feet as he ran, Diomedes and Odysseusparted to let him pass between them; then cutting off his retreat theyclosed on him and captured him. They learned how the Trojan host wasquartered; at the extremity of it was Rhesus, the newly arrivedThracian King, whose white horses were a marvel of beauty andswiftness. In return for his information Dolon begged them to sparehis life, but Diomedes deemed it safer to slay him. The two Greekspenetrated the Thracian encampment, where they slew many warriors andescaped with the horses back to the Greek armament. 

When the fighting opened on the next day, Agamemnon distinguishedhimself by deeds of great bravery, but retired at length wounded inthe hand. Zeus had warned Hector to wait for that very moment beforepushing home his attack. One after another the Greek leaders werewounded, Diomedes, Odysseus, Machaon; Ajax alone held up the Trojanonset, retiring slowly and stubbornly towards the sea. Achilles, seeing the return of the wounded warrior Machaon, sent his friendPatroclus to find out who he was. Nestor meeting Patroclus, told himof the rout of the army, and advised him to beg Achilles at least toallow the Myrmidons to sally forth under Patroclus' leadership, if hewould not fight in person. The importance of this episode isemphasised in the poem. The dispatch of Patroclus is called "thebeginning of his undoing", it foreshadows the intervention which waslater to bring Achilles himself back into the conflict. 

The Trojan host after an attempt to drive their horses over the trenchstormed it in five bodies. As they streamed towards the wall, an omenof a doubtful nature filled Polydamas with some misgivings about thewisdom of bursting through to the sea. It was possible that they mightbe routed and that they would accordingly be caught in a trap, leavingmany of their dead behind them. His advice to remain content with thesuccess they had won roused the anger of Hector, whose headstrongcharacter is well portrayed in his speech. 

 "Thou biddest me consider long-winged birds, whereof I reck not nor care for them whether they speed to right or left. Let us obey the counsel of Zeus. One omen is the best, to fight for our country. Why dost thou dread war and tumult? Even if all we others were slain at the ships, there is no fear that thou wilt perish, for thy heart cannot withstand the foe and is not warlike. But if thou holdest from the fight or turnest another from war, straightway shalt thou lose thy life under the blow of my spear. "

Thus encouraged the army pressed forward, the walls being pierced bythe Lycian King Sarpedon, a son of Zeus. Taking up a mighty stone, Hector broke open the gate and led his men forward to the finalonslaught on the ships. 

For a brief space Zeus turned his eyes away from the conflict andPoseidon used the opportunity to help the Greeks. Idomeneus the Cretanand his henchman Meriones greatly distinguished themselves, the formerdrawing a very vivid picture of the brave man. 

 "I know what courage is. Would that all the bravest of us were being chosen for an ambush, wherein a man's bravery is most manifest. In it the coward and the courageous man chiefliest appear. The colour of the one changeth and his spirit cannot be schooled to remain stedfast, but he shifteth his body, settling now on this foot now on that; his heart beateth mightily, knocking against his breast as he bodeth death, and his teeth chatter. But the good man's colour changeth not, nor is he overmuch afraid when once he sitteth in his place of ambush; rather he prayeth to join speedily in the dolorous battle. "

Yet soon Idomeneus' strength left him; Hector hurried to the centre ofthe attack, where he confronted Ajax. 

At this point Hera determined to prolong the intervention of Poseidonin favour of the Greeks. She persuaded Aphrodite to lend her all herspells of beauty on the pretence that she wished to reconcile Ocean tohis wife Tethys. Armed with the goddess' girdle, she lulled Zeus tosleep and then sent a message to Poseidon to give the Greeks hisheartiest assistance. Inspired by him the fugitives turned on theirpursuers; when Ajax smote down Hector with a stone the Trojans werehurled in flight back through the gate and across the ramparts. 

When Zeus awakened out of slumber and saw the rout of the Trojans, hisfirst impulse was to punish Hera for her deceit. He then restored thesituation, bidding Poseidon retire and sending Apollo to recoverHector of his wound. The tide speedily turned again; the Trojansrushed through the rampart and down to the outer line of the Greekships, where they found nobody to resist them except the giant Ajaxand his brother Teucer. After a desperate fight in which Ajaxsingle-handed saved the fleet, Hector succeeded in grasping the shipof Protesilaus and called loud for fire. This was the greatest measureof success vouchsafed him; from this point onwards the balance wasredressed in favour of the Greeks. 

Achilles had been watching the anguish of Patroclus' spirit when thisdisaster came upon their friends. 

 "Why weepest thou, Patroclus, like some prattling little child who runneth to her mother and biddeth her take her up, catching at her garment and checking her movement and gazing at her tearfully till she lifteth her? Even so thou lettest fall the big tears. "

Patroclus begged his friend to allow him to wear his armour and leadthe Myrmidons out to battle, not knowing that he was entreating forhis own ruin and death. After some reluctance Achilles gave him leave, yet with the strictest orders not to pursue too far. Fresh and eagerfor the battle the Myrmidons drove the Trojans back into the plain. Patroclus' course was challenged by the Lycians, whose King Sarpedonfaced him in single combat. In great sorrow Zeus watched his sonSarpedon go to his doom; in his agony he shed tear-drops of blood andordered Death and Sleep to carry the body back to Lycia for burial. 

The great glory Patroclus had won tempted him to forget his promise toAchilles. He pursued the Trojans back to the walls of the town, slaying Cebriones the charioteer of Hector. In the fight which tookplace over the body Patroclus was assailed by Hector and Euphorbusunder the guidance of Apollo. Hector administered the death-blow;before he died Patroclus foretold a speedy vengeance to come fromAchilles. 

A mighty struggle arose over his body. Menelaus slew Euphorbus, butretreated at the approach of Hector, who seized the armour of Achillesand put it on. A thick cloud settled over the combatants, heighteningthe dread of battle. The gods came down to encourage their respectivewarriors; the Greeks were thrust back over the plain, but the braveryof Ajax and Menelaus enabled the latter to save Patroclus' body andcarry it from the dust of battle towards the ships. 

When the news of his friend's death came to Achilles his grief was somighty that it seemed likely that he would have slain himself. Heburst into a lamentation so bitter that his mother heard him in hersea-cave and came forth to learn what new sorrow had taken him. Toolate he learned the hard lesson that revenge may be sweet but isalways bought at the cost of some far greater thing. 

 "I could not bring salvation to Patroclus or my men, but sit at the ships a useless burden upon the land, albeit I am such a man as no other in war, though others excel me in speech. Perish strife from among men and gods, and anger which inciteth even a prudent man to take offence; far sweeter than dropping honey it groweth in a man's heart like smoke, even now as Agamemnon hath roused me to a fury. "

Being robbed of his armour he could not sally out to convey hiscompanion's body into the camp. Hera therefore sent Iris to himbidding him merely show himself at the trenches and cry aloud. At thesound of his thrice-repeated cry the Trojans shrank back in terror, leaving the Greeks to carry in Patroclus' body unmolested; then Herabade the sun set at once into the ocean to end the great day ofbattle. 

Polydamas knew well what the appearance of Achilles portended to theTrojans, for he was the one man among them who could look both beforeand after; his advice was that they should retire into the town andthere shut themselves up. It was received with scorn by Hector. In theGreek camp Achilles burst into a wild lament over Patroclus, swearingthat he would not bury him before he had brought in Hector dead andtwelve living captives to sacrifice before the pyre. That night hismother went to Hephaestus and persuaded him to make divine armour forher son, which the poet describes in detail. 

On receiving the armour from his mother Achilles made haste toreconcile himself with Agamemnon. His impatience for revenge and theoath he had taken made it impossible for him to take any food. Hisstrength was maintained by Athena who supplied him with nectar. Onissuing forth to the fight he addressed his two horses:

 "Xanthus and Balius, bethink you how ye may save your charioteer when he hath done with the battle, and desert him not in death as ye did Patroclus. "

In reply they prophesied his coming end. 

 "For this we are not to blame, but the mighty god--and violent Fate. We can run quick as the breath of the North wind, who men say is the swiftest of all, but thy fate it is to die by the might of a god and a man. "

The Avenging Spirits forbade them to reveal more. The awe of theclimax of the poem is heightened by supernatural interventions. Atlast the gods themselves received permission from Zeus to enter thefray. They took sides, the shock of their meeting causing the netherdeity to start from his throne in fear that his realm should collapseabout him. Achilles met Aeneas and would have slain him had notPoseidon saved him. Hector withdrew before him, warned by Apollo notto meet him face to face. Disregarding the god's advice he attackedAchilles, but for the moment was spirited away. Disappointed of hisprey Achilles sowed havoc among the lesser Trojans. 

Choked by the numerous corpses the River-God Scamander begged himcease his work of destruction. When the Hero disregarded him, heassembled all his waters and would have overwhelmed him but for Athenawho gave him power to resist; the river was checked by the Fire-Godwho dried up his streams. The gods then plunged into strife, the sightwhereof made Zeus laugh in joy. Athena quickly routed Aphrodite andHera Artemis. Apollo deemed it worthless to fight Poseidon. 

 "Thou wouldst not call me prudent were I to strive with thee for cowering mortals, who like leaves sometimes are full of fire, then again waste away spiritless. Let us make an end of our quarrel; let men fight it out themselves. "

Deserted by their protectors the Trojans broke before Achilles, whonearly took the town. 

Baulked a second time of his vengeance by Apollo, Achilles vowed hewould have punished the god had he the power. Hector had at lastdecided to face his foe at the Scaean Gate. His father and his motherpleaded with him in a frenzy of grief to enter the town, but the dreadof Polydamas' reproaches fixed his resolve. When Achilles came rushingtowards him, his heart failed; he ran three times round the walls ofthe city. Meanwhile the gods held up the scales of doom; when his lifesank down to death Apollo left him for ever. 

Athena then took the shape of Deiphobus, encouraging him to faceAchilles. Seeing unexpectedly a friend, he turned and stood hisground, for she had already warned Achilles of her plot. Hectorlaunched his spear which sped true, but failed to penetrate the divinearmour. When he found no Deiphobus at his side to give him anotherweapon, he knew his end had come. Drawing himself up for a finaleffort, he darted at Achilles; the latter spied a gap in the armour hehad once worn, through which he smote Hector mortally. Lying inapproaching death, the Trojan begged that his body might be honouredwith a burial, but Achilles swore he should never have it, rather thedogs and carrion birds should devour his flesh. Seeing their great foedead the Greeks flocked around him, not one passing by him withoutstabbing his body. Achilles bored through his ankles and attached himto his car; then whipping up his horses, he drove full speed to thecamp, dragging Hector in disgrace over the plain. This scene of puresavagery is succeeded by the laments of Priam, Hecuba and Andromacheover him whom Zeus allowed to be outraged in his own land. 

That night the shade of Patroclus visited Achilles, bidding him buryhim speedily that he might cross the gates of death; the dust of hisashes was to be stored up in an urn and mixed with Achilles' own whenhis turn came to die. After the funeral Achilles held games of greatsplendour in which the leading athletes contended for the prizes heoffered. 

Yet nothing could make up for the loss of his friend. Every day hedragged Hector's body round Patroclus' tomb, but Apollo in pity forthe dead man kept away corruption, maintaining the body in all itsbeauty of manhood. At last on the twelfth day Apollo appealed to thegods to end the barbarous outrage. 

 "Hath not Hector offered to you many a sacrifice of bulls and goats? Yet ye countenance the deeds of Achilles, who hath forsaken all pity which doth harm to men and bringeth a blessing too. Many another is like to lose a friend, but he will weep and let his foe's body go, for the Fates have given men an heart to endure. Good man though he be, let Achilles take heed lest he move us to indignation by outraging in fury senseless clay. "

Zeus sent to fetch Thetis whom he bade persuade her son to ransom thebody; meanwhile Iris went to Troy to tell Priam to take a ransom andgo to the ships without fear, for the convoy who should guide himwould save him from harm. 

On hearing of Priam's resolve Hecuba tried to dissuade him, but theold King would not be turned. That night he went forth alone; he wasmet in the plain by Hermes, disguised as a servant of Achilles, whoconducted him to the hut where Hector lay. Slipping in unseen, Priamcaught Achilles' knees and kissed the dread hands that had slain hisson. In pity for the aged King Achilles remembered his own father, left as defenceless as Priam. Calling out his servants he bade themwash the corpse outside, lest Priam at the sight of it should upbraidhim and thus provoke him to slay him and offend against the commandsof Zeus. As they supped, Priam marvelled at the stature and beauty ofAchilles and Achilles wondered at Priam's reverend form and his words. While Achilles slept, Hermes came to Priam to warn him of his dangerif he were found in the Greek host. Hastily harnessing the chariot, heled him back safely to Troy, where the body was laid upon a bed inHector's palace. 

The laments which follow are of great beauty. Andromache bewailed herwidowhood, Hecuba her dearest son; Helen's lament is a masterpiece. 

 "Hector, far the dearest to me of all my brethren, of a truth Paris is my lord, who brought me hither--would I had died first. This is the tenth year since I left my native land, yet have I never heard from thee a word cruel or despiteful; rather, if any other chode me, thy sister or a brother's wife or thy mother--though thy father is gentle to me always as he were my own sire--thou didst restrain such with words of persuasion and kindness and gentleness all thine own. Wherefore I grieve for thee and for myself in anguish, for there is no other friend in broad Troy kind and tender, but all shudder at me. "

Then with many a tear they laid to his rest mighty Hector. 

Such is the _Iliad_. To modern readers it very often seems a littledull. Horace long ago pointed out that it is inevitable that a longpoem should flag; even Homer nods sometimes. Some of the episodes aredistinctly wearisome, for they are invented to give a place in thisnational Epic to lesser heroes who could hardly be mentioned ifAchilles were always in the foreground. Achilles himself is not apleasing person; his character is wayward and violent; he is sometimeschildish, always liable to be carried away by a fit of pettishness andunable to retain our real respect; further, a hero who is practicallyinvulnerable and yet dons divine armour to attack those who are nomatch for him when he is without it falls below the ordinary"sportsman's" level. Nor can we feel much reverence for many of thegods; Hera is odious, Athena guilty of flat treachery, Zeus, liable toallow his good nature to overcome his judgment--Apollo alone seemsconsistently noble. More, we shall look in vain in the _Iliad_ for anysign of the pure battle-joy which is so characteristic of northernEpic poetry; the Greek ideal of bravery had nothing of the Berserkerin it. Perhaps these are the reasons why the sympathy of nearly allreaders is with the Trojans, who are numerically inferior, are aidedby fewer and weaker gods and have less mighty champions to defendthem. 

What then is left to admire in the _Iliad_? It is well to rememberthat the poem is not the first but the last of a long series; its veryperfection of form and language makes it certain that it is the resultof a long literary tradition. As such, it has one or two remarkablefeatures. We shall not find in many other Epics that sense of wistfulsorrow for man's brief and uncertain life which is the finest breathof all poetry that seeks to touch the human heart. The marks of rudeor crude workmanship which disfigure much Epic have nearly alldisappeared from the _Iliad_. The characterisation of many of thefigures of the poem is masterly, their very natures being hit off in afew lines--and it is important to remember that it is not really thebusiness of Epic to attempt analysis of character at all except verybriefly; the story cannot be kept waiting. But the real Homeric poweris displayed in the famous scenes of pure and worthy pathos such asthe parting of Andromache from Hector and the laments over his body. Those who would learn how to touch great depths of sorrow and remaindignified must see how it has been treated in the _Iliad_. 

A few vigorous lines hit off the plan of the _Odyssey_. 

 "Sing, Muse, of the man of much wandering who travelled right far after sacking sacred Troy, and saw the cities of many men and knew their ways. Many a sorrow he suffered on the sea, trying to win a return home for himself and his comrades; yet he could not for all his longing, for they died like fools through their own blindness. "

Odysseus, when the poem opens, was in Calypso's isle pitied of all thegods save Poseidon. In a council Zeus gave his consent that Hermesshould go to Calypso, while Athena should descend to Ithaca toencourage Odysseus' son Telemachus to seek out news of his father. 

Taking the form of Mentes, Athena met Telemachus and informed him thathis father was not yet dead. Seeing the suitors who were wooing hismother Penelope and eating up the house in riot, she advised him todismiss them and visit Nestor in Pylos. A lay sung by Phemius broughtPenelope from her chamber, who was astonished at the immediate changewhich her son's speech showed had come upon him, transforming him tomanhood. 

Next day Telemachus called an Assembly of the Ithacans; his appeal tothe suitors to leave him in peace provoked an insulting speech fromtheir ringleader Antinous who held Penelope to blame for theirpresence; she had constantly eluded them, on one occasion promising tomarry when she had woven a shroud for Laertes her father-in-law; thework she did by day she undid at night, till she was betrayed by aserving-woman. Telemachus then asked the suitors for a ship to getnews of his father. When the assembly broke up, Athena appeared inanswer to Telemachus' prayer in the form of Mentor and pledged herselfto go with him on his travels. She prepared a ship and got together acrew, while Telemachus bade his old nurse Eurycleia conceal from hismother his departure. 

In Pylos Nestor told him all he knew of Odysseus, describing thesorrows which came upon the Greek leaders on their return andespecially the evil end of Agamemnon. He added that Menelaus had justreturned to Sparta and was far more likely to know the truth than anyother, for he had wandered widely over the seas on his home-coming. Bidding Nestor look after Telemachus, Athena vanished from his sight, but not before she was recognised by the old hero. On the morrowTelemachus set out for Sparta, accompanied by Pisistratus, one ofNestor's sons. 

Menelaus gave them a kindly welcome and a casual mention of hisfather's name stirred Telemachus to tears. At that moment Helenentered; her quicker perception at once traced the resemblance betweenthe young stranger and Odysseus. When Telemachus admitted hisidentity, Helen told some of his father's deeds. Once he entered Troydisguised as a beggar, unrecognised of all save Helen herself. "Afterhe made her swear an oath that she would not betray him, he revealedall the plans of the Greeks. Then, after slaying many Trojans, hedeparted with much knowledge, while Helen's heart rejoiced, for shewas already bent on a return home, repenting of the blindness whichAphrodite had sent her in persuading her to abandon home and daughterand a husband who lacked naught, neither wit not manhood. " Menelausthen recounted how Odysseus saved him when they were in the woodenhorse, when one false sound would have betrayed them. On the nextmorning Telemachus told the story of the ruin of his home; Menelausprophesied the end of the suitors, then preceded to recount how inEgypt he waylaid and captured Proteus, the changing god of the sea, whom he compelled to relate the fate of the Greek leaders and toprophesy his own return; from him he heard that Odysseus was withCalypso who kept him by force. On learning this important piece ofnews Telemachus was eager to return to Ithaca with all speed. 

Meanwhile the suitors had learned of the departure of Telemachus andplotted to intercept him on his return. Their treachery was told toPenelope, who was utterly undone on hearing it; feeling herself leftwithout a human protector she prayed to Athena, who appeared to her ina dream in the likeness of her own sister to assure her that Athenawas watching over her, but refusing to say definitely whether Odysseuswas alive. 

The poem at this point takes up the story of Odysseus himself. Goingto the isle where he was held captive, Hermes after admiring its greatbeauty delivered Zeus' message to Calypso to let the captive go. Shereproached the gods for their jealousy and reluctantly promised toobey. She found Odysseus on the shore, eating out his heart in thedesire for his home. When she informed him that she intended to lethim go, he first with commendable prudence made her swear that she didnot design some greater evil for him. Smiling at his cunning, sheswore the most solemn of all oaths to help him, then supplied toolsand materials for the building of his boat. When he was out on thedeep, Poseidon wrecked his craft, but a sea goddess Leucothea, once amortal, gave him a scarf to wrap round him, bidding him cast it fromhim with his back turned away when he got to land. After two nightsand two days on the deep he at length saw land. Finding the mouth of asmall stream, he swam up it, then utterly weary flung himself down ona heap of leaves under a bush, guarded by Athena. 

The next episode introduces one of the most charming figures inancient literature. Nausicaa was the daughter of Alcinous, King ofPhaeacia, on whose island Odysseus had landed. To her Athena appearedin a dream, bidding her obtain from her father leave to go down to thesea to wash his soiled garments. The young girl obeyed, telling herfather that it was but seemly that he, the first man in the kingdom, should appear at council in raiment white as snow. He gave her theleave she desired. After their work was done, she and her handmaidsbegan a game of ball; their merry cries woke up Odysseus, who startedup on hearing human voices. Coming forward, he frightened by hisappearance the handmaids, but Nausicaa, emboldened by Athena, stoodstill and listened to his story. She supplied him with clean garmentsafter she had given him food and drink. On the homeward journeyNausicaa bade Odysseus bethink him of the inconvenient talk which hispresence would occasion if he were seen with her near the city. Shetherefore judged it best that she should enter first, at the same timeshe gave him full information of the road to the palace; when heentered it he was to proceed straight to the Queen Arete, whose favourwas indispensable if he desired a return home. 

Just outside the city Athena met him in the guise of a girl to tellhim his way; she further cast about him a thick cloud to protect himfrom curious eyes. Passing through the King's gardens, which were amarvel of beauty and fruitfulness, Odysseus entered the palace andthrew his arms in supplication about Arete's knees. She listenedkindly to him and begged Alcinous give him welcome. When all thecourtiers had retired to rest, Arete, noticing that the garmentsOdysseus wore had been woven by her own hands, asked him whence he hadthem and how he had come to the island. On hearing the story of hisshipwreck Alcinous promised him a safe convoy to his home on themorrow. 

At an assembly Alcinous consulted with his counsellors about Odysseus;all agreed to help in providing him with a ship and rowers. At a trialof skill Odysseus, after being taunted by some of the Phaeacians, hurled the quoit beyond them all. Later, a song of the wooden horse ofTroy moved him to tears; though unnoticed by the others, he did notescape the eye of Alcinous who bade him tell them plainly who he was. Then he revealed himself and told the marvellous story of hiswanderings. 

First he and his companions reached the land of the Lotus-eaters. Finding out that the lotus made all who ate it lose their desire forhome, Odysseus sailed away with all speed, forcing away some who hadtasted the plant. Thence they reached the island of the Cyclopes, awild race who knew no ordinances; each living in his cave was a law tohimself, caring nothing for the others. Leaving his twelve ships, Odysseus proceeded with some of his men to the cave of one of theCyclopes, a son of Poseidon, taking with him a skin of wine. When theone-eyed monster returned with his flock of sheep, he shut the mouthof the cave with a mighty stone which no mortal could move; thenlighting a fire he caught sight of his visitors and asked who theywere. Odysseus answered craftily, whereupon the monster devoured sixof his company. Odysseus opened his wine-skin and offered some of thewine; when the Cyclops asked his name, Odysseus told him he was calledNoman; in return for his kindness in offering him the strangely sweetdrink the Cyclops promised to eat him last of all. But the wine soonplunged the monster into a slumber, from which he was awakened by theburning end of a great stake which Odysseus thrust into his eye. Onhearing his cries of agony the other Cyclopes came to him, but wentaway when they heard that Noman was killing him. As it was impossiblefor anyone but the Cyclops to open the cave, Odysseus tied his menbeneath the cattle, putting the beast which carried a man between twowhich were unburdened; he himself hung on to the ram. As the animalspassed out, the Cyclops was a little surprised that the ram went last, but thought he did so out of grief for his master. When they were allsafely outside, Odysseus freed his friends and made haste to get tothe ship. Thrusting out, when he was at what seemed a safe distance heshouted to the Cyclops, who then remembered an old prophecy and hurleda huge rock which nearly washed them back; a second rock which hehurled on learning Odysseus' real name narrowly missed the ship. Thenthe Cyclops prayed to Poseidon to punish Odysseus; the god heard him, persecuting him from that time onward. Reassembling his ships, Odysseus proceeded on his voyage. 

He next called at the isle of Aeolus, king of the winds, who gave himin a bag all the winds but one, a favouring breeze which was to wafthim to his own island. For nine days Odysseus guarded his bag, but atlast, when Ithaca was in sight, he sank into a sleep of exhaustion. Thinking that the bag concealed some treasure, his men opened it, onlyto be blown back to Aeolus who bid him begone as an evil man when hebegged aid a second time. 

After visiting the Laestrygones, a man-eating people, who devoured allthe fleet except one ship's company, the remainder reached Aeaea, theisland where lived the dread goddess Circe. Odysseus sent forwardEurylochus with some twenty companions who found Circe weaving at aloom. Seeing them she invited them within; then after giving them acharmed potion she smote them with her rod, turning them into swine. Eurylochus who had suspected some trickery hurried back to Odysseuswith the news. The latter determined to go alone to save his friends. On the way he was met by Hermes, who showed him the herb moly, anantidote to Circe's draught. Finding that her magic failed, she atonce knew that her visitor was Odysseus whose visit had beenprophesied to her by Hermes. He bound her down by a solemn oath torefrain from further mischief and persuaded her to restore to his mentheir humanity. When Odysseus desired to depart home, she told him ofthe wanderings that awaited him. First he must go to the land of thedead to consult the shade of Teiresias, the blind old prophet, whowould help him. 

Following the goddess' instructions, they sailed to the land of theCimmerians on the confines of the earth. There Odysseus dug a trenchinto which he poured the blood of slain victims which he did not allowthe dead spirits to touch till Teiresias appeared. The seer told himof the sorrows that awaited him and vaguely indicated that his deathshould come upon him from the sea; he added that any spirit he allowedto touch the blood would tell him truly all whereof he was as yetignorant, and that those ghosts he drove away would return to thedarkness. 

First arose the spirit of his dead mother Anticleia who told him thathis wife and son were yet alive and his father was living away fromthe town in wretchedness. 

 "For me, it was not the visitation of Apollo that took me, nor any sickness whose corruption drove the life from my frame; rather it was longing for thee and thy counsels and thy gentleness which spoiled me of my spirit. "

Thrice he tried to embrace her, and thrice the ghost eluded him, forit was "as a dream that had fled away from the white frame of thebody". A procession of famous women followed, then came the wraith ofAgamemnon who told how he had been foully slain by his own wife, asfaithless as Penelope was prudent. Achilles next approached; whenOdysseus tried to console him for his early death by reminding him ofthe honour he had when he was alive, he answered:

 "Speak not comfortingly of death; I would rather be a clown and a thrall on earth to another man than rule among the departed. "

On hearing that his son Neoptolemus had won great glory in the captureof Troy, the spirit left him, exulting with joy that his son wasworthy of him. Ajax turned from Odysseus in anger at the loss ofAchilles' armour for the possession of which they had striven. Thelast figure that came was the ghost of Heracles, though the herohimself was with the gods in Olympus. 

 "Round him was the whirr of the dead as of birds fleeing in panic. Like to black night, with his bow ready and an arrow on the string, he glared about him terribly, as ever intending to shoot. Over his breast was flung a fearful belt, whereon were graven bears and lions and fights, battles, murders and man-slayings. "

He recognised Odysseus before he passed back to death; when a crowd ofterrifying apparitions came thronging to the trench, Odysseus fled tohis ship lest the Gorgon might be sent from the awful Queen of thedead. 

Returning to Circe, he learned from her of the remaining dangers. Thefirst of these was the island of the Sirens, who by the marvelloussweetness of their song charmed to their ruin all who passed. Odysseusfilled the ears of his crews with wax, bidding them to tie him to themast of his ship and to row hard past the temptresses in spite of hisstrugglings. They then entered the dangerous strait, on one side ofwhich was Scylla, a dreadful monster who lived in a cave near by, onthe other was the deadly whirlpool of Charybdis. Scylla carried offsix of his men who called in vain to Odysseus to save them, stretchingout their hands to him in their last agony. From the strait theypassed to the island of Trinacria, where they found grazing the cattleof the Sun. Odysseus had learned from both Teiresias and Circe that anevil doom would come upon them if they touched the animals; hetherefore made his companions swear a great oath not to touch them ifthey landed. For a whole month they were wind-bound in the island andate all the provisions which Circe had given them. At a time whenOdysseus had gone to explore the island Eurylochus persuaded his mento kill and eat; as he returned Odysseus smelled the savour of theirfeast and knew that destruction was at hand. For nine days thefeasting continued. When the ship put out to sea Zeus, in answer tothe prayer of the offended Sun-God, sent a storm which drowned all thecrew and drove Odysseus back to the dreaded strait. Escaping throughit with difficulty, he drifted helplessly over the deep and on thetenth day landed on the island of "the dread goddess who used humanspeech", Calypso, who tended him and kept him in captivity. 

On the next day the Phaeacians loaded Odysseus with presents andlanded him on his own island while he slept. Poseidon in anger at thearrival of the hero changed the returning Phaeacian ship into stonewhen it was almost within the harbour of the city. When Odysseus awokehe failed to recognise his own land. Athena appeared to him disguisedas a shepherd, telling him he was indeed in Ithaca:

 "Thou art witless or art come from afar, if thou enquirest about this land. It is not utterly unknown; many know it who dwell in the East and in the West. It is rough and unfitted for steeds, yet it is not a sorry isle, though narrow. It hath plenteous store of corn and the vine groweth herein. It hath alway rain and glistening dew. It nourisheth goats and cattle and all kinds of woods and its streams are everlasting. "

Such is the description of the land for which Odysseus forsookCalypso's offer of immortality. After smiling at Odysseus' pretencethat he was a Cretan Athena counselled him how to slay the suitors andhurried to fetch Telemachus from Sparta. The poet tells why Athenaloved Odysseus more than all others. 

 "Crafty would he be and a cunning trickster who surpassed thee in wiles, though it were a god who challenged thee. We know craft enough, both of us, for thou art by far the best of mortals in speech and counsel and I among the gods am famed for devices and cunning. "

Transformed by her into an old beggar, Odysseus went to the hut of hisfaithful old swineherd Eumaeus; the dogs set upon him, but Eumaeusscared them away and welcomed him to his dwelling. In spite ofOdysseus' assurance that the master would return Eumaeus, who had beenoften deceived by similar words, refused to believe. Feigning himselfto be a Cretan, Odysseus saw for himself that the old servant'sloyalty was steadfast; a deft touch brings out his care for hismaster's substance:

 "laying a bed for Odysseus before the fire, he went out and slept among the dogs in a cave beneath the breath of the winds. "

By the intervention of Athena the two leading characters are broughttogether. She stood beside the sleeping Telemachus in Sparta, warninghim of the ambush set for him in Ithaca and bidding him to land on alonely part of the coast whence he was to proceed to the hut ofEumaeus. On his departure from Sparta an omen was interpreted by Helento mean that Odysseus was not far from home. As he was on the point ofleaving Pylos on the morrow a bard named Theoclymenus appealed to himfor protection, for he had slain a man and was a fugitive fromjustice. Taking him on board Telemachus frustrated the ambush, landingin safety; he proceeded to Eumaeus' hut, where Odysseus had with somedifficulty been persuaded to remain. 

The dogs were the first to announce the arrival of a friend, gambolling about him. After speaking a word of cheer to EumaeusTelemachus enquired who the stranger was; hearing that he was a Cretanhe lamented his inability to give him a welcome in his home owing tothe insolence of his enemies. Remembering the anxiety of his motherduring his absence he sent Eumaeus to the town to acquaint her withhis arrival. Athena seized the opportunity to reveal Odysseus to hisson, transforming him to his own shape. After a moment of utteramazement at the marvel of the change, Telemachus ran to his fatherand fell upon his neck, his joy finding expression in tears. The twothen laid their plans for the destruction of the suitors. By the timeEumaeus had returned Odysseus had resumed his sorry and tatteredappearance. 

Telemachus went to the town alone, bidding Eumaeus bring the strangerwith him. They were met by one Melanthius a goatherd, who covered themwith insults. "In truth one churl is leading another, for the god everbringeth like to like. Whither art thou taking this glutton, this evilpauper, a kill-joy of the feast? He hath learned many a knavish trickand is like to refuse to labour; creeping among the people he wouldrather ask alms to fill his insatiate maw. " Leaping on Odysseus, hekicked at him, yet failed to stir him from the pathway. Swallowing theinsult Odysseus walked towards his house. A superb stroke of art hascreated the next incident. In the courtyard lay Argus, a hound whomOdysseus had once fed. Neglected in the absence of his master he hadcrept to a dung-heap, full of lice. When he marked Odysseus comingtowards him he wagged his tail and dropped his ears, but could notcome near his lord. Seeing him from a little distance Odysseus wipedaway his tears unnoticed of Eumaeus and asked whose the hound was. Eumaeus told the story of his neglect: "but the doom of death tookArgus straightway after seeing Odysseus in the twentieth year". In thepalace Telemachus sent his father food, bidding him ask a charity ofthe wooers. Antinous answered by hurling a stool which struck hisshoulder. The noise of the high words which followed brought downPenelope who protested against the godless behaviour of the suitorsand asked to interview the stranger in hope of learning some tidingsof her husband, but Odysseus put her off till nightfall when theywould be less likely to suffer from the insolence of the suitors. 

In Ithaca was a beggar named Irus, gluttonous and big-boned but acoward. Encouraged by the winkings and noddings of the suitors he badeOdysseus begone. A quiet answer made him imagine he had to deal with apoltroon and he challenged him to a fight. The proposal was welcomedwith glee by the suitors, who promised on oath to see fair play forthe old man in his quarrel with a younger. But when they saw themighty limbs and stout frame of Odysseus, they deemed that Irus hadbrought trouble on his own head. Chattering with fear Irus had to beforced to the combat. One blow was enough to lay him low; the easewith which Odysseus had disposed of his foe made him for a timepopular with the suitors. 

Under an inspiration of Athena, Penelope came down once more to chidethe wooers for their insolence; she also upbraided them for theirstinginess. 

 "Yours is not the custom of wooers in former days who were wont to sue for wedlock with the daughter of a rich man and contend among themselves. Such men offer oxen and stout cattle and glorious gifts; they will never consume another's substance without payment. "

Stung by the taunt, they gave her the accustomed presents, whileOdysseus rejoiced that she flattered their heart in soft words with adifferent intent in her spirit. The insolence of the suitors wasmatched by the pertness of the serving maids, of whom Melantho was themost impudent. A threat from Odysseus drew down upon him the wrath ofthe suitors who were with difficulty persuaded by Telemachus to departhome to their beds. 

That night Odysseus and his son removed the arms from the walls, thelatter being told to urge as a pretext for his action the necessity ofcleaning from them the rust and of removing a temptation to violencewhen the suitors were heated with wine. At the promised interview withhis wife Odysseus again pretended he was a Cretan; describing the verydress which Odysseus had worn, he assured her that he would soonreturn with the many treasures which he had collected. Half persuadedby the exact description of a garment she had herself made, she badeher maids look to him, but he would not suffer any of them to approachhim save his old nurse Eurycleia. As she was washing him in the dimlight of the fireside her fingers touched the old scar above his knee, the result of an accident in a boar-hunt during his youth. 

 "Dropping the basin she fell backwards; joy and grief took her heart at once, her eyes filled with tears and her utterance was checked. Catching him by his beard, she said: 'In very sooth thou art Odysseus, my dear boy; and I knew thee not before I had touched the body of my lord. ' So speaking she looked at Penelope, fain to tell her that her lord was within. But Odysseus laid his hand upon the nurse's mouth, with the other he drew her to him and whispered: 'Nurse, wouldst thou ruin me? Thou didst nourish me at thy breast, and now I am come back after mighty sufferings. Be silent, lest another learn the news, or I tell thee that when I have punished the suitors I will not even refrain from thee when I destroy the other women in my halls. '"

Concealing the scar carefully under his rags by the fireside he put agood interpretation on a strange dream which had visited his wife. 

That night Odysseus with his own eyes witnessed the intrigues betweenhis women and the suitors. He heard his wife weeping in her chamberfor him and prayed to Zeus for aid in the coming trial. On the morrowhe was again outraged; the suitors were moved to laughter by aprophecy of Theoclymenus:

 "Yet they were laughing with alien lips, the meat they ate was dabbled with blood, their eyes were filled with tears and their hearts boded lamentation. Among them spake Theoclymenus; 'Wretched men, what is this evil that is come upon you? Your heads and faces and the knees beneath you are shrouded in night, mourning is kindled among you, your cheeks are bedewed with tears, the walls and the fair pillars are sprinkled with blood, the forecourt and the yard is full of spectres hastening to the gloom of Erebus; the sun hath perished from the heaven and a mist of ruin hath swept upon you. '"

In answer Eurymachus bade him begone if all within was night; takinghim at his word, the seer withdrew before the coming ruin. 

Then Athena put it into the heart of Penelope to set the suitors afinal test. She brought forth the bow of Odysseus together with twelveaxes. It had been an exercise of her lord to set up the axes in aline, string the bow and shoot through the heads of the axes which hadbeen hollowed for that purpose. She promised to follow at once thesuitor who could string the bow and shoot through the axes. FirstTelemachus set up the axes and tried to string the weapon; failingthree times he would have succeeded at the next effort but for aglance from his father. Leiodes vainly tried his strength, to berebuked by Antinous who suggested that the bow should be made morepliant by being heated at the fire. 

Noticing that Eumaeus and Philoetius had gone out together Odysseuswent after them and revealed himself to them; the three then returnedto the hall. After all the suitors had failed except Antinous, who didnot deem that he should waste a feast-day in stringing bows, Odysseusbegged that he might try, Penelope insisting on his right to attemptthe feat. When she retired Eumaeus brought the bow to Odysseus, thentold Eurycleia to keep the woman in their chambers while Philoetiusbolted the hall door. 

 "But already Odysseus was turning the bow this way and that testing it lest the worms had devoured it in his absence. Then when he had balanced it and looked it all over, even as when a man skilled in the lyre and song easily putteth a new string about a peg, even so without an effort Odysseus strung his mighty bow. Taking it in his right hand he tried the string which sang sweetly beneath his touch like to the voice of a swallow. Then he took an arrow and shot it with a straight aim through the axes, missing not one. Then he spake to Telemachus: 'Thy guest bringeth thee no shame as he sitteth in thy halls, for I missed not the mark nor spent much time in the stringing. My strength is yet whole within me. But now it is time to make a banquet for the Achaeans in the light of day and then season it with song and dance, which are the crown of revelry. ' So speaking he nodded, and his son took a sword and a spear and stood by him clad in gleaming bronze. "

The first victim was Antinous, whom Odysseus shot through the neck ashe was in the act of drinking, never dreaming that one man wouldattack a multitude of suitors. Eurymachus fell after vainly attemptinga compromise. Melanthius was caught in the act of supplying arms tothe rest and was left bound to be dealt with when the main work wasdone. Athena herself encouraged Odysseus in his labour of vengeance, deflecting from him any weapons that were hurled at him. At length allwas over, the serving women were made to cleanse the hall of alltraces of bloodshed; the guiltiest of them were hanged, whileMelanthius died a horrible death by mutilation. Odysseus then summonedhis wife to his presence. 

Eurycleia carried the message to her, laughing with joy so much thatPenelope deemed her mad. The story of the vengeance which Odysseus hadexacted was so incredible that it must have been the act of a god, nota man. When she entered the hall Telemachus upbraided her for herunbelief, but Odysseus smiled on hearing that she intended to test himby certain proofs which they two alone were aware of. He withdrew fora time to cleanse him of his stains and to put on his royal garments, after ordering the servants to maintain a revelry to blind the peopleto the death of their chief men. 

When he reappeared, endued with grace which Athena gave him, hemarvelled at the untoward heart which the gods had given his wife andbade his nurse lay him his bed. Penelope caught up his words quickly;the bed was to be laid outside the chamber which he himself had made. The words filled Odysseus with dismay:

 "Who hath put my bed elsewhere? It would be a hard task for any man however cunning, except a god set it in some other place. Of men none could easily shift it, for there is a wonder in that cunningly made bed whereat I laboured and none else. Within the courtyard was growing the trunk of an olive; round it I built my bed-chamber with thick stones and roofed it well, placing in it doors that shut tight. Then I cut away the olive branches, smoothed the trunk, made a bedpost, and bored all with a gimlet. From that foundation I smoothed my bed, tricking it out with gold and silver and ivory and stretching from its frame thongs of cow-hide dyed red. Such is the wonder I tell of, yet I know not, Lady, whether the bed is yet fixed there, or whether another hath moved it, cutting the foundation of olive from underneath. "

On hearing the details of their secret Penelope ran to him casting herarms about him and begging him to forgive her unbelief, for many apretender had come, making her ever more and more suspicious. Thusreunited the two spent the night in recounting the agonies of theirseparation; Odysseus mentioned the strange prophecy of Teiresias, deciding to seek out his father on the morrow. 

A vivid description tells how the souls of the suitors were conductedto the realm of the dead, the old comrades of Odysseus before Troyrecognising in the vengeance all the marks of his handiwork. Odysseusfound his father in a wretched old age hoeing his garden, clad insoiled garments with a goat-skin hat on his head which but increasedhis sorrow. At the sight Odysseus was moved to tears of compassion. Yet even then he could not refrain from his wiles, for he told how hehad indeed seen Odysseus though five years before. In despair the oldman took the dust in his hands and cast it about his head in mightygrief. 

 "Then Odysseus' spirit was moved and the stinging throb smote his nostrils. Clinging to his father he kissed him and told him he was indeed his son, returned after twenty years. "

For a moment the old man doubted, but believed when Odysseus showedthe scar and told him the number and names of the trees they hadplanted together in their orchard. 

Meanwhile news of the death of the wooers had run through the city. The father of Antinous raised a tumult and led a body of armed men todemand satisfaction. The threatening uproar was stopped by theintervention of Athena who thus completed the restoration of herfavourite as she had begun it. 

 * * * * *

It is strange that this poem, which is such a favourite with modernreaders, should have made a less deep impression on the Greeks. Tothem, Homer is nearly always the _Iliad_, possibly because Achilleswas semi-divine, whereas Odysseus was a mere mortal. But the latter isfor that very reason of more importance to us, we feel him to be moreakin to our own life. Further, the type of character which Odysseusstands for is really far nobler than the fervid and somewhat incalculablenature of the son of Thetis. Odysseus is patient endurance, common sense, self-restraint, coolness, resource and strength; he is indeed a manifoldpersonality, far more complex than anything attempted previously in Greekliterature and therefore far more modern in his appeal. It is only afterreading the _Odyssey_ that we begin to understand why Diomedes choseOdysseus as his companion in the famous Dolon adventure in Noman's land. Achilles would have been the wrong man for this or any other situationwhich demanded first and last a cool head. 

The romantic elements which are so necessary a part of all Epic aremuch more convincing in the _Odyssey_; the actions and adventures areindeed beyond experience, but they are treated in such a masterlystyle that they are made inevitable; it would be difficult to improveon any of the little details which force us to believe the wholestory. Added to them is another genuine romantic feature, the sense ofwandering in strange new lands untrodden before of man's foot; thebeings who move in these lands are gracious, barbarous, magical, monstrous, superhuman, dreamy, or prophetic by turns; they are alldifferent and all fascinating. The reader is further introduced to thelife of the dead as well as of the living and the memory of his visitis one which he will retain for ever. Not many stories of adventurecan impress themselves indelibly as does the _Odyssey_. 

To English readers the poem has a special value, for it deals with thesea and its wonders. The native land of its hero is not very unlikeour own, "full of mist and rain", yet able to make us love it far morethan a Calypso's isle with an offer of immortality to any who willexchange his real love of home for an unnatural haven of peace. Asplendid hero, a good love-story, admirable narrative, romance andexcitement, together with a breath of the sea which gives plenty ofspace and pure air have made the _Odyssey_ the companion of many aveteran reader in whom the Greek spirit cannot die. 

 * * * * *

Of the impression which Homer has made upon the mind of Europe itwould be difficult to give an estimate. The Greeks themselves earlycame to regard his text with a sort of veneration; it was learned byheart and quoted to spellbound audiences in the cities and at thegreat national meetings at Olympia. Every Greek boy was expected toknow some portion at least by heart; Plato evidently loved Homer andwhen he was obliged to point out that the system of morality which hestood for was antiquated and needed revision, apologised for thecriticism he could not avoid. It is sometimes said that Homer was theBible of the Greeks; while this statement is probably inaccurate--forno theological system was built on him nor did he claim any divinerevelation--yet it is certain that authors of all ages searched thetext for all kinds of purposes, antiquarian, ethical, social, as wellas religious. This careful study of Homer culminated in the learnedand accurate work of the great Alexandrian school of Zenodotus andAristarchus. 

In Roman times Homer never failed to inspire lesser writers; Ennius issaid to have translated the _Odyssey_, while Virgil's _Aeneid_ isclearly a child of the Greek Homeric tradition. In the Middle Ages theTrojan legend was one of the four great cycles which were treated overand over again in the Chansons. Even drama was glad to borrow thegreat characters of the _Iliad_, as Shakespeare did in _Troilus andCressida_. In England a number of famous translations has witnessed tothe undying appeal of the first of the Greek masters. Chapmanpublished his _Iliad_ in 1611, his _Odyssey_ in 1616; Pope's versionappeared between 1715 and 1726; Cowper issued his translation in 1791. In the next century the Earl Derby retranslated the _Iliad_, while anexcellent prose version of the _Odyssey_ by Butcher and Lang wasfollowed by a prose version of the _Iliad_ by Lang Myers and Leaf. Ata time when Europe had succeeded in persuading itself that the wholestory of a siege of Troy was an obvious myth, a series of startlingdiscoveries on the site of Troy and on the mainland of Greece provedhow lamentably shallow is some of the cleverest and most destructiveHigher Criticism. 

The marvellous rapidity and vigour of these two poems will save themfrom death; the splendid qualities of direct narration, constructiveskill, dignity and poetical power will always make Homer a name tolove. Those who know no Greek and therefore fear that they may losesome of the directness of the Homeric appeal might recall the famoussonnet written by Keats who had had no opportunity to learn the greatlanguage. His words are no doubt familiar enough; that they havebecome inseparable from Homer must be our apology for inserting themhere. 

 Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and Kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. 

 Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne: Yet never did I breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold. 

 Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken, Or like stout Cortes, when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

TRANSLATIONS. As INDICATED IN THE TEXT OF THE ESSAY. 

The whole of the Homeric tradition is affected by the recentdiscoveries made in Crete. The civilisation there unearthed raisesquestions of great interest; the problems it suggests are certain tomodify current ideas of Homeric study. 

See _Discoveries in Crete_, by R. Burrows (Murray, 1907). 

A very good account of the early age of European literature is in _TheHeroic Age_, by Chadwick (Cambridge, 1912). 

The best interpretation of Greek poetry is Symonds' _Greek Poets_, 2vols. (Smith Elder). 

Jebb's _Homer_ is the best introduction to the many difficultiespresented by the poems. 

Flaxman's engravings for the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ are of the highestorder. 

AESCHYLUS

Towards the end of the sixth century before Christ, one of the mostmomentous advances in literature was made by the genius of Aeschylus. European drama was created and a means of utterance was given to therapidly growing democratic spirit of Greece. Before Aeschylus wrote, rude public exhibitions had been given of the life and adventures ofDionysus, the god of wine. Choruses had sung odes to the deity andvariety was obtained by a series of short dialogues between one of theChorus and the remainder. Aeschylus added a second actor to conversewith the first; he thus started a movement which eventually ousted theChorus from its place of importance, for the interest now began toconcentrate on the two actors; it was their performance which gavedrama its name. In time more characters were added; the Chorus becameless necessary and in the long run was felt to be a hindrance to themovement of the story. This process is plainly visible in the extantworks of the Attic tragedians. 

Aeschylus was born at Eleusis in 525; before the end of the century hewas writing tragedies. In 490 he fought in the great battle ofMarathon and took part in the victory of Salamis in 480. Thisexperience of the struggle for freedom against Persian despotism addeda vigour and a self-reliance to his writing which is characteristic ofa growing national spirit. He is said to have visited Sicily in 468and again in 458, various motives being given for his leaving Athens. His death at Gela in 456 is said to have been due to an eagle, whichdropped a tortoise upon his head which he mistook for a stone. He hasleft to the world seven plays in which the rapid development of dramais conspicuous. 

One of the earliest of his plays is the _Suppliants_, little readowing to the uncertainty of the text and the meagreness of thedramatic interest. The plot is simple enough. Danaus, sprung from Ioof Argos, flees from Egypt with his fifty daughters who avoid wedlockwith the fifty sons of Aegyptus. He sails to Argos and lays suppliantboughs on the altars of the gods, imploring protection. The King ofArgos after consultation with his people decides to admit thefugitives and to secure them from Aegyptus' violence. A herald fromthe latter threatens to take the Danaids back with him, but the Kingintervenes and saves them. There is little in this play but longchoral odes; yet one or two Aeschylean features are evident. The Kingdreads offending the god of suppliants

 "lest he should make him to haunt his house, a dread visitor who quits not sinners even in the world to come. "

The Egyptian herald reverences no gods of Greece "who reared him notnor brought him to old age". The Chorus declare that "what is fatedwill come to pass, for Zeus' mighty boundless will cannot bethwarted". Here we have the three leading ideas in the system ofAeschylus--the doctrine of the inherited curse, of human pride andimpiety, and the might of Destiny. 

The _Persians_ is unique as being the only surviving historical playin Greek literature. It is a poem rather than a drama, as there islittle truly dramatic action. The piece is a succession of very vividsketches of the incidents in the great struggle which freed Europefrom the threat of Eastern despotism. A Chorus of Persian elders iswaiting for news of the advance of the great array which Xerxes ledagainst Greece in 480. They tell how Persia extended her sway overAsia. Yet they are uneasy, for

 "what mortal can avoid the crafty deception of Heaven? In seeming kindness it entices men into a trap whence they cannot escape. "

The Queen-mother Atossa enters, resplendent with jewels; she too isanxious, for in a dream she had seen Xerxes yoke two women togetherwho were at feud, one clad in Persian garb, the other in Greek. Theformer was obedient to the yoke, but the latter tore the car to piecesand broke the curb. The Chorus advises her to propitiate the gods withsacrifice, and to pray to Darius her dead husband to send his sonprosperity. At that moment a herald enters with the news of the Greekvictory at Salamis. Xerxes, beguiled by some fiend or evil spirit, drew up his fleet at night to intercept the Greeks, supposed to bepreparing for flight. But at early dawn they sailed out to attack, singing mightily

 "Ye sons of Greece, onward! Free your country, your children and wives, the shrines of your fathers' gods, and your ancestral tombs. Now must ye fight for all. "

Winning a glorious victory, they landed on the little island(Psyttaleia) where the choicest Persian troops had been placed to cutoff the retreat of the Greek navy, and slew them all. Later, theydrove back the Persians by land; through Boeotia, Thessaly andMacedonia the broken host retreated, finally recrossing to Asia overthe Hellespont. 

On hearing the news Atossa disappears and the Persian Chorus sing adirge. The Queen returns without her finery, attired as a suppliant;she bids the Chorus call up Darius, while she offers libations to thedead. The ghost of the great Empire-builder rises before theastonished spectators, enquiring what trouble has overtaken his land. His release from Death is not easy, "for the gods of the lower worldare readier to take men's spirits than to let them go". On learningthat his son has been totally defeated, he delivers his judgment. Theoracles had long ago prophesied this disaster; it was hurried on byXerxes' rashness, for when a man is himself hurrying on to ruin Heavenabets him. He had listened to evil counsellors, who bade him rival hisfather's glory by making wider conquests. The ruin of Persia is notyet complete, for when insolence is fully ripe it bears a crop of ruinand reaps a harvest of tears. This evil came upon Xerxes through thesacrilegious demolition of altars and temples. Zeus punishesoverweening pride, and his correcting hand is heavy. Darius counselsAtossa to comfort their son and to prevent him from attacking Greeceagain; he further advises the Chorus to take life's pleasures whilethey can, for after death there is no profit in wealth. A distinctlygrotesque touch is added by the appearance of Xerxes himself, brokenand defeated, filling the scene with lamentations for lost friends anddeparted glory, unable to answer the Chorus when they demand thewhereabouts of some of the most famous Persian warriors. 

The play is valuable as the result of a personal experience of thepoet. As a piece of literature it is important, for it is a poeticdescription of the first armed conflict between East and West. Itdirectly inspired Shelley when he wrote his _Hellas_ at a time whenGreece was rousing herself from many centuries of Eastern oppression. As a historical drama it is of great value, for it is substantiallyaccurate in its main facts, though Aeschylus has been compelled totake some liberties with time and human motives in order to satisfydramatic needs. From Herodotus it seems probable that Darius himselfhankered after the subjugation of Greece, while Xerxes at the outsetwas inclined to leave her in peace. 

One or two characteristic features are worth note. The genius ofAeschylus was very bold; it was a daring thing to bring up a ghostfrom the dead, for the supernatural appeal does not succeed exceptwhen it is treated with proper insight; yet even Aeschylus' genius hasnot quite succeeded in filling his canvas, the last scenes beingdistinctly poor in comparison with the splendour of the main theme. Onthe other hand a notable advance in dramatic power has been made. Themain actors are becoming human; their wills are beginning to operate. Tragedy is based on a conflict of some sort; here the wilful spirit ofyouth is portrayed as defying the forces of justice and righteousness;it is insolence which brings Xerxes to ruin. The substantial creed ofAeschylus is contained in Darius' speech; as the poet progresses indramatic cunning we shall find that he constantly finds his sources oftragic inspiration in the acts of the sinners who defy the will of thegods. 

_The Seven against Thebes_ was performed in 472. It was one of atrilogy, a series of three plays dealing with the misfortunes ofOedipus' race. After the death of Oedipus his sons Polyneices andEteocles quarrelled for the sovereignty of Thebes. Polyneices, expelled and banished by his younger brother, assembled an army ofchosen warriors to attack his native land. Eteocles opens the playwith a speech which encourages the citizens to defend their town. Amessenger hurries in telling how he left the besiegers casting lots todecide which of the seven gates of Thebes each should attack. Eteoclesprays that the curse of his father may not destroy the town and leavesto arrange the defences. In his absence the Chorus of virgins sing awild prayer to the gods to save them. Hearing this, the King returnsto administer a vigorous reproof; he declares that their frenziedsupplications fill the city with terrors, discouraging the fightingmen. He demands from them obedience, the mother of salvation; if atlast they are to perish, they cannot escape the inevitable. Hismasterful spirit at last cows them into a better frame of mind; thisscene presents to us one of the most manly characters in Aeschylus'work. 

After a choral ode a piece of intense tragic horror follows. Themessenger tells the names of the champions who are to assault thegates. As he names them and the boastful or impious mottoes on theirshields, the King names the Theban champions who are to quell theirpride in the fear of the gods. Five of the insolent attackers arementioned, then the only righteous one of the invading force, Amphiaraus the seer; he it was who rebuked the violence of Tydeus, theevil genius among the besiegers, and openly reviled Polyneices forattacking his own native land. He had prophesied his own death beforethe city, yet resolved to meet his fate nobly; on his shield alone wasno device, for he wished to be, not to seem, a good man. The pathos ofthe impending ruin of a great character through evil associations isheightened by the terror of what follows. Only one gate remainswithout an assailant, the gate Eteocles is to defend; it is to beattacked by the King's own brother, Polyneices. Filled with horror, the Chorus begs him send another to that gate, for "there can be noold age to the pollution of kindred bloodshed". Recognising that hisfather's curse is working itself out, he departs to kill and be killedby his own brother, for "when the gods send evil none can avoid it". 

In an interval the Chorus reflect on their King's impending doom. Hisfather's curse strikes them with dread; Oedipus himself was born of afather Laius who, though warned thrice by Apollo that if he diedwithout issue he would save his land, listened to the counsels offriends and in imprudence begat his own destroyer. Their song isinterrupted by a messenger who announces that they have prospered atsix gates, but at the seventh the two brothers have slain each other. This news inspires another song in which the joy of deliverancegradually yields to pity for an unhappy house, cursed and blighted, the glory of Oedipus serving but to make more acute the shame of hislatter end and the triumph of the ruin he invoked on his sons. Theagony of this scene is intensified by the entry of Ismene andAntigone, Oedipus' daughters, the latter mourning for Polyneices, theformer for Eteocles. The climax is reached when a herald announces adecree made by the senate and people. Eteocles, their King whodefended the land, was to be buried with all honours, but Polyneiceswas to lie unburied. Calmly and with great dignity Antigone informsthe herald that if nobody else buries her brother, she will. A warningthreat fails to move her. The play closes with a double note of terrorat the doom of Polyneices and pity for the death of a brave King. 

Further progress in dramatic art has been made in this play. One ofthe main sources of the pathos of human life is the operation of whatseems to us to be mere blind chance. Just as the casual dropping ofDesdemona's handkerchief gave Iago his opportunity, so the casualallotting of the seven gates brings the two brothers into conflict. But behind it was the working of an inherited curse; yet Aeschylus iscareful to point out that the curse need never have existed at all butfor the wilfulness of Laius; he was the origin of all the mischief, obstinately refusing to listen to a warning thrice given him byApollo. Another secret of dramatic excellence has been discovered bythe poet, that of contrast. Two brothers and two sisters are balancedin pairs against one another. The weaker sister Ismene laments thestronger brother, while the more unfortunate Polyneices is championedby the more firmly drawn sister. Equally admirable is the contrastbetween the righteous Amphiaraus and his godless companions. Thecharacter of each of these is a masterpiece. War, horror, kindredbloodshed, with a promise of further agonies to arise from Antigone'sresolve are the elements which Aeschylus has fused together in thisvivid play. 

"There was war in Heaven" between the new gods and the old. The_Prometheus Bound_ contains the story of the proud tyranny of Zeus, the latest ruler of the gods. Hephaestus, the god of fire, opens aconversation with Force and Violence who are pinning Prometheus withchains of adamant to the rocks of Caucasus. Hephaestus performs histask with reluctance and in pity for the victim, the deep-counsellingson of right-minded Law. Yet the command of Zeus his master is urgent, overriding the claims of kindred blood. Force and Violence, full ofhatred, hold down the god who has stolen fire, Hephaestus' right, andgiven it to men. They bid the Fire-God make the chains fast and drivethe wedge through Prometheus' body. When the work is done they leavehim with the taunt:

 "Now steal the rights of the gods and give them to the creatures of the day; what can mortals do to relieve thy agonies? The gods wrongly call thee a far-seeing counsellor, who thyself lackest a counsellor to save thee from thy present lot. "

Abandoned of all, Prometheus breaks out into a wild appeal to earth, air, the myriad laughter of the sea, the founts and streams to witnesshis humiliation; but soon he reflects that he had foreseen his agonyand must bear it as best he can, for the might of Necessity is not tobe fought against. A sound of lightly moving pinions strikes his ears;sympathisers have come to visit him; they are the Chorus, thedaughters of Ocean, who have heard the sound of the riveted chains andhurried forth in their winged car Awestruck, they come to see how Zeusis smiting down the mighty gods of old. It would be difficult toimagine a more natural and touching motive for the entry of a Chorus. 

In the dialogue that follows the tragic appeal to pity is quicklyblended with a different interest. By a superb stroke of art Aeschylusexcites the audience to an intense curiosity. Though apparentlysubdued, Prometheus has the certainty of ultimate triumph over hisfoe; he alone has secret knowledge of something which will one dayhurl Zeus from his throne; the time will come when the new presidentof Heaven will hurry to him in anxious desire for reconciliation; whenruin threatens him he will forsake his pride and beg Prometheus tosave him. But no words will prevail on the sufferer till he isreleased from his bonds and receives ample satisfaction for hismaltreatment. The Chorus bids him tell the whole history of thequarrel. To them he unfolds the story of Zeus' ingratitude. There wasa discord among the older gods, some wishing to depose Cronos and makeZeus their King. Warned by his mother, Prometheus knew that onlycounsel could avail in the struggle, not violence. When he failed topersuade the Titans to use cunning, he joined Zeus who with his aidhurled his foes down to Tartarus. Securing the sovereignty, Zeusdistributed honours to his supporters, but was anxious to wipe out thehuman race and create a new stock. Prometheus resisted him, givingmortals fire the creator of many arts and ridding them of the dread ofdeath. This act brought him into conflict with Zeus. He invites theChorus to step down from their car and hear the rest of his story. Atthis point Ocean enters, one of the older gods. He offers to act as amediator with Zeus, but Prometheus warns him to keep out of theconflict; he has witnessed the sorrows of Atlas, his own brother, andof Typhos, pinned down under Etna, and desires to bring trouble uponno other god; he must bear his agonies alone till the time ofdeliverance is ripe. Ocean departing, Prometheus continues his story. He gave men writing and knowledge of astronomy, taught them to tamethe wild beasts, invented the ship, created medicine, divination andmetallurgy. Yet for all this, his art is weaker far than Necessity, whereof the controllers are Fate and the unforgetting Furies. Terror-struck at his sufferings, the Chorus point out how utterly hisgoodness has been wasted in helping the race of mortals who cannotsave him. He warns them that a time would come when Zeus should be nolonger King; when they ask for more knowledge, he turns them to otherthoughts, bidding them hide the secret as much as possible. Theirinterest is drawn away to another of Zeus' victims, who at this momentrushes on the scene; it is lo, cajoled and abandoned by Zeus, plaguedand tormented by the dread unsleeping gadfly sent by Zeus' consortHera. She relates her story to the wondering Chorus, and thenPrometheus tells her the long tale of misery and wandering that awaither as she passes from the Caucasus to Egypt, where she is promiseddeliverance from her tormentor. 

The play now moves to its awful climax. The sight of Io stirsPrometheus to prophesy more clearly the end in store for Zeus. Therewould be born one to discover a terror far greater than thethunderbolt, and smite Zeus and his brother Poseidon into utterslavery. On hearing this Zeus sends from heaven his messenger Hermesto demand fuller knowledge of this new monarch. Disdaining histhreats, Prometheus mocks the new gods and defies their ruler to dohis worst. Hermes then delivers his warning. Prometheus would beoverwhelmed with the terrors of thunder and lightning, while the redeagle would tear out his heart unceasingly till one should arise toinherit his agonies, descending to the depths of Tartarus. He advisesthe Chorus to depart from the rebel, lest they too should share in thevengeance. They remain faithful to Prometheus, ready to suffer withhim; then descend the thunderings and lightnings, the mountains rock, the winds roar, and the sky is confounded with sea; the dread agonyhas begun. 

Once more the bold originality of Aeschylus displays itself. Here is atheme unique in Greek literature. The strife between the two races ofgods opens out a vista of the world ages before man was created. Itwill provide a solution to a very difficult problem which willconfront us in a later play. The conflict between two stubborn willsis the source of a sublime tragedy in which our sympathies are withthe sufferer; Zeus, who punishes Prometheus for "unjustly" helpingmortals, himself falls below the level of human morality; he istyrannous, ungrateful and revengeful--in short, he displays all thewrong-headedness of a new ruler. No doubt in the sequel these defectswould have disappeared; experience would have induced a kindliertemper and the sense of an impending doom would have made it essentialfor him to relent in order to learn the great secret about hissuccessor. 

Pathos is repeatedly appealed to in the play. Hephaestus is one of thekindliest figures in Greek tragedy; the noble-hearted young goddessescannot fail to hold our affection. They are the most human Chorus inall drama; their entry is admirable; in the sequel we should havefound them still near Prometheus after his cycle of tortures. But thesubject-matter is calculated to win the admiration of all humanity; itis the persecution of him to whom on Greek principles mankind owes allthat it is of value in its civilisation. We cannot help thinking ofanother God, racked and tormented and nailed to a cross of shame tosave the race He loved. The very power and majesty of Aeschylus' workhas made it difficult for successors to imitate him; few can hope toequal his sublime grandeur; Shelley attempted it in his _PrometheusUnbound_, but his Prometheus becomes abstract Humanity, ceasing to bea character, while his play is really a mere poem celebrating theinevitable victory of man over the evils of his environment andpicturing the return of an age of happiness. 

Nearly all the characters in Greek tragedy were the heroes ofwell-known popular legends. In abandoning the well-trodden circleAeschylus has here ensured an undying freshness for his work--it isnovel, free and unconventional; more than that, it is dignified. 

The slightest error of taste would have degraded if to the level of acomedy; throughout it maintains a uniform tone of loftiness andsincerity. The language is easy but powerful, the art with which thestory is told is consummate. Finally, it is one of the few pieces inthe literature of the world which are truly sublime; it ranks with Joband Dante. The great purpose of creation, the struggles of beings ofterrific power, the majesty of gods, the whole universe sighing andlamenting for the agonies of a deity of wondrous foresight, savingothers but not himself--such is the theme of this mighty and affectingplay. 

In 458 Aeschylus wrote the one trilogy which is extant. It describesthe murder of Agamemnon, the revenge of Orestes and his purificationfrom blood-guiltiness. It will be necessary to trace the history ofAgamemnon's family before we can understand these plays. Hisgreat-grandfather was Tantalus, who betrayed the secrets of the godsand was subjected to unending torture in Hades. Pelops, his son, begattwo sons, Atreus and Thyestes. The former killed Thyestes' son, invited the father to a banquet and served up his own son's body forhim to eat. The sons of Atreus were Agamemnon and Menelaus, whomarried respectively Clytemnestra and Helen, daughters of Zeus andLeda, both evil women; the son of Thyestes was Aegisthus, a deadly foeof his cousins who had banished him. The "inherited curse" then haddeveloped itself in this unhappy stock and it did not fail to ruin it. 

When Helen abandoned Menelaus and went to Troy with Paris, Agamemnonled a great armament to recover the adulteress. The fleet waswind-bound at Aulis, because the Greeks had offended Artemis. Chalcasthe seer informed Agamemnon that it would be impossible for him toreach Troy unless he offered his eldest daughter Iphigeneia toArtemis. Torn by patriotism and fatherly affection, Agamemnon resortedto a strategem to bring his daughter to the sacrifice. He sent amessenger to Clytemnestra saying he wished to marry their child toAchilles. When the mother and daughter arrived at Aulis they learnedthe bitter truth. Iphigeneia was indeed sacrificed, but Artemisspirited her away to the country now called Crimea, there to serve asher priestess. Believing that her daughter was dead, Clytemnestrareturned to Argos to plot destruction for her husband, forming anillicit union with his foe Aegisthus, nursing her revenge during theten years of the siege. 

The _Agamemnon_, the first play of the trilogy, opens in a romanticsetting. It is night. A watchman is on the wall of Argos, stationedthere by the Queen. For ten years he had waited for the signal of thebeacon-fire to be lit at Nauplia, the port of Argos, to announce thefall of Troy. At last the expected signal is given. He hurries to tellthe news to the Queen, a woman with the resolution of a man; in hisabsence the Chorus of Argive Elders enter the stage, singing one ofthe finest odes to be found in any language. It likens Agamemnon andhis brother to two avenging spirits sent to punish the sinner. TheChorus are past military age, and are come to learn from Clytemnestrawhy there is sacrifice throughout all Argos. They remember the woes atthe beginning of the campaign, how Chalcas prophesied that in timeTroy would be taken, yet hinted darkly of some blinding curse ofHeaven hanging over the Greeks, his burden being

 "Sing woe, sing woe, but let the good prevail. "

 "Yea, the law of Zeus is, wisdom by suffering, for thus soberness of thought comes to those who wish not for it. First men are emboldened by ill-counselling foolish frenzy which begins their troubles; even as Agamemnon, through sin against Artemis, was compelled to slay his daughter to save his armament. Her cries for a father's mercy, her unuttered appeals to her slayers--these he disregarded. What is to come of it, no man knows; yet it is useless to lament the issue before it comes, as come it will, clear as the light of day. "

Clytemnestra enters, the sternest woman figure in all literature. Shereminds the Chorus that she is no child and is not known to have aslumbering wit. When they enquire how she has learned so quickly ofthe capture of Troy, she describes with great brilliance the longchain of beacon fires she has caused to be made, stretching from Idain Troyland to Argos. She imagines the wretched fate of the conqueredand the joy of the victors, rid for ever of their watchings beneaththe open sky. Striking the same ominous note as Chalcas did, shecontinues:

 "If they reverence the Gods of Troy and their shrines, they shall not be caught even as they have taken the city. May no lust of plundering fall upon the army, for it needs a safe return home. Yet even if the army sins not against the gods, the anger of the slain may awake, though no new ills arise. But let the right prevail, for all to see it clearly. "

This speech inspires the Chorus to sing another solemn ode. Too muchprosperity leads to godlessness; Paris carried away Helen in pride andinfatuation, stealing the light of Menelaus' eyes, leaving him onlythe torturing memories of her beauty which visited him in his dreams. But there is a spirit of discontent in every city of Greece; all hadsent their young men to Troy in the glory of life, and in return theyhad a handful of ashes, asking why their sons should fall in murderousstrife for another man's wife. At night the dark dread haunts Argosthat the gods care not for men who shed much blood, who succeed byinjustice, who are well spoken of overmuch. Often these are smittenfull in the face by the thunderbolt; and perhaps this beacon messageis mere imagining or a lie sent from heaven. 

Hearing this the Queen comes forth to prove the truth of her story. Aherald at that moment advances to confirm it, for Troy has beensacked. 

 "Altars and shrines have been demolished and all the seed of land destroyed. Thus is Agamemnon the happiest man of mortals, most worthy of honour, for Paris and his city cannot say that their crime was greater than its punishment. "

Immediately after learning this story, Clytemnestra makes the first ofa number of speeches charged with a dreadful double meaning. 

 "When the first news came, I shouted for joy, but now I shall hear the story from the King himself. And I will use all diligence to give my lord the best of all possible welcomes. Bid him come with speed. May he find in the house a wife as faithful as he left her! I know of no wanton pleasure with another man more than I know how to dye a sword. "

The Chorus understand well the hidden force of this sinister speechand bid the messenger speak of Menelaus, the other beloved King of theland. In reply he tells how a dreadful storm sent by the angry godsdescended upon the Greek fleet. In it fire and water, those ancientfoes, forsook their feud, conspiring to destroy the unhappy armament. Whether Menelaus was alive or not was uncertain; if he lived, it wasonly by the will of Zeus who desired to save the royal house. TheChorus who look at things with a deeper glance than the herald, hearhis story with a growing uneasiness. 

 "Helen, the cause of the war, at first was a spirit ofcalm to Troy, but at the latter end she was their bane, the evil angel of ruin. For one act of violence begets many others like it, until righteousness can no longer dwell within the sinner. "

They touch a more joyous chord of welcome and loyalty when at lastthey see the actual arrival of Agamemnon himself. 

The King enters the stage accompanied by Cassandra, the propheticdaughter of Priam, thus giving visible proof of his contempt forApollo, the Trojan protector and inspirer of the prophetess. He hasheard the Chorus' welcome and promises to search out the false friendsand administer healing medicine to the city. Clytemnestra replies in asecond speech of double significance. 

 "The Argive Elders well know how dearly she loves her lord and the impatience of her life while he was at Troy. Often stories came of his wounds; were they all true, he would have more scars than a net has holes. Orestes their son has been sent away, lest he should be the victim of some popular uprising in the King's absence. Her fount of tears is dried up, not a drop being left. "

After some words of extravagant flattery, she bids her waiting womenlay down purple carpets on which Justice may bring him to a home whichhe never hoped to see. Agamemnon coldly deprecates her long speech;the honour she suggests is one for the gods alone; his fame will speakloud enough without gaudy trappings, for a wise heart is Heaven'sgreatest gift. But the Queen, not to be denied, overcomes hisscruples. Giving orders that Cassandra is to be well treated, hepasses over the purple carpets, led by Clytemnestra who avows that shewould have given many purple carpets to get him home alive. Thusarrogating to himself the honours of a god, he proceeds within thepalace, while she lingers behind for one brief moment to pray openlyto Zeus to fulfil her prayers and to bring his will to its appointedend. Thoroughly alarmed, the Chorus give free utterance to the vagueforebodings which shake them, the song of the avenging Furies whichcries within their hearts. 

 "Human prosperity often strikes a sunken rock; bloodshed calls to Heaven for vengeance; yet there is comfort, for one destiny may override another, and good may yet come to pass. "

These pious hopes are broken by the entry of the Queen who summonsCassandra within: when the captive prophetess answers her not a word, Clytemnestra declares she has no time to waste outside the palace:already there stands at the altar the ox ready for sacrifice, a joyshe never looked to have; if Cassandra will not obey, she must betaught to foam out her spirit in blood. 

In the marvellous scene which follows Aeschylus reaches the pinnacleof tragic power. Cassandra advances to the palace, but starts back inhorror as a series of visions of growing vividness comes before hereyes. These find utterance in language of blended sanity and madness, creating a terror whose very vagueness increases its intensity. Firstshe sees Atreus' cruel murder of his brother's children; then followsthe sight of Clytemnestra's treacherous smile and of Agamemnon in thebath, hand after hand reaching at him; quickly she sees the net castabout him, the murderess' blow. In a flash she foresees her own endand breaks out into a wild lament over the ruin of her native city. Her words work up the Chorus into a state of confused dread andforeboding; they can neither understand nor yet disbelieve. When theirmental confusion is at its height, relief comes in a prophecy of thegreatest clearness, no longer couched in riddling terms. The palace ispeopled by a band of kindred Furies, who have drunk their fill ofhuman blood and cannot be cast out; they sit there singing the storyof the origin of its ruin, loathing the murder of the innocentchildren. Agamemnon himself would soon pay the penalty, but his sonwould come to avenge him. Foretelling her own death, she hurls awaythe badges of her office, the sceptre and oracular chaplets, thingswhich have brought her nothing but ridicule. She prays for a peacefulend without a struggle; comparing human life to a shadow when it isfortunate and to a picture wiped out by a sponge when it is hapless, she moves in calmly to her fate. 

There is a momentary interval of reflection, then Agamemnon's dyingvoice is heard as he is stricken twice. Frantic with horror, theChorus prepare to rush within but are checked by the Queen, who throwsopen the door and stands glorying in the triumph of self-confessedmurder. Her real character is revealed in her speech. 

 "This feud was not unpremeditated; rather, it proceeds from an ancient quarrel, matured by time. Here I stand where I smote him, over my handiwork. So I contrived it, I freely confess, that he could neither escape his fate nor defend himself. I cast over him the endless net, and I smote him twice--in two groans he gave up the ghost--adding a third in grateful thanksgiving to the King of the dead in the nether world. As he fell he gasped out his spirit, and breathing a swift stream of gore he smote me with a drop of murderous dew, while I rejoiced even as does the cornfield under the Heavensent shimmering moisture when it brings the ears to the birth. Ye Argive Elders, rejoice if ye can, but I exult. If it were fitting to pour thank-offerings for any death, 'twere just, nay, more than just, to offer such for him, so mighty was the bowl of curses he filled up in his home, then came and drank them up himself to the dregs. "

To their solemn warning that she would herself be cut off, banishedand hated, she replies:

 "He slew my child, my dearest birth-pang, to charm the Thracian winds. In the name of the perfect justice I have exacted for my daughter, in the name of Ruin and Vengeance, to whom I have sacrificed him, my hopes cannot tread the halls of fear so long as Aegisthus is true to me. There he lies, seducer of this woman, darling of many a Chryseis in Troyland. As for this captive prophetess, this babbler of oracles, she sat on the ship's bench by his side and both have fared as they deserved. He died as ye see; but she sang her swan-song of death and lies beside him she loved, bringing me a sweet relish for the luxury of my own love. "

A little later she denies her very humanity. 

 "Call me not his spouse; rather the ancient dread haunting evil genius of this house has taken a woman's shape and punished him, a full-grown man in vengeance for little children. "

Burial he should have, but without any dirges from his people. 

 "Let Iphigeneia, his daughter, as is most fitting, meet her father at the swift-conveying passage of woe, throw her arms about him and kiss him welcome. "

The last scene of this splendid drama brings forward the poltroonAegisthus who had skulked behind in the background till the deed wasdone. He enters to air his ancient grievance, reminding the Chorus howhis father was outraged by Atreus, how he himself was a banished man, yet found his arm long enough to smite the King from far away. Incontempt for the coward the Elders prepare to offer him battle; theyappeal to Orestes to avenge the murder. The quarrel was stopped byClytemnestra, who had had enough of bloodshed and was content to leavethings as they were, if the gods consented thereto. 

Before the sustained power of this masterpiece criticism is nearlydumb. The conception of the inherited curse is by now familiar to us;familiar too is the teaching that sacrilege brings its own punishment, that human pride may be flattered into assuming the privilege of adeity. These were enough to cause Agamemnon's undoing. But it is thepart played by Clytemnestra which fixes the dramatic interest. She isinspired by a lust for vengeance, yet, had she known the truth thather daughter was not dead but a priestess, she would have had nopretext for the murder. This ignorance of essentials which originatessome human action is called Irony; it was put to dramatic uses for thefirst time in European literature by Aeschylus. The horrible tragedyit may cause is clear enough in the _Agamemnon_; its power is terribleand its value as a dramatic source is inestimable. There is anotherand a far more subtle form of Irony, in which a character usesriddling speech interpreted by another actor in a sense different fromthe truth as it is known to the spectators; this too can be used insuch a manner as to charge human speech with a sinister double meaningwhich bodes ruin under the mask of words of innocence. Few dramaticpersonages have used this device so effectively as Clytemnestra, certainly none with a more fiendish intent. Again, in this play theChorus is employed with amazing skill; their vague uneasiness takesmore and more definitely the shape of actual terror in every ode; thisterror is raised to its height in the masterly Cassandra scene--it isthen abated a little, perhaps it is just beginning to disappear, fornobody believed Cassandra, when the blow falls. This integralconnection between the Chorus and the main action is difficult tomaintain; that it exists in the _Agamemnon_ is evidence of aconstructive genius of the highest order. 

The _Choephori_ (Libation-bearers), the second play of the trilogy, opens with the entry of Orestes. He has just laid a lock of hair onhis father's tomb and sees a band of maidens approaching, among themElectra, his sister. He retires with Pylades his faithful friend tolisten to their conversation. The Chorus tell how in consequence of adream of Clytemnestra they have been sent to offer libations to thedead, to appease their anger and resentment against the murderers. They give utterance to a wild hopeless song, full of a presentiment ofdisaster coming on successful wickedness enthroned in power. They arecaptives from Troy, obliged to look on the deeds of Aegisthus, whetherjust or unjust, yet they weep for the purposeless agonies ofAgamemnon's house. When asked by Electra what prayers she should offerto her dead father, they bid her pray for some avenging god or mortalto requite the murderers. Returning to them from the tomb, she tellsthem of a strange occurrence; a lock of hair has been laid on thegrave, and there are two sets of footprints on the ground, one ofwhich corresponds with her own. Orestes then comes forward to revealhimself; as a proof of his identity, he bids her consider the garmentswhich she wove with her own hands; urging her to restrain her joy lestshe betray his arrival, he tells how Apollo has commanded him toavenge his father's death, threatening him with sickness, frenzy, nightly terrors, excommunication and a dishonoured death if herefuses. 

In a long choral dialogue the actors tell of Clytemnestra's insolenttreatment of the dead King; she had buried him without funeral ritesor mourning, with no subjects to follow the corpse; she even mangledhis body and thrust Electra out of the palace; thus she filled the cupof her iniquity. The Chorus remind Orestes of his duty to act, butfirst he inquires why oblations have been offered; on learning thatthey are the result of Clytemnestra's dreaming that she suckled aserpent that stung her, and that she hopes to appease the angry dead, he interprets the dream of himself. He then unfolds his plot. He andPylades will imitate a Phocian dialect and will seek out and slayAegisthus. An ode which succeeds recounts the legends of evil women, closing with the declaration that Justice is firmly seated in theworld, that Fate prepares a sword for a murderer and a Fury punisheshim with it. 

Approaching the palace Orestes summons the Queen and tells her that astranger called Strophius bade him bring to Argos the news thatOrestes is dead. Clytemnestra commands her servants within the houseto welcome him and sends out her son's old nurse Cilissa to take thenews to Aegisthus. The nurse stops to speak to the Chorus in the verylanguage of grief for the boy she had reared, like Constance in _KingJohn_. The Chorus advise her to summon Aegisthus alone without hisbodyguard, for Orestes is not yet dead; when she departs they praythat the end may be speedily accomplished and the royal house cleansedof its curse. Aegisthus crosses the stage into the palace to meet ahasty end; seeing the deed, a servant rushes out to call Clytemnestra, while Orestes bursts out from the house and faces his mother. For amoment his resolution wavers; Pylades reminds him of Apollo's anger ifhe fails. To his mother's plea that Destiny abetted her deed hereplies that Destiny intends her death likewise; before he thrusts herinto the palace she warns him of the avenging Furies she will send topersecute him. She then passes to her doom. 

After the Chorus have sung an ode of triumph Orestes shows the bodiesof the two who loved in sin while alive and were not separated indeath. He then displays the net which Clytemnestra threw around herhusband's body and the robe in which she caught his feet; he holds upthe garment through which Aegisthus' dagger ran. But in that verymoment the cloud of more agonies to come descends upon the haplessfamily. In obedience to Apollo's command he takes the suppliant'sbranch and chaplet, and prepares to hasten to Delphi, a wanderer cutoff from his native land. The dreadful shapes of the avenging Furiesclose in upon him: the fancies of incipient madness thicken on hismind: he is hounded out, his only hope of rest being Apollo's sacredshrine. The play ends with a note of hopelessness, of calamity withoutend. 

After the _Agamemnon_ this play reads weak indeed. Yet it displays twomarked characteristics. It is full of vigorous action; the plot isquickly conceived and quickly consummated; the business is soon over. Further, Aeschylus has discovered yet another source of tragic power, the conflict of duties. Orestes has to choose between obedience toApollo and reverence for his mother. That these duties areincompatible is clear; whichever he performed, punishment was bound tofollow. It is in this enforced choice between two evils that thepathos of life is often to be found; that Aeschylus should have sofaithfully depicted it is a great contribution to the growth of drama. 

The concluding play, the _Eumenides_, calls for a briefer description. It opens with one of the most awe-inspiring scenes which theimagination of man has conceived. The priestess of Delphi finds a mansitting as a suppliant at the central point of the earth, his handsdripping with blood, a sword and an olive branch in his hand. Roundhim is slumbering a troop of dreadful forms, beings from darkness, theavengers. When the scene is disclosed, Apollo himself is seen standingat Orestes' side. He urges Hermes to convey the youth with all speedto Athens where he is to clasp the ancient image of Athena. Immediately the ghost of Clytemnestra arises; waking the sleepingforms, she bids them fly after their victim. They arise and confrontApollo, a younger deity, whom they reproach for protecting one whoshould be abandoned to them. Apollo replies with a charge that theyare prejudiced in favour of Clytemnestra, whom, though a murderess, they had never tormented. 

The scene rapidly changes to Athens, where Orestes calls upon Athena;confident in the privilege of their ancient office the Chorus awaitsthe issue. The goddess appears and consents to try the case, theCouncil of the Areopagus acting as a jury. Apollo first defends hisaction in saving Orestes, asserting that he obeys the will of Zeus. The main question is, which of the two parents is more to be had inhonour?

Athena herself had no mother; the female is merely the nurse of thechild, the father being the true generative source. The Chorus pointsout that the sin of slaying a husband is not the same as that ofmurdering a mother, for the one implies kinship, while the other doesnot. Athena advises the Court to judge without fear or favour. Whenthe votes are counted, it is found that they are exactly even. Thegoddess casts her vote for Orestes, who is thus saved and restored. 

The Chorus threaten that ruin and sterility shall visit Athena's city;they are elder gods, daughters of night, and are overridden by youngerdeities. But Athena by the power of her persuasion offers them a fullshare in all the honours and wealth of Attica if they will consent totake up their abode in it. They shall be revered by countlessgenerations and will gain new dignities such as they could not haveotherwise obtained. Little by little their resentment is overcome;they are conducted to their new home to change their name and becomethe kindly goddesses of the land. 

The boldness of Aeschylus is most evident in this play. Not contentwith raising a ghost as he had done in the _Persae_, he actually showsupon a public stage the two gods whom the Athenians regarded as thespecial objects of their worship. More than this, he has brought tothe light the dark powers of the underworld in all their terrors; itis said that at the sight of them some of the women in the audiencewere taken with the pangs of premature birth. The introduction ofthese supernatural figures was the most vivid means at Aeschylus'disposal for bringing home to the minds of his contemporaries theseriousness of the dramatic issue. It will be remembered that the_Prometheus_ was the last echo of the contest between two races ofgods. The same strain of thought has made the poet represent thestruggle in the mind of Orestes as a trial between the primeval godsand the newer stock; the result was the same, the older and perhapsmore terrifying deities are beaten, being compelled to change theirnames and their character to suit the gentler spirit which a religiontakes to itself as it develops. At any rate, such is Aeschylus'solution of the eternal question, "What atonement can be made forbloodshed and how can it be secured?" The problem is of the greatestinterest; it may be that there is no real answer for it, but it is atleast worth while to examine the attempts which have been made tosolve it. 

Before we begin to attempt an estimate of Aeschylus it is well to facethe reasons which make Greek drama seem a thing foreign to us. We areat times aware that it is great, but we cannot help asking, "Is itreal?" Modern it certainly is not. In the first place, the Chorus wasall-important to the Greeks, but is non-existent with us. To themdrama was something more than action, it was music and dancing aswell. Yet as time went on, the Greeks themselves found the Chorus moreand more difficult to manage and it was discarded as a feature of themain plot. Only in a very few instances could a play be constructed insuch a manner as to allow the Chorus any real influence on the story. Aeschylus' skill in this branch of his art is really extraordinary;the Chorus does take a part, and a vital part too, in the play. Again, the number of Greek actors was limited, whereas in a modern play theirnumber is just as great as suits playwright's convenience or hiscapacity. The impression then of a Greek play is that it is a somewhatthin performance compared with the vivacity and complexity of thegreat Elizabethans. The plot, where it exists, seems very narrow inAttic drama; it could hardly be otherwise in a society which wascontent with a repeated discussion of a rather close cycle of heroiclegends. Yet here, too, we might note how Aeschylus trod out of thenarrow circumscribed round, notably in the _Prometheus_ and the_Persoe_. Lastly, the Greek play is short when compared with afull-bodied five-act tragedy. It must be remembered, however, thatvery often these plays are only a third part of the real subject dealtwith by the playwright. 

All Greek tragedy is liable to these criticisms; it is not fair tojudge a process just beginning by the standards of an art which thinksitself full-blown after many centuries of history. Considering themeagre resources available for Aeschylus--the masks used by Greekactors made it impossible for any of them to win a reputation or toadd to the fame of a play--we ought to admire the marvellous successhe achieved. His defects are clear enough; his teaching is a littlearchaic, his plots are sometimes weak or not fully worked out, histendency is to description instead of vigorous action, he has asuperabundance of choric matter. Sometimes it is said that thedoctrine of an inherited curse on which much of his work is written isfalse; let it be remembered that week by week a commandment is read inour churches which speaks of visiting the sins of the fathers upon thethird and fourth generation of them that hate God; all that is neededto make Aeschylus' doctrine "real" in the sense of "modern" is tosubstitute the nineteenth-century equivalent Heredity. That he hastouched on a genuine source of drama will be evident to readers ofIbsen's _Ghosts_. More serious is the objection that his work is notdramatic at all; the actors are not really human beings acting assuch, for their wills and their deeds are under the control ofDestiny. What then shall we say of this from Hamlet:--

 "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will?"

In this matter we are on the threshold of one of our insolubleproblems--the freedom of the will. An answer to this real fault inAeschylus will be found in the subsequent history of the Attic dramaattempted in the next two chapters. Suffice it to say that, whetherthe will is free or not, we act as if it were, and that is enough torepresent (as Aeschylus has done) human beings acting on a stage as weourselves would do in similar circumstances, for the discussions aboutDestiny are very often to be found in the mouths not of thecharacters, but of the Chorus, who are onlookers. 

The positive excellences of Aeschylus are numerous enough to make usthankful that he has survived. His style is that of the great sublimecreators in art, Dante, Michaelangelo, Marlowe; it has many a "mightyline". His subjects are the Earth, the Heavens, the things under theEarth; more, he reveals a period of unsuspected antiquity, the presentorder of gods being young and somewhat inexperienced. He carries usback to Creation and shows us the primeval deities, Earth, Night, Necessity, Fate, powers simply beyond the knowledge of ordinarythoughtless men. His characters are cast in a mighty mould; he tapsthe deepest tragic springs; he teaches that all is not well when weprosper. The thoughtless, light-hearted, somewhat shallow mind whichthinks it can speak, think, and act without having to render anaccount needs the somewhat stern tonic of these seven dramas; it maybe chastened into some sobriety and learn to be a little less flippantand irreverent. 

Aeschylus' influence is rather of the unseen kind. His genius is of alofty type which is not often imitated. Demanding righteousness, justice, piety, and humility, he belongs to the class of Hebrewprophets who saw God and did not die. 

TRANSLATIONS:--

Miss Swanwick; E. D. A. Morshead; Campbell (all in verse). Paley(prose). 

Versions also appear in Verrall's editions of separate plays(Macmillan). 

An admirable volume called _Greek Tragedy_ by G. Norwood (Methuen)contains a summary of the latest views on the art of the Atheniandramatists. 

See Symonds' _Greek Poets_ as above. 

SOPHOCLES

In Aeschylus' dramas the will of the gods tended to override humanresponsibility. An improvement could be effected by making thepersonages real captains of their souls; drama needed bringing downfrom heaven to earth. This process was effected by Sophocles. He wasborn at Colonus, near Athens, in 495, mixed with the best society inPericlean times, was a member of the important board of administratorswho controlled the Delian League, the nucleus of the Athenian Empire, and composed over one hundred tragedies. In 468 he defeated Aeschylus, won the first prize twenty-two times and later had to face the moreformidable opposition of the new and restless spirit whose chiefspokesman was Euripides. For nearly forty years he was taken to be thetypical dramatist of Athens, being nicknamed "the Bee"; his dramaticpowers showed no abatement of vigour in old age, of which the _OedipusColoneus_ was the triumphant issue. He died in 405, full of years andhonours. 

Providence has ordained it that his art, like his country's tutelarygoddess Athena, should step perfect and fully armed from the brain ofits creator. The _Antigone_, produced in 440, discusses one of thedeepest problems of civilised life. On the morning after the defeat ofthe Seven who assaulted Thebes Polyneices' body lay dishonoured andunburied, a prey to carrion birds before the gates of the city whichhad been his home. His two sisters, Antigone and Ismene, discuss theedict which forbids his burial. Ismene, the more timid of the two, intends to obey it, but Antigone's stronger character rises inrebellion. 

Loss of burial was the most awful fate which could overtake a Greek--before he died Sophocles was to see his country condemn ten generalsto death for neglect of burial rites, though they had been brilliantlysuccessful in a naval engagement. Rather than obey Antigone would die. 

 "Bury him I will; I will lie in death with the brother I love, sinning in a righteous cause. Far longer is the time in which I must please the dead than men on earth, for among the former I shall dwell for ever. Do thou, if it please thee, hold in dishonour what is honoured by Heaven. "

Here is the source of the tragedy, the will of the individual inconflict with established authority. 

A chorus of Theban elders enters, singing an ode of deliverance andjoy; they have been summoned by Creon, the new King, uncle of Oedipus'children. Full of the sense of his own importance Creon states theofficial view. Polyneices is to remain unburied. 

 "Any man who considers private friendship to be more important than the State is a man of naught. In the name of all-seeing Zeus I would not hold my tongue if I saw ruin coming to the citizens instead of safety, nor would I make a friend of my country's enemy. Sure am I that it is the State that saves us; she is the ship that carries us; we make our friendships without overturning her. "

The elders promise obedience, but grave news is reported by a guardwho has been set to watch the corpse. Someone had scattered dustlightly over the dead and departed without leaving any trace; neitherhe nor his companions had done the deed. 

When the Chorus suggest that it is the work of some deity, Creonanswers in great impatience:

 "Cease, lest thou be proved a fool as well as old. Thy words are intolerable when thou sayest that the gods can have a care of this corpse. What, have they buried him in honour for his services to them? Did he not come to burn their pillared temples and offerings and precincts and shatter our laws?"

He angrily thrusts the watchman forth, threatening to hang him and hiscompanions alive unless they find the culprit. 

 "There are many marvels, but none greater than Man. He crosses the wintry sea, he wears away the hard earth with his plough, ensnareth the light-hearted race of birds, catcheth the wild beasts, trappeth the things of the deep, yoketh the horse and the unwearying ox. He hath taught himself speech and thought swift as the wind, hath learnt the moods of a city life and can avoid the shafts of the frost; he hath a device for every problem save Death--though disease he can escape. Sometimes he moveth to ill, again to good; his cities rear their heads when they reverence the laws and the gods; he wrecketh his city when he boldly forsakes the good. May an evil-doer never share my hearth or heart. "

Such is the ordinary man's view of the action of Polyneices, for inSophocles the Chorus certainly represents average public opinion. Itis quickly challenged by the entry of Antigone with the Watchman, whose story Creon hastens out to hear. With no little self-satisfactionthe Watchman tells how they caught the girl in the very act of replacingthe dust they had removed and pouring libations over the dead. Antigoneadmits the deed. When asked how she dare defy the official ordinance, she replies--

 "It came neither from Zeus nor from Justice, nor did I deem that thy decrees had such power that a mortal could override the unwritten and unshaken laws of Heaven. These have not their life from now or yesterday, but from everlasting, and no man knows whence they have appeared. It was not likely that, through fear of any man's will, I would pay Heaven's penalty for their infringement. Die I must, even hadst thou made no proclamation; if I die before my time, I count it all gain. If my act seem folly to thee, maybe it is a foolish judge who counts me mad. "

Creon replies that this is sheer insolence; it is an insult that he, aman, should give way to a woman. He threatens to destroy both girls, but Antigone is sure that public opinion is with her, though for themoment it is muzzled through fear. Ismene is brought in and offers todie with her sister; Antigone refuses her offer, insisting that shealone has deserved chastisement. 

In a second ode the gradual extinction of Oedipus' race is described, owing to foolish word and insensate thought, for "when Heaven leads aman to ruin it makes him believe that evil is good". A new interest isadded by Creon's son Haemon, the affianced lover of Antigone, whocomes to interview his father. This is the first instance in Europeandrama of that without which much modern literature would have littlereason for existing at all--the love element, wisely kept in check bythe Greeks. A further conflict of wills adds to the dramatic effect ofthe play; Creon insists on filial obedience, for he cannot claim torule a city if he fails to control his own family. Haemon answers withcourtesy and deference; he points out that the force of public opinionis behind Antigone and suggests that the official view may perhaps bewrong because it is the expression of an individual's judgment. Whenhe is himself charged thus directly with the very fault for which heclaimed to punish Antigone, Creon lets his temper get the mastery;after a violent quarrel Haemon parts from him with a dark threat thatthe girl's death will remove more than one person, and vows never tocross his father's doorstep again. 

Antigone is soon carried away to her doom; she is to be shut up in acavern without food. In a dialogue of great beauty she confesses herhuman weakness--death is near, and with it banishment from the joys oflife. Creon bids her make an end; her last speech concludes with aclear statement of the problem. Who knows if she is right? She herselfwill know after death. If she has erred, she will confess it; if theKing is wrong, she prays he may not suffer greater woes than her own. 

A reaction now occurs. Teiresias, the blind seer, seeks out Creonbecause of the failure of his sacrificial rites; the birds of the airare gorged with human blood, and fail to give the signs of augury. Hebids Creon return to his right senses and quit his stubbornness. Whenthe latter mockingly accuses the seer of being bribed, he learns thedread punishment his obstinacy has brought him. 

 "Know that thou shalt not see out many hurrying rounds of the sun before thou shalt give one sprung from thine own loins in exchange for the dead, one in return for two, for thou hast thrust below one of the children of the light, penning up her spirit in a tomb with dishonour, and thou keepest above ground a body that belongs to the gods below, without its share of funerals, unrighteously; wherefore the late-punishing ruinous gods of death and the Furies lie in wait for thee, to catch thee in like agonies. "

Cowed by the terror, the King hurries to undo his work, calling forpickaxes to open the tomb and himself going with all speed to set freeits victim. 

The sequel is told by a messenger who at the outset strikes a note ofwoe. 

 "Creon I once envied, for he was the saviour of his land, and was the father of noble children. Now all is lost. When men lose pleasure, I deem that they are not alive but moving corpses. Heap up wealth and live in kingly state, but if there is no pleasure withal, I would not pay the worth of a shadow for all the rest. Haemon is dead. "

Hearing the news, Eurydice the Queen comes out, and bids him tell hisstory in full. Creon found Haemon clasping the body of Antigone whohad hung herself. Seeing his father, he made a murderous attack onhim; when it failed, he drew his sword and fell on it--thus in deaththe two lovers were not separated. In an ominous silence the Queendeparts. Creon enters with his son's body, to be utterly shattered bya second and an unexpected blow, for his wife has slain herself. Broken and helpless he admits his fault, while the Chorus sing inconclusion:--

 "By far the greatest part of happiness is wisdom; men should reverence the gods; mighty plagues repay the mighty words of the over-proud, teaching wisdom to the aged. "

To Aeschylus the power that largely controlled men's acts was Destiny. A notable contrast is visible in the system of Sophocles. Destiny doesnot disappear, rather it retires into the background of his thought. To him the leading cause of ruin is evil counsel. Over and over againthis teaching is driven home. All the leading characters mention it, Antigone, Haemon, Teiresias, and when it is disregarded, it isremorselessly brought home by disaster. The dramatic gain is enormous;man's sorrows are ascribed primarily to his own lack of judgment, thetragic character takes on a more human shape, for he is more nearlyrelated to the ordinary persons we meet in our own experience. Anothergreat advance is visible in the construction of the plot. It is morevaried, more flexible; it never ceases developing, the actioncontinuing to the end instead of stopping short at a climax. Further, the Chorus begins to fall into a more humble position, it exercisesbut little influence on the great figures of the plot, being contentto mirror the opinions of the interested outside spectator. Trulydrama is beginning to be master of itself--"the play's the thing". 

But far more important is the subject of this play. It raises one ofthe most difficult problems which demand a solution, the harmonisationof private judgment with state authority. The individual in a growingcivilisation sooner or later asks how far he ought to obey, who is thelord over his convictions, whether disobedience is ever justifiable. If a law is wrong how are we to make its immorality evident? In an agewhen a central authority is questioned or loses its hold on men'sallegiance, this problem will imperiously demand an answer. WhenEurope was aroused from the slumber of the Middle Ages and thespiritual authority which had governed it for centuries was shattered, the same right of resistance as that which Antigone claimed wasinsisted upon by various reformers. It did not fail to bring with ittragic consequences, for the "power beareth not the sword in vain". Its sequel was the Thirty Years' War which barbarised central Germany, leaving in many places a race of savage beings who had once beenhuman. In our own days resistance is preached almost as a sacred duty. We have passive resisters, conscientious objectors, strikers and ahost of young and imperfectly educated persons, some armed with thevery serious power of voting, who claim to set their wills in flatopposition to recognised authority. One or two contributions to thesolution of this problem may be found in the _Antigone_. The centralauthority must be prepared to prove that its edicts are not below themoral standard of the age; on the other hand, non-compliance must bebacked by the force of public opinion; it must show that the action ittakes will ultimately bring good to the whole community. It is oflittle use to appeal to the so-called conscience unless we can producesome credentials of the proper training and enlightenment of thatrather vague and uncertain faculty, whose normal province is tocondemn wrong acts, not to justify law-breaking. Most resisters talkthe very language of Antigone, appealing to the will of Heaven; wouldthat they could prove as satisfactorily as she did that the powerbehind them is that which governs the world in righteousness. 

A somewhat similar problem reappears in the _Ajax_. This play opens atearly dawn with a dialogue between Athena, who is unseen, andOdysseus; the latter has traced Ajax to his tent after a night ofmadness in which he has slain much cattle and many shepherds, imagining them to be his foes, especially Odysseus himself who hadworsted him in the contest for the arms of Achilles. Athena calls outthe beaten hero for a moment and the sight of him moves Odysseus tosay:--

 "I pity him, though my foe; for I think of mine own self as much as of him. We men are but shadows, all of us, or fleeting shades. "

To this Athena replies:--

 "When thou seest such sights, utter no haughty word against the gods and be not roused to pride, if thou art mightier than another in strength or store of wealth. One day can bring down or exalt all human state, but the gods love the prudent and hate the sinners. "

A band of mariners from Salamis enter as the chorus; they are Ajax'followers who have come to learn the truth. They are confronted byTecmessa, Ajax' captive, who confirms the grievous rumour, describinghis mad acts. When the fit was over, she had left him in his tentprostrate with grief and shame among the beasts he had slain, longingfor vengeance on his enemies before he died. 

The business of the play now begins. Coming forth, Ajax in a longdespairing speech laments his lot--persecuted by Athena, hated ofGreeks and Trojans alike, the secret laughter of his enemies. 

Where shall he go? Home to the father he has disgraced? Against Troy, leading a forlorn hope? He had already reminded Tecmessa with somesternness that silence is a woman's best grace; now she appeals to hispity. Bereft of him, she would speedily be enslaved and mocked; theirson would be left defenceless; the many kindnesses she had done himcry for some return from a man of chivalrous nature, Ajax bade her beof good cheer; she must obey him in all things and first must bringhis son Eurysaces. Taking him in his arms, he says:--

 "If he is my true son, he will not quail at the sight of blood. But he must speedily be broken into his father's warrior habit and imitate his ways. My son, I pray thou mayest be happier than thy sire, but like him otherwise, then thou shalt be no churl. Yet herein I envy thee that thou canst not feel my agonies. Life is sweetest in its careless years before it learns joy and pain; but when thou art come to that, show thy father's enemies thy nature and birth. Till then feed on the spirit of gladness, gambol in the life of boyhood and gladden thy mother's heart. "

He reflects that his son will be safe as long as Teucer lives, whom hecharges on his return to take the boy to his own father and mother tobe their joy. His arms shall not be a prize to be striven for; theyshould be buried with him except his shield, which his son should takeand keep. This ominous speech dashes the hopes which he had raised inTecmessa's heart, even the Chorus sadly admitting that death is thebest for a brainsick man, born of the highest blood, no longer true tohis character. 

Ajax re-enters, a sword in his hands. He feels his heart touched byTecmessa's words and pities her helplessness. He resolves to go to theshore and there bury the accursed sword he had of Hector, which hadrobbed him of his peace. He will soon learn obedience to the gods andhis leaders; all the powers of Nature are subject to authority, theseasons, the sea, night and sleep. He has but now learned that anenemy is to be hated as one who will love us later, while friendshipwill not always abide. Yet all will be well; he will go the journey hecannot avoid; soon all will hear that his evil destiny has brought himsalvation. This splendid piece of tragic irony is interpreted at itssurface value by the Chorus, who burst into a song of jubilation. Butthe words have a darker meaning; this transient joy is but the lastflicker of hope before it is quenched in everlasting night. 

A messenger brings the news that Teucer, Ajax' brother, on his returnto the camp from a raid was nearly stoned to death as the kinsman ofthe army's foe. He inquires where Ajax is; hearing that he had goneout to make atonement, he knows the terror that is to come. Chalcasthe seer adjured Teucer to use all means in his power to keep Ajax inhis tent that day, for in it alone Athena's wrath would persecute him. She had punished him with madness for two proud utterances. On leavinghis father he had boasted he would win glory in spite of Heaven, andlater had bidden Athena assist the other Greeks, for the line wouldnever break where he stood. Such was his pride, and such itspunishment. Tecmessa hurries in and sends some to fetch Teucer, othersto go east and west to seek out her lord. The scene rapidly changes tothe shore, where Ajax cries to the gods, imprecates his foes, prays toDeath, and after a remembrance of his native land falls on his sword. 

The Chorus enter in two bands, but find nothing. Tecmessa discoversthe body in a brake, and hides it under her robe. Distracted andhaunted by the dread of slavery and ridicule, she gives way to grief. Teucer enters to learn of the tragedy; after dispatching Tecmessa tosave the child while there is yet time, he reflects on his own state. Telamon his father will cast him off for being absent in his brother'shour of weakness whom he loved as his own life. Sadly he bears out thetruth of Ajax utterance, that a foe's gifts are fraught with ruin; thebelt that Ajax gave Hector served to tie his feet to Achilles'car--and Hector's sword was in his brother's heart. 

The plot now appeals to fiercer passions. Menelaus entering commandsTeucer to leave the corpse where it is, for an enemy shall receive noburial. He strikes the same note as Creon:--

 "It is the mark of an ill-conditioned man that he, a commoner, should see fit to disobey the powers that be. Law cannot prosper in a city where there is no settled fear; where a man trembles and is loyal, there is salvation; when he is insolent and does as he will, his city soon or late will sink to ruin. "

Teucer answers that Ajax never was a subject, but was always an equal. He fought, not for Helen, but for his oath's sake. The dispute waxeshot; the calm dignity of Teucer easily discomfits the Spartanbraggart, who departs to bring aid. Meanwhile Tecmessa returns withthe child whom Teucer in a scene of consummate pathos bids kneel athis father's side, holding in his hand a triple lock ofhair--Teucer's, his mother's, his own; this sacred symbol, ifviolated, would bring a curse on any who dared outrage him. Whilethe Chorus sing a song full of longings for home, Agamemnon advances tothe place, followed by Teucer. The King is deliberately insolent, reviling Teucer for the stain on his birth. In reply the latter in agreat speech reminds him that there was a time when the flames lickedthe Greek ships and there was none to save them but Ajax, who hadfaced Hector single-handed. With kindling passion he hurls the tauntof a stained birth back on Agamemnon and plainly tells him that Ajaxshall be buried and that the King will rue any attempt at violence. Odysseus comes in to hear the quarrel. He admits that he had once beenthe foe of the dead man, who yet had no equal in bravery exceptAchilles. For all that, enmity in men should end where death begins. Astonished at this defence of a foe, Agamemnon argues a little withOdysseus, who gently reminds him that one day he too will need burial. This human appeal obtains the necessary permission; Odysseus, leftalone with Teucer, offers him friendship. Too much overcome bysurprise and joy to say many words, Teucer accepts his friendship andthe play ends with a ray of sunlight after storm and gloom. 

Once more Sophocles has filled every inch of his canvas. The plotnever flags and has no diminuendo after the death of Ajax. The causeof the tragedy is not plainly indicated at the outset; with a skillwhich is masterly, Sophocles represents in the opening scene Athenaand Odysseus as beings purely odious, mocking a great man's fall. Withthe progress of the action these two characters recover their dignity;Athena has just cause for her anger, while Odysseus obtains for thedead his right of burial. We should notice further how the pathos ofthis fine play is heightened by the conception of the "one day" whichbrought ruin to a noble warrior. Had he been kept within his tent thatone day--had this fatal day been known, the ruin need not havehappened. "The pity of it", the needless waste of human life, what atheme is there for a tragedy!

The _Ajax_ has never exercised an acknowledged influence onliterature. It was a favourite with the Greeks, but modern writershave strangely overlooked it. For us it has a good lesson. Here was ahero, born in an island, who unaided saved a fleet when his allieswere forced back on their trenches and beyond them to the sea. Hisreward was such as Wordsworth tells of:--

 Alas! the gratitude of men Has oftener left me mourning. 

We remember many a long month of agony during which another islandkept destruction from a fleet and saved her allies withal. In somequarters this island has received the gratitude which Ajax had; herfriends asked, "What has England done in the war, anyhow?" If itbefits anybody to answer, it must be England's Teucer, who has builtanother Salamis overseas, just as he did. Our kindred across theoceans will give us the reward of praise; for us the chastisement ofAjax may serve to reinforce the warning which is to be found on thelips of not the least of our own poets:--

 "For frantic boast and foolish word Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord. "

The _Electra_ is Sophocles' version of the revenge of Orestes whichAeschylus described in the _Choephori_ and is useful as affording acomparison between the methods of the two masters. An aged tutor atearly dawn enters the scene with Orestes to whom he shows his father'spalace and then departs with him to offer libations at the dead king'stomb. Electra with a Chorus of Argive girls comes forward, the formerdescribing the insolent conduct of Clytemnestra who holds high revelryon the anniversary of her husband's death and curses Electra forsaving Orestes. Chrysothemis, another daughter, comes out to talk withElectra; she is of a different mould, gentle and timid like Ismene, and warns Electra that in consequence of her obstinacy in revering herfather's memory Aegisthus intends to shut her up in a rocky cavern assoon as he returns. She advises her to use good counsel, then departsto pour on Agamemnon's tomb some libations which Clytemnestra offersin consequence of a dream. 

The Queen finds Electra ranging abroad as usual in the absence ofAegisthus. She defends the murder of her husband, but is easilyrefuted by Electra who points out that, if it is right to exact a lifefor a life, she ought to suffer death herself. Clytemnestra prays toApollo to avert the omen of her dream, her prayer seemingly beinganswered immediately by the entry of the old tutor who comes to informher of the death of Orestes, killed at Delphi in a chariot race whichhe brilliantly describes. Torn by her emotions, Clytemnestra can beneither glad nor sorry. 

 "Shall I call this happy news, or dreadful but profitable? Hapless am I, if I save my life at the cost of my own miseries. Strong is the tie of motherhood; no parent hates a child even if outraged by him. Yet, now that he is gone, I shall have rest and peace from his threats. "

Hearing so circumstantial a proof of her brother's death, Electra isplunged into the depths of misery. 

But soon Chrysothemis returns in a state of high excitement. She hasfound a lock of Orestes' hair and some offerings at the tomb. Electraquickly informs her that her elation is groundless, for their brotheris dead; she suggests that they two should strike the murderers, butChrysothemis recoils in horror from the plot. Then Orestes enters witha casket in his hand; this he gives to Electra, saying it contains themortal remains of the dead prince. In utter hopelessness Electra takesit and soliloquises over it. Seeing her misery, Orestes cannotrefrain; gently taking the casket from her he gradually revealshimself. The tutor enters and recalls him to their immediate business. Electra asks who the stranger is and learns that it is the very man towhom she gave the infant boy her brother. The three advance to thepalace which Orestes enters to dispatch his mother, Electra biddinghim smite with double force, wishing only that Aegisthus were with hermother. 

The end of Aegisthus himself is contrived with Sophoclean art. Hecomes in hurriedly to find the two strangers who have proof ofOrestes' death. 

Electra tells him they are in the palace; they have not only told herof the dead Orestes, but have shown him to her; Aegisthus himself cansee the unenviable sight; he can rejoice at it, if there is any joy init. Exulting, he sings a note of triumph at the removal of his fearsand threatens to chastise all who try henceforth to thwart his will. He dashes open the door, and there sees the Queen lying dead. Orestesbids him enter the palace, to be slain on the very spot where hisfather was murdered. 

Fortune has been kind in preserving us this play. The great differencebetween the art of Sophocles and that of Aeschylus is here apparent. Only one man has ventured to paint for us Aeschylus' Clytemnestra;Leighton has revealed her, stern as Nature herself, remorseless, armedwith a sword to smite first, then argue if she can find time to do so. Sophocles' Clytemnestra is a woman, lost as soon as she begins toreason out her misdeeds. She prays to Apollo in secret, for fear lestElectra may overhear her prayer and make it void. But the crudity ofAeschylus' resources did not satisfy Sophocles, whose taste demanded acontrast to heighten the character of his heroine and found one in theHomeric story that Agamemnon had a second daughter. Aeschylus' sternnature did not shrink from the sight of a meeting between mother andson; Sophocles closed the doors upon the act of vengeance, though herepresents Electra as encouraging her brother from outside the palace. The Aegisthus incident maintains the interest to the end in themasterly Sophoclean style of refined and searching irony. The tone ofthe play is singular; from misery it at first sinks to hopelessness, then to despair, and finally it soars to triumphant joy. Such adangerous venture was unattempted before. 

The most lovable woman in Greek literature is the heroine of the nextplay, the _Trachiniae_, produced at an uncertain date. Deianeira hadbeen won and wed by Heracles; after a brief spell of happiness shefound herself left more and more alone as her husband's labours calledhim away from her. For fifteen months she had heard no news of him. Her nurse suggests that she should send her eldest son to Euboea toseek him out, a rumour being abroad that he has reached that island. The mother in her loneliness is comforted by a band of girls ofTrachis, the scene of the action. But her uneasiness is too great tobe cheered; she describes the strange curse of womanhood:--

 "When it is young it groweth in a clime of its own, plagued by no heat of the sun nor rain nor wind; in careless gaiety it builds up its days till it is no longer maid, but wife; then in the night it hath its meed of cares, terrified for lord or children. Only such a one can know from the sight of her own sorrows what is my burden of grief. "

But there is a deeper cause for anxiety; Heracles had said that if hedid not return in fifteen months he would either die or be rid forever of his labours; that very hour had come. 

News reached her that Heracles is alive and triumphant; Lichas was comingto give fuller details. Very soon he enters with a band of captive maidens, telling how his master had been kept in slavery in Lydia; shaking off theyoke, he had sacked and destroyed the city of Eurytus who had caused hiscaptivity, the girls were Heracles' offering of the spoils to Deianeira. Filled with pity at their lot, she looked closely at them and wasattracted by one of them, a silent girl of noble countenance. Lichas whenquestioned denied all knowledge of her identity and departed. When he hadgone, the messenger desired private speech with Deianeira. Lichas hadlied; the girl was Iole, daughter of Eurytus; it was for her sake that hismaster destroyed the city, for he loved the maid and intended to keep herin his home to be a rival to his wife. Lichas on coming out was confrontedby the messenger, and attempted to dissemble, but Deianeira appealed tohim thus:--

 "Nay, deceive me not. Thou shalt not speak to a woman of evil heart, who knoweth not the ways of men, how that they by a law of their own being delight not always in the same thing. 'Tis a fool who standeth up to battle against Love who ruleth even gods as he will, and me too; then why not another such as I? Therefore if I revile my lord when taken with this plague, I am crazed indeed--or this woman is, who hath brought me no shame or sorrow. If my lord teacheth thee to lie, thy lesson is no good one; if thou art schooling thyself to falsehood in a desire to be kind to me, thou shalt prove unkind. Speak all the truth; it is an ignoble lot for a man of honour to be called false. "

Completely won by this appeal, Lichas confesses the truth. 

During the singing of a choral ode Deianeira has had time to reflect. The reward of her loyalty is to take a second place. The girl is youngand her beauty is fast ripening; she herself is losing her charm. Butno prudent woman should fly into a passion; happily she has a remedy, for in the first days of her wedded life Heracles had shot Nessus, ahalf-human monster, for insulting her. Before he died Nessus bade hersteep her robe in his blood and treasure it as a certain charm forrecovering his waning affection. Summoning Lichas, she gives himstrict orders to take the robe to Heracles who was to allow no lightof the sun or fire to fall upon it before wearing it. After a shortinterval, she returns in the greatest agitation; a little tuft of woolwhich she had anointed with the monster's blood had caught thesunlight and shrivelled up to dust. If the robe proved a means ofdeath, she determined to slay herself rather than live in disgrace. Atthat moment Hyllus bursts in to describe the horrible tortures whichseized Heracles when he put on the poisoned mantle; the hero commandedhis son to ferry him across from Euboea to witness the curse which hismother's evil deed would bring with it. Hearing these tidingsDeianeira leaves the scene without uttering a word. 

The old nurse quickly rushes in from the palace to tell how Deianeirahad killed herself--while Hyllus was kissing her dead mother's lips invain self-reproach, bereft of both his parents. Heracles himself isborne in on a litter, tormented with the slow consuming poison. Inagony, he prays for death; when he learns of the decease of his wifeand her beguilement by Nessus into an unintentional crime, hisresentment softens. In a flash of inspiration the double meaning ofthe oracle comes over him, his labour is indeed over. CommandingHyllus to wed Iole he passes on his last journey to the lonely top ofOeta, to be consumed on the funeral pyre. 

The Sophoclean marks are clear enough in this play--the tragic moment, the life and movement, the splendid pathos, breadth of outlook andfascination of language. Yet there is a serious fault as well, forSophocles, like the youngest of dramatists, can strangely enough makemistakes. The entry of Heracles practically makes the play double, marring its continuity. The necessary and remorseless sequence ofevents which is looked for in dramatic writing is absent. Thistendency to disrupt a whole into parts brilliant but unrelated is afeature of Euripides' work; it may perhaps find a readier pardonexactly because Sophocles himself is not able to avoid it always. Butthe greatest triumph is the character of Deianeira. It is such as onewould rarely find in warm-blooded Southern peoples. She dreads thatloss of her power over her husband which her waning beauty brings; sheis grossly insulted in being forced to countenance a rival living inthe same house after she has given her husband the best years of herlife; yet she hopes on, and perhaps she would have won him back by hervery gentleness. This creation of a type of almost perfect humannature is the justification of a poet's existence; it was a saying ofSophocles that he painted men as they ought to be, Euripides paintedthem as they are. 

The rivalry of the younger poet produced its effect on another playwith which Sophocles gained the first prize in 409. _Philoctetes_, thehero after whom it is named, had lit the funeral pyre of Heracles onOeta and had received from him his unconquerable bow and arrows. Whenhe went to Troy he was bitten in the foot by a serpent in Tenedos. Asthe wound festered and made him loathsome to the army he was left inLemnos in the first year of the war. An oracle declared that Troycould not be taken without him and his arrows; at the end of thesiege, as Achilles and Ajax were dead, Philoctetes, outraged andabandoned, became necessary to the Greeks. How could they win him overto rejoin them?

Odysseus his bitterest foe takes with him Neoptolemus, the young sonof Achilles. Landing at Lemnos, they find the cave in whichPhiloctetes lives, see his rude bed, rough-hewn cup and rags ofclothing, and lay their plot. Neoptolemus is to say that he isAchilles' son, homeward bound in anger with the Greeks for the loss ofhis father's arms. As he was not one of the original confederacy, Philoctetes will trust him. He is then to obtain the bow and arrows bytreachery, for violence will be useless. The young man's soul risesagainst the idea of foul play but Odysseus bids him surrender toshamelessness for one day, to reap eternal glory. Left alone with theChorus, composed of sailors from his ship, Neoptolemus pities thehero's deserted existence, wretched, famished and half-brutalised. Hecomes along towards them, creeping and crying in agony. Seeing them heinquires who they are; Neoptolemus answers as he had been bidden andwins the heart of Philoctetes who describes the misery of his life, his desertion and the unquenchable malady that feeds on him. In returnNeoptolemus tells how he was beguiled to Troy by the prophecy that heshould capture it after his father's death; arriving there he obtainedpossession of all Achilles' property except the arms, which Odysseushad won. He pretends to return to his ship, but Philoctetes imploreshim to set him once more in Greece. The great pathos of his appealwins the youth's consent; they prepare to depart when a merchantenters with a sailor; from him they learn that Odysseus with Diomedesare on the way to bring Philoctetes by force or persuasion to Troywhich cannot fall without his aid. The mere mention of Odysseus' namefills Philoctetes with anger and he retires to the cave, takingNeoptolemus with him. 

When they reappear, a violent attack of the malady prostratesPhiloctetes who gives his bow to Neoptolemus, praying him to burn himand put an end to his agony. Noticing a strange silence in the youth, suspicions seem to be aroused in him, but when he falls into a slumberthe Chorus takes a decided part in the action, advising the youth tofly with the bow and to talk in a whisper for fear of waking thesleeper. The latter unexpectedly starts out of slumber, again beggingto be taken on board. Again Neoptolemus' heart smites him at thevillainy he is about to commit; he reveals that his real objective isTroy. Betrayed and defenceless, Philoctetes appeals to Heaven, to thewild things, to Neoptolemus' better self to restore the bow which ishis one means of procuring him food. A profound pity overcomesNeoptolemus, who is in the act of returning the weapon when Odysseusappears. Seeing him Philoctetes knows he is undone. Odysseus inviteshim to come to Troy of his own freewill, but is met with a curse; ashe refuses to rejoin the Greeks, Odysseus and Neoptolemus departbearing with them the bow for Teucer to use. 

Left without that which brought him his daily food Philoctetes burstsout into a wild lyric dialogue with the Chorus. They advise him tomake terms with Odysseus, but he bids them begone. When they obey, herecalls them to ask one little boon, a sword. At this momentNeoptolemus runs in, Odysseus close behind him. He has come to restorethe bow he got by treachery. A violent quarrel ends in the temporaryretirement of Odysseus. Advancing to Philoctetes, Neoptolemus giveshim his property; Philoctetes takes it and is barely restrained fromshooting at Odysseus who appears for a moment, only to take refuge inflight. Neoptolemus then tells him the whole truth about the prophecy, promising him great glory if he will go back to Troy which can fallonly through him. In vain Neoptolemus assures him of a perfect cure;nothing will satisfy the broken man but a full redemption of thepromise he had to be landed once more in Greece. When Neoptolemustells him that such action will earn him the hatred of the Greeks, Philoctetes promises him the succour of his unerring shafts in aconflict. 

The action has thus reached a deadlock. The problem is solved by thesudden appearance of the deified Heracles. He commands his old friendto go to Troy which he is to sack, and return home in peace. His lotis inseparably connected with that of Neoptolemus and a cure ispromised him at the hands of Asclepius. This assurance overcomes hisobstinacy; he leaves Lemnos in obedience to the will of Heaven. 

Such is the work of an old dramatist well over eighty years old. It isexciting, vigorous, pathetic and everywhere dignified. The charactersof the old hero and the young warrior are masterly. The Chorus takesan integral part in the action--its whisperings to Neoptolemus remindthe reader of the evil suggestions of which Satan breathed into Eve'sequally guileless ears in _Paradise Lost_. But the most remarkablefeature of the piece is its close resemblance to the new type of dramawhich Euripides had popularised. The miserable life of Philoctetes, his rags, destitution and sickness are a parallel to the EuripideanTelephus; most of all, the appearance of a god at the end to untie theknot is genuine Euripides. But there is a great difference; of thedisjointed actions which disfigure later tragedy and are not absentfrom Sophocles' own earlier work there is not a trace. The odes arerelevant, the Chorus is indispensable; in short, Sophocles has shownEuripides that he can beat him even on his own terms. Melodramatic theplay may be, but it wins for its author our affection by the sheerbeauty of a boyish nature as noble as Deianeira's; the return ofNeoptolemus upon his own baseness is one of the many complimentsSophocles has paid to our human kind. 

Many years previously Sophocles had written his masterpiece, the_Oedipus Tyrannus_. It cannot easily be treated separately from itssequel. A mysterious plague had broken out in Thebes; Creon had beensent to Delphi by Oedipus to learn the cause of the disaster. Apollobade the Thebans cast out the murderer of the last King Laius, who wasstill lurking in Theban territory. Oedipus on inquiry learns thatthere are several murderers, but only one of Laius' attendants escapedalive. In discovering the culprit Oedipus promises the sternestvengeance on his nearest friends, nay, on his own kin, if necessary. After a prayer from the Chorus of elders he repeats his determinationeven more emphatically, invoking a curse on the assassin in languageof a terrible double meaning, for in every word he utters heunconsciously pronounces his own doom. With commendable foresight hehad summoned the old seer Teiresias, but the seer for some reason isunwilling to appear. When at last he confronts the King, he cravespermission to depart with his secret unsaid. Oedipus at once fliesinto a towering passion, finally accusing him without anyjustification of accepting bribes from Creon. With equal heatTeiresias more and more clearly indicates in every speech the realmurderer, though his words are dark to him who could read the Sphinx'sriddle. 

The Chorus break out into an ode full of uneasy surmises as to theidentity of the culprit. When Creon enters, Oedipus flies at him inheadlong passion accusing him of bribery, disloyalty and eventually ofmurder. With great dignity he clears himself, warning the King of thepains which hasty temper brings upon itself. Their quarrel brings outJocasta, the Queen and sister of Creon, who succeeds in settling theunseemly strife. She bids Oedipus take no notice of oracles; one suchhad declared that Laius would be slain by his own son, who would marryher, his mother. The oracle was false, for Laius had died at the handsof robbers in a place where three roads met. Aghast at hearing this, Oedipus inquires the exact scene of the murder, the time when it wascommitted, the actual appearance of Laius. Jocasta supplies thedetails, adding that the one survivor had implored her after Oedipusbecame King to live as far away as possible from the city. Oedipuscommands him to be sent for and tells his life story. He was thereputed son of Polybus and Merope, rulers of Corinth. One day at awine-party a man insinuated that he was not really the son of theroyal pair. Stung by the taunt he went to Delphi, where he was warnedthat he should kill his father and marry his mother. He therefore fledaway from Corinth towards Thebes. On the road he was insulted by anold man in a chariot who thrust him rudely from his path; in anger hesmote the man at the place where three ways met. If then this man wasLaius, he had imprecated a curse on himself; his one hope is thesolitary survivor whom he had sent for; perhaps more than one man hadkilled Laius after all. 

An ominous ode about destiny and its workings is followed by the entryof the Queen who describes the mad terrors of Oedipus. She is come topray to Apollo to solve their troubles. At that moment a messengerenters from Corinth with the tidings that Polybus is dead. In eagerjoy Jocasta summons Oedipus, sneering at the truth of oracles. TheKing on his appearance echoes her words after hearing the tidings-onlyto sink back again into gloomy despondency. What of Merope, is shealso dead? The messenger assures him that his anxiety about her isgroundless, for there is no relationship between them. Little bylittle he tells Oedipus his true history. The messenger himself foundhim on Cithaeron in his infancy, his feet pierced through. He had himfrom a shepherd, a servant of Laius, the very man whom Oedipus hadsummoned. Suddenly turning to Jocasta, the King asks her if she knowsthe man. Appalled at the horror of the truth which she knows cannot beconcealed much longer she affects indifference and beseeches himsearch no further. When he obstinately refuses, bidding the man bebrought at once, she leaves the stage with the cry:

 "Alack, thou unhappy one; that is all I may call thee and never address thee again. "

Oedipus by a masterstroke of art is made to imagine that she hasdeparted in shame, fearing he may be proved the son of a slave. 

 "But I account myself the son of Fortune, who will never bring me to dishonour; my brethren are the months, who marked me out for lowliness and for power. Such being my birth, I shall never prove false to it and faint in finding out who I am. "

The awful power of this astonishing scene is manifest. 

The bright joyousness of the King's impulsive speech prepares the wayfor the coming horror. When the shepherd appears, the messenger faceshim claiming his acquaintance. The shepherd doggedly attempts to denyall knowledge of him, cursing him for his mad talkativeness. Oedipusthreatens torture to open his lips. Line by line the truth is draggedfrom him; the abandoned child came from another--from a creature ofLaius--was said to be his son--was given him by Jocasta--to bedestroyed because of an oracle--why then passed over to the Corinthianmessenger?--"through pity, and he saved the child alive, for a mightymisery. If thou art that child, know that thou art born a haplessman". 

When the King rushes madly into the palace, the Chorus sings of hisdeparted glory. The horrors increase with the appearance of amessenger from within, who tells how Oedipus dashed into Jocasta'sapartment to find her hanging in suicide; then he blinded himself onthat day of mourning, ruin, death and shame. He comes out a littlelater, an object of utter compassion. How can he have rest on earth?How face his murdered father in death? The memories of Polybus andMerope come upon him, then the years of unnatural wedlock. Creon, whomhe has wantonly insulted, comes not to mock at him, but to take himinto the palace where neither land nor rain nor light may know him. Oedipus begs him to let him live on Cithaeron, beseeching him to lookafter his two daughters whose birth is so stained that no man can everwed them. Creon gently takes him within, to be kept there till thewill of the gods is known. The end is a sob of pity for the tragicdownfall of the famous man who solved the Sphinx' enigma. 

No man can ever do justice to this masterpiece. It is so constructedthat every detail leads up inevitably to the climax. Slowly, andplaying upon all the deepest human emotions, anxiety, hope, gloom, terror and horror, Sophocles works on us as no man had ever donebefore. It is a sin against him to be content with a mere outline ofthe play; the words he has chosen are significant beyond description. Again and again they fascinate the reader and always leave him withthe feeling that there are still depths of thought left unsounded. Thecasual mention of the shepherd at the beginning of the play is thefirst stroke of perfect art; Jocasta's disbelief in oracles is thenext; then follows the contrast between the Queen's real motive forleaving and the reason assigned to it by her son; finally, theshepherd in torture is forced to tell the secret which plunges thetorturer to his ruin. Where is the like of this in literature? To usit is heart-searching enough. What was it to the Greeks who werefamiliar with the plot before they entered the theatre? When they whoknew the inevitable end watched the King trace out his own ruin inutter ignorance, their feelings cannot have remained silent; they musthave found relief in sobbing or crying aloud. 

The fault in Oedipus is his ungovernable temper. It is firmly drawn inthe play; he is equally unrestrained in anger, despair and hope. He isthe typical instance of the lack of good counsel which we have seenwas to Sophocles the prime source of a tragedy. Indeed, only aheadlong man would hastily marry a widowed queen after he hadcommitted a murder which fulfilled one half of a terrible oracle. Heshould have first inquired into the history of the Theban royal house. Imagining that the further he was fleeing from Corinth the morecertain he was to make his doom impossible of fulfilment, heinevitably drew nearer to it. This is our human lot; we cannot see andwe misinterpret warnings; how shall not weaker men tremble forthemselves when Oedipus' wisdom could not save him from evil counsel?

In 405 Sophocles showed in his last play how Oedipus passed from earthin the poet's own birthplace, Colonus. Oedipus enters with Antigone, and on inquiry from a stranger finds that he is on the demesne of theEumenides. At once he sends to Theseus, King of Athens, and refuses tomove from the spot, for there he is fated to find his rest. A Chorusfrom Colonus comes to find out who the suppliant is. When they hearthe name of Oedipus they are horror-struck and wish to thrust him out. After much persuasion they consent to wait till Theseus arrives. Presently Ismene comes with the news that Eteocles has dispossessedhis elder brother Polyneices; further, an oracle from Delphi declaresthat Oedipus is all-important to Thebes in life and after death. Hissons know this oracle and Creon is coming to force him back. Declaringhe will do nothing for the sons who abandoned him, Oedipus obstinatelyrefuses his city any blessing. He sends Ismene to offer a sacrifice tothe Eumenides; in her absence Theseus enters, offers him protectionand asks why he has come. Oedipus replies that he has a secret toreveal which is of great importance to Athens; at present there ispeace between her and Thebes:

 "but in the gods alone is no age or death; all else Time confounds, mastering everything. Strength of the Earth and of the body wastes, trust dies, disloyalty grows, the same spirit never stands firm among friends or allies. To some men early, to others late, pleasures become bitter and then again sweet. "

The secret Oedipus will impart at the proper time. The need forprotection soon comes. Creon attempts to persuade Oedipus to return toThebes but is met by a curse, whereupon the Theban guards lay hold ofAntigone--they had already seized Ismene--and menace Oedipus himself. Theseus hearing the alarm rushes back, reproaches Creon for hisinsolence and quickly returns with the two girls. He has strange newsto tell; another Theban is a suppliant at the altar of Poseidon closeby, craving speech with Oedipus. It is Polyneices, whom Antigonepersuades her father to interview. The youth enters, ashamed of hisneglect of his father, and begs a blessing on the army he has musteredagainst Thebes. He is met by a terrible curse which Oedipus invokes onboth his sons. In despair Polyneices goes away to his doom. 

 "For me, my path shall be one of care, disaster and sorrows sent me by my sire and his guardian angels; but, my sisters, be yours a happy road, and when I am dead fulfil my heart's desire, for while I live you may never perform it. "

A thunderstorm is heard approaching; the Chorus are terrified at itsintensity, but Oedipus eagerly dispatches a messenger for Theseus. When the King arrives he hears the secret; Oedipus' grave would be theeternal protection of Attica, but no man must know its site saveTheseus who has to tell it to his heir alone, and he to his son, andso onwards for ever. The proof of Oedipus' word would be a miraclewhich soon would transform him back to his full strength. Presently hearises, endued with a mysterious sight, beckoning the others to followhim. The play concludes with a magnificent description of histranslation. A voice from Heaven called him, chiding him for tarrying;commending his daughters to the care of Theseus, he greeted the earthand heaven in prayer and then without pain or sorrow passed away. Onreappearing Theseus promised to convey the sisters back to Thebes andto stop the threatened fratricidal strife. 

The _Oedipus Coloneus_, like the _Philoctetes_, the other play ofSophocles' old age, closes in peace. The old fiery passions still burnfiercely in Oedipus, as they did in Lear; yet both were "every inch aking" and "more sinned against than sinning". Oedipus' miraculousreturn to strength before he departs is curiously like the famous endof Colonel Newcome. There are subtle but unmistakable marks of theEuripidean influence on this drama; such are the belief that Thebanworthies would protect Athens, the Theseus tradition, and the recoveryof worn-out strength. These features will meet us in the next chapter. But it is again noteworthy that Sophocles has added those toucheswhich distinguish his own firm and delicate handiwork. There isnothing of melodrama, nothing inconsequent, nothing exaggerated. It isthe dramatist's preparation for his own end. Shakespeare put hisvalediction into the mouth of Prospero; Sophocles entrusted his to hisgreatest creation Oedipus. Like him, he was fain to depart, for thegods called. Our last sight of him is of one beckoning us to followhim to the place where calm is to be found; to find it we must use notthe eyes of the body, but the inward illumination vouchsafed byHeaven. 

To the Athenians of the Periclean age Sophocles was the incarnation oftheir dramatic ideal. His language is a delight and a despair. Ittantalises; it suggests other meanings besides its plain and surfacesignificance. This riddling quality is the daemonic element which hepossessed in common with Plato; because of it these two are themasters of a refined and subtle irony, a source of the keenestpleasure. His plots reveal a vivid sense of the exact moment whichwill yield the intensest tragic effects--only on one particular daycould Ajax die or Electra be saved. Accordingly, Sophocles very oftenbegins his play with early dawn, in order to fill the fewall-important hours with the greatest possible amount of action. Hehas put the maximum of movement into his work, only the presence oftheChorus and the conventional messengers (two features imposed on him bythe law of the Attic theatre) making the action halt. 

But it is in the sum-total of his art that his greatness lies; thesense of a whole is its controlling factor; details are important, indeed, he took the utmost pains to see that they were necessary andconvincing--yet they were details, subordinate, closely related, notirrelevant nor disproportionate. This instinct for a definite planfirst is the essence of the classical spirit; exuberance is rigorouslyrepressed, symmetry and balance are the first, last and only aim. Tosome judges Sophocles is like a Greek temple, splendid but a littlechilly; they miss the soaring ambition of Aeschylus or the more directemotional appeal of Euripides. Yet it is a cardinal error to imaginethat Sophocles is passionless; his life was not, neither are hischaracters. Like the lava of a recent eruption, they may seem ashen onthe surface, but there is fire underneath; it betrays itself throughthe cracks which appear when their substance is violently disturbed. 

 They, much enforced, show a hasty spark And straight are cold again. 

Repression, avoidance of extremes, dignity under provocation are themarks of the gentle Sophoclean type and it is a very high type indeed. 

For we have in him the very fountain of the whole classical traditionin drama. Sophocles is something far more important than a mereinfluence; he is an ideal, and as such is indestructible. To ask thenames of writers who came most under his "influence" is as sensible asto ask the names of the sculptors who most faithfully followed theGreek tradition of statuary. He is Classical tragedy. The main body ofSpanish and English drama is romantic, the Sophoclean ideal is that ofthe small but powerful body of University men in Elizabeth's timeheaded by Ben Jonson, of the typically French school of dramatists, ofMoratin, Lessing, Goethe, of the exponents of the Greek creed innineteenth-century England, notably Matthew Arnold and Walter Pater, and of Robert Bridges. To this school the cultivation of emotionalexpression is suspicious, if not dangerous; it leads to eccentricity, to the revelation of feelings which frequently are not worthexperiencing, to sentimental flabbiness, to riot and extravagance. Perhaps in dread of the ridiculous the Classical school repressesitself too far, creating characters of marble instead of flesh. Thesecreations are at least worth looking at and bring no shame; they arebetter than the spectral psychological studies which many dramatists, now dead or dying, have bidden us believe are real men and women. 

TRANSLATIONS:

Jebb (Cambridge). This is by far the best; it renders with success thedelicacy of the original. 

Storr (Loeb Series). 

Verse translations by Whitelaw and Campbell. 

See Symonds' _Greek Poets_, and Norwood _Greek Tragedy_, as above. 

EURIPIDES

No-Man's Land was the scene of many tragedies during the Great War. There has come down to us a remarkable tragedy, called the _Rhesus_, about a similar region. It treats first of the Dolon incident of theIliad. Hector sent out Dolon to reconnoitre, and soon afterwards somePhrygian shepherds bring news that Rhesus has arrived that very nightwith a Thracian army. Reviled by Hector for postponing his arrivaltill the tenth year of the war, Rhesus answers that continual warswith Scythia have occupied him, but now that he is come he will endthe strife in a day. He is assigned his quarters and departs to takeup his position. 

Having learned the password from Dolon, Diomedes and Odysseus enterand reach the tents of Hector who has just left with Rhesus. Diomedesis eager to kill Aeneas or Paris or some other leader, but Odysseuswarns him to be content with the spoils they have won. Athena appears, counselling them to slay Rhesus; if he survives that night, neitherAchilles nor Ajax can save the Greeks. Paris approaches, having heardthat spies are abroad in the night; he is beguiled by Athena whopretends to be Aphrodite. When he is safely got away, the two slayRhesus. 

The King's charioteer bursts on to the stage with news of his death. He accuses Hector of murder out of desire for the matchless steeds. Hector recognises in the story all the marks of Odysseus' handiwork. The Thracian Muse descends to mourn her son's death, declaring thatshe had saved him for many years, but Hector prevailed upon him andAthena caused his end. 

This play is not only about No-man's land; it is a No-man's land, forits author is unknown; it is sometimes ascribed to Euripides, thoughit contains many words he did not use, on the ground that it reflectshis art. For it shows in brief the change which came over Tragedyunder Euripides' guidance. It is exciting, it seizes the tragicmoment, the one important night, it has some lovely lyrics, thecharacters are realistic, the gods descend to untie the knot of theplay or to explain the mysterious, some detail is unrelated to themain plot--Paris exercises no influence on the real action--it ispathetic. 

Sophocles said that he painted men as they ought to be, Euripides asthey are. This realistic tendency, added to the romanticism whencerealism always springs, is the last stage of tragedy before itdeclines. A Euripides is inevitable in literary history. 

Born at Salamis on the very day of the great victory of 480, Euripidesentered into the spirit of revolution in all human activities whichwas stirring in contemporary Athens. He won the first prize on fiveoccasions, was pilloried by the Conservatives though he was afavourite with the masses. Towards the end of his life he migrated toMacedonia, where he wrote not the least splendid of his plays, the_Bacchae_. On the news of his death in 406 Sophocles clothed hisChorus in mourning as a mark of his esteem. 

The famous _Alcestis_ won the second prize in 438. Apollo had been theguest of Admetus and had persuaded Death to spare him if a substitutecould be found. Admetus' parents and friends failed him, but his wifeAlcestis for his sake was content to leave the light. After a seriesof speeches of great beauty and pathos she dies, leaving her husbanddesolate. Heracles arrives at the palace on the day of her death; henotices that some sorrow is come upon his host, but being assured thatonly a relation has died he remains. Meanwhile Admetus' parents arriveto console him; he reviles them for their selfishness in refusing todie for him, but is sharply reminded by them that parents rejoice tosee the sun as well as their children; in reality, he is his wife'smurderer. 

Heracles' reckless hilarity shocked the servants who were unwilling tolook after an unfeeling guest. He enters the worse for liquor andadvises a young menial to enjoy life while he can. After a fewquestions he learns the truth. Sobered, he hurries forth unknown toAdmetus to wrestle with Death for Alcestis. Admetus, distracted byloss of his wife, becomes aware that evil tongues will soon begin totalk of his cowardice. Heracles returns with a veiled woman, whom hesays he won in a contest, and begs Admetus keep her till he returns. After much persuasion Admetus takes her by the hand, and on beingbidden to look more closely, sees that it is Alcestis. The greatdeliverer then bids farewell with a gentle hint to him to treat guestsmore frankly in future. 

This play must be familiar to English readers of Browning's_Balaustion's Adventure_. It has been set to music and produced atCovent Garden this very year. The specific Euripidean marks areeverywhere upon it. The selfish male, the glorious self-denial of thewoman, the deep but helpless sympathy of the gods, the tendency tolaughter to relieve our tears, the wonderful lyrics indicate a newarrival in poetry. The originality of Euripides is evident in thechoice of a subject not otherwise treated; he was constantly strivingto pass out of the narrow cycle prescribed for Attic tragedians. A newand very formidable influence has arisen to challenge Sophocles whomay have felt as Thackeray did when he read one of Dickens' earlyemotional triumphs. 

In 431 he obtained the third prize with the _Medea_, the heroine ofthe world-famous story of the Argonauts related for English readers inMorris' _Life and Death of Jason_. A nurse tells the story of Jason'scooling love for Medea and of his intended wedlock with the daughterof Creon, King of Corinth, the scene of the play. Appalled at theeffect the news will produce on her mistress' fiery nature, she begsthe Tutor to save the two children. Medea's frantic cries are heardwithin the house; appearing before a Chorus of Corinthian women sheplunges into a description of the curse that haunts their sex. 

 "Of all things that live and have sense women are the most hapless. First we must buy a husband to lord it over our bodies; our next anxiety is whether he will be good or bad, for divorce is not easy or creditable. Entering upon a strange new life we must divine how best to treat our spouse. If after this agony we find one to live with us without chafing at the yoke, a happy life is ours--if not, better to die. But when a man is surfeited with his mate he can find comfort outside with friend or compeer; but we perforce look to one alone. They say of us that we live a life free from danger, but they fight in wars. It is false. I would rather face battle thrice than childbirth once. "

Desolate, far away from her father's home, she begs the Chorus to besilent if she can devise punishment for Jason. 

Creon comes forth, uneasy at some vague threats which Medea hasuttered and afraid of her skill as a sorceress. He intends to cast herout of Corinth before returning to his palace, but is prevailed uponto grant one day's grace. Medea is aghast at this blow, but decides touse the brief respite. After a splendid little ode which prophesiesthat women shall not always be without a Muse, Jason emerges. Pointingout that her violent temper has brought banishment he professes tosympathise, offering money to help her in exile. She bursts into afury of indignation, recounting how she abandoned home to save and flywith him to Greece. He argues that his gratitude is due not to her, but to Love who compelled her to save him; he repeats his offer and isready to come if she sends for him. Salvation comes unexpectedly. Aegeus, the childless King of Athens, accidentally visits Corinth. Medea wins his sympathy and promises him children if he will offer herprotection. He willingly assents and she outlines her plan. Sendingfor Jason, she first pretends repentance for hasty speech, then begshim to get her pardon from the new bride and release from exile forthe two children. She offers as a wedding gift a wondrous robe andcrown which once belonged to her ancestor the Sun. In the scene whichfollows is depicted one of the greatest mental conflicts inliterature. To punish Jason she must slay her sons; torn by love forthem and thirsting for revenge she wavers. The mother triumphs for amoment, then the fiend, then the mother again--at last she decides onmurder. This scene captured the imagination of the ancient world, inspiring many epigrams in the Anthology and forming one of the muralpaintings of Pompeii. 

A messenger rushes in. The robe and crown have burnt to death Glaucethe bride and her father who vainly tried to save her: Jason is comingwith all speed to punish the murderess. She listens with unholy joy, retires and slays the children. Jason runs in and madly batters at thedoor to save them. He is checked by the apparition of Medea seated inher car drawn by dragons. Reviled by him as a murderess, she repliesthat the death of the children was agony to her as well and prophesiesa miserable death for him. 

This marvellous character is Euripides' Clytemnestra. Yet unlike her, she remains absolutely human throughout; her weak spot was hermaternal affection which made her hesitate, while Clytemnestra waspast feeling, "not a drop being left". Medea is the natural Southernwoman who takes the law into her own hands. In the _Trachiniae_ isanother, outraged as Medea was, yet forgiving. Truly Sophocles said hepainted men as they ought to be, Euripides as they were. 

The _Hippolytus_ in 429 won the first prize. It is important asintroducing a revolutionary practice into drama. Aphrodite in aprologue declares she will punish Hippolytus for slighting her andpreferring to worship Artemis, the goddess of hunting. The youngprince passes out to the chase; as he goes, his attention is drawn toa statue of Aphrodite by his servants who warn him that men hateunfriendly austerity, but he treats their words with contempt. Hisstepmother Phaedra enters with the Nurse, the Chorus consisting ofwomen of Troezen, the scene of the play. A secret malady under whichPhaedra pines has so far baffled the Nurse who now learns that sheloves her stepson. She had striven in vain against this passion, onlyto find like Olivia that

 Such a potent fault it is That it but mocks reproof. 

She decided to die rather than disgrace herself and her city Athens. The Nurse advises her not to sacrifice herself for such a commonpassion; a remedy there must be: "Men would find it, if women had notfound it already". "She needs not words, but the man. " Scandalised bythis cynicism the Queen bids her be silent; the woman tells her shehas potent charms within the house which will rid her of the maladywithout danger to her good name or her life. Phaedra suspects her planand absolutely forbids her to speak with Hippolytus. The answer isambiguous:

 "Be of good cheer; I will order the matter well. Only Queen Aphrodite be my aid. For the rest, it will suffice to tell my plan to my friends within. "

A violent commotion arises in the palace; Hippolytus is heardindistinctly uttering angry words. He and the Nurse come forth; inspite of her appeal for silence, he denounces her for tempting him. When she reminds him of his oath of secrecy, he answers "My tongue hassworn, but not my will"--a line pounced upon as immoral by the poet'smany foes. Hippolytus' long denunciation of women has been similarlyconsidered to prove that the poet was an enemy of their sex. Leftalone with the Nurse Phaedra is terror-stricken lest her husbandTheseus should hear of her disgrace. She casts the Nurse off, addingthat she has a remedy of her own. Her last speech is ominous. 

 "This day will I be ruined by a bitter love. Yet in death I will be a bane to another, that he may know not to be proud in my woes; sharing with me in this weakness he will learn wisdom. "

Her suicide plunges Theseus into grief. Hanging to her wrist he sees aletter which he opens and reads. There he finds evidence of herpassion for his son. In mad haste he calls on Poseidon his father tofulfil one of the three boons he promised to grant him; he requiresthe death of his son. Hearing the tumult the latter returns. Hisfather furiously attacks him, calling him hypocrite for veiling hislusts under a pretence of chastity. The youth answers with dignity;when confronted with the damning letter, he is unable to answer forhis oath's sake. He sadly obeys the decree of banishment pronounced onhim, bidding his friends farewell. 

A messenger tells the sequel. He took the road from Argos along thecoast in his chariot. A mighty wave washed up a monster from the deep. Plunging in terror the horses became unruly; they broke the car anddashed their master's body against the rocks. Theseus rejoices at thefate which has overtaken a villain, yet pities him as his son. He bidsthe servants bring him that he may refute his false claim toinnocence. Artemis appears to clear her devotee. The letter was forgedby the Nurse, Aphrodite causing the tragedy. "This is the law among usgods; none of us thwarts the will of another but always stands aside. "Hippolytus is brought in at death's door. He is reconciled to hisfather and dies blessing the goddess he has served so long. 

The play contains the first indication of a sceptical spirit which wassoon to alter the whole character of the Drama. The running sore ofpolytheism is clear. In worshipping one deity a man may easily offendanother, Aeschylus made this conflict of duties the cause ofAgamemnon's death, but accepted it as a dogma not to be questioned. Such an attitude did not commend itself to Euripides; he clearlystates the problem in a prologue, solving it in an appearance ofArtemis by the device known as the _Deus ex machina_. It is sometimessaid this trick is a confession of the dramatist's inability to untiethe knot he has twisted. Rather it is an indication that the legend hewas compelled to follow was at variance with the inevitable end ofhuman action. The tragedies of Euripides which contain the _Deus exmachina_ gain enormously if the last scene is left out; it was addedto satisfy the craving for some kind of a settlement and is more inthe nature of comedy perhaps than we imagine. Hippolytus is a somewhatchilly man of honour, the Nurse a brilliant study of unscrupulousintrigue. Racine's _Phèdre_ is as disagreeable as Euripides' is noble. Like _Hamlet_, the play is full of familiar quotations. 

Two Euripidean features appear in the _Heracleidae_, of uncertaindate. Iolaus the comrade of Heracles flees with the hero's children toAthens. They sit as suppliants at an altar from which Copreus, heraldof their persecutor Eurystheus, tries to drive them. 

Unable to fight in his old age Iolaus begs aid. A Chorus of Atheniansrush in, followed by the King Demophon, to hear the facts. FirstCopreus puts his case, then Iolaus refutes him. The King decides torespect the suppliants, bidding Copreus defy Eurystheus in his name. As a struggle is inevitable Iolaus refuses to leave the altars till itis over. 

Demophon returns to say that the Argive host is upon them and thatAthens will prevail if a girl of noble family freely gives her life;he cannot compel his subjects to sacrifice their children forstrangers, for he rules a free city. Hearing his words, Macaria comesfrom the shrine where she had been sheltering with her sisters andAlcmena, her father's mother. When she hears the truth, she willinglyoffers to save her family and Athens. 

 "Shall I, daughter of a noble sire, suffer the worst indignity? Must I not die in any wise? We may leave Attica and wander again; shall I not hang my head if I hear men say, 'Why come ye here with suppliant boughs, cleaving to life? Depart; we will not help cowards. ' Who will marry such a one? Better death than such disgrace. "

A messenger announces that Hyllus, Heracles' son, has returned withsuccours and is with the Athenian army. Iolaus summons Alcmena andorders his arms; old though he is, he will fight his foe in spite ofAlcmena's entreaties. In the battle he saw Hyllus and begged him totake him into his chariot. He prayed to Zeus and Hebe to restore hisstrength for one brief moment. Miraculously he was answered. Two starslit upon the car, covering the yoke with a halo of light. Catchingsight of Eurystheus Iolaus the aged took him prisoner and brought himto Alcmena. At sight of him she gloats over the coming vengeance. TheAthenian herald warns her that their laws do not permit the slaughterof captives, but she declares she will kill him herself. Eurystheusanswers with great dignity; his enmity to Heracles came not from envybut from the desire to save his own throne. He does not deprecatedeath, rather, if he dies, his body buried in Athenian land will bringto it a blessing and to the Argive descendants of the Heracleidae acurse when they in time invade the land of their preservers. 

Though slight and weakly constructed, this play is important. Its twofeatures are first, the love of argument, a weakness of all theAthenians who frequented the Law Courts and the Assembly; this maniafor discussing pros and cons spoils one or two later plays. Next, theself-sacrificing girl appears for the first time. To Euripides theworthier sex was not the male, possessed of political power andtherefore tyrannous, but the female. He first drew attention to itssplendid heroism. He is the champion of the scorned or neglectedelements of civilisation. 

The _Andromache_ is a picture of the hard lot of one who is not merelya woman, but a slave. Hector's wife fell to Neoptolemus on the captureof Troy and bore him a son called Molossus. Later he married Hermione, daughter of Menelaus and Helen; the marriage was childless andHermione, who loved her husband, persecuted Andromache. She tookadvantage of her husband's absence to bring matters to a head. Andromache exposed her child, herself flying to a temple of Thetiswhen Menelaus arrived to visit his daughter. Hermione enters richlyattired, covered with jewels "not given by her husband's kin, but byher father that she may speak her mind. " She reviles Andromache as aslave with no Hector near and commands her to quit sanctuary. Menelausbrings the child; after a long discussion he threatens to kill him ifAndromache does not abandon the altar, but promises to save him if sheobeys. In this dilemma she prefers to die if she can thus save herson; but when Menelaus secures her he passes the child to his daughterto deal with him as she will. Betrayed and helpless, Andromache breaksout into a long denunciation of Spartan perfidy. 

Peleus, grandfather of Neoptolemus, hearing the tumult intervenes. After more rhetoric he takes Andromache and Molossus under hisprotection and cows Menelaus, who leaves for Sparta on urgentbusiness. When her father departs, Hermione fears her husband'svengeance on her maltreatment of the slave and child whom he loves. Resolving on suicide, she is checked by the entry of Orestes who ispassing through Phthia to Dodona. She begs him to take her away fromthe land or back to her father. Orestes reminds her of the old compactwhich their parents made to unite them; he has a grievance againstNeoptolemus apart from his frustrated wedlock, for he had called him amurderer of his mother. He had therefore taken measures to assassinatehim at Delphi, whither he had gone to make his peace with Apollo. 

Hearing of Hermione's flight Peleus returns, only to hear more seriousnews. Orestes' plot had succeeded and Neoptolemus had beenoverwhelmed. In consternation he fears the loss of his own life in oldage. His goddess-wife Thetis appears and bids him marry Andromachus toHector's brother Helenus; Molossus would found a mighty kingdom, whilePeleus would become immortal after the burial of Neoptolemus. 

A very old criticism calls this play "second rate". Dramatically it isworthless, for it consists of three episodes loosely connected. Themotives for Menelaus' return and Hermione's flight with an assassinfrom a husband she loved are not clear, while the _Deus ex machina_adds nothing to the story. It is redeemed by some splendid passages, but is interesting as revealing a further development of Euripides'thought. He here makes the slave, another downtrodden class, free ofthe privileges of literature, for to him none is vile or reprobate. The famous painting _Captive Andromache_ indicates to us theloneliness of slavery. 

The same subject was treated more successfully in the _Hecuba_: shehas received her immortality in the famous players' scene in _Hamlet_. The shade of Polydorus, Hecuba's son, outlines the course of theaction. Hecuba enters terrified by dreams about him and her daughterPolyxena. Her forebodings are realised when she hears from a Chorus offellow-captives that the shade of Achilles has demanded her daughter'ssacrifice. Odysseus bids her face the ordeal with courage. She repliesin a splendid pathetic appeal. Reminding him how she saved him fromdiscovery when he entered Troy in disguise, she demands a requital. 

 "Kill her not, we have had enough of death. She is my comfort, my nurse, the staff of my life and guide of my way. She is my joy in whom I forget my woes. Victors should not triumph in lawlessness nor think to prosper always. I was once but now am no more, for one day has taken away my all. "

He sympathises but dare not dishonour the mighty dead. Polyxenaintervenes to point out the blessings death will bring her. 

 "First, its very unfamiliar name makes me love it. Perhaps I might have found a cruel-hearted lord to sell me for money, the sister of Hector; I might have had the burden of making bread, sweeping the house and weaving at the loom in a life of sorrow. A slave marriage would degrade me, once thought a fit mate for kings. "

Bidding Odysseus lead her to death, she takes a touching and beautifulfarewell. Her latter end is splendidly described by Talthybius. 

A serving woman enters with the body of Polydorus; she is followed byAgamemnon who has come to see why Hecuba has not sent for Polyxena'scorpse. In hopeless grief she shows her murdered son, begging his aidto a revenge and promising to exact it without compromising him. Amessage brings on the scene Polymestor, her son's Thracian host withhis sons. In a dialogue full of terrible irony Hecuba inquires aboutPolydorus, saying she has the secret of a treasure to reveal. Heenters her tent where is nobody but some Trojan women weaving. Dismissing his guards, he lets the elder women dandle his children, while the younger admire his robes. At a signal they arose, slew thechildren and blinded him. On hearing the tumult, Agamemnon hurries in;turning to him, the Thracian demands justice, pretending he had slainPolydorus to win his favour. Hecuba refutes him, pointing out that itwas the lust for her son's gold which caused his death. Agamemnondecides for Hecuba, whereupon Polymestor turns fay, prophesying thelatter end of Agamemnon, Hecuba and Cassandra. 

The strongest and weakest points of Euripides' appeal are hereapparent. The play is not one but two, the connection between thedeaths of both brother and sister being a mere dream of their mother. The poet tends to rely rather upon single scenes than upon the wholeand is so far romantic rather than classical. His power is revealed inthe very stirring call he makes upon the emotions of pity and revenge;because of this Aristotle calls him the most tragic of the poets. 

The _Supplices_, written about 421, carries a little further thehistory of the Seven against Thebes. A band of Argive women, mothersof the defeated Seven, apply to Aethra, mother of Theseus, to prevailon her son to recover the dead bodies. Adrastus, king of Argos, pleadswith Theseus who at first refuses aid but finally consents at theentreaties of his mother. His ultimatum to Thebes is delayed by thearrival of a herald from that city. A strange discussion of thecomparative merits of democracy and tyranny leads to a violent scenein which Theseus promises a speedy attack in defence of the rights ofthe dead. 

In the battle the Athenians after a severe struggle won the victory;in the moment of triumph Theseus did not enter the city, for he hadcome not to sack it but to save the dead. Reverently collecting themhe washed away the gore and laid them on their biers, sending them toAthens. In an affecting scene Adrastus recognises and names thebodies. At this moment Evadne enters, wife of the godless Capaneus whowas smitten by the thunderbolt; she is demented and wishes to find thebody to die upon it. Her father Iphis comes in search of her and atfirst does not see her, as she is seated on a rock above him. Hispleadings with her are vain; she throws herself to her death. At thesight Iphis plunges into a wild lament. 

 "She is no more, who once kissed my face and fondled my head. To a father the sweetest joy is his daughter; son's soul is greater, but less winsome in its blandishments. "

Theseus returns with the children of the dead champions to whom hepresents the bodies. He is about to allow Adrastus to convey them homewhen Athena appears. She advises him to exact an oath from Adrastusthat Argos will never invade Attica. To the Argives she prophecies avengeance on Thebes by the Epigoni, sons of the Seven. 

This play is very like the _Heraclidae_ but adds a new feature; dramabegins to be used for political purposes. The play was written at theend of the first portion of the Peloponnesian war, when Argos began toenter the world of Greek diplomacy. This illegitimate use of Artcannot fail to ruin it; Art has the best chance of making itselfpermanent when it is divorced from passing events. But there are otherweaknesses in this piece; it has some fine and perhaps somemelodramatic situations; here and there are distinct touches ofcomedy. 

The _Ion_ is a return to Euripides' best manner. Hermes in a prologueexplains what must have been a strange theme to the audience. Ion is ayoung and nameless boy who serves the temple of Apollo in Delphi. There is a mystery in his birth which does not trouble his sunnyintelligence. Creusa, daughter of Erectheus King of Athens, is marriedto Xuthus but has no issue. Unaware that Ion is her son by Apollo, shemeets him and is attracted by his noble bearing. A splendid dialogueof tragic irony represents both as wishing to find the one a mother, the other a son. Creusa tells how she has come to consult the oracleabout a friend who bore a son to the god and exposed him. Ion isshocked at the immorality of the god he serves; he refuses to believethat an evil god can claim to deliver righteous oracles. Addressingthe gods as a body, he states the problem of the play. 

 "Ye are unjust in pursuing pleasure rather than wisdom; no longer must we call men evil, if we imitate your evil deeds; rather the gods are evil, who instruct men in such things. "

Xuthus embraces Ion as his son in obedience to a command he has justreceived to greet as his child the first person he meets on leavingthe shrine. Ion accepts the god's will but longs to know who is hismother. Seeing an unwonted dejection in him Xuthus learns the reason. Ion is afraid of the bar on his birth which will disqualify him fromresidence at Athens, where absolute legitimacy was essential; his lifeat Delphi was in sharp contrast, it was one of perfect content andeternal novelty. Xuthus tells him he will take him to Athens merely asa sightseer; he is afraid to anger his wife with his good fortune; intime he will win her consent to Ion's succession to the throne. 

Creusa enters with an old man who had been her father's Tutor. Shelearns from the Chorus that she can never have a son, unlike her morelucky husband who has just found one. The Tutor counsels revenge;though a slave, he will work for her to the end. 

 "Only one thing brings shame to a slave, his name. In all else he is every whit the equal of a free man, if he is honest. "

The two decide to poison Ion when he offers libations. But the plotfailed owing to a singular chance. The birds in the temple tasted thewine and one that touched Ion's cup died immediately. Creusa flees tothe altar, pursued by Ion who reviles her for her deed. At that momentthe old Prophetess appears with the vessel in which she first foundIon. Creusa recognises it and accurately describes the child'sclothing which she wove with her own hands; mother and son are thusunited. The play closes with an appearance of Athena, who prophesiesthat Ion shall be the founder of the great Ionian race, for Apollo'shand had protected him and Creusa throughout. 

The central problem of this piece is whether the gods govern the worldrighteously or not. No more vital issue could be raised; if gods arewicked they must fall below the standard of morality which men insiston in their dealings with one another. Ion is the Greek Samuel; hisnaturally reverent mind is disturbed at any suggestion of evil in adeity. His boyish faith in Apollo is justified and Euripides seems toteach in another form the lesson that "except we become as children, we cannot enter the kingdom of Heaven. "

The _Hercules Furens_ belongs to Euripides' middle period. Amphitryon, father of Heracles, and Megara, the hero's wife, are in Thebanterritory waiting for news. They are in grave danger, for Lycus, a newking, threatens to kill them with Heracles' children, as he hadalready slain Megara's father. He has easy victims in Amphitryon, "naught but an empty noise", and Megara, who is resigned to theinevitable. Faced with this terror, Amphitryon exclaims:--

 "O Zeus, thou art a worse friend than I deemed. Though a mortal, I exceed thee in worth, god though thou art, for I have never abandoned my son's children. Thou canst not save thy friends; either thou art ignorant or unjust in thy nature. "

As they are led out to slaughter, Amphitryon makes what he is sure isa vain appeal to Heaven to send succour. At that moment the herohimself appears. Seeing his family clad in mourning, he inquires thereason. At first his intention is to attack Lycus openly, butAmphitryon bids him wait within; he will tell Lycus that his victimsare sitting as suppliants on the hearth; when the King enters Heraclesmay slay him without trouble. 

When vengeance has been taken Iris descends from heaven, sent by Herato stain Heracles with kindred bloodshed. She summons Madness who isunwilling to afflict any man, much less a famous hero. Reluctantlyconsenting she sets to work. A messenger rushes out telling thesequel. Heracles slew two of his children and was barely preventedfrom destroying his father by the intervention of Athena. He reappearsin his right mind, followed by Amphitryon who vainly tries to consolehim. Theseus who accompanied Heracles to the lower world hurries in onhearing a vague rumour. To him Heracles relates his life ofnever-ending sorrow. Conscious of guilt and afraid of contaminatingany who touch him, he at length consents to go to Athens with Theseusfor purification. He departs in sorrow, bidding his father bury theslain children. 

Like the _Hecuba_, this play consists of two very loosely connectedparts. The second is decidedly unconvincing. Madness has never beentreated in literature with more power than in Hamlet and Lear. BesidesShakespeare's work, the description in the mouth of a messenger, though vivid enough, is less effective, for "what is set before theeyes excites us more than what is dropped into our ears" as Horaceremarks. But the point of the play is the seemingly undeservedsuffering which is the lot of a good character. This is the theme ofmany a Psalm in the Bible; its answer is just this--"Whom the Lordloveth He chasteneth. "

In 415 Euripides told how Hecuba lost her last remaining childCassandra. The plot of the _Trojan Women_ is outlined by Poseidon andAthena who threaten the Greeks with their hatred for burning thetemples of Troy. After a long and powerful lament the captive womenare told their fate by the herald Talthybius. Cassandra is to bemarried to Agamemnon. She rushes in prophesying wildly. On recoveringcalm speech she bids her mother crown her with garlands of victory, for her bridal will bring Agamemnon to his death, avenging her cityand its folk. Triumphantly she passes to her appointed work of ruin. 

Andromache follows her, assigned to Neoptolemus. She sadly points outhow her faithfulness to Hector has brought her into slavery with aproud master. 

 "Is not Polyxena's fate agony less than mine? I have not that thing which is left to all mortals, hope, nor may I flatter my mind heart with any good to come, though it is sweet to even to dream of it. "

This despair is rendered more hopeless when she learns that the Greekshave decided to throw her little son Astyanax from the walls. 

Menelaus comes forward, gloating at the revenge he hopes to wreak onHelen. On seeing him Hecuba first prays:--

 "Thou who art earth's support and hast thy seat on earth, whoever thou art, past finding out, Zeus, whether thou art a natural Necessity or man's Intelligence, to thee I pray. Moving in a noiseless path thou orderest all things human in righteousness. "

She continues:--

 "I praise thee, Menelaus, if thou wilt indeed slay thy wife, but fly her sight, lest she snare thee with desire. She catcheth men's eyes, sacketh cities, burneth homes, so potent are her charms. I know her as thou dost and all who have suffered from her. "

Hecuba and Helen then argue about the responsibility for the war. Thelatter in shameless impudence pleads that she has saved Greece frominvasion and that Love who came with Paris to Sparta was the cause ofher fault. Hecuba ridicules the idea that Hera and Artemis coulddesire any prize of beauty. It was lust of Trojan gold that temptedHelen; never once was she known to bewail her sin in Troy, rather shealways tried to attract men's eyes. Such a woman's death would be acrown of glory to Greece. Menelaus says her fate will be decided inArgos. Talthybius brings in the body of Astyanax, over which Hecubabursts into a lament of exceptional beauty and then passes out toslavery. 

In this drama Euripides draws upon all his resources of pathos. It isa succession of brilliantly conceived sorrows. Cassandra's exultingprophecy of the revenge she is to bring is one of the great things inEuripides. In this play we have a most vivid picture of thedestructive effects of evil, an inevitable consequence of which it isthat the woman, however innocent she may be, always pays. Hecuba drankthe cup of bereavement to the very last drop. 

The _Electra_, acted about 418, is characteristic. Electra has beencompelled to marry a Mycenean labourer, a man of noble instincts whorespects the princess and treats her as such. Both enter the scene;the man goes to labour for Electra, "for no lazy man by merely havingGod's name on his lips can make a livelihood without toil". Orestesand Pylades at first imagine Electra to be a servant; learning thetruth they come forward and question her. She tells the story of hermother's shame and Aegisthus' insolence which Orestes promises torecount to her brother, "for in ignorant men there is no spark of pityanywhere, only in the learned. " The labourer returns and by his speechmoves Orestes to declare that birth is no test of nobility. Electrasends him to fetch an old Tutor of her father to make ready for hertwo guests; he departs remarking that there is just enough food in thehouse for one day. 

The old Tutor arrives in tears; he has found a lock of hair onAgamemnon's tomb. Gazing intently on the two strangers, he recognisesOrestes by a scar on the eyebrow. They then proceed to plot the deathof their enemies. Orestes goes to meet Aegisthus is close bysacrificing, and presently returns with the corpse, at which Electrahurls back the taunts and jeers he had heaped on her in his lifetime. She had sent to her mother saying she had given birth to a boy andasking her to come immediately. 

Orestes quails before the coming murder, but Electra bids him be loyalto his father. Clytemnestra on her arrival querulously defends herpast, alleging as her pretext not the death of Iphigeneia but thepresence of a rival, Cassandra. Electra after refuting her invites herinside the wretched hut to offer sacrifice for her newly born child, where she is slain by Orestes. At the end of the play the Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, bid Pylades marry Electra, tell Orestes he will bepurified in Athens and prophesy that Menelaus and Helen, just arrivedfrom Egypt, will bury Agisthus real Helen never went to Troy, a wraithof her being sent there with Paris. 

The startling realism of this drama is apparent. The poverty ofElectra, the more certain identification of Orestes by a scar than bya lock of hair, the mention of Cassandra as the real motive for themurder of Agamemnon all indicate that Euripides was not content withthe accepted legend. His Clytemnestra is a feeble creation even by theside of that of Sophocles. 

Stesichorus in a famous poem tells how Helen blinded him for maligningher; she never went to Troy; it was a wraith which accompanied Paris. Such is the central idea of a very strange play, the _Helen_. Thescene is in Egypt. Teucer, banished by his father, meets the realHelen; to her amazement he tells of her evil reputation and of thegreat war before Troy, adding that Menelaus is sailing home withanother Helen. The latter enters, to learn that he is in Egypt, wherethe real Helen has lived for the last seventeen years. Warned by aprophetess Theonoe that her husband is not far off, Helen comes to bereunited to him. A messenger from the coast announces that the wraithhas faded into nothingness. 

Helen then warns Menelaus of her difficult position. She is wooed byTheoclymenus, king of the land, brother of Theonoe. Menelaus indespair thinks of killing himself and Helen to escape the tyrant. Theonoe holds their fate in her hands; Helen pleads with her; "It isshameful that thou shouldest know things divine, and notrighteousness. " Menelaus declares his intention of living and dyingwith his wife. The prophetess leaves them to discover some means ofescape which Helen devises. Pretending that Menelaus is a messengerbringing news of her husband's death at sea, she persuades the tyrantto provide a ship and rowers that Helen may perform the last rites tothe dead on the element where he died. At the right moment the Greeksailors overpowered the rowers and sailed home with the united pair. 

Very commonly real drama suffers the fate which has overtaken it inthis piece; it declines into melodrama. Here are to be found all thestock melodramatic features--a bold hero, a scheming beauty, aconfidante, a dupe, the murder of a ship's crew. Massinger pilotedElizabethan drama to a similar end. Given an uncritical audiencemelodrama is the surest means of filling the house. Reality matterslittle in such work; the facts of life are like Helen's wraith, whenthey become unmanageable they vanish into thin air. 

About 412 the _Iphigeneia in Tauris_ appeared. South Russia was theseat of a cult of Artemis; the goddess spirited Iphigeneia to theplace when her father sacrificed her at Aulis. Orestes, bidden byApollo to steal an image of the goddess to get his final purification, comes on the stage with Pylades; on seeing the temple they areconvinced of the impossibility of burgling it. A shepherd describes toIphigeneia their capture, for strangers were taken and offered to thegoddess without exception. One of the two was seized with a vision ofthe avenging deities; attacked by a band of peasants both wereoverpowered after a stubborn resistance. Formerly Iphigeneia hadpitied the Greeks who landed there; now, warned of Orestes' death by adream, she determines to kill without mercy. One of them shall die, the other taking back to Greece a letter. Orestes insists on dyinghimself, reminding Pylades of his duty to Electra. When the letter isbrought Pylades swears to fulfil his word, but asks what is to happenif the ship is wrecked. Iphigeneia reads the letter to him; it isaddressed to Orestes and tells of his sister's weary exile. After therecognition is completed, Orestes relates the horrors of his life andbegs his sister to help him to steal the all-important image. 

Thoas, the King of the land, learns from her that the two Greeks areguilty of kindred murder; their presence has defiled the holy imagewhich needs purification in the sea as well as the criminals. Thepriestess obtains permission to bind the captives and take the imageto be cleansed with private mystic rites. The plot succeeds; Orestes'ship puts in; after a struggle the three board it, carrying the imagewith them. Thoas is prevented from pursuit by an intervention ofAthena. 

Goethe used this play for his drama of the same name; he made Thoasthe lover of Iphigeneia, whom he represents as the real image whomOrestes is to remove. Her departure is not compassed by a stratagem, but is permitted by the King, a man of singular nobility andself-denial. 

The _Phaenissae_ has been much admired in all ages. Jocasta tells howafter the discovery of his identity Oedipus blinded himself but wasshut up by his two sons whom he cursed for their impiety. Eteoclesthen usurped the rule while Polyneices called an Argive host to attackThebes. A Choral description of this army is succeeded by anunexpected entry into the city of Polyneices who meets his mother andtells her of his life in exile. She sends for Eteocles in the hope ofreconciling her two sons. Polyneices promises to disband his forces ifhe is restored to his rights, but Eteocles, enamoured of power, refuses to surrender it. Jocasta vainly points out to him the burdenof rule, nor can she persuade Polyneices not to attack his own land. 

When the champions have taken up their position at the gates, Teiresias tells Creon that Thebes can be saved by the sacrifice of hisown son Menoeceus. Creon refuses to comply and urges his son toescape. Pretending to obey Menoeceus threw himself from the citywalls. The struggle at the gates is followed by a challenge toPolyneices issued by Eteocles to settle the dispute in single combat. Jocasta and Antigone rush out to intervene, too late. They find thetwo lying side by side at death's door. Eteocles is past speech, butPolyneices bids farewell to his mother and sister, pitying his brother"who turned friendship into enmity, yet still was dear". In agony, Jocasta slays herself over her sons' bodies. 

Led in by Antigone, Oedipus is banished by Creon, who forbids theburial of Polyneices. After touching the dead Jocasta and his twosons, he passes to exile and rest at Colonus. 

The harsh story favoured by Sophocles has been greatly humanised byEuripides, who could not accept all the savagery of the receivedlegend. Apart from the unexplained presence of Polyneices in the city, the plot is excellent. The speeches are vigorous and natural, thecharacters thoroughly human. The criticising and refining influence ofEuripides is manifest throughout, together with a simple and noblepathos. 

An ancient critic says of the _Orestes_, written in 408, "the drama ispopular but of the lowest morality; except Pylades, all are villains". Electra meets Helen, unexpectedly returned from Egypt to Argos withMenelaus, who sends her daughter Hermione with offerings to the tombof Agamemnon. Electra's opinion of her is vividly expressed. 

 "See how she has tricked out her hair, preserving her beauty; she is old Helen still. Heaven abhor thee, the bane of me and my brother and Greece. "

The Chorus accidentally awakens Orestes who is visited by a wildvision of haunting Furies. When he regains sanity he begs theassistance of Menelaus, his last refuge. His uncle, a broken reed, issaved from committing himself by the entry of Tyndareus, father ofClytemnestra and Helen. He righteously rebukes the bloodthirstyOrestes, though he is aware of the evil in his two daughters. Orestesbreaks out into an insulting speech which alienates completely hisgrandfather. Menelaus, when appealed to again, hurries out to try towin him back. 

Pylades suggests that he and Orestes should plead their case beforethe Argive Assembly, which was to try them for murder of Clytemnestra. A very brilliant and exciting account of the debate tells how the casewas lost by Orestes himself, who presumed to lecture the audience onthe majesty of the law he himself had broken. He and Electra arecondemned to be stoned that very day. Determined to ruin Menelausbefore they die, they agree to kill Helen, the cause of all theirtroubles, and to fire the fortified house in which they live. Electraadds that they should also seize Hermione and hold her as a check onMenelaus' fury for the death of Helen. The girl is easily trapped asshe rushes into the house hearing her mother's cries for help. Soonafter a Trojan menial drops from the first story. He tells how Helenand Hermione have so far escaped death, but the rest is unknown tohim. In a ghastly scene Orestes hunts the wretch over the stage, butfinally lets him go as he is not a fit victim for a free man's sword. Almost immediately the house is seen to be ablaze; Menelaus rushes upin a frenzy, but is checked by the sight of Orestes with Hermione inhis arms. When Menelaus calls for help, Orestes bids Pylades andElectra light more fires to consume them all. A timely appearance ofApollo with Helen deified by his side saves the situation. 

It is plain that Euripides has here completely rejected the oldlegend. He never makes Orestes even think of pleading Apollo's commandto him to slay his mother. He is concerned with the defence which acontemporary matricide might make before a modern Athenian assemblyand with the fitting doom of self-destruction which would overtakehim. Like _Vanity Fair_, the play shows us the life of people who tryto do without God. 

The _Bacchae_ is one of Euripides' best plays. In the absence ofPentheus the King, Cadmus and Teiresias join in the worship of the newgod Dionysus at Thebes. Pentheus returns to find that noble women, including Agave, his own mother, have joined the strange cult broughtto the place by a mysterious Lydian stranger "whose hair is neatlyarranged in curls, his face like wine, his eyes as full of grace asAphrodite's". 

Teiresias advises him to welcome the god, Cadmus to pretend that he isdivine, even if he is only a mortal; this new religion is the naturaloutlet of the desire for innocent revelry born in both sexes. TheLydian is arrested and brought before Pentheus, whom he warns that thegod will save him from insult, but Pentheus hurries him away into adungeon. 

The Chorus of Bacchae are alarmed on hearing a tumult. The strangerappears to tell how Pentheus was made mad by Dionysus in the act ofimprisoning him. The King in amazement sees his prisoner standing freebefore him and becomes furiously angry on hearing that his mother hasjoined a new revel on Mount Cithaeron. The stranger suggests that heshould go disguised as a Bacchante to see the new worship. When heappears transformed, the Lydian comments with exquisite and deadlyirony on his appearance. His fate is vividly and terribly painted. Placing him in a pine, the stranger suddenly disappeared, while thevoice of Dionysus summoned the rout to punish the spy. Rushing to thetree, the woman tore it up by the roots and then rent Pentheuspiecemeal, Agave herself leading them on. 

She comes in holding what she imagines to be a trophy. Cadmus slowlyreveals to her the horror of her deed, the proof of which is her son'shead in her grasp. Dionysus himself comes in to point out that thistragedy is the result of the indignity which Thebes put upon him andhis mother Semele. Broken with grief, Agave passes out slowly to herbanishment. The Bacchae was composed in Macedonia; it contains all themystery of the supernatural. Dionysus' character is admirably drawn, while the infatuation of Pentheus is a fitting prelude to his ruin. The cult of Dionysus was essentially democratic, intended for thosewho could claim no share in aristocratic ritual: hence its popularityand prevalence. We may regard the Bacchae as the poet's declaration offaith in the worship which gave Europe the Drama; it is altogetherfitting that he who has left us the greatest number of tragediesshould have been chosen by destiny to bequeath us the one drama whichtells of one of the adventures of its patron deity. 

The _Iphigeneia in Aulis_ was written in the last year of the poet'slife. Agamemnon sends a private letter to his wife countermanding anofficial dispatch summoning her and Iphigeneia. This letter isintercepted by Menelaus, who upbraids his brother; later, seeing hisdistress, he advises him to send the women home again. But publicopinion forces the leader to obey Artemis and sacrifice his daughter. When he meets his wife and child, he tries to temporise but fails. Achilles meets Clytemnestra and is surprised to hear that he is tomarry Iphigeneia, such being the bait which brought Clytemnestra toAulis. Learning the real truth, she faces her husband, pleading fortheir daughter's life. Iphigeneia at first shrinks from death; thearmy demands her sacrifice, while Achilles is ready to defend her. Theknot is untied by Iphigeneia herself, who willingly at last consentsto die to save her country. 

This excellent play shows no falling in dramatic power; it wasimitated by Racine and Schiller. The figures are intensely human, theconflict of duties firmly outlined, the pathos sincere and true, thereis no divine appearance to straighten out a tangled plot. ThusEuripides' career ends as it began, with a story of a woman's nobleself-sacrifice. 

The poet's popularity is indicated by the number of his extant dramasand fragments, both of which exceed in bulk the combined work ofAeschylus and Sophocles. All classes of writers quoted him, philosophers, orators, bishops. In his own lifetime Socrates made apoint of witnessing his plays; the very violence of Aristophanes'attack proves Euripides' potent influence; his lost drama _Melanippe_turned the heads of the Athenians, the whole town singing its odes. Survivors of the Sicilian disaster won their freedom by singing hissongs to their captors, returning to thank their liberator in person;the fragments of Menander discovered in 1906 contain manyreminiscences of him, even slaves quoting passages of him to theirmasters. For it was the very width of his appeal that made himuniversally loved; women and slaves in his view were every whit asgood as free-born men, sometimes they were far nobler. If drama is thevoice of a democracy, the Athenians had found a more democraticmouthpiece than they had bargained for. 

With the educated men it was different. They suspected a poet who wasupsetting their tradition. Besides, they were asked to crown a personwho told them in play after play that they were really like Jason, Menelaus, Polymestor, poor creatures if not quite odious. He made themsee with painful clearness that the better sex was the one which theydespised, yet which was sure one day to find the utterance to which ithad a right in virtue of its greater nobility. The feminism ofEuripides is evident through his whole career; it is an insult to ourpowers of reading to imagine that he was a woman-hater. It is then notto be wondered at that he won the prize only five times, and it canhardly be an accident that he gained it once with the Hippolytus, which on a surface view condemns the female sex. 

For the officials could not see that Euripides was not a man only, hewas a spirit of development. Privilege and narrowness in every form hehated; he demanded unlimited freedom for the intelligence. The narrowcircle of legends, the conventional unified drama, state religion, apseudo-democracy based on slavery he fearlessly criticised. Rationalism, humanism, free speculation were his watchwords; he wasalways trying new experiments in his art, introducing politics, philosophy, melodrama and trying to get rid of the chorus wherever hecould. He was a living and a contemporary Proteus, pleading like anadvocate in a lawsuit, discussing political theory, restating unsolvedproblems in modern form and seasoning his work with his own peculiarand often elevating pathos. Such a man was anathema to conservativeAthens. 

But to us he is one of ourselves. He exactly hits off our moderntaste, with its somewhat sentimental tendency, its scepticism, love ofexcitement, and its great complexity. We know we have many moods andpassions which strangely blend and thwart each other; these we treatin our novels, and Euripides' plays are a sort of novel, but for thedivine appearances in the last scenes. He shows us the inevitable endof actions of beings exactly like ourselves, acting from merely humanmotives, neither higher nor lower than we, though perhaps disguisedunder heroic names. He is in a word the first modern poet. 

TRANSLATIONS:

A. S. Way, Loeb Series. This verse translation is the most successful;it renders the choric odes with skill. 

Professor Gilbert Murray has published verse translations of variousplays. He is an authority on the text. His volume on Euripides in theHome University Library is admirable. 

_Euripides the Rationalist_ and _Four Plays of Euripides_ by A. W. Verrall are well known; the latter is particularly stimulating. Theviews it expounds are original but not traditional. 

See Symonds' _Greek Poets_ as above. 

ARISTOPHANES

At the end of the _Symposium_ Plato represents Socrates as convincingboth Agathon, a tragedian, and Aristophanes that the writer of tragedywill be able to write comedy also. That the two forms are not whollydivorced is clear from the history of ancient drama itself: Eachdramatist competed with four plays, three tragedies and a Satyricdrama. What this last is can be plainly seen in the _Cyclops_ ofEuripides, which relates in comic form the adventures of Odysseus andSilenus in the monster's company. Further, the tendency of tragedy wasinevitably towards comedy. The extant work of Aeschylus and Sophoclesis not without comic touches; but the trend is clearer in Euripideswho was an innovator in this as in many other matters. Laughter andtears are neighbours; a happy ending is not tragic; loosely connectedscenes are the essence of Old Comedy, and loosely written tragicdialogue (common in Euripides' later work) closely resembles thelanguage of comedy, which is practically prose in verse form. The debtwhich later comedy owed to Euripides is great; reminiscences of himabound; he is quoted directly and indirectly; his stage tricks areadopted and his realistic characters are the very population of theComic stage. 

The logically developed plot is the characteristic of serious drama. Old Comedy, its antithesis, is often a succession of scenes in whichthe connection is loose without being impossible. In it the unexpectedis common, for it is an escape from the conventions of ordinary life, a thing of causes and effects. It might be more accurate to say thatfarce is a better description of the work which is associated with thename of Aristophanes. 

This writer was born about 448, was a member of the best Atheniansociety of the day, quickly took the first place as the writer ofcomedy and died about 385. He saw the whole of the Peloponnesian warand has given us a most vivid account of the passions it aroused andits effect on Athenian life. He first won the prize in 425, when heproduced the _Acharnians_ under an assumed name. Pericles had died in429; the horrors of war were beginning to make themselves felt; theSpartans were invading Attica, cutting down the fruit-trees andcompelling the country folk to stream into the city. One of these, Dicaeopolis enters the stage. It is early morning; he is surprisedthat there is no popular meeting on the appointed day. He loathes thetown and longs for his village; he had intended to heckle the speakersif they discussed anything but peace. Ambassadors from foreign nationsare announced; seeing them he conceives the daring project of making aseparate peace with the Spartan for eight drachmae. His servantreturns with three peaces of five, ten and thirty years; he choosesthe last. 

A chorus of angry Acharnians rush in to catch the traitor; they arecharcoal burners ruined by the invasion. Dicaeopolis seizes a charcoalbasket, threatening to destroy it if they touch him. Anxious to sparetheir townsman, the basket, they consent to hear his defence, which heoffers to make with his neck on an executioner's block. He is afraidof the noisy patriotism appealed to by mob-orators and of the lust forcondemning the accused which is the weakness of older men. Choosingfrom Euripides' wardrobe the rags in which Telephus was arrayed torouse the audience to pity, he boldly ventures to plead the cause ofthe Spartans, though he hates them for destroying his trees. Heasserts that "Olympian Pericles who thundered and lightened andconfounded Greece" caused the war by putting an embargo on the food oftheir neighbour Megara, his pretext being a mere private quarrel. 

The Chorus are divided; his opponents send for Lamachus, theswashbuckling general; the latter is discomfited and Dicaeopolisimmediately opens a market with the Peloponnesians, Megarians andBoeotians, but not with Lamachus. In an important choral ode the poetjustifies his existence. By his criticism he puts a stop to theforeign embassies which dupe the Athenians; he checks flattery andfolly; he never bribes nor hoodwinks them, but exposes their harshtreatment of their subjects and their love of condemning on groundlesscharges the older generation which had fought at Marathon. 

The play ends with a trading scene; a Boeotian in exchange for Copaiceels takes an Athenian informer, an article unknown in Boeotia. Lamachus returns wounded while Dicaeopolis departs in happy contrastto celebrate a feast of rustic jollity. 

Aristophanes' chief butts were Cleon, Socrates and Euripides; the lastis treated with good nature in this play. To modern readers the comedyis important for two reasons; first, it attacks the strange beliefthat a democracy must necessarily love peace; Aristophanes found it asfull of the lust for battle as any other form of government; all itneeded was a Lamachus to rattle a sword. Again, the unfailing sourceof war is plainly indicated, trade rivalry. War will continue as longas there are markets to capture and rivals to exclude from them. 

In the next year, 424, Aristophanes produced the _Knights_, the mostviolent political lampoon in literature. The victim was Cleon who hadsucceeded Pericles as popular leader. He was at the height of hisglory, having captured the Spartan contingent at Pylos, prisoners whowere of great importance for diplomatic purposes. The comedy is ascathing criticism of democracy; the subject is so controversial thatit will be best to give some extracts without comment. 

Two servants of Demos (the People) steal the oracles of thePaphlagonian (the babbler, Cleon) while he is asleep. To their joythey find that he will govern Demos' house only until a moreabominable than he shall appear, namely a sausage-seller. That personimmediately presenting himself is informed of his high calling. Atfirst he is amazed. "I know nothing of refinement except letters, andthem, bad as they are, badly. " The answer is:

 "Your only fault is that you know them badly; mob-leadership has nothing to do with a man refined or of good character, rather with an ignoramus and a vile fellow. "

To his objection that he cannot look after a democracy the reply is, "it is easy enough; only go on doing what you are doing now. Mix and chop up everything; always bring the mob over by sweetening it with a few cook-shop terms. You have all the other qualifications, a nasty voice, a low origin, familiarity with the street. "

The Paphlagonian Cleon runs in bawling that they are conspiringagainst the democracy. They call loudly for the Knights, who enter asthe Chorus to assist them against Cleon, encouraging thesausage-seller to show the brazen effrontery which is the mob-orator'ssole protection, and to prove that a decent upbringing is meaningless. Nothing loth, he redoubles Cleon's vulgarity on his head. Cleon rushesout intending to inform the Upper House of their treasons; thesausage-seller hurries after him, his neck being well oiled with hisown lard to make Cleon's slanders slip off. A splendid ode is sung inthe meantime; it contains a half-comic account of Aristophanes'training in his art and a panegyric on the old spirit which madeAthens great. The sausage-seller returns to tell of Cleon's utterdefeat; he is quickly followed by Cleon, who appeals to Demos himself, pointing out his own services. 

 "At the first, when I was a member of the Council, I got in vast sums for the Treasury, partly by torture, partly by throttling, partly by begging. I never studied any private person's interest if I could only curry favour with you, to make you master of all Greece. "

The sausage-seller refutes him. 

 "Your object was to steal and take bribes from the cities, to blind Demos to your villainies by the dust of war, and to make him gape after you in need and necessity for war-pensions. If Demos can only get into the country in peace and taste the barley-cakes again, he will soon find out of what blessings you have rid him by your briberies; he will come back as a dour farmer and will hunt up a vote which will condemn you. "

Cleon, the new Themistocles, is deposed from his stewardship. 

He appeals to some oracles of Bacis, but the sausage-seller has betterones of Bacis' elder brother Glanis. The Chorus rebuke Demos, whom allmen fear as absolute, for being easily led, for listening to thenewest comer and for a perpetual banishment of his intelligence. In asecond contest for Demos' favours Cleon is finally beaten when itappears that he has kept some dainties in his box while thesausage-seller has given his all. An appeal to an oracle prophesyinghis supplanter--one who can steal, commit perjury and face it out--soclearly applies to the sausage-seller that Cleon retires. 

After a brief absence Demos appears with his new friend--but it is adifferent Demos, rid of his false evidence and jury system, the Demosof fifty years before. He is ashamed of his recent history, of hispreferring doles to battleships. He promises a speedy reform, full payto his sailors, strict revision of the army service rolls, an embargoon Bills of Parliament. To his joy he recovers the Thirty Years' peacewhich Cleon had hidden away, and realises at last his longing toescape from the city into the country. 

This violent attack on Cleon was vigorously met; Aristophanes wasprosecuted and seems to have made a compromise. In his next comedy, the _Clouds_ (which was presented in 423) he changes his victim. Strepsiades, an old Athenian, married a high-born wife of expensivetastes; their son Pheidippides developed a liking for horses and soonbrought his father to the edge of ruin. The latter requests the son tosave him by joining the academy conducted by Socrates, where he canlearn the worse argument which enables its possessor to win his case. Aided by it he can rid his father of debt. As the son flatly refuses, the old man decides to learn it himself. Entering the school he seesmaps and drawings of all kinds and finally descries Socrates himself, far above his head in a basket, high among the clouds, studying thesun. Strepsiades begs him to teach him the Worse Argument at his ownprice. After initiating him, Socrates summons his deities the Clouds, who enter as the Chorus. These are the guardian deities of modernprofessors, seers, doctors, lazy long-haired long-nailed fellows, musicians who cultivate trills and tremolos, transcendental quacks whosing their praises. The old gods are dethroned, a vortex governing theuniverse. The Chorus tells Socrates to take the old man and teach himeverything. 

The ode which follows contains the poet's claim to be original. 

 "I never seek to dupe you by hashing up the same old theme two or three times, but show my cleverness by introducing ever-new ideas, none alike and all smart. "

Socrates returns with Strepsiades, whom he can teach nothing. TheChorus suggest he should bring his son to learn from Socrates how toget rid of debts. At first Pheidippides refuses but finally agrees, though he warns his father that he will rue his act. The Just andUnjust arguments come out of the academy to plead before the Chorus. The former draws a picture of the old-fashioned times when a sturdyrace of men was reared on discipline, obedience and morality--abroad-chested vigorous type. In utter contempt the latter brands suchteaching as prehistoric. Pleasure, self-indulgence, a lax code ofmorality and easy tolerance of little weaknesses are the ideal. Thepower of his words is such that the Just Argument deserts to him. 

Strepsiades, coached by his son, easily circumvents two money-lendersand retires to his house. He is soon chased out by his son, who whenasked to sing the old songs of Simonides and Aeschylus scorned theidea, humming instead an immoral modern tune of Euripides' making. Aquarrel inevitably followed; Strepsiades was beaten by his son whoeasily proved that he had a right to beat his mother also. Stung tothe quick the old man burns the academy; when Socrates and his pupilsprotest, he tells them they have but a just reward for theirgodlessness. 

The Socrates here pilloried is certainly not the Socrates of history;his teaching was not immoral. But Aristophanes is drawing attention tothe evil effects produced by the Sophists, who to the ordinary mancertainly included Socrates. The importance of this play to us isclear. We are a nation of half-trained intelligences. Our nationalschools are frankly irreligious, our teachers people of weakcredentials. Parental discipline is openly flouted, pleasure is ourmodern cult. Jazz bands, long-haired novelists and poets, mistyphilosophers, anti-national instructors are the idols of many apale-faced and stunted son of Britain. The reverence which made usgreat is decadent and openly scoffed at. What is the remedy?Aristophanes burnt out the pestilent teachers. We had better not copyhim till we are satisfied that the demand for them has ceased. Anation gets the instruction for which it is morally fitted. There isbut one hope; we must follow the genuine Socratic method, whichconsisted of quiet individual instruction. Only thus will we slowlyand patiently seize this modern spirit of unrest; our object should benot to suppress it--it is too sturdy, but to direct its energies to abetter and a more noble end. 

Finding that the _Clouds_ had been too wholesome to be popular, Aristophanes in 422 returned to attack Cleon in the _Wasps_. Early inthe morning Bdelycleon (Cleon-hater) with his two servants ispreventing his father Philocleon from leaving the house to go to thejury-courts. The old man's amusing attempts to evade their vigilanceare frustrated, whereupon he calls for assistance. Very slowly a bodyof old men dressed as wasps, led by boys carrying lanterns, finds itsway to the house to act as Chorus. They make many suggestions to thefather to escape; just as he is gnawing through the net over him hisson rushes in. The wasps threaten him with their formidable stings. After a furious conflict truce is declared. Bdelycleon complains ofthe inveterate juryman's habit of accusing everybody who opposes themof aiming at establishing a tyranny. Father and son consent to statetheir case for the Chorus to decide between them. 

Philocleon glories in the absolute power he exercises over allclasses; his rule is equal to that of a king. To him the greatest menin Athens bow as suppliants, begging acquittal. Some of these appealto pity, others tell him Aesop's fables, others try to make him laugh. Most of all, he controls foreign policy through his privilege oftrying statesmen who fail. In return for his duties he receives hispay, goes home and is petted by his wife and family. Bdelycleon opensthus:

 "it is a hard task, calling for a clever wit and more than comic genius to cure an ancient disease that has been breeding in the city. "

After giving a rough estimate of the total revenue of Athens, hesubtracts from it the miserable sum of three obols which the jurymenreceive as pay. Where does the remainder go? It is evident that thejurymen are the mere catspaw of the big unscrupulous politicians whoget all the profit and incur none of the odium. This argumentconvinces both the Chorus and Philocleon, old heroes of Marathon whocreated the Empire. 

The latter asks what he is to do. His son promises to look after him, allowing him to gratify at home his itch for trying disputes. Two dogsare brought in; by a trick the son makes his father acquit instead ofcondemn. He then dresses him up decently and instructs him in theetiquette of a dinner-party, whither they proceed. But the old manbehaves himself disgracefully, beating everyone in his cups. Heappears with a flute-girl and is summoned for assault by avegetable-woman, whose goods he has spoiled, and by a professionalaccuser. His insolence to his victims is checked by his son whothrusts him into the house before more accusers can appear. 

It is sometimes believed that democracy is a less corrupt form ofpolity than any other. Aristophanes in this play exposes one of itsgreatest weaknesses. 

Flattered by the sense of power which the possession of the votebrings with it, the enfranchised classes cannot always see that theyeasily become the tools of the clever rogues who get themselveselected to office by playing on the fears of the electors. TheAthenian voter was as easily scared by the word "tyranny" as themodern elector is by "capital". The result is the same. Not only dothe so-called lower orders sink into an ignorant slavery; they usetheir power so brainlessly and so mercilessly that they are a perfectbugbear to the rest. 

Literary men's prophecies rarely come true. In 421 the _Peace_, produced in March, was followed almost immediately by a compactbetween Athens and Sparta for fifty years. An old farmer, Trygaeus, sails up to heaven on the back of a huge beetle, bidding his familyfarewell for three days. He meets Hermes, who tells him that Zeus indisgust has surrendered men to the war they love. War himself hashidden Peace in a deep pit, and has made a great mortar in which heintends to grind civilisation to powder. He looks for the Athenianpestle, Cleon, but cannot find him--the Spartan pestle Brasidas hasalso been mislaid; both were lost in Thrace. Before he can findanother pestle Trygaeus summons all men to pull Peace out of herprison. Hermes at first objects, but is won over by offers ofpresents. At length the goddess is discovered with her two handmaids, Harvest and Mayfair. 

A change immediately comes over the faces of men. In pure joy theylaugh through their bruises. Hermes explains to the farmers who formthe Chorus why Peace left the earth. It was the trade rivalry whichfirst drove her away; at Athens the subject cities fomented strifewith Sparta, then the country population flocked to the city, wherethey fell easy victims to the public war-mongers, who found itprofitable to continue the struggle. The god then offers to TrygaeusHarvest as a bride to make his vineyards fruitful. In the ode whichfollows the poet claims that he first made comedy dignified

 "with great thoughts and words and refined jests, not lampooning individuals but attacking the Tanner war-god. "

Returning to earth Trygaeus sends Harvest to the Council, while themarriage sacrifice is made ready. A soothsayer endeavours to impose onthe rustics with prophecies that the Peace will be a failure. Trygaeusrefutes him with a quotation from Homer. "Without kin or law or homeis a man who loveth harsh strife between peoples. " The makers ofagricultural implements quickly sell all their stock, while the makersof helmets, crests and breastplates find their market gone. A gladwedding song forms the epilogue. 

Aristophanes believed that the war meant an extinction of civilisationand loathed it because it was useless. What would he have thought ofthe barbarous and bloodthirsty Great War of our own day? The causeswhich produced both struggles were identical--trade rivalry and a setof jingoes who found that war paid. But he was mistaken in believingthat peace was the normal condition of Greek life. He was born justbefore the great period began during which Pericles gave Greece a longrespite from quarrels, and seems to have been quite nonplussed by whatto him was an abnormal upheaval. His bright hopes soon faded and heseems to have given up thinking about peace or war during a period ofeight years. In the meanwhile Athens had attacked Sicily; perhaps achange had come over comedy itself owing to legal action. At any rate, the old and virulent type of political abuse was becoming a thing ofthe past; the next play, the _Birds_, produced in 414, abandons Athensaltogether for a new and charming world in which there was a rest fromstrife. 

Two Athenians, Peithetairus (Persuasive) and Euelpides (Sanguine)reach the home of the Hoopoe bird, once a mortal, to find a happierplace than their native city. Suddenly, as the bird describes thehappy careless life of his kind, Peithetairus conceives the idea offounding a new bird city between earth and heaven. The Hoopoe summonshis friends to hear their opinion; as they come in he names them tothe wondering Athenians. At first the Birds threaten to attack themortals, their natural enemies. They listen, however, to Peithetairus'words of wisdom. 

 "Nay, wise men learn much from their foes, for good counsel saves everything. We cannot learn from a friend, but an enemy quickly forces the truth upon us. For example, cities learn from their enemies, not their friends, to create high walls and battleships, and such are the salvation of children, home and substance. "

A truce is made. Peithetairus tells them the Birds once ruled theworld but have been deposed, becoming the prey of those who onceworshipped them. They should ring round the air, like Babylon, withmighty baked bricks and send an ultimatum to the gods, demanding theirlost kingdom and forbidding a passage to earth; another messengershould descend to men to require from them due sacrifices. The Birdsagree; the two companions retire to Hoopoe's house to eat the magicroot which will turn them into winged things. After a choral panegyricon the bird species Peithetairus returns to name the new cityCloudcuckootown, whose erection is taken in hand. Impostors make theirappearance, a priest to sacrifice, a poet to eulogise, anoracle-dealer to promise success, a mathematician to plan out thebuildings, an overseer and a seller of decrees to enact by-laws; allare summarily ejected by Peithetairus. 

News comes that the city is already completed. Suddenly Iris darts in, on her way to earth to demand the accustomed sacrifices from men whichthe new city has interrupted; she is sent back to heaven to warn thegods of their coming overthrow. A herald from earth brings tidingsthat more than a myriad human beings are on their way to settle in thecity. A parent-beater first appears, then a poet, then an informer--all being firmly dealt with. Prometheus slips in under a parasol, to advise Peithetairus to demand from Zeus his sceptre and with itthe lady Royalty as his bride. Poseidon, Heracles and an outlandishTriballian god after a long discussion make terms with the new monarch, who goes with them to fetch his bride. A triumphant wedding forms theconclusion. 

The purpose of this comedy has been the subject of much discussion. Asa piece of literature it is exquisite. It lifts us out of a world ofhard unpleasant fact into a region where life is a care-free thing, bores or impostors are banished and the reign of the usurper ends. Theplay is not of or for any one particular period; it is reallytimeless, appealing to the ineradicable desire we all have for anexistence of joy and light, where dreams always come true and hopeends only in fulfilment. It is therefore one of man's deathlessachievements; the power of its appeal is evident from the frequencywith which it has been revived--it was staged at Cambridge this veryyear. Staged it will be as long as men are what they are. 

Having learned that men are a naturally combative race, lusting forblood, the poet saw it was hopeless to bring them to terms. Nor couldhe for ever live in Cloudcuckootowns; he therefore bethought him ofanother expedient for obtaining peace. In 411 he imagines the women ofAthens, Peloponnese and Boeotia combining to force terms on the men bydeserting their homes, under the leadership of _Lysistrata_. She callsa council of war, explaining her plot to capture the Acropolis. AChorus of men rush in to smoke them out, armed with firebrands, butare met by a Chorus of women bearing pitchers to quench the flames. Anofficer of the Council comes to argue with Lysistrata, who points outthat in the first part of the war (down to 421) the women had keptquiet, though aware of men's incompetence; now they have determined tocontrol matters. They are possessed of the Treasury, their experienceof household economy gives them a good claim to organise Statefinance; they grow old in the absence of their husbands; a man canmarry a girl however old he is. A woman's prime soon comes; if shemisses it, she sits at home looking for omens of a husband; women makethe most valuable of all contributions to the State, namely sons. Theofficer retires to report to the Council. 

Lysistrata, seeing a weakness in the women's resolution, encouragesthem with an oracle which promises victory if they will only persist. A herald speedily arrives from Sparta announcing a similar defectionin that city. Ambassadors of both sides are brought to Lysistrata whomakes a splendid speech. 

 "I am a woman, but wit is in me and I have no small conceit of myself. Having heard many speeches from my father and elder men I am not ill-informed. Now that I have caught you I will administer to you the rebuke you richly deserve. You sprinkle altars from the same lustral-bowl, like relatives, at Olympia, Pylae, Delphi and many other places. Though the barbarian enemy is on you in armed force, you destroy Greek men and cities. "

She points out that both sides have been guilty of injustice; bothshould make surrenders and agree to a peace which is duly ratified. The Chorus of men believe that Athenian ambassadors should go toSparta in their cups:--

 "As it is, whenever we go there sober, we immediately see what mischief we can make. We never hear what they say; what they do not say we conjecture and never bring back the same tale about the same facts. "

Odes of thanksgiving wind up the piece. 

Exactly twenty years earlier Euripides in the _Medea_ had written thefirst protest against women's subjection to an unfair social lot. By astrange irony of fortune his most severe critic Aristophanes was thefirst man in Europe to give utterance to their claim to a politicalequality. True, he does so in a comedy, but he was speaking perhapsmore seriously than he would have us think. Women do contribute sonsto the State; they do believe that they are as capable as men ofjudging political questions--with justice, in a system where noqualifications but twilight opinions are necessary. On this groundthey have won the franchise. Nor has the feminist movement reallybegun as yet. We may see women in control of our political Acropolis, forcing the world to make peace to save our chances of becomingultimately civilised. 

The _Thesmophoriazousae_, staged in 411, is a lampoon on Euripides. That poet with his kinsman Mnesilochus calls at the house of Agathon, a brother tragedian whose style is amusingly parodied. Euripidesinforms him that the women intend to hold a meeting to destroy him forlibel; they are celebrating the feast of the Thesmophoria. As Agathonrefuses an invitation to go disguised and defend Euripides, Mnesilochus undertakes the dangerous duty; his disguise is effected onthe stage with comic gusto. At the meeting the case against the poetis first stated; he has not only lampooned women, he has taught theirhusbands how to counter their knaveries and is an atheist. Mnesilochusdefends him; women are capable of far more villainies than evenEuripides has exposed. The statement of these raises the suspicions ofthe ladies who soon unmask the intruder, inquiring of him the secretritual of the Thesmophoria. 

One of them goes to the Town Council to find out what punishment theyare to inflict. 

Mnesilochus meanwhile snatches a child from the arms of one of them, holding it as a hostage. To his amazement it turns out to be awine-stoup. He vainly tries some of the dodges practised in Euripides'plays to bring him to the rescue. The Chorus meantime expose the follyof calling women evil. 

 "If we are a bane, why do you marry us? Why do you forbid us to walk abroad or to be caught peeping out? Why use such pains to preserve this evil thing? If we do peep out, everybody wants this bane to be seen; if we draw back in modesty, every man is much more anxious to see this pest peep out again. At any rate, no woman comes into the city after stealing public money fifty talents at a time. "

A better plan would be

 "to give the mothers of famous sons the right of place in festivals; those whose sons are evil should take a lower place. "

In an amusing series of scenes Euripides enters dressed up as some ofhis own characters to save Mnesilochus. A borough officer enters witha policeman whom he orders to bind the prisoner and guard him. Moredisguises are adopted by Euripides who succeeds at last in freeing hiskinsman by pretending to be an old woman with a marriageable daughterwhom the policeman can have at a price. When the latter goes to fetchthe money Euripides and his relative disappear. 

The poet has in this play very skilfully palmed off on Euripides hisown attack on women. We have already seen what Euripides' attitude wasto the neglected sex. Feminine deceit has been a stock theme in allages; it had already been treated in Greek literature and was to bepassed through Roman literature to the Middle Ages, in which period itreceived more than its due share of attention. In itself it is a poortheme, good enough perhaps as a stand-by, for it is sure to bepopular. Those who pose as woman-haters might consider the words ofthe Chorus in this play. 

The most violent attack on Euripides was delivered after his death byAristophanes in the _Frogs_, written in 405. This famous comedy is sowell-known that a brief outline will suffice. It falls into two parts. The first describes the adventures of Dionysus who with his servantXanthias descends to the lower world to bring back Euripides. The godand his servant exchange parts according as the persons they meet arefriendly or hostile. In the second part the three great tragedians arebrought on the scene. Euripides, who has just died, tries to claimsovereignty in Hades; Sophocles, "gentle on earth and gentle in death"withdraws his claim, leaving Aeschylus to the contest. The two rivalsappoint Dionysus, the patron of drama, to act as umpire. In a seriesof admirable criticisms the weaknesses of both are plainly indicated. Finally Dionysus decides to take back Aeschylus. 

This play is as popular as the Birds. It contains one or two touchesof low comedy, but these are redeemed by the spirit of inexhaustiblejollity which sets the whole thing rocking with life and gaiety. It isan original in Greek literature, being the first piece of definitelyliterary criticism. A long experience had made the sense of the stagea second nature to Aristophanes who here criticises two rival schoolsof poetry as a dramatist possessed of inside professional knowledge. So far his work is of the same class as Cicero's _De Oratore_ andReynolds' _Discourses_. His object, however, was not to preserve abalance of impartiality but to condemn Euripides as a traitor to thewhole tradition of Attic tragedy. He does so, but not without givinghis reasons--and these are good and true. No person is qualified tojudge the development of Greek tragedy who has not weighed long andcarefully the second portion of the _Frogs_. 

In 393 Aristophanes broke entirely new ground in the _Ecclesiazousae_(women in Parliament), a discussion of social and economic problems. Praxagora assembles the women of Athens to gain control of the city. They meet early in the morning, disguise themselves with beards andopen the question. 

 "The decisions of men in Parliament are to reflecting people like the derangements of drunken men. I am disgusted with our policy, we always employ unscrupulous leaders. If one of them is honest for one day, he is a villain for ten. Doling out public money, men have eyes only for what they can make out of the State. Let women govern; they are the best at providing money and are not likely to be deceived in office, for they are well versed in trickery. "

They proceed to the Assembly to execute their plot. 

On the opening of the discussion one Euaeon proposed a scheme ofwholesale spoliation of the property owners to support the poor. Thena white-faced citizen arose and proposed flatly that women shouldrule, that being the one thing which had never yet been tried. Themotion was carried with great enthusiasm, the men declaring that "anold proverb says all our senseless and foolish decisions turn out forgood". When Praxagora returns to the stage, she declares she intendsto introduce a system of absolute communism. All citizens are to liveand dine in common and possess wives in common, existing on the workof slaves. Any person who refuses to declare his wealth is to bepunished by losing his rations, "the punishment of a man through hisbelly being the worst insult he can suffer". A vivid description ofthe workings of the new system ends the play. 

Aristophanes is no doubt criticising Plato's _Republic_, but allowingfor altered circumstances we cannot go far wrong if we see here apicture of the suggested remedy for the social distress which isinseparable from a great war. At Athens, beaten and impoverished, there must have been widespread discontent; the foundation upon whichsociety was built must have been criticised, its inequalities beingemphasised by idealists and intriguers alike. Our own generation hasto face a similar situation. We have seen women in Parliament and weare deluged by a flood of communistic idealism emanating from Russia. Its one commendation is that it has never yet been tried among us andmany simple folk will applaud the philosophy which persuades itselfthat all our mistakes will somehow come right in the end. The problemof finding somebody to do the work was easily solved in ancient Athenswhere the slaves were three times as numerous as the free. England, possessing no slaves, would under communism be unable to feed herselfand would die of starvation. 

The _Plutus_, written in 388 is a singular work. An honest old manChremylus enters with Carion "his most faithful and most thievishservant". They are holding fast a blind old man, in obedience to anoracle of Apollo. After a little questioning the stranger admits thathe is Plutus, the god of wealth. Wild with joy they invite him totheir house. He does not like houses, for they have never brought himto any good. 

 "If I enter a stingy man's abode, he immediately digs me deep in the earth and denies he has ever seen me. If I enter a crazy man's home, given to dicing and fast living, I am soon ejected naked. "

Learning that Chremylus is honest and poor he consents to try onceagain. 

The rumour gets abroad that Chremylus has suddenly grown rich; hisacquaintance reveal their true characters as they come to question himabout his luck. The goddess Poverty enters, to be cross-examined byChremylus who has suggested that Plutus should recover his sight underthe healing care of Asclepius. Before the care is effected, she pointsout the dangers of his project. He is well-meaning, but foolish;Poverty is not Mendicancy, it means a life of thrift, with nothingleft over but with no real want; it is the source of the existence ofall the handicrafts, nor can the slaves be counted on to do the workif everybody becomes rich, for nobody will sell slaves if he has moneyalready. Riches on the other hand are the curse of many; wealth rotsmen, causing gout, dropsy and bloated insolence; the gods themselvesare poor, otherwise they would not need human sacrifice. 

The cure is successful; Plutus recovers his eyes and can see to whomhe gives his blessings; the good and the rascals alike receive theirdue reward. The change which wealth produces in men's natures is mostadmirably depicted in the Epilogue. 

This is an Allegory dramatised with no little skill. The piece is fullof the shrewdest hits at our human failings, aimed, however, with noill-nature. Aristophanes' power of characterisation here shows nofalling-off. Fortune's fickleness is proverbial and has receivedfrequent literary treatment. Men's first prayer is for wealth;poverty, according to Dr. Johnson, is evidently a great evil becauseit needs such a long defence. Yet it is only the well-meaning bututterly unpractical idealists who desire to make us all prosperous--

 "How that may change our nature, that's the question. "

Some are not fit for riches, being ignorant of their true function;self-indulgence and moral rottenness follow wealth; because of theabuse of the power which wealth brings, we are taught that it is hardfor the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven. 

It is difficult to convey an adequate impression of Aristophanes tothe English reader. Long excerpts are impossible and undesirable. Comedy is essentially a mirror of contemporary life; it contains allkinds of references to passing political events and transient forms ofsocial life; its turns of language are peculiar to its own age. We whoare familiar with Shakespeare know that one of our chief difficultiesin reading him is the constant reference to what was obvious to theElizabethan public but is dark to us. Yet the plays of Aristophanes inan English translation such as that of Frere read far more like modernwork than the comedies of Ben Jonson, for the society in whichAristophanes moved was far more akin to ours. It was democratic, wassuperficially educated, was troubled by socialistic and communisticunrest exactly as we are. Some of our modern thinkers would besurprised to find how many of their dreamings were discussedtwenty-three centuries ago by men quite as intelligent and certainlyas honest. 

Aristophanes' greatest fault is excessive conservatism. He gives us amost vivid description of the evils and abuses of his own time, yethas no remedy except that of putting back the hands of the clock somefifty years. Marathon, Aeschylus, the nascent democracy were his idealand he was evidently put out by the ending of the period of "Pericleancalm. " He then has no solution for the problems in front of him. Butit might be asked whether a dramatist's business is not rather toleave solutions to the thinker, concerning himself only with mirroringmen's natures. With singular courage and at no small personal riskthis man attacked the great ones of his day, scourging theirhypocrisies and exposing the real tendencies of their principles. Ifhe has opened our eyes to the objections to popular government andpopular poetry and has made us aware of the significance of thefeminist movement, let us be thankful; we shall be more on our guardand be less easily persuaded that problems are new or that they arecapable of a final solution. 

On the other hand, we shall find in him qualities of a most originaltype. His spirits are inexhaustible, he laughs heartily and oftenwithout malice at the follies of the mass of men; Cleon and Euripideswere anathema to him, but the rest he treats as Fluellen did Pistol:"You beggarly knave, God bless you". His lyrics must be classed withthe best in Greek poetry. Like Rabelais this rollicking jolly spiritdisguises his wisdom under the mask of folly, turning aside with somewhimsical twist just when he is beginning to be too serious. He willrepay the most careful reading, for his best things are constantlyturning up when least expected. His political satire ceasing with thedeath of Cleon, he turned to the land of pure fancy among the wingedcareless things; he then raised the woman's question, started literarycriticism and ended with Allegory. To few has such a noble cycle ofwork been vouchsafed; we owe him at least a debt of remembrance, forhe loved us as our brother. 

TRANSLATIONS:

Frere (verse). This spirited version of five plays is justly famous. Various plays have been rendered into verse by Rogers (Bell). Thetranslation is on the whole rather free. The volumes contain excellentintroductions and notes. 

No prose translation of outstanding merit has appeared. 

The Greek tragedians have not received their due from translators andadmirers. There is nothing in English drama inspired by Greece tocompare with the French imitations of Seneca, Plautus and Terence. 

HERODOTUS

Greek historical literature follows the same course of development asGreek poetry; it begins in epic form in Ionia and ends in dramatictype at Athens. 

Herodotus, "the father of History", was born at Halicarnassus in AsiaMinor about 484 B. C. He travelled widely over the East, Egypt, NorthAfrica and Greece. He was acquainted with the Sophoclean circle, joined the Athenian colony at Thurii in South Italy and died therebefore the end of the century. His subject was the defeat of thePersian attack on Greece and falls into three main divisions. In thefirst three books he tells how Persian power was consolidated: in thenext three he shows how it flooded Russia, Thrace and Greece, beingstemmed at Marathon in 490; the last three contain the story of itsfinal shattering at Salamis and Plataea in 480 and of the Greek recoilon Asia in 479. It is thus a "triple wave of woes" familiar to Greekthought. His dialect is Ionic, which he adopted because it was thelanguage of narrative poetry and prose. 

His introduction leads at once into Romance; he intends to preservethe memory of the wonderful deeds of Greeks and Barbarians, the causeof their quarrel being the abductions of women, Io, Europe, Medea, Helen. A more recent aggressor was Croesus, King of Lydia, whoattacked the Greek seaboard. The earlier reigns of Lydian kings arerecounted in a series of striking narratives. Gyges was the owner ofthe famous magic ring which made its possessor invisible. His policyof expansion was continued by his son and grandson. But Croesus, hisgreat-grandson, was the wealthiest of all, extending his realm from asfar as the Halys, the boundary of Cyrus' Persian Empire. Solon'sfamous but fictitious warning to him to "wait till the end comesbefore deciding whether he had been happy" left him unmoved. Soonclouds began to gather. A pathetic misadventure robbed him of his son;the growing power of Persia alarmed him and he applied to Delphi foradvice. The oracle informed him that if he crossed the Halys he wouldruin a mighty Empire and suggested alliance with the strongest statein Greece. Finding that Athens was still torn by political strugglesconsequent upon the romantic banishments and restorations ofPeisistratus, he joined with Sparta which had just overcome a powerfulrival, Tegea in Arcadia. 

Croesus crossed the Halys in 554. After fighting an indecisive battlehe retired to his capital Sardis. Cyrus unexpectedly pursued him. TheLydian cavalry stampeded, the horses being terrified by the sight andodour of the Persian camel corps. Croesus shut himself up in Sardiswhich he thought impregnable. An excellent story tells how thePersians scaled the most inaccessible part of the fortress. Croesuswas put on a pyre and there remembered the words of Solon. Cyrus, dreading a similar revolution of fortune, tried in vain to save himfrom the burning faggots; the fire was too fierce for his men toquench, but Apollo heard Croesus' prayer and sent a rainstorm whichsaved him. Being reproached by the fallen monarch who had pouredtreasure into his temple, Apollo replied that he had staved off ruinfor three full years, but could not prevail against Fate; besides, Croesus should have asked whose Empire he was to destroy; at leastApollo had delivered him from death. The Lydian portion ends with agraphic description of laws, customs and monuments. 

The rise of Persia is next described. Assyria, whose capital wasNineveh, was destroyed by Cyaxares of Media, whose capital wasEcbatana. His son Astyages in consequence of a dream married hisdaughter Mandané to a Persian named Cambyses. A second dream made himresolve to destroy her child Cyrus who, like Oedipus, was saved fromexposure by a herdsman. Later, on learning Cyrus' identity, Astyagespunished Harpagus whom he had bidden to remove the child. Harpagussowed mutiny in the Median army, giving the victory to the Persians in558. Cyrus proceeded to attack the Asiatic Greeks, of whom thePhocaeans left their home to found new states in Corsica and SouthernGaul; the other cities surrendered. Babylon was soon the only city inAsia not subject to Persia. Cyrus diverted the course of the Euphratesand entered the town in 538. In an attack on Tomyris, queen of aScythian race, Cyrus was defeated and slain in 529. 

His son Cambyses determined to invade Egypt, the eternal rival of theMesopotamian kings. Herodotus devotes his second book to a descriptionof the marvels of Egypt, through which he travelled as far asElephantiné on the border of Ethiopia. He opens with a plain proofthat Egypt is not the most ancient people, for some children were keptapart during their first two years, nobody being allowed to speak withthem. They were then heard to say distinctly the word "bekos" whichwas Phrygian for "bread". This evidence of Phrygian antiquitysatisfied even the Egyptians. 

In this second book there is hardly a single leading feature ofEgyptian civilisation which is not discussed. The Nile is the life ofthe land; being anxious to solve the riddle of its annual rise, Herodotus dismisses as unreasonable the theory that the water isproduced by the melting snow, for the earth becomes hotter as weproceed further south, and there cannot be snow where there is intenseheat. The sun is deflected from its course in winter, whichderangement causes the river to run shallow in that season. Thereligious practice of the land are well described, including theprocess of embalming; oracles, animals, medicine, writing, dress areall treated. He notes that in Egyptian records the sun has twice risenin the west and twice set in the east. 

A long list of dynasties is relieved with many an excellent story, notably the very famous account of how Rhampsonitis lost his treasuresand failed to find the robber until he offered him a free pardon;having found him he said the Egyptians excelled all the world inwisdom, and the robber all the Egyptians. The Pyramids are described;transmigration is discussed and emphasis is laid upon the growingpopularity of Greek mercenaries. The book closes with the brilliantreign of Amasis, who made overtures to the Greek oracles, alliedhimself with Samos and permitted the foundation of an important Greekcolony at Naucratis. 

The third book opens with the invasion of Egypt by Cambyses in 525 onaccount of an insult offered him by Amasis. A Greek mercenary namedPhanes gave the Persians information of the one means of attackingthrough the desert. After a fierce battle at Pelusium Egypt wasbeaten; for years afterwards skulls of both armies lay around, thePersian heads being easily broken by a pebble, the Egyptian scarcelybreakable by stones. In victory Cambyses outraged Psammenitus, thedefeated King; a fruitless expedition against Ethiopia and theAmmonians followed. The Egyptians were stirred by the arrival of theircalf-god Apis; Cambyses mockingly wounded him and was punished withmadness, slaying his own kindred and committing deeds of impiety. 

At that time Egypt was leagued with the powerful island of Samos, ruled by Polycrates, a tyrant of marvellous good fortune. Suspectingsome coming disaster to balance it, Amasis urged him to sacrifice hisdearest possession to avert the evil eye. Polycrates threw his ringinto the sea; it was retrieved by a fisherman. On hearing this, Amasissevered his alliance. 

In the absence of Cambyses two Magi brothers stirred up revolt inSusa, one pretending to be Smerdis, the murdered brother of Cambyses. That monarch wounded himself in the thigh as he mounted his horse. Thewound festered and caused speedy death. Meanwhile the false Smerdisheld the sovereignty. He was suspected by Otanes, a noble whosedaughter Phaedymé was married to him. At great personal risk shediscovered that the King was without ears, a manifest proof that hewas a Magian. Otane thens joined with six other conspirators to putthe usurper down. Darius, son of Hystaspes, warned them that theirnumbers were too large for secrecy, advising immediate action. The twopretenders had meanwhile persuaded Prexaspes, a confidant of Cambyses, to assure the Persians that Smerdis really ruled. Prexaspes told thetruth and then threw himself to death from the city walls. This newsforced the conspirators' hands; rushing into the palace, they wereluckily able to slay the usurpers. 

The next question was, who should reign? Herodotus turned thesePersians into Greeks, making them discuss the comparative merits ofmonarchy, oligarchy and democracy. They decided that their horsesshould choose the next king; he whose steed should first neigh shouldrule. Darius had a cunning groom named Oebares; that evening he tookthe horse and his mare into the market-place; next morning on reachingthe same spot the horse did not fail to seat his master on the thronein 521. A review of the Persian Empire follows, with a description ofIndia and Arabia. 

Polycrates did not long survive. He was the first Greek to conceivethe idea of a maritime empire. He was foully murdered by the PersianOroetes, who decoyed him to the mainland by an offer of treasure andthen crucified him. In the retinue of Polycrates was a physician, Democedes of Croton, who was captured by Oroetes. His fame spread toSusa at a time when no court doctor could treat Darius' sprained foot. Democedes was sent for and effected the cure; later he healed theQueen Atossa of a boil. Instructed by him she advised Darius to send acommission of fifteen Persians to spy out the Greek mainland underDemocedes' guidance. After an exciting series of adventures thephysician succeeded in returning to his native city. But the idea ofan invasion of Greece had settled on Darius' mind. First, however, hetook Samos, giving it to Syloson, Polycrates' brother who years beforein Egypt had made him a present of a scarlet cloak while he was a mereguardsman. Darius consolidated his power in Asia by the capture of therevolted province of Babylon through the self-sacrifice of Zopyrus, son of one of the seven conspirators. The vivid story of his devotionis one of the very greatest things in Herodotus. 

Persia being thus mistress of all Asia, of Samos and the seaboard, began to dream of subduing Greece itself. But first Darius determinedto conquer his non-Greek neighbours. The fourth book describes theattack which Darius himself led against the Scythians in revenge forthe twenty-eight years' slavery they inflicted on the Medes. Adescription of Scythia is relieved by an account of thecircumnavigation of Africa by the Phoenicians and the voyage of Scylaxdown the Indus and along the coast of Africa to Egypt. 

The war on the Scyths was dramatic and exciting, both sides acting inthe spirit of chivalry. Crossing the Bosporus, Darius advanced throughThrace to the Danube which he spanned with a bridge. The Scythsadopted the favourite Russian plan of retreating into the interior, destroying the crops and hovering round the foe; they further led thePersians into the territories of their own enemies. This process atlast wearied Darius; he sent a herald to challenge them to a straightcontest or to become his vassals. The reply came that if Darius wisheda conflict he had better outrage their ancestral tombs; as forslavery, they acknowledged only Zeus as their master. But the threatof slavery did its work. A detachment was sent to the Danube to inducethe Ionian Greeks to strike for freedom by breaking down the bridgethey were guarding, thus cutting off Darius' retreat. To the Kinghimself a Scythian herald brought a present of a bird, a mouse, a frogand five arrows, implying that unless his army became one of thecreatures it would perish by the arrows. The Scyths adopted guerillatactics, leaving the Persians no rest by night and offering no battleby day. At last Darius began his retreat. One division of the Scythianhorsemen reached the bridge before their foes, again asking theIonians to destroy it. The Greeks pretended to consent, breaking downthe Scythian end of it. Darius at last came to the place; to hisdismay he found the bridge demolished. He bade an Egyptian Stentorsummon Histiaeus, the Greek commandant, who brought up the fleet andsaved the Persian host which retired into Asia. 

In 509 a second expedition was dispatched against Barca, a colony ofCyrene. The history of the latter is graphically described, the firstking being Battus, the Stammerer, who founded it in obedience to thedirections of Apollo. Cyrene was brought under Cambyses' sway byArcesilaus who had been banished. He misinterpreted an oracle andcruelly killed his enemies in Barca. When he was assassinated in thattown his mother Pheretima fled from the metropolis Cyrene to Aryandes, the Persian governor in Egypt. Backed by armed force she besiegedBarca which resisted bravely for nine months; at the end of that terman agreement was made that Barca should pay tribute and remainunassailed as long as the ground remained firm on which the treaty wasmade. But the Persians had undermined the spot, covering planks ofwood with a loose layer of earth. Breaking down the planks they rushedin and took the town, Pheretima exacting a horrible vengeance. Yet sheherself died soon after, eaten of worms. "Thus, " remarks thehistorian, "do men, by too severe vengeances, draw upon their ownheads the divine wrath. "

The fifth book begins the concentration on purely Greek history. Darius had left Megabazus in command in Europe, retiring himself toSardis. In that city he was much struck by the appearance of aPaeonian woman and ordered Megabazus to invade the country. He subduedit and Macedonia in 506-4, but in the process some of his commanderswere punished for an insult to Macedonian women, revenge being takenby Alexander, son of King Amyntas; a bride shut the lips of a partysent to discover their fate. In Thrace, Megabazus began to suspectHistiaeus, the Ionian who had saved Darius and in return had beengiven a strong town, Myrcinus on the River Strymon. The King by atrick drew Histiaeus to Sardis and took him to the Capital, leavinghis brother Artaphernes as governor in Sardis. But Histiaeus had beensucceeded in Miletus by his nephew Aristagoras; to him in 502 camecertain nobles from Naxos, one of the Cyclades isles, beggingrestoration from banishment. He decided to apply to Artaphernes forPersian help; this the viceroy willingly gave as it would further thePersian progress to the objective, the Greek mainland, across theAegean in a direct line. The Persian admiral Megabates soon quarrelledwith Aristagoras about the command and informed the Naxians of thecoming attack. The expedition thus failed. Aristagoras, afraid to faceArtaphemes whose treasure he had wasted, decided on raising a revoltof the whole of Ionia; at that very moment a slave came to him fromhis uncle in Susa with a message tattooed on his head, bidding himrebel. 

Aristagoras first applied to Sparta for aid. When arguments failed, hetried to bribe the king Cleomenes. In the room was the King's littledaughter Gorgo. Hearing Aristagoras gradually raise his offer from tento fifty talents, the child said, "Father, depart, or the strangerwill corrupt thee". Aristagoras received a better welcome at Athens. That city in 510 had expelled Hippias, the tyrant son of Peisistratus, who appealed to Artaphernes for aid. Hearing this, the Athenians sentan embassy asking the satrap not to assist the exile, but the answerwas that if they wished to survive, they must receive their rulerback. Aristagoras therefore found the Athenians in a fit frame of mindto listen. They lent him a fleet of twenty sail and marched with himto Sardis which they captured and burned in 501. The revolt speedilyspread over all the Asiatic sea-coast. On hearing of the Athenians forthe first time, Darius directed a slave to say to him thrice a day, "Sire, remember the Athenians". He summoned Histiaeus and accused himof complicity in the revolt, but Histiaeus assured him of his loyaltyand obtained permission to go to the coast. Meanwhile the Persianstook strong action against the rebels, subduing many towns anddistricts. The book ends with the flight of Aristagoras to Myrcinusand his death in battle against the Thracians in 496. 

The next book opens with the famous accusation of Histiaeus byArtaphernes: "Thou hast stitched this boot and Aristagoras hath put iton. " Histiaeus in fear fled to his own city Miletus; being disownedthere, he for a time maintained a life of privateering, but waseventually captured and crucified by Artaphernes. The Ionian revolthad been narrowed down to Miletus and one or two less important towns. The Greeks assembled a fleet, but a spirit of insubordinationmanifesting itself they were defeated at sea in the battle of Lade in495. Next year Miletus fell but was treated with mercy. At Athens thenews caused the greatest consternation; a dramatic poet namedPhrynichus ventured to stage the disaster; the people wept and finedhim a thousand talents, forbidding any similar presentation in future. Stamping out the last embers of revolt in Asia the Persians coastedalong Thrace; before their advance the great Athenian Miltiades wascompelled to fly from the Dardanelles to his native city. In 492Mardonius was appointed viceroy of Asia Minor. He reorganised theprovincial system and then attempted to double the perilous promontoryof Athos, but only a remnant of his forces returned to Asia. 

Next year Darius sent to all the Greek cities demanding earth andwater, the tokens of submission. The islanders obeyed includingAegina, the deadly foe of Athens. A protest made by the latter led toa war between the two states in which Athens was worsted. Spartaitself had just been torn by an internal dissension between twoclaimants of the throne, one of whom named Demaratus had been ejectedand later fled to the Persian court. The great expedition of 490sailed straight across the Aegean, commanded by Datis and Artaphernes. Their primary objective was Eretria in Euboea, a city which hadassisted the Ionians in their revolt. The town was speedily betrayed, the inhabitants being carried aboard the Persian fleet. Guided byHippias the armament landed at the bay of Marathon, twenty-five milesfrom Athens. A vain appeal was sent to Sparta for succours; Athens, supported by the little Boeotian city of Plataea, was left to copewith the might of Persia. 

It was fortunate that the Athenians could command the services ofMiltiades who had already had some experience of the Persian methodsof attack. The details of the great battle that followed depend uponthe sole authority of Herodotus among the Greek writers. Manydifficulties are caused by his narrative, but it seems certain thatMiltiades was in command on the day on which the battle was actuallyfought. He apparently clung to the hills overlooking the plain and bayof Marathon until the Persian cavalry were unable to act. Seizing theopportunity, he led his men down swiftly to the combat; his centrewhich had been purposely weakened was thrust back but the two wingsspeedily proved victorious, then converged to assist the centre, finally driving the foe to the sea where a desperate conflict tookplace. The Persians succeeded in embarking and promptly sailed roundthe coast to Athens, but seeing the victors in arms before the townthey sailed back to Asia. The Spartan reinforcements which arrived toolate for the battle viewed the Persian dead and returned afterpraising the Athenians. 

A slight digression tells the amusing story how the AthenianHippocleides in his cups lost the hand of the princess of Sicyonbecause he danced on his head and waved his legs about, shouting thathe didn't care. The great victor Miltiades did not long survive hisglory. His attempt to reduce the island of Paros, which had sided withPersia, completely failed. Returning to Athens he was condemned andfined, shortly after dying of a mortified thigh. 

In the third portion Herodotus gradually rises to his greatest heightof descriptive power. Darius resolved on a larger expedition to reduceGreece. He made preparations for three years, then a revolt in Egyptdelayed his plans and his career was cut short by death in 485. Hissuccessor Xerxes was disinclined to invade Europe, but was overborneby Mardonius his cousin. A canal was dug across the peninsula ofAthos, a bridge was built over the Hellespont, and provisions werecollected. A detailed account of the component forces is given, special mention being made of Artemisia, Queen of Herodotus' own city, who was to win great glory in the campaign. The army marched over theHellespont and along the coast, the fleet supporting it; advancingthrough Thessaly, it reached the pass of Thermopylae, opposite Euboea, in 480. 

On the Greek side was division; the Spartans imagined that their dutywas to save the Peloponnese only; they were eager to build a wallacross the isthmus of Corinth, leaving the rest of Greece to its fate. But Athens had produced another genius named Themistocles. Shortlybefore the invasion the silver mines at Laureium in Attica had yieldeda surplus; he persuaded the city to use it for building a fleet of twohundred sail to be directed against Aegina. When the Athenians got anoracle from Delphi which stated that they would lose their land but besaved by their wooden walls, he interpreted the oracle as referring tothe fleet. Under his management the city built more ships. The Councilof Greece held at the Isthmus of Corinth decided that an army shoulddefend Thermopylae while the fleet supported it close by atArtemisium. The Persian fleet had been badly battered in a storm as itsailed along the coast of Magnesia, nearly four hundred sailfoundering; the remainder reached safe anchorage in the Malian gulf, further progress being impossible till the Greek navy was beaten orretired. 

At Thermopylae the advance-guard was composed of Spartans led byLeonidas who determined to defend the narrow pass. A Persian spybrought the news to Xerxes that this small body of warriors werecombing their hair. The King sent for Demaratus, the ex-Spartanmonarch, who assured him that this was proof that the Spartansintended to fight to the death. After a delay of four days the fightbegan. The Spartans routed all their opponents including the famousImmortals, the Persian bodyguard. At length a traitor Ephialtes toldXerxes of a path across the mountains by which Leonidas could be takenin the rear. Learning from deserters and fugitives that he had beenbetrayed, Leonidas dismissed the main body, himself advancing into theopen. After winning immortal glory he and his men were destroyed andthe way to Greece lay open to the invader. 

In three naval engagements off Artemisium the Greek fleet showed itssuperiority; a detachment of two hundred sail had been sent round theisland of Euboea to block up the exit of the channel through which theGreek navy had to retreat, but a storm totally destroyed this force. When the army retreated from Thermopylae the Greek ships were obligedto retire to the Isthmus; in spite of much opposition the Athenianscompelled Eurybiades the Spartan admiral to take up his station atSalamis, whither the Persian navy followed. Their army had advancedthrough Boeotia, attacking Delphi on the way. The story was told howApollo himself defended his shrine, hurling down rocks on the invadersand sending supernatural figures to discomfit them. Entering Atticathe barbarian host captured a deserted Athens, Xerxes sending the gladnews to his subjects in the Persian capital. 

The Greeks were with difficulty persuaded not to abandon the seaaltogether. Themistocles was bitterly opposed in his naval policy byAdeimantus, the Corinthian; it was only by threatening to leave Greecewith their fleet that the Athenians were able to bring the allies toreason. By a stroke of cunning Themistocles forced their hands; amessenger went to Xerxes with news of the Greek intention to retreat;on hearing this the Persians during the night blocked up the passagesround Salamis and landed some of their best troops on a little islandcalled Psyttaleia. The news of this encircling movement was brought tothe allies by Aristides, a celebrated Athenian who was in exile, andwas confirmed by a Tenian ship which deserted from the Persians. Nextmorning the Greeks sailed down the strait to escape the blockade andsoon the famous battle began. Among the brave deeds singled out forspecial mention none was bolder than that of Artemisia who sank afriend to escape capture. The remainder of the Persian captains had nochance of resisting, being huddled up in a narrow channel. SeeingArtemisia's courage Xerxes remarked that his men had become women, hiswomen men. The rout of the invaders was quickly completed, the chiefglory being won by Aegina and Athens; the victory was consummated bythe slaughter of the troops on Psyttaleia. The Persian monarch senttidings of this defeat to his capital and in terror of a revolt inIonia decided to retreat, leaving Mardonius in command of pickedtroops. He hurriedly passed along the way he had come, almostdisappearing from Herodotus' story. 

Mardonius accompanied him to Thessaly and Macedonia; he sentAlexander, King of the latter country, as an envoy to Athens, offeringto rebuild the temples and restore all property in exchange for analliance. Hearing the news the Spartans in fear for themselves sent acounter-embassy. The Athenian reply is one of the great things inhistorical literature. "It was a base surmise in men like the Spartanswho know our mettle. Not all the gold in the world would tempt us toenslave our own countrymen. We have a common brotherhood with allGreeks, a common language, common altars and sacrifices, commonnationality; it would be unseemly to betray these. We thank you foryour offer to support our ruined families, but we will bear ourcalamities as we may and will not burden you. Lead out your troops;face the enemy in Boeotia and there give him battle. "

The last book relates the consequences of the Athenian reply toAlexander. Mardonius advanced rapidly to Athens, which he captured asecond time. The Spartans were busy keeping the feast of Hyacinthia;only an Athenian threat to come to terms with the foe prevailed onthem to move. Mardonius soon evacuated Attica, the ground being toostony for cavalry, and encamped near Plataea. The Greeks followed, taking the high ground on Mount Cithaeron. A brave exploit of theAthenian infantry in defeating cavalry heartened the whole army. Aftereleven days' inaction, Mardonius determined to attack, news of hisplan being brought secretly at night to the Athenians by Alexander. The Spartans, afraid of facing the Persians, exchanged places with theAthenians; when this movement was discovered by Mardonius, he sent achallenge to the Spartans to decide the battle by a single conflictbetween them and his Persian division. Receiving no reply, he let hiscavalry loose on the Greeks who began to retire to a place called theIsland, where horse could not operate. This action took place duringthe night. When morning broke the battle began. The Persian wickershields could not resist their enemies' weapons; the host fled andafter Mardonius fell was slaughtered in heaps. The Greek tookvengeance on the Thebans who had acted with the Persians, of whom amere remnant reached Asia under the command of Artabazus. 

The victorious Greek fleet had advanced as far as Delos, commanded byLeotychides, a Spartan of royal blood. To them came an embassy fromSamos, urging an attack on the Persians encamped on Mycale. It is saidthat the battle was fought on the same day as that of Plataea and thata divine rumour ran through the Greek army that their brothers hadgained the day. In the action at Mycale the Athenians took the palm ofvalour, bursting the enemy's line and storming his entrenchments. Thisvictory freed Ionia; it remained only to open the Dardanelles. TheSpartans returned home, but the Athenians crossed from Abydos in Asiato Sestos, the strongest fortress in the district. The place wasstarved into surrender; with its capture ends the story of Persia'sattempt to destroy European civilisation. 

In this great Epic nothing is more obvious than the terror the Greeksfelt when they first faced the Persians. The numbers arrayed againstthem were overwhelming, their despondency was justifiable. It requiredno little courage from a historian to tell the awkward truth--thatHerodotus did tell it is no small testimony to his veracity. Yet onlya little experience was needed to convince the Greeks that they weresuperior on both land and sea. Once the lesson was learned, they neverforgot it. Mycale is the proof that they remembered it well. This sameconsciousness of superiority animated two other Greek armies, onedeserted in the middle of Asia Minor, yet led unmolested by Xenophonthrough a hostile country to the shores of the Black Sea--the othercommanded by Alexander the Great who planted Greek civilisation overevery part of his conquests, from the coast to the very gates ofPersia itself. 

Modern history seems to have lost all powers of interesting itsreaders. It is as dull as political economy; it suspects a stylist, questions the accuracy of its authorities, tends to minimise personalinfluence on events, specialises on a narrow period, emphasisesconstitutional development, insists on the "economic interpretation"of an age and at times seems quite unable to manage with skill thevast stores of knowledge on which it draws. To it Herodotus is often abutt for ridicule; his credulity, inability to distinguish truecauses, belief in divine influences, love of anecdote andchronological vagueness are serious blemishes. But to us Herodotus isliterature; we believe that he himself laughs slyly at some of theanecdotes he has rendered more piquant by a pretended credulity; thisquick-witted Greek would find it paid him to assume innocence in orderto get his informers (like his critics) to go on talking. LikeFroissart, Joinville, de Comines and perhaps even like Macaulay hewishes to write what will charm as well as what will instruct. 

Yet as a historian Herodotus is great; he sifts evidence, some ofwhich he mentions only to reject it; the substantial accuracy of hisstatements has been borne out by inscriptions; in fact, his valueto-day is greater than it was last century. If a man's literary bulkis measured by the greatness of his subject, Herodotus cannot be amean writer. His theme is nothing less than the history ofcivilisation itself as far as he could record it; his broad sweep ofnarrative may be taken to represent the wide speculation of aphilosophic historian as opposed to the narrower and more intenseexamination of a short period which is characteristic of thescientific historian. He tells us of the first actual armed conflictbetween East and West, the never-ending eternally romantic story. AsPersia fought Greece, so Rome subdued Carthage, Crusader attackedSaladin, Turkey submerged half Europe, Russia contended with Japan. The atmosphere of Herodotus is the unchanging East of the Bible, inscrutable Egypt, prehistoric Russia, barbarous Thrace, as well ascivilised Greece, Africa, India; had he never written, muchinformation would have been irretrievably lost, for example, theaccount of one of the "Fifteen decisive battles" in history. Let himbe judged not as a candidate for some Chair of Ancient History in somemodern University, but as the greatest writer of the greatestprose-epic in the greatest literature of antiquity. 

Of his inimitable short stories it is difficult to speak with measuredpraise; it is dangerous to quote them, they are so perfect that a wordadded or omitted might spoil them. His so-called digressions havealways some cogent reason in them; they are his means of including inthe panorama a scene essential to its completeness. The narrow type ofhistory writing has been tried for some centuries; all that it seemsable to accomplish is to go on narrowing itself until it cannot enjoyfor recording or remembering. It is a refreshing experience to move inthe broad open regions of history in which Herodotus trod. If it isimpossible to combine accurate research with the ecstasy of pureliterature, be it so. Herodotus will be read with joy and laughter andsometimes with tears when some of our modern historians have beensuperseded by persons even duller than themselves. 

TRANSLATIONS:

Rawlinson's edition with a version contains essays of the greatestvalue. It has been the standard for two generations and is not likelyto be superseded. 

The Loeb Series contains a version by A. D. Godley. 

The great annotated edition of the text by R. W. Macan (Oxford) is theresult of a lifetime's work. It contains everything necessary toconfirm the claims of the historian. 

_The Great Persian War, _ by Grundy (London), is valuable. 

See Bury, _Ancient Greek Historians_ (Macmillan). 

THUCYDIDES

History, like an individual's life, is a succession of well-definedperiods. Herodotus took as his subject a long cycle of events; theshorter period was first treated by Thucydides who introduced methodswhich entitle him to be regarded as the first modern historian. Bornin Attica in 471 he was a victim of the great plague, was exiled forhis failure to check Brasidas at Eion in 424 and spent the rest of hislife in collecting materials for his great work. His death took placeabout 402. 

His preface is remarkable as outlining his creed. First he states hissubject, the Peloponnesian war of 431-404; he then tests by an appealto reason the statements in old legends and in Homer, arguing fromanalogy or from historical survivals in his own time to prove thatvarious important movements were caused or checked by economicinfluence. He uses his imagination to prove that the importance of anevent cannot be decided from the extant remains of its place oforigin, for if only the ruins of both Sparta and Athens were left, Sparta would be thought to be insignificant and Athens would appeartwice as powerful as she really is. Poetical exaggeration is easy andmisleading, and ancient history is difficult to determine by absoluteproofs. 

 "Men accept statements about their own national past from one another without testing them. "

 "To most men the search for truth implies no effort; they prefer to turn to the first accounts available. "

 "It was difficult for me to write an exact narrative of the speeches actually made; I have therefore given the words that might have been expected of each speaker, adhering to the broad meaning of what was really uttered. The facts I have not taken from any chance person, nor have I given my own impressions, but have as accurately as possible written a detailed account of what I witnessed myself or heard from others. The discovery of these facts was laborious owing to conflicting statements and confused memories and party favour. Perhaps the unromantic nature of my record will make it uninteresting; but if any person will judge it useful because he desires to consider a clear account of actual facts and of what is likely to recur at some future time, I shall be content. As a compilation it is rather an eternal possession than a prize-essay for a moment. "

The essentially modern idea of history writing is here perfectlyevident. 

Having pointed out the significance of the war, not only to Greece butto the whole of the world, he gives its causes. To him the real rootof the trouble was Sparta's fear of Athenian power: the allegedpretexts were different. The rise of Athens is rapidly described, herbuilding of the walls broken down by the Persians, her control of theisland-states in a Delian league which eventually became the nucleusof her Empire, her alliance with Megara, a buffer-state betweenherself and Corinth. This last saved her from fears of a landinvasion; when she built for Megara long walls to the sea she incurredthe intense anger of Corinth which smouldered for years and at lastcaused the Peloponnesian conflagration. The reduction of Aegina in 451compensated for the loss of Boeotia and Egypt. Eventually the ThirtyYears' Peace was concluded in 445; Athens gave up Megara, but retainedEuboea; her definite policy for the future was concentration on amaritime empire; she controlled nearly all the islands of the Aegeanand was mistress of the Saronic gulf, Aegina, "the eyesore of thePeiraeus", having fallen. 

But if she was to confine her energies to the sea, it was essentialthat she should be mistress of all the trade-routes which in ancienthistory usually ran along the coast. On both east and west she foundCorinth in possession; a couple of quarrels with this city rupturedthe peace. In the west, Corinth had founded Corcyra (Corfu); thisdaughter colony quarrelled with her mother and prevailed. In itselfCorcyra was of little importance in purely Greek politics, but ithappened to possess a large navy and commanded the trade-route toSicily, whence came the corn supply. When threatened with vengeance byCorinth, she appealed to Athens, where ambassadors from Corinth alsoappeared. Their arguments are stated in the speeches which are socharacteristic of Thucydides. The Athenians after carefulconsideration decided to conclude a defensive alliance with Corcyra, for they dreaded the acquisition of her navy by Corinth. Butcircumstances turned this into an offensive alliance, for Corinthattacked and would have won a complete victory at sea but for timelyAthenian succour. In the east Athens was even more vitally concernedin trade with the Hellespont, through which her own corn passed. Onthis route was the powerful Corinthian city Potidaea, situate on thewestern prong of Chalcidice. It had joined the Athenian confederacybut had secured independence by building strong walls. When theAthenians demanded their destruction and hostages as a guarantee, thetown revolted and appealed to the mother-city Corinth. A long andcostly siege drained Athens of much revenue and distracted herattention; but worst of all was the final estrangement of the greattrade rival whom she had thwarted in Greece itself by occupyingMegara, in the west by joining Corcyra, and in the east by attackingPotidsea. 

The final and open pretext for war was the exclusion of Megara fromall Athenian markets; this step meant the extinction of the town as atrading-centre and was a definite set-back to the economic developmentof the Peloponnese, of which Corinth and Megara were the naturalavenues to northern Greece. The cup was full; Athenian ambition hadrun its course. The aggrieved states of the Peloponnese were invitedto put their case at Sparta; Corinth drew a famous picture of theAthenian character, its restlessness, energy, adaptability andinventiveness. "In the face of such a rival, " they added, "Sparta hesitates; in comparison Spartan methods are antiquated, but modern principles cannot help prevailing; in a stagnant state conservative institutions are the best, but when men are faced with various difficulties great ingenuity is essential; for that reason Athens through her wide experience has made more innovations. "

An Athenian reply failed to convince the allies of her innocence; oneof the Spartan Ephors forced the congress to declare that Athens hadviolated the peace. A second assembly was summoned, at which theCorinthians in an estimate of the Athenian power gave reasons forbelieving it would eventually be reduced. They further appealed towhat has never yet failed to decide in favour of war--race antagonism;the Athenians and her subjects were Ionians, whereas thePeloponnesians were mainly Dorians. The necessary vote for openinghostilities was secured; but first an ultimatum was presented. IfAthens desired peace she must rescind the exclusion acts aimed atMegara. At the debate in the Athenian assembly Pericles, the virtualruler, gave his reason for believing Athens would win; he urged ademand for the withdrawal of Spartan Alien Acts aimed at Athens andher allies and offered arbitration on the alleged grievances. 

It is well to repeat the causes of this war: trade rivalry, navalcompetition, race animosity and desire for predominance. Till theseare removed it is useless to expect permanent peace in spite ofLeagues or Tribunals or Arbitration Courts. Further, it should benoted that Thucydides takes the utmost care to point out the excellentreasons the most enlightened statesmen had for arriving atcontradictory conclusions; the event proved them all wrong withoutexception. The future had in store at least two events which no humanforesight could discover, and these proved the deciding factors in theconflict. 

The war began in 431 by a Theban attack on Plataea, the little townjust over the Attic frontier which had been allied with Athens fornearly a century and protected her against invasion from the north. This city had long been hated by Thebes as a deserter from her ownleague; it alone of Boeotian towns had not joined the Persians. Burning with the desire to capture it, a body of Thebans entered theplace by night, seizing the chief positions. But in the morning theirscanty numbers were apparent; recovering from panic the Plataeansoverwhelmed the invaders and massacred them. This open violation ofthe treaty kindled the war-spirit. Both sides armed, Sparta being morepopular as pretending to free Greece from a tyrant. Their lastambassador on leaving Athenian territory said: "This day will be thebeginning of mighty woes for Greece". 

The Spartans invaded Attica, cutting down the fruit trees and forcingthe country folk into the city; the Athenians replied by ravagingparts of Peloponnese and Megara. The funeral of the first Athenianvictims of the war was the occasion of a remarkable speech. Periclesin delivering it expounds the Athenian ideal of life. 

 "We do not compete with other constitutions, we are rather a pattern for the rest. In our democracy all are equal before the law; each man is promoted to public office not by favour but by merit, according as he can do the State some service. We love beauty in its simplicity, we love knowledge without losing manliness. Our citizens can administer affairs both private and public; our working classes have an adequate knowledge of politics. To us the most fatal error is the lack of theoretical instruction before we attempt any duty. In a word, I say that Athens is an education for all Greece; individually we can prove ourselves competent to face the most varied forms of human activity with the maximum of grace and adaptability. .. . We have forced the whole sea and every land to open to our enterprise. Look daily at the material power of the city and love her passionately. Her glory was won by men who did their duty and sacrificed themselves for her. The whole world is the sepulchre of famous men; their memory is not only inscribed on pillars in their own country, it lives unwritten in the hearts of men in alien lands. "

At the beginning of the next year a calamity which no statesman couldhave foreseen overtook Athens. A mysterious plague of the greatestmalignity scourged the city, the mortality being multiplied among thecrowds of refugees. The city's strength was seriously impaired, publicand private morality were undermined, inasmuch as none knew how longhe had to live. Discouraged by it and by the invasions the Athenianssent a fruitless embassy to Sparta and tinned in fury on Pericles. Hemade a splendid defence of his policy and gave them heart to continuethe struggle; he pointed out that it was better to lose their propertyand save the State than save their property and lose the State; theirfleet opened to them the world of waters over which they could rangeas absolute masters. Soon afterwards he died, surviving the opening ofthe war only two years and a half; his character and abilitiesreceived due acknowledgment from Thucydides. 

At this point Sparta decided to destroy Plataea, the Athenian outpostin Boeotia. A very brilliant description of the siege andcounter-operations reveals very clearly the Spartan inability toattack walled towns and explains their objection to fortified friends. Leaving the town guarded they retired for a time, to complete the worklater. The war began to spread beyond the Peloponnese to the north ofthe Corinthian gulf, the control of which was important to both sides. The Acarnanians were attacked by Sparta and appealed to the Athenianadmiral Phormio. Two naval actions in the gulf revealed theastonishing superiority of the Athenian navy on the high seas. Threatened in her corn supply in the west, Sparta began to intriguewith the outlying kingdoms on the north-east, the "Thraceward parts"on the trade-route being the objective. 

A spirit of revolt against Athenian rule appeared in Lesbos, whichseceded in 428. The chief town in this non-Ionic island was Mytilene, which sent ambassadors to Sparta. Their speech clearly explains howthe Athenians were able to keep their hold on their policy; her policy(like that of Rome) was to divide the allies by carefully gradingtheir privileges, playing off the weak against the stronger. TheSpartans proved unable to help and the Athenians easily blockaded thecity, capturing it early in 427. In their anger they at first decidedto slay all the inhabitants, but a better feeling led to areconsideration next day. In the Assembly two great speeches weredelivered. Pericles had been succeeded by Cleon, to whom Thucydidesseems to have been a little unjust. He opened his speech with thefamous remark that a democracy cannot govern an Empire; it is liableto sudden fits of passion which make a consistent policy impossible. He himself never changed his plans, but his audience were different. 

 "You are all eyes for speeches, all ears for deeds; you judge of the possibility of a project from good speeches; accomplished facts you believe not because you see them but because you hear them from smart critics. You are easily duped by some novel plan, but you refuse to adhere to what has been proved sound. You are slaves to every new oddity and have nothing but contempt for what is familiar. Every one of you would like to be a good speaker, failing that, to rival your orators in cleverness. You are as quick to guess what is coming in a speech as you are slow at foreseeing its consequences. In a word, you live in some non-real world. "

He pleaded for the rigorous application of the extreme penalty alreadyvoted. 

He was opposed by Diodotus, who appealed to the same principle asCleon did expediency. 

 "No penalty will deter men, not even the death penalty. Men have run through the whole catalogue of deterrents in the hope of securing themselves against outrage, yet offences still are common. Human nature is driven by some uncontrollable master passion which tempts it to danger. Hope and Desire are everywhere and are most mischievous, for they are invisible. Fortune too is as powerful a means of exciting men. At tunes she stands unexpectedly at their side and leads them to take risks with too slender resources. Most of all she tempts cities, for they are contending for the greatest prizes, liberty or domination. It is absolutely childish then to imagine that when human nature is bent on performing a thing it will be deterred by law or any other force. If revolting cities are quite sure that no mercy will be shown, they will fight to the last, bequeathing the victors only smoking ruins. It would be more expedient to be merciful and thus save the expenses of a long siege. "

This saner view prevailed. The doctrine of a "ruling passion" is aremarkable contribution to Greek political thought, the abstractpersonifications reading like the work of a poet or philosopher. Anexciting race against time is most graphically described. After greatexertions the ship bearing the reprieve arrived just in time to saveMytilene. This act of mercy stands in sinister contrast with thetreatment the unhappy Plataeans received from the liberators ofGreece. The citizens were captured, Athens having strangely abandonedthem in spite of her promise to help. They were allowed to commemoratetheir services to Greece, appealing in a most moving speech to thesacred ground of their city, the scene of the immortal battle. All wasin vain. The Thebans accused them of flat treachery to Boeotia, securing their condemnation. Corcyra similarly proved unprofitable; itwas afflicted by fratricidal dissensions which coloured one ofThucydides' darkest pictures. As the war went on it became clearerthat it was a struggle between two rival political creeds, democracyand oligarchy. To the partisans all other ties were of little value, whether of blood or race or religion; only frenzied boldness andunquestioning obedience to a party organisation were of anyconsequence. This wretched spirit of feud was destined in the long runto spell the doom of the Greek cities. In 427 the first mention wasmade of the will-of-the-wisp which in time led Athens to her ruin. Inher anxiety to intercept the Peloponnesian corn she supported Leontiniagainst Syracuse, the leading Sicilian state. In Acarnania the capablegeneral Demosthenes after a series of movements not quite fruitlesssucceeded in bringing peace to the jarring mountain tribes. 

In 425 a most important event took place. As an Athenian squadron wasproceeding to Sicily it was forced to put in at Pylos, where manycenturies later Greece won a famous victory over the Turks. Demosthenes, though he had no official command, persuaded his comradesto fortify the place as a base from which to harry Spartan territory. It was situated in the country which had once belonged to theMessenians who for generations had been held down by the Spartanoligarchs. Deserters soon began to stream in; the gravity of thesituation was recognised by the Spartan government who landed morethan four hundred of their best troops on the island of Sphacteria atthe entrance to the bay. These were speedily isolated by the Atheniannavy; and news of the event filled all Greece with excitement. Aheated discussion took place at Athens, where Cleon accused Nicias, the commander-in-chief, of slackness in not capturing the blockadedforce. Spartan overtures for a peace on condition of the return of theisolated men proved vain; after a lively altercation with Nicias Cleonmade a promise to capture the Spartans within thirty days, a featwhich he accomplished with the aid of Demosthenes. Nearly threehundred were found to prefer surrender to death; these were conveyedto Athens and were an invaluable asset for bargaining a future peace. 

A further success was the capture of Nisaea, the port of Megara, in424, but an attempt to propagate democracy in Boeotia ended in asevere defeat at Delium; the fate of Plataea was a bad advertisementin an oligarchically governed district. Worse was to follow. Brasidas, a Spartan who had greatly distinguished himself at Pylos, passedthrough Thessaly with a volunteer force, reaching Thrace and capturingsome important towns; the loss of one of these, Eion, caused the exileof the historian, who was too late to save it. In 423 a truce for oneyear was arranged between the combatants, but Brasidas ignored it, sowing disaffection among the Athenian allies. His personal charm gavethem a good impression of the Spartan character and his offer ofliberty was too attractive to be resisted. His success was partly dueto a deliberate misrepresentation of the Athenian power which provedgreater than it seemed to be. The two real obstacles to peace wereBrasidas and Cleon; at Amphipolis they met in battle; a rash movementgave the Spartan an opportunity for an attack. He fell in action, butthe town was saved. Cleon was killed in the same battle and the pathto peace was clear. The truce for one year developed into a regularsettlement in 421, Nicias being responsible for its negotiation inAthens. The chief clause provided that Athens should recoverAmphipolis in exchange for the Spartan captives. 

The members of the Peloponnesian league considered themselves betrayedby this treaty, for their hated rival Athens had not been humbled. Corinth was the ringleader in raising disaffection. She determined tocreate a new league, including Argos, the inveterate foe of Sparta. This state had stood aloof from the war, nursing her strength andbiding her time for revenge. When Sparta failed to restore Amphipolis, the war party at Athens, led by Alcibiades, formed an alliance withArgos to reduce Sparta; but this policy alienated Corinth, who refusedto act with her trade rival. An Argive attack on Arcadia ended in thefierce battle of Mantinea in 418, in which Sparta won a completevictory. Argos was forced to come to terms, the new league wasdissolved and Athens was once more confronted by her combined enemies, her diplomacy a failure and her trump-card, the Sphacterian prisoners, lost. 

Next year she was guilty of an act of sheer outrage. Her fleetdescended on the island of Melos, which had remained neutral, thoughits inhabitants were colonists from the Spartan mainland close by. Nowhere does the dramatic nature of Thucydides' work stand moreclearly revealed than in his account of this incident. He representsthe Athenian and Melian leaders as arguing the merits of the case in aregular dialogue, essentially a dramatic device. The Athenian doctrineof Might and Expediency is unblushingly preached and acted upon, inspite of Melian protests; the island was captured, its populationbeing slain or enslaved. Such an act is a fitting prelude to the greatdisaster which forms the next act of Thucydides' drama. 

In 416 Athens proceeded to develop her design of subjugating Sicily. Segesta was at feud with Selinus; as the latter city applied toSyracuse for aid, the former bethought her of her ancient alliancewith Athens. Next year the Sicilian ambassadors arrived with tales ofunlimited wealth to finance an expedition. Nicias, the leader of thepeace party, vainly counselled the Assembly to refrain; he wasoverborne by Alcibiades, whose ambition it was to reduce not onlySicily but Carthage also. When the expedition was about to sail mostof the statues of Hermes in the city were desecrated in one night. Alcibiades, appointed to the command with Nicias and Lamachus, wassuspected of the outrage, but was allowed to sail. The fleet left thecity with all the pomp and ceremony of prayer and ritual, after whichit showed its high spirits in racing as far as Aegina. 

In Sicily itself Hermocrates, the great Syracusan patriot, repeatedlywarned his countrymen of the coming storm, advising them to sink allfeuds in resistance to the common enemy. He was opposed byAthenagoras, a democrat who, true to his principles, suspected thestory as part of a militarist plot to overthrow the constitution. Hisspeech is the most violent in Thucydides, but contains a passage ofmuch value. 

 "The name of the whole is People, that of a part is Oligarchy; the rich are the best guardians of wealth, the educated class can make the wisest decisions, the majority are the best judges of speeches. All these classes in a democracy have equal power both individually and collectively. But oligarchy shares the dangers with the many, while it does not merely usurp the material benefits, rather it appropriates and keeps them all. "

The Athenians received a cold welcome wherever they went. At Catanathey found their state vessel waiting to convey Alcibiades home tostand his trial; he effected his escape on the homeward voyage, crossing to the Peloponnese. The great armament instead of thrustingat Syracuse wasted its time and efficiency on side-issues, mainlyowing to the cold leadership of Nicias. This valuable respite was usedto the full by Hermocrates, who at a congress held at Camarina wasinsistent on the racial character of the struggle between themselveswho were Dorians and the Ionians from Athens. This national antipathycontributed greatly to the final decision of the conflict. 

Passing to Sparta, Alcibiades deliberately betrayed his country. Hisspeech is of the utmost importance. 

His view of democracy is contemptuous. "Nothing new can be said ofwhat is an admitted folly. " He then outlined the Athenian ambition; itwas to subdue Carthage and Sicily, bring over hosts of warlikebarbarians, surround and reduce the Peloponnese and then rule thewhole Greek-speaking world. He advised his hearers to aid Sicilianincapacity by sending a Spartan commander; above all, he counselledthe occupation of Deceleia, a town in Attica just short of the border, through which the corn supply was conveyed to the capital; this wouldlead to the capture of the silver-mines at Laureium and to thedecrease of the Athenian revenues. He concluded with an attempt tojustify his own treachery, remarking that when a man was exiled, hemust use all means to secure a return. 

The Spartans had for some time been anxious to open hostilities; anact of Athenian aggression gave them an opportunity. Meanwhile inSicily Lamachus had perished in attacking a Syracusan cross-wall. Leftin sole command, Nicias remained inactive, while Gylippus, despatchedfrom Sparta, arrived in Syracuse just in time to prevent it fromcapitulating. The seventh book is the record of continued Atheniandisasters. Little by little Gylippus developed the Syracusanresources. First he made it impossible for the Athenians tocircumvallate the city; then he captured the naval stores of theenemy, forcing them to encamp in unhealthy ground. Nicias had beggedthe home government to relieve him of command owing to illness. Believing in the lucky star of the man who had taken Nissea theyretained him, sending out a second great fleet under Demosthenes. Thelatter at once saw the key to the whole situation. The Syracusancross-wall which Nicias had failed to render impassable must becaptured at all costs. A night attack nearly succeeded, but ended intotal defeat. Demosthenes immediately advised retreat; but Niciasobstinately refused to leave. In the meantime the Syracusans closedthe mouth of their harbour with a strong boom, penning up the Athenianfleet. The famous story of the attempt to destroy it calls out all theauthor's powers of description. He draws attention to the narrow spacein which the action was fought. As long as the Athenians could operatein open water they were invincible; but the Syracusans not only forcedthem to fight in a confined harbour, they strengthened the prows oftheir vessels, enabling them to smash the thinner Athenian craft in adirect charge. The whole Athenian army went down to the edge of thewater to watch the engagement which was to settle their fate. Theirexcitement was pitiable, for they swayed to and fro in mental agony, calling to their friends to break the boom and save them. After abrave struggle, the invaders were routed and driven to the land by thevictorious Syracusans. 

Retreat by land was the only escape. A strategem planned byHermocrates and Nicias' superstitious terrors delayed the departurelong enough to enable the Syracusans to secure the passes in theinterior. When the army moved away the scene was one of shame andagony; the sick vainly pleaded with their comrades to save them; thewhole force contrasted the proud hopes of their coming with theirhumiliating end and refused to be comforted by Nicias, whose courageshone brightest in this hour of defeat. Demosthenes' force wasisolated and was quickly captured; Nicias' men with great difficultyreached the River Assinarus, parched with thirst. Forgetting all abouttheir foes, they rushed to the water and fought among themselves forit though it ran red with their own blood. At last the armycapitulated and was carried back to Syracuse. Thrown into the publicquarries, the poor wretches remained there for ten weeks, scorched byday, frost-bitten by night. The survivors were sold into slavery. 

 "This was the greatest achievement in the war and, I think, in Greek history the most creditable to the victors, the most lamentable to the vanquished. In every way they were utterly defeated; their sufferings were mighty; they were destroyed hopelessly; ships, men, everything perished, few only returning from the great host. "

So ends the most heartrending story in Greek history, told withabsolute fidelity by a son of Athens and a former general of her army. 

The last book is remarkable for the absence of speeches; it is arecord of the continued intrigues which followed the Siciliandisaster. Upheavals in Asia Minor brought into the swirl of plotsTissaphernes, the Persian satrap, anxious to recover control of Ioniahitherto saved by Athenian power. In 412 the Athenian subjects beganto revolt, seventeen defections being recorded in all. At Samos a mostimportant movement began; the democrats rose against their nobles, being guaranteed independence by Athens. Soon they made overtures toAlcibiades who was acting with the Spartan fleet; he promised todetach Tissaphernes from Sparta if Samos eschewed democracy, a creedodious to the Persian monarchy. The Samians sent a delegation toAthens headed by Pisander, who boldly proposed Alcibiades' return, thedissolution of the democracy in Samos and alliance with Tissaphernes. These proposals were rejected, but the democracy at Athens was notdestined to last much longer, power being usurped by the famous FourHundred in 411. The Samian democracy eventually appointed Alcibiadesgeneral, while in Athens the extremists were anxious to come to termswith Sparta. This movement split the Four Hundred, the constitutionbeing changed to that of the Five Thousand, a blend of democracy andoligarchy which won Thucydides' admiration; the history concludes withthe victory of the Athenians in the naval action at Cynossema in 410. 

The defects of Thucydides are evident; his style is harsh, obscure andcrabbed; it is sometimes said that he seems wiser than he really ismainly because his language is difficult; that if his thoughts weretranslated into easier prose our impressions of his greatness would bemuch modified. Yet it is to be remembered that he, like Lucretius, hadto create his own vocabulary. It is a remarkable fact that prose hasbeen far more difficult to invent than poetry, for precision isessential to it as the language of reasoning rather than of feeling. Instead of finding fault with a medium which was necessarily imperfectbecause it was an innovation we should be thankful for what it hasactually accomplished. It is not always obscure; at times, when "thelion laughed" as an old commentator says, he is almost unmatched inpure narrative, notably in his rapid summary of the Athenian rise topower in the first book and in the immortal Syracusan tragedy of theseventh. 

His merits are many and great; his conciseness, repression of personalfeeling, love of accuracy, careful research, unwillingness to praiseovermuch and his total absence of preconceived opinion testify to anhonesty of outlook rare in classical historians. Because he feelscertain of his detachment of view, he quite confidently undertakeswhat few would have faced, the writing of contemporary history. Nowadays historians do not trust themselves; we may expect a faithfulaccount of our Great War some fifty years hence, if ever. Not soThucydides; he claims that his work will be a treasure for all time;had any other written these words we should have dismissed them as anidle boast. 

For he is the first man to respect history. It was not a plaything; itwas worthy of being elevated to the rank of a science. As such, itsevents must have some deep causes behind them, worth discovering notonly in themselves as keys to one particular period, but as possibleexplanations of similar events in distant ages. Accordingly, he deemedit necessary to study first of all our human nature, its variedmotives, mostly of questionable morality, next he studiedinternational ethics, based frankly on expediency. The results ofthese researches he has embodied (with one or two exceptions) in hisfamous speeches. He surveyed the ground on which battles were fought;he examined inscriptions, copying them with scrupulous care; hecriticised ancient history and contemporary versions of famous events, many of which he found to be untrue. Further, his anxiety to discoverthe real sources of certain policies made it necessary for him towrite an account of seemingly purposeless action in wilder or evenbarbarous regions such as Arcadia, Ambracia, Macedonia; in consequencehis work embraces the whole of the Greek world, as he said it would inhis famous preface. 

As an artist, he is not without his merits. The dramatic nature of hisplan has been frequently pointed out; to him the main plot is thedestruction not of Athens, but of the Periclean democracy, theoverthrow thereof being due to a conflict with another like it; hencethe marked change in the last book, in which the main dramaticinterest has waned. This dramatic form has, however, defeated its ownobjects sometimes, for all the Thucydidean fishes talk likeThucydidean whales. 

To us he is indispensable. We are a maritime power, ruling a maritimeempire, our potential enemies being military nations. He has warned usthat democracy cannot govern an empire. Perhaps our type of this creedis not so full of the lust for domination and aggrandisement as wasthat of Athens; it may be suspected that we are virtuous mainlybecause we have all we need and are not likely to be tempted overmuch. But there is the other and more subtle danger. The enemies within thestate betrayed Deceleia which safeguarded the food-supply. We havemany Deceleias, situate along the great trade-routes and needingprotection. Once these are betrayed we shall not hold out as Athensdid for nearly ten years; ten weeks at the outside ought to see ourpeople starving and beaten, fit for nothing but the payment ofindemnities to the power which relieves us of our inheritance. 

TRANSLATIONS:--

The earliest is by Hobbes, the best is by Jowett, Oxford. Thoughsomewhat free, it renders with vigour the ideas of the original text. 

The Loeb Series has a version by Smith. 

_Thucydides Mythistoricus, _ Cornford (Arnold), is an adverse criticismof the historian; it points out the inaccuracies which may be detectedin his work. 

_Clio Enthroned_ by W. R. M. Lamb, Cambridge, should be read inconjunction with the above. The author adopts the traditional estimateof Thucydides. 

See also Bury, _Ancient Greek Historians_, as above. 

PLATO

Shortly after the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war Plato was born, probably in 427. During the eighty years of his life he travelled toSicily at least twice, founded the Academy at Athens and saw thebeginning of the end of the Greek freedom. He represents thereflective spirit in a nation which seems to appear when itsdevelopment is well advanced. After the madness of a long war theAthenians, stripped of their Empire for a time, sought a new outletfor their restless energies and started to conquer a more permanentkingdom, that of scientific speculation about the highest faculties ofthe human mind. 

The death of Socrates in 399 disgusted Plato; democracy apparently wasas intolerant as any other form of political creed. His writings arein a sense a vindication of the honesty of his master, although thepicture he draws of him is not so true to life as that of Xenophon. The dialogues fall into two well-marked classes; in the earlier themethod and inspiration is definitely Socratic, but in the laterSocrates is a mere peg on which Plato hung his own system. In itselfthe dialogue form was no new thing; Plato adopted it and made it athing of life and dramatic power, his style being the most finishedexample of exalted prose in Greek literature. The order in which thedialogues were written is a thorny problem; there is good reason forbelieving that Plato constantly revised some of them, removing theinconsistencies which were inevitable while he was feeling his way tothe final form which his speculations assumed. It is perhaps best togive an outline of a series which exhibits some regular order ofthought. 

It is sometimes thought that Philosophy has no direct bearing onpractical questions. A review of the _Crito_ may dispel this illusion. In it Socrates refuses to be tempted by his young friend Crito whooffers to secure his escape from prison and provide him a home amonghis own friends. The question is whether one ought to follow theopinions of the majority on matters of justice or injustice, or thoseof the one man who has expert knowledge, and of Truth. The laws ofAthens have put Socrates in prison; they would say;

 "by this act you intend to perpetrate your purpose to destroy us and the city as far as one man can do so. Can any city survive and not be overturned in which legal decisions have no force, but are rendered null by private persons and destroyed?"

Socrates had by his long residence of seventy years declared hissatisfaction with the Athenian legal system. The laws had enabled himto live in security; more, he could have taken advantage of legalprotection in his trial, and if he had been dissatisfied could havegone away to some other city. What sort of a figure would he make ifhe escaped? Wherever he went he would be considered a destroyer oflaw; his practice would belie his creed; finally, the Laws say, "if you wish to live in disgrace, after going back on your contract and agreement with us, we will be angry with you while you are alive and in death our Brother Laws will give you a cold welcome; they will know that you have done your best to destroy our authority. "

Sound and concrete teaching like this is always necessary, but ishardly likely to be popular. The doctrine of disobedience is everywherepreached in a democracy; violation of contracts is a normal practiceand law-breakers have been known to be publicly feasted by the verymembers of our legislative body. 

A different lesson is found in the _Euthyphro_. After wishing Socratessuccess in his coming trial, Euthyphro informs him that he is going toprosecute his father for manslaughter, assuring him that it would bepiety to do so. Socrates asks for a definition of piety. Euthyphroattempts five--"to act as Zeus did to his father"; "what the godslove"; "what all the gods love"; "a part of righteousness, relating tothe care of the gods"; "the saying and doing of what the gods approvein prayer and sacrifice". Each of these proves inadequate; Euthyphrocomplains of the disconcerting Socratic method as follows:

 "Well, I do not know how to express my thoughts. Every one of our suggestions always seem to have legs, refusing to stand still where we may fix it down. Nor have I put into them this spirit of moving and shifting, but you, a second Daedalus. "

It is noticeable that no definite result comes from this dialogue;Plato was within his rights in refusing to answer the main question. Philosophy does not pretend to settle every inquiry; her business isto see that a question is raised. Even when an answer is available, she cannot always give it, for she demands an utter abandonment of allprepossessions in those to whom she talks--otherwise there will be nofree passage for her teaching. Though refuted, Euthyphro stillretained his first opinions, for his first and last definitions aresimilar in idea. To such a person argument is mere waste of time. 

An admirable illustration of Plato's lightness of touch is found inthe _Laches_. The dialogue begins with a discussion about theeducation of the young sons of Lysimachus and Melesias. Soon thequestion is raised "What is courage?" Nicias warns Laches aboutSocrates; the latter has a trick of making men review their lives; hispractice is good, for it teaches men their faults in time; old agedoes not always bring wisdom automatically. Laches first definescourage as the faculty which makes men keep the ranks in war; whenthis proves inadequate, he defines it as a stoutness of spirit. Niciasis called in; he defines it as "knowledge of terrors and confidence inwar"; he is soon compelled to add "and knowledge of all good and evilin every form"--in a word, courage is all virtue combined. Thedialogue concludes that it is not young boys but grown men of all ageswho need a careful education. This spirited little piece is full ofdramatic vigour--the remarks of Laches and Nicias about each other asthey are repeatedly confuted are most human and diverting. 

Literary criticism is the subject of the _Ion_. Coming from Ephesus, Ion claimed to be the best professional reciter of Homer in allGreece. Acknowledging that Homer made him all fire, while other poetsleft him cold, he is made to admit that his knowledge of poetry is notscientific; otherwise he would have been able to discuss all poetry, for it is one. Socrates then makes the famous comparison between apoet and a magnet; both attract an endless chain, and both containsome divine power which masters them. Ecstasy, enthusiasm, madness arethe best descriptions of poetic power. Even as a professional reciterIon admits the necessity of the power of working on men. 

 "When I am on the platform I look on my audience weeping and looking warlike and dazed at my words. I must pay attention to them; if I let them sit down weeping, I myself shall laugh when I receive my fee, but if they laugh I myself shall weep when I get nothing. "

Homer is the subject of the _Hippias Minor_. At Olympia Hippias oncesaid that every single thing that he was wearing was his ownhandiwork. He was a most inventive person--one of his triumphs beingan art of memory. In this dialogue he prefers the Iliad to the Odysseybecause Achilles was called "excellent" and Odysseus "versatile". Socrates soon proves to him that Achilles was false too, as he did notalways keep his word. He reminds Hippias that he never wastes timeover the brainless, though he listens carefully to every man. In fact, his cross-examination is a compliment. He never thinks the knowledgehe gains is his own discovery, but is grateful to any who can teachhim. He believes that unwitting deceivers are more culpable thandeliberate tricksters. Hippias finds it impossible to agree with him, whereupon Socrates says that things are for ever baffling him by theirchangeability; it is pardonable that unlearned men like himself shoulderr; when really wise people like Hippias wander in thought, it ismonstrous that they are unable to settle the doubts of all who appealto them. 

_Channides_, the young boy after whom the dialogue was named, was thecousin and ward of Critias, the infamous leader of the Thirty Tyrants. On being introduced to him Socrates starts the discussion "What isself-control?" The lad makes three attempts to answer; seeing hisconfusion, Critias steps in, "angry with the boy, like a poet angrywith an actor who has murdered his poems". But he is not moresuccessful; his three definitions are proved wanting. 

 "Like men who, seeing others yawn, themselves yawn, he too was in perplexity. But because he had a great reputation, he was put to shame before the audience and refused to admit his inability to define the word. "

The dialogue gives no definite answer to the discussion. It is a vividpiece of writing; the contrast between the young lad and the eldercousin whose pet phrases he copies is very striking. 

In the _Lysis_ the characters and the conclusion are similar. Lysis isa young lad admired by Hippothales. The first portion of the dialogueconsists of a conversation between Lysis and Socrates; the latterrecommends the admirer to avoid foolish converse. On the entry ofLysis' friend Menexenus, Socrates starts the question "What isfriendship?" It appears that friendship cannot exist between two goodor two evil persons, but only between a good man and one who isneither good nor bad, exactly as the philosopher is neither wise norignorant, yet he loves knowledge. Still this is not satisfactory; upconclusion being reached, Socrates winds up with a characteristicremark; they think they are friends, yet cannot say what friendshipis. This dialogue was carefully read by Aristotle before he gave hisfamous description in the Ethics: "A friend is a second self". PerhapsSocrates avoided a definite answer because he did not wish to be tooserious with these sunny children. 

The _Euthydemus_ is an amusing study of the danger which follows uponthe use of keen instruments by the unscrupulous. Euthydemus and hisbrother Dionysodorus are two sophists by trade to whom words meannothing at all; truth and falsehood are identical, contradiction beingan impossibility. As language is meaningless, Socrates himself isquickly reduced to impotence, recovering with difficulty. Plato was nodoubt satirising the misuse of the new philosophy which was becomingso popular with young men. When nothing means anything, laughter isthe only human language left. The _Cratylus_ is a similarly conceiveddiversion. Most of it is occupied with fanciful derivations andlinguistic discussions of all kinds. It is difficult to say how farPlato is serious. Perhaps the feats of Euthydemus in stripping wordsof all meaning urged him to some constructive work--for Plato's systemis essentially destructive first, then constructive. At any rate, hedoes insist on the necessity for determining a word's meaning by itsderivation, and points out that a language is the possession of awhole people. 

In the _Protagoras_ Socrates while a young man is represented asmeeting a friend Hippocrates, who was on his way to Protagoras, asophist from Abdera who had just arrived at Athens. Socrates showsfirst that his friend has no idea of the seriousness of his action inapplying for instruction to a sophist whose definition he is unable togive. 

 "If your body had been in a critical condition you would have asked the advice of your friends and deliberated many days before choosing your doctor. But about your mind, on which depends your weal or woe according as it is evil or good, you never asked the advice of father or friend whether you ought to apply to this newly-arrived stranger. Hearing last night that he was here, you go to him to-day, ready to spend your own and your friends' money, convinced that you ought to become a disciple of a man you neither know nor have talked with. "

They proceed to the house of Callias, where they find Protagorassurrounded by strangers from every city who listened spell-bound tohis voice. 

Protagoras readily promises that Hippocrates would be taught hissystem which offers "good counsel about his private affairs and powerto transact and discuss political matters". Socrates' belief thatpolitics cannot be taught provokes one of the long speeches to whichPlato strongly objected because a fundamental fallacy could not berefuted at the outset, vitiating the whole of the subsequent argument. Protagoras recounted a myth, proving that shame and justice were givento every man; these are the basis of politics. Further, cities punishcriminals, implying that men can learn politics, while virtue istaught by parents and tutors and the State. Socrates asks whethervirtue is one or many. Protagoras replies that there are five mainvirtues, knowledge, justice, courage, temperance and piety, alldistinct. A long rambling speech causes Socrates to protest; hismethod is the short one of question and answer. By using some veryquestionable reasoning he proves that all these five virtues areidentical. Accordingly, if virtue is one it can be taught, nothowever, by a sophist or the State, but by a philosopher, for virtueis knowledge. 

This conclusion is thoroughly in harmony with Socrates' system. Yet itis probably false. Virtue is not mere knowledge, nor vice ignorance. If they were, they would be intellectual qualities. They are rathermoral attributes; experience soon proves that many enlightened personsare vicious and many ignorant people virtuous. The value of thisdialogue is its insistence upon the unity of virtue. A good man is nota bundle of separate excellences; he is a whole. Possessing one virtuehe potentially has them all. 

The _Gorgias_ is a refutation of three distinct and popular notions. Gorgias of Leontini used to invite young men to ask him questions, none of whom ever put to him a query absolutely new. It soon appearsthat he is quite unable to define Rhetoric, the art by which he lived. Socrates said it was a minister of persuasion, that it in the long runconcerned itself with mere Opinion, which might be true or false, andcould not claim scientific Knowledge. Further, it implied somemorality in its devotees, for it dealt with what was just or unjust. Polus, a young and ardent sophist, was compelled to assent to two veryfamous doctrines, first that it is worse to do evil than to experienceit, second, that to avoid punishment was the worst thing for anoffender. But a more formidable adversary remained, one Callicles, themost shameless and unscrupulous figure perhaps in Plato's work. Hiscreed is a flat denial of all authority, moral or intellectual. Itteaches that Law is not natural, but conventional; that only a slaveputs up with a wrong, and only weak men seek legal protection. Philosophy is fit only for youths, for philosophers are not men of theworld. Natural life is unlimited self-indulgence and public opinion isthe creation of those who are too poor to give rein to theirappetites; the good is pleasure and infinite self-satisfaction is theideal. Socrates in reply points out the difference between the kindsof pleasures, insists on the importance of Scientific knowledge ofeverything, and proves that order is requisite everywhere--its visibleeffects in the soul being Justice and Wisdom, not Riot. To preventinjustice some art is needed to make the subject as like as possibleto the ruler; the type of life a man leads is far more important thanlength of days. The demagogue who like Callicles has no credentialsmakes the people morally worse, especially as they are unable todistinguish quacks from wise men. Nor need philosophers trouble muchabout men's opinions, for a mob always blames the physician who wishesto save it. A delightful piece of irony follows, in which Socratestwits Callicles for accusing his pupils of acting with injustice, thevery quality he instils into them. Callicles, though refuted, advisesSocrates to fawn on the city, for he is certain to be condemned sooneror later; the latter, however, does not fear death after livingrighteously. 

Most men have held doctrines similar to those refuted here. There isan idea abroad that what is "natural" must be intrinsically good, ifnot godlike. But it is quite clear that "Nature" is a vague termmeaning little or nothing--it is higher or lower and natural in bothforms. Those who wish to know the lengths of impudence to which beliefin the sacredness of "Nature" can bring human beings might do worsethan read the _Gorgias_. 

Plato's dramatic power and fertility of invention are displayed fullyin the _Symposium_. Agathon had won the tragic prize and invited manyfriends to a wine-party. After a slight introduction a proposition wascarried that all should speak in praise of Love. First a youthPhaedrus describes the antiquity of love and gives instances of theattachments between the sexes. Pausanias draws the famous distinctionbetween the Heavenly and the Vulgar Aphrodite; the true test of loveis its permanence. A doctor, Eryximachus, raises the tone of thediscussion still further. To him Love is the foundation of Medicine, Music, Astronomy and Augury. Aristophanes tells a fable of the sexesin true comic style, making each of them run about seeking its otherhalf. Agathon colours his account with a touch of tragic diction. Atlast it is Socrates' turn. He tells what he heard from a priestesscalled Diotima. Love is the son of Fulness and Want; he is theintermediary between gods and men, is active, not passive; he isdesire for continuous possession of excellent things and for beautifulcreation which means immortality, for all men desire perpetual famewhich can come only through the science of the Beautiful. Incontemplation and mystical union with the Divine the soul finds itstrue destiny, satisfying itself in perfect love. 

At this moment Alcibiades arrives from another feast in a state ofhigh intoxication. He gives a most marvellous account of Socrates'influence over him and likens him in a famous passage to an uglylittle statue which when opened is all gold within. At the end of thedialogue one of the company tells how Socrates compelled Aristophanesand Agathon to admit that it was one and the same man's business tounderstand and write both tragedy and comedy--a doctrine which hasbeen practised only in modern drama. 

In this dialogue we first seem to catch the voice of Plato himself asdistinct from that of Socrates. The latter was undoubtedly most keenlyinterested in the more human process of questioning and refuting, hisobject being the workmanlike creation of exact definitions. But Platowas of a different mould; his was the soaring spirit which felt itstrue home to be the supra-sensible world of Divine Beauty, Immortality, Absolute Truth and Existence. Starting with the fleshlyconception of Love natural to a young man, he leads us step by steptowards the great conclusion that Love is nothing less than anidentification of the self with the thing loved. No man can do hiswork if he is not interested in it; he will hate it as his taskmaster. But when an object of pursuit enthrals him it will intoxicate him, will not leave him at peace till he joins his very soul with it inunion indissoluble. This direct communication of Mind with the objectof worship is Mysticism. It is the very core of the highest form ofreligious life; it purifies, ennobles, and above all it inspires. Tothe mystic the great prophet is the Athenian Plato, whose doctrine isthat of the Christian "God is love" converted into "Love is God". Itis not entirely fanciful to suggest that Plato, in saying farewell tothe definitely Socratic type of philosophy, gave his master as hisparting gift the greatest of ail tributes, a dialogue which is reallythe "praise of Socrates". 

The intoxication of Plato's thought is evident in the _Phaedrus_. Thissplendid dialogue marks even more clearly the character of the newwine which was to be poured into the Socratic bottles. Phaedrus andSocrates recline in a spot of romantic beauty along the bank of theIlissus. Phaedrus reads a paradoxical speech supposed to be written byLysias, the famous orator, on Love; Socrates replies in a speech quiteas unreal, praising as Lysias did him who does not love. But soon herecants--his real creed being the opposite. Frenzy is his subject--theecstasy of prophecy, mysticism, poetry and the soul. This last is likea charioteer driving a pair of horses, one white, the other black. Itsoars upwards to the region of pure beauty, wisdom and goodness; butsometimes the white horse, the spirited quality of human nature, ispulled down by the black, which is sensual desire, so that thecharioteer, Reason, cannot get a full vision of the ideal world beyondall heavens. Those souls which have partially seen the truth but havebeen dragged down by the black steed become, according to the amountof Beauty they have seen, philosophers, kings, economists, gymnasts, mystics, poets, journeymen, sophists or tyrants. The vision once seenis never quite forgotten, for it can be recovered by reminiscence, sothat by exercise each man can recall some of its glories. 

The dialogue then passes to a discussion of good and bad writing andspeaking. The truth is the sole criterion of value, and this can beobtained only by definition; next there must be orderly arrangement, abeginning, a middle and an end. In rhetoric it is absolutely essentialfor a man to study human nature first; he cannot hope to persuade anaudience if he is unaware of the laws of its psychology; not allspeeches suit all audiences. Further, writing is inferior to speaking, for the written word is lifeless, the spoken is living and its authorcan be interrogated. It follows then that orators are of all men themost important because of the power they wield; they will be potentfor destruction unless they love the truth and understand humannature; in short, they must be philosophers. 

The like of this had nowhere been said before. It opened a new worldto human speculation. First, the teaching about oratory is of thehighest value. Plato's quarrel with the sophists was based on theirtotal ignorance of the enormous power they exercised for evil, becausethey knew not what they were doing. They professed to teach men how tospeak well, but had no conception of the science upon which the art oforatory rests. In short, they were sheer impostors. Even Aristotle hadnothing to add to this doctrine in his treatise on _Rhetoric_, whichcontains a study of the effects which certain oratorical devices couldbe prophesied to produce, and provides the requisite scientificfoundation. Again, the indifference to or the ridicule of truth shownby some sophists made them odious to Plato. He would have none oftheir doctrines of relativity or flux. Nothing short of the Absolutewould satisfy his soaring spirit. He was sick of the change inphenomena, the tangible and material objects of sense. He foundpermanence in a world of eternal ideas. These ideas are the essence ofPlatonism. They are his term for universal concepts, classes; thereare single tangible trees innumerable, but one Ideal Tree only in theIdeal world beyond the heavens. Nothing can possibly satisfy the soulbut these unchanging and permanent concepts; it is among them that itfinds its true home. Lastly, the tripartite division of the nature ofthe soul here first indicated is a permanent contribution tophilosophy. Thus Plato's system is definitely launched in the_Phaedrus_. His subsequent dialogues show how he fitted out the hulkto sail on his voyages of discovery. 

The _Meno_ is a rediscussion on Platonic principles of the problem ofthe _Protagoras_: can virtue be taught? Meno, a general in the army ofthe famous Ten Thousand, attempts a definition of virtue itself, theprinciple that underlies specific kinds of virtues such as justice. After a cross-examination he confesses his helplessness in a famoussimile: Socrates is like the torpedo-fish which benumbs all who touchit. Then the real business begins. How do we learn anything at all?Socrates says by Reminiscence, for the soul lived once in the presenceof the ideal world; when it enters the flesh it loses its knowledge, but gradually regains it. This theory he dramatically illustrates bycalling in a slave whom he proves by means of a diagram to knowsomething of geometry, though he never learned it. Thus the greatlesson of life is to practise the search for knowledge--and if virtueis knowledge it will be teachable. 

But the puzzle is, who are the teachers? Not the sophists, adiscredited class, nor the statesmen, who cannot teach their sons tofollow them. Virtue then, not being teachable, is probably not theresult of knowledge, but is imparted to men by a Divine Dispensation, just as poetry is. But the origin of virtue will always be mysterioustill its nature is discovered beyond doubt. So Plato once moredeclares his dissatisfaction with a Socratic tenet which identifiedvirtue with knowledge. 

The _Phaedo_ describes Socrates' discussion of the immortality of thesoul on his last day on earth. Reminiscence of Ideas provespre-existence, as in the _Meno_; the Ideas are similarly used to provea continued existence after death, for the soul has in it an immortalprinciple which is the exact contrary of mortality; the Idea of Deathcannot exist in a thing whose central Idea is life. Such in brief isSocrates' proof. To us it is singularly unconvincing, as it looks likea begging of the whole question. Yet Plato argues in his technicallanguage as most men do concerning this all-important and difficultquestion. That which contains within itself the notion of immortalitywould seem to be too noble to have been created merely to die. Thevery presence of a desire to realise eternal truth is a strongpresumption that there must be something to correspond with it. Themost interesting portion of this well-known dialogue is that whichteaches that life is really an exercise for death. All the base andlow desires which haunt us should be gradually eliminated and replacedby a longing for better things. The true philosopher at any rate sotrains himself that when his hour comes he greets death with a smile, the life on earth having lost its attractions. 

Such is the connection between the _Meno_ and the _Phaedo_; the lifethat was before and the life that shall be hereafter depend upon theIdeal world. That salvation is in this life and in the practicalsphere of human government is possible only through a knowledge ofthese Ideas is the doctrine of the immortal _Republic_. This greatwork in ten books is well known, but its unique value is not alwaysrecognised. It starts with a discussion of Justice. Thrasymachus, abrazen fellow like Callicles in the _Gorgias_, argues that Justice isthe interest of the stronger and that law and morality are mereconventions. The implications of this doctrine are of supremeimportance. If Justice is frank despotism, then the Eastern type ofcivilisation is the best, wherein custom has once for all fixed theright of the despot to grind down the population, while the sole dutyof the latter is to pay taxes. The moral reformation of law becomesimpossible; no adjustment of an unchanging decree to the changing andadvancing standard of public morality can be contemplated;constitutional development, legal reformation and the great process bywhich Western peoples have tried gradually to make positive lawcorrespond with Ethical ideals are mere dreams. 

But the verbal refutation of Thrasymachus does not satisfy Glaucus andAdeimantus who are among Socrates' audience. In order to explain thereal nature of Justice, Socrates is compelled to trace from the verybeginning the process by which states have come into existence. Economic and military needs are thoroughly discussed. The State cannotcontinue unless there is created in it a class whose sole business itis to govern. This class is to be produced by communistic methods; thebest men and women are to be tested and chosen as parents, theirchildren being taken and carefully trained apart for their highoffice. This training will be administered to the three componentparts of the soul, the rational, the spirited and the appetitive, while the educational curriculum will be divided into two sections, Gymnastic for the body and Artistic for the mind--the latter includingall scientific, mathematical and literary subjects. After a carefulsearch, in this ideal state Justice, the principle of harmony whichkeeps all classes of the community coherent, will show itself in"doing one's own business". 

Yet even this method of describing Justice is not satisfactory toPlato, who was not content unless he started from the universalconcepts of the Ideal world. The second portion of the dialoguedescribes how knowledge is gained. The mind discards the sensible andmaterial world, advancing to the Ideas themselves. Yet even these areinsufficient, for they all are interconnected and united to one greatand architectonic Idea, that of the Good; to this the soul mustadvance before its knowledge can be called perfect. This is the schemeof education for the Guardians; the philosophic contemplation ofIdeas, however, should be deferred till they are of mature age, forphilosophy is dangerous in young men. Having performed their warlikefunctions of defending the State, the Guardians are to be sifted, those most capable of philosophic speculation being employed asinstructors of the others. Seen from the height of the Ideal world, Justice again turns out to be the performance of one's own particularduties. 

This ideal society Plato admits to be a difficult aim for our weakhuman nature; he stoutly maintains, however, that "a pattern of it islaid up in heaven", man's true home. He mournfully grants that adeclension from excellence is often possible and describes how thisrule of philosophers, if established, would be expected to passthrough oligarchy to democracy, the worst form of all government, peopled by the democratic man whose soul is at war with itself becauseit claims to do as it likes. The whole dialogue ends in an admirablevision in which he teaches that man chose his lot on earth in apreexisting state. 

Such is a fragmentary description of this masterpiece. What is it allabout? First it is necessary to point out a serious misconception. Plato is not here advocating universal communism; his state postulatesa money-making class and a labouring class also. Apart from the factthat he explicitly mentions these and allows them private property, itwould be difficult to imagine that they are not rendered necessary byhis very description of Justice. Not all men are fit forgovernment--and therefore those who are governed must "do theirparticular business" for which they are fitted; in some cases it isthe rather mean business of piling up fortunes. Communism is advocatedas the only means of creating first and then propagating the smallGuardian caste. Nor again is the caste rigid, for some of the childrenborn of communistic intercourse will be unfit for their position andwill be degraded into the money-making or property owning section. Communism to Plato is a high creed, too high for everybody, fit onlyfor the select and enlightened or teachable few. 

Nor is the _Republic_ an instance of Utopian theorising. It is acriticism of contemporary Greek civilisation, intended to remove thegreatest practical difficulty in life. Man has tried all kinds ofgovernments and found none satisfactory. All have proved selfish andfaithless, governing for their own interests only. Kings, oligarchs, democrats and mob-leaders have without exception regarded power as theobject to be attained because of the spoils of office. Politicalleadership is thus a direct means of self-advancement, a temptationtoo strong for weak human nature. As a well-known Labour leaderhinted, five thousand a year does not often come in men's way. Thereis only one way of securing honest government and that is Plato's. Adefinite class must be created who will exercise political power only, economic inclinations of any sort disqualifying any of its membersfrom taking office. The ruling class should rule only, themoney-making class make money only. In this way no single section willtax the rest to fill its own pockets. The one requisite is that theseGuardians should be recognised as the fittest to rule and receive thewilling obedience of the rest. If any other sane plan is available forpreserving the governed from the incessant and rapacious demands oftax-collectors, no record of it exists in literature. Practicalstatesmanship of a high and original order is manifest in the_Republic_; in England, where the official qualifications forgoverning are believed to be equally existent in everybody whethertrained or untrained in the art of ruling, the _Republic_, if read atall, may be admired but is sure to be misunderstood. 

It seems that Plato's teaching at the Academy raised formidablecriticism. The next group of dialogues is marked by metaphysicalteaching. The _Parmenides_ is a searching examination of the Ideas. Ifthese are in a world apart, they cannot easily be brought intoconnection with our world; a big thing on earth and the Idea of Bigwill need another Idea to comprehend both. Besides, Ideas in anindependent existence will be beyond our ken and their study will beimpossible. Socrates' system betrays lack of metaphysical practice; atmost the Ideas should have been regarded as part of a theory whosevalue should have been tested by results. This process is exemplifiedby a discussion of the fundamental opposition between the One and theinfinite Many which are instances of it. 

This criticism shows the advantage Plato enjoyed in making Socratesthe mouthpiece of his own speculations; he could criticise himself asit were from without. He has put his finger on his own weak spot, thequestion whether the Ideas are immanent or transcendent. The resultsof this examination were adopted by the Aristotelian school, whosuggested another theory of Knowledge. 

The _Philebus_ discusses the question whether Pleasure or Knowledge isthe chief good. A metaphysical argument which follows that of the_Parmenides_ ends in the characteristic Greek distinction between theFinite and the Infinite. Pleasure is infinite, because it can exist ingreater or less degree; there is a mixed life compounded of finite andinfinite and there is a creative faculty to which mind belongs. Pleasure is of two kinds; it is sometimes mixed with pain, sometimesit is pure; the latter type alone is worth cultivating and includesthe pleasures of knowledge. Yet pleasure is not an end, but only ameans to it. It cannot therefore be the Good, which is an end. Knowledge is at its best when it is dealing with the eternal andimmutable, but even then it is not self-sufficient--it exists for thesake of something else, the good. This latter is characterised bysymmetry, proportion and truth. Knowledge resembles it far more thaneven pure pleasure. 

The _Theaetetus_ discusses more fully the theory of knowledge. Itopens with a comparison of the Socratic method to midwifery; itdelivers the mind of the thoughts with which it is in travail. Thefirst tentative definition of knowledge is that it is sensation. Thisis in agreement with the Protagorean doctrine that man is the measureof all things. Yet sensation implies change, whereas we cannot helpthinking that objects retain their identity; if knowledge is sensationa pig has as good a claim to be called the measure of all things as aman. Again, Protagoras has no right to teach others if each man'ssensations are a law unto him. Nor is the Heracleitean doctrine muchbetter which taught that all things are in a state of flux. If nothingretains the same quality for two consecutive moments it is impossibleto have predication, and knowledge must be hopeless. In fact, sensation is not man's function as a reasoning being, but rathercomparison. Neither is knowledge true opinion, for this at oncedemands the demarcation of false opinion or error; the latter isnegative, and will be understood only when positive knowledge isdetermined. Perhaps knowledge is true opinion plus reason; but it isdifficult to decide what is gained by adding "with reason", wordswhich may mean either true opinion or knowledge itself, thus involvingeither tautology or a begging of the question. The dialogue at leasthas shown what knowledge is not. 

Locke, Berkeley and Hume, the eighteenth century sensationphilosophers, were similarly refuted by Kant. The mind by its mereability to compare two things proves that it can have two concepts atleast before it at the same time, and can retain them for a longerperiod than a mere passing sensation implies. Yet the problem ofknowledge still remains as difficult as Plato knew it to be. 

"Is the Sophist the same as the Statesman and the Philosopher?" Suchis the question raised in the _Sophist_. Six definitions aresuggested, all unsatisfactory. The fixed characteristic of the Sophistis his seeming to know everything without doing so; this definitionleads straight to the concept of false opinion, a thing whose objectboth is and is not. "That which is not" provokes an inquiry into whatis, Being. Dualism, Monism, Materialism and Idealism are alldiscussed, the conclusion being that the Sophist is a counterfeit ofthe Philosopher, a wilful impostor who makes people contradictthemselves by quibbling. 

The _Politicus_ carries on the discussion. In this dialogue we may seethe dying glories of Plato's genius. In his search for the true pastoror king he separates the divine from the human leader; the true kingalone has scientific knowledge superior to law and written enactmentswhich men use when they fail to discover the real monarch. Thisscientific knowledge of fixed and definite principles can come onlyfrom Education. A most remarkable myth follows, which is practicallythe Greek version of the Fall. The state of innocence is described aspreceding a decline into barbarism; a restoration can be effected onlyby a divine interposition and by the growth of a study of art or bythe influence of society. The arts themselves are the children of asupernatural revelation. 

The _Timaeus_ and the long treatise the _Laws_ criticise the theoriesof the Republic. The former is full of world-speculations of a mostdifficult kind, the latter admits the weakness of the Ideal State, making concessions to inevitable human failings. 

Though written in an early period, the _Apology_ may form a fittingend to these dialogues. Socrates was condemned on the charge ofcorrupting the Athenian youth and for impiety. To most Athenians hemust have been not only not different from the Sophists he was neverweary of exposing, but the greatest Sophist of them all. He wasunfortunate in his friends, among whom were Critias the infamoustyrant and Alcibiades who sold the great secret. The older men musthave regarded with suspicion his influence over the youth in a citywhich seemed to be losing all its national virtues; many of them werepersonally aggrieved by his annoying habit of exposing their ignorance. He was given a chance of escape by acknowledging his fault andconsenting to pay a small fine. Instead, he proposed for himself thegreatest honour his city could give any of her benefactors, publicmaintenance in the town-hall. 

His defence contains many superb passages and is a masterpiece ofgentle irony and subtle exposure of error. Its conclusion is masterly. 

 "At point of death men often prophesy. My prophecy to you, my slayers, is that when I am gone you will have to face a far more serious penalty than mine. You have killed me because you wish to avoid giving an account of your lives. After me will come more accusers of you and more severe. You cannot stop criticism except by reforming yourselves. If death is a sleep, then to me it is gain; if in the next world a man is delivered from unjust judges and there meets with true judges, the journey is worth while. There will be found all the heroes of old, slain by wicked sentences; them I shall meet and compare my agonies with theirs. Best of all, I shall be able to carry out my search into true and false knowledge and shall find out the wise and the unwise. No evil can happen to a virtuous man in life or in death. If my sons when they grow up care about riches more than virtue, rebuke them for thinking they are something when they are naught. My time has come; we must separate. I go to death, you to life; which of the two is better only God knows. "

Two lessons of supreme importance are to be learned from Plato. In thefirst place he insists on credentials from the accepted teachers of anation. On examination most of them, like Gorgias, would be foundincapable of defining the subjects for the teaching of which theyreceive money. The sole hope of a country is Education, for it alonecan deliver from ignorance, a slavery worse than death; the uneducatedperson is the dupe of his own passions or prejudices and is theplaything of the horde of impostors who beg for his vote at electionsor stampede him into strikes. 

Again, the possibility of knowledge depends upon accurate definitionand the scientific comparisons of instances. These involve long andfatiguing thought and very often the reward is scanty enough; noconclusion is possible sometimes except that it is clear what a thingcannot be. The human intelligence has learned a most valuable lessonwhen it has recognised its own impotence at the outset of an inquiryand its own limitations at the end thereof. Knowledge, Good, Justice, Immortality are conceptions so mighty that our tiny minds have nocompasses to set upon them. Better far a distrust in ourselves thanthe somewhat impudent and undoubtedly insistent claim to certitudeadvanced by the materialistic apostles of modern non-humanitarianism. When questioned about the ultimates all human knowledge must admitthat it hangs upon the slender thread of a theory or postulate. Thestudent of philosophy is more honest than others; he has the candourto confess the assumptions he makes before he tries to think at all. 

At times it must be admitted that Plato sounds very unreal. His faultsare clear enough. The dialogue form makes it very easy for him toinvent questions of such a nature that the answer he wants is the onlyone possible. Again, his conclusions are often arrived at by methodsor arguments which are frankly inadmissible; in the earlier dialoguesare some very glaring instances of sheer logical worthlessness. Frequently the whole theme of discussion is such that no modernphilosopher could be expected to approve of it. A supposed explanationof a difficulty is sometimes afforded by a myth, splendid and poeticalbut not logically valid. Inconsistencies can easily be pointed out inthe vast compass of his speculations. It remained for Aristotle toinvent a genuine method of sorting out a licit from an illicit type ofargument. 

These faults are serious. Against them must be placed some positiveexcellences. Plato was one of the first to point out that there is aproblem; a question should be asked and an answer found if possible, for we have no right to take things for granted. More than this, hewas everywhere searching for knowledge, ridding himself of prejudice, doing in perfect honesty the most difficult of all things, the duty ofthinking clearly. These thoughts he has expressed in the greatest ofall types of Greek prose, a blend of poetic beauty with the precisionof prose. 

But Plato's praise is not that he is a philosopher so much asPhilosophy itself in poetic form. His great visions of the Eternalwhence we spring, his awe for the real King, the real Virtue, the realState "laid up in Heaven" fill him with an inspired exaltation whichlifts his readers to the Heaven whence Platonism has descended. Thereare two main types of men. One is content with the things of sense;using his powers of observation and performing experiments he willbecome a Scientist; using his powers of speculation he will become anAristotelian philosopher; putting his thoughts into simple and logicalorder, he will write good prose. The other soars to the eternalprinciples behind this world, the deathless forms or the generalconcepts which give concrete things their existence. These perfectforms are the main study of the Artist, Poet, Sculptor, whose work itis to give us comfort and pleasure unspeakable. So long as man lives, he must have the perfection of beauty to gladden him, especially ifScience is going to test everything by the ruler or balance orcrucible. This love of Beauty is exactly Platonism. It has never diedyet. From Athens it spread to Alexandria, there to start up into freshlife in the School of which Plotinus is the chief; its doctrines aredescribed for the English reader in Kingsley's _Hypatia_. It plantedits seed of mysticism in Christianity, with which it has most strangeaffinities. At the Renaissance this mystic element caught theimagination of northern Europe, notably Germany. Passing to England, it created at Cambridge a School of Platonists, the issue of whosethought is evident in the poetry of Coleridge and Wordsworth. Its lastoutburst has been the Transcendental teaching of the nineteenthcentury, so curiously Greek and non-Greek in its essence. 

For there is in our nature that undying longing for communion with theDivine which the mere thought of God stirs within us. Our true home isin the great world where Truth is everything, that Truth which one daywe, like Plato, shall see face to face without any quailing. 

TRANSLATIONS:

The version in 4 volumes by Jowett (Oxford) is the standard. Itcontains good introductions. 

The _Republic_ has been translated by Davies and Vaughan. 

Two volumes in the Loeb Series have appeared. 

A new method of translation of Plato is needed. The text should beclearly divided into sections; the steps of the argument should beindicated in a skeleton outline. Until this is done study of Plato islikely to cause much bewilderment. 

_Plato and Platonism_, by Pater, is still the best interpretation ofthe whole system. 

DEMOSTHENES

One of the most disquieting facts that history teaches is theinability of the most enlightened and patriotic men to "discern thesigns of the times". To us the collapse of the Greek city-states seemsnatural and inevitable. Their constant bickerings and petty jealousiesjustly drew down upon them the armed might of the ambitious andcapable power which destroyed them. Their fate may fill us with pityand our admiration for those who fought in a losing cause mayprejudice us against their enslavers. But just as the Norman Conquestin the long run brought more blessing than misery, so the downfall ofthe Greek commonwealths was the first step to the conquering progressof the Greek type of civilisation through the whole world. Our Harold, fighting manfully yet vainly against an irresistible tendency, has hiscounterpart in the last defender of the ancient liberties of Greece. 

Demosthenes was born in 384 of a well-to-do business man who diedeight years later. The guardians whom he appointed appropriated theestate, leaving Demosthenes and his sister in straitenedcircumstances. On coming of age the young man brought a suit againsthis trustees in 363, of whom Aphobus was the most fraudulent. Thoughhe won the case, much of his property was irretrievably lost. Nor werehis first efforts at public speaking prophetic of future greatness. His voice was thin, his demeanour awkward, his speech indistinct; hisstyle was laboured, being an obvious blend of Thucydides with Isaeus, an old and practised pleader. Yet he was ambitious and determined; helonged to copy the career of Pericles, the noblest of Athenianstatesmen. The stories of his self-imposed exercises and their happyissue are well known; his days he spent in declaiming on the sea-shorewith pebbles in his mouth, his nights in copying and recopyingThucydides; the speeches which have come down to us show clearly thegradual evolution of the great style well worthy of the greatest ofall themes, national salvation. 

It will be necessary to explain a convention of the Athenian lawcourts. A litigant was obliged to plead his own case; if he was unableto compose his own speech, he applied to some professional retailer oforations who would write it for him. The art of these speech-writerswas of varying excellence. A first-class practitioner would not onlydiscover the real or the supposed facts of the dispute, he woulddivine the real character of his client, and write the particular typeof speech which would seem most natural on such a person's lips. Considerable knowledge of human nature was required in such anexciting and delicate profession, although the author did not alwayssucceed in concealing his identity. Demosthenes had his share of thisexperience; he wrote for various customers speeches on varioussubjects; one concerns a dowry dispute, another a claim forcompensation for damage caused by a water-course, another deals withan adoption, another was written for a wealthy banker. Assault andbattery, ship-scuttling, undue influence of attractive females on theweaker sex, maritime trickery of all kinds, citizen rights, are alltreated in the so-called private speeches, of which some are ofconsiderable value as illustrating legal or mercantile or socialetiquette. 

Public suits were of the same nature; the speeches were composed byone person and delivered by another. Such are the speech against_Androtion_ for illegal practices, against _Timocrates_ forembezzlement and the important speech against _Aristocrates_, in whichfor the first time Demosthenes seems to have become aware of the realdesigns of Macedonia. The speech against the law of _Leptines_, delivered in 354 by Demosthenes himself, is of value as displaying thegradual development of his characteristic style; in it we have thevoice and the words of the same man, who is talking with a sense ofresponsibility about a constitutional anomaly. 

But for us the real Demosthenes is he who spoke on questions of Statepolicy. This subject alone can call out the best qualities in anorator as distinct from a rhetorician; the tricks and bad argumentswhich are so often employed to secure condemnation or acquittal in alaw court are inapplicable or undignified in a matter of vitalnational import. But before the great enemy arose to threaten Greekliberty, it happened that Fortune was kind enough to affordDemosthenes excellent practice in a parliamentary discussion of two ifnot three questions of importance. 

In 354 there was much talk of a possible war with Persia. Demosthenesfirst addresses the sword-rattlers. "To the braggarts and jingoes Isay that it is not difficult--not even when we need sound advice--towin a reputation for courage and to appear a clever speaker whendanger is very near. The really difficult duty is to show courage indanger and in the council-chamber to give sounder advice than anybodyelse. " His belief was that war was not a certainty, but it would bebetter to revise the whole naval system. A detailed scheme to assurethe requisite number of ships in fighting-trim follows, so sensiblethat it commands immediate respect. The speaker estimates the wealthof Attica, maps it out into divisions, each able to bear the expenseof the warships assigned to it. To a possible objection that it wouldbe better to raise the money by increased taxation he answers with thegrim irony natural to him (he seems to be utterly devoid of humour). 

 "What you could raise at present is more ridiculous than if you raised nothing at all. A hundred and twenty talents? What are they to the twelve hundred camels which they say carry Persia's revenues?"

He refuses to believe that a Greek mercenary army would fight againstits country, while the Thebans, who notoriously sided with Persia in480, would give much for an opportunity of redeeming this old sinagainst Greece. 

 "The rest of the Greeks, as long as they considered the Persian their common enemy, had numerous blessings; but when they began to regard him as their friend they experienced such woes as no man could have invented for them even in his curses. Whom then Providence and Destiny have shown useless as a friend and most advantageous as a foe, shall we fear? Rather let us commit no injustice for our own sakes and save the rest from commotion and strife. "

Such is the outline of the speech on the _Navy-boards_. Two yearslater he displayed qualities of no mean order. Sparta and Thebes werequarrelling for the leadership. Arcadia had revolted from Sparta, thecentre of the disaffection being _Megalopolis_; ambassadors from thelatter city and from Sparta begged Athenian aid. In the heat of theexcitement men's judgments were not to be trusted. "The difficulty ofgiving sound advice is well known, " says the orator. 

 "If a man tries to take a middle course and you have not the patience to hear, he will win the approval of neither party but will be maligned by both. If such a fate awaits me, I would rather appear to be talking nonsense than allow any party to deceive you into what I know is not your wisest policy. "

The question was, should Athens join Thebes or Sparta, both ancientfoes?

 "I would like to ask those who say they hate either, whether they hate the one for the sake of the other or for your sake. If for the sake of the other party, then you can trust neither, for both are mad; if for your sake, why do they try to strengthen one of these two cities unduly? You can with perfect ease keep Thebes weak without making Sparta strong, as I will prove. You will find that the main cause of woe and ruin is unwillingness to act with simple honesty. "

After a rapid calculation of possibilities he suggests the followingplan. 

 "War between Thebes and Sparta is certain. If Thebes is beaten to the ground, as she deserves to be, Sparta will not be unduly powerful, for these Arcadian neighbours will restore the balance; if Thebes recovers and saves herself, she will still be weak if you ally yourselves with Arcadia and protect her. It is expedient then in every way neither to sacrifice Arcadia nor let that country imagine that it survives through its own power or through any other power than yours. "

The calm voice of the cool-headed statesman is everywhere audible inthis admirable little speech. 

The power of discounting personal resentment and thinking soberly isapparent in the speech for the _Freedom of Rhodes_, delivered aboutthis time. Rhodes had offended Athens by revolting in the Social warof 357-5 with the help of the well-known Carian king Mausolus. For atime that monarch had treated Rhodes well; later he overthrew thedemocracy and placed the power in the hands of the oligarchs. WhenQueen Artemisia succeeded to the throne of Caria the democrats beggedAthens to aid them in recovering their liberty. Deprecating passion ofany kind, Demosthenes points out the real question at issue. Therecord of the oligarchs is a bad one; to overthrow the democracy theyhad won over some of the leading citizens whom they banished when theyhad attained their object. Their faithless conduct promised no hope ofa firm alliance with Athens. The Rhodian question was to be the acidtest of her political creed. 

 "Look at this fact, gentlemen. You have fought many a war against both democracies and oligarchies, as you well know. But the real object of these wars perhaps none of you considers. Against democracies you fight for private grievances which cannot be settled in public, or for territory or boundaries or for domination. Against oligarchies you fight for none of these things, but for your constitution and freedom. I would not hesitate to say that I consider it more to your advantage should become democratic and fight you than turn oligarchic and be your friends. I am certain that it would not be difficult for you to make peace with freeconstitutions; with oligarchies your friendship would not even be secure, for it is impossible that they in their lust for power could cherish kindness for a State whose policy is based on freedom of speech. "

 "Even if we were to say that Rhodes richly deserves her sufferings, this is the wrong time to gloat. Prosperous cities ought always to show that they desire every good for the unfortunate, for the future is dark to us all. "

His conclusion is this. 

 "Any person who abandons the post assigned to him by his commander you disfranchise and exclude from public life. Even so all who desert the political tradition bequeathed you by your ancestors and turn oligarchs you ought to banish from your Council. As it is you trust politicians who you know for certain side with your country's enemies. "

These three speeches indicate plainly enough the kind of man who wassoon to make himself heard in a more important question. Instead of afrothy and excitable harangue that might have been looked for in awarm-blooded Southern orator we find a dignified and apparentlycool-headed type of speech based on sound sense, full of practicalproposals, fearless, manly and above all noble because it relies onrighteousness. An intelligence of no mean order has in each casediscarded personal feeling and has pointed out the one bed-rock factwhich ought to be the foundation of a sound policy. More than this;for the first time an Attic orator has deliberately set to work tocreate a new type of prose, based on a cadence and rhythm. This newlanguage at times runs away with its inventor; experience was to showhim that in this matter as in all others the consummate artist hidesthe art whereof he is master. 

By 352 Greece had become aware that her liberties were to bethreatened not from the East, but from Macedonia. Trained in the Greekpractice of arms and diplomacy, her king Philip within seven years hadcreated a powerful military system. His first object was to obtaincontrol of a seaboard. In carrying out this policy he had to reduceAmphipolis on the Strymon in Thrace, Olynthus in Chalcidice, andAthenian power centralised in Potidaea, a little south of Olynthus, and on the other side of the Gulf of Therma in Pydna and Methone. Pydna he secured in 357 by trickery; Amphipolis had passed under hiscontrol through inexcusable Athenian slackness earlier in the sameyear. Potidaea fell in 356 and Methone, the last Athenian stronghold, in 353. Pagasae succumbed in 352; with it Philip obtained absolutecommand of the sea-coast. 

In the same year a Macedonian attempt to pass Thermopylae was met byvigorous Athenian action; a strong force held the defile, preventing afurther advance southward. In the next year the Athenian pacifistparty was desirous of dropping further resistance. This policy causedthe delivery of the _First Philippic_. It is a stirring appeal to thecountry to shake off its lethargy. Nothing but personal service wouldenable her to recover the lost strongholds. "In my opinion, " it says, "the greatest compelling power that can move men is the disgrace oftheir condition. Do you desire to stroll about asking one another fornews? What newer news do you want than that a Macedonian is warringdown Athens? Philip sick or Philip dead makes no difference to you. If he died you would soon raise up for yourselves another Philip ifyou continue your present policy. "

With statesmanlike care Demosthenes makes concrete proposals for thecreation of a standing force of citizens ready to serve in the ranks;at present their generals and captains are puppets for the prettymarch-past in the public square. He estimates the cost of upkeep andshows that it is possible to maintain a force in perfect efficiency;he lays particular stress on creating a base of operations inMacedonia itself, otherwise fleets sailing north might be checked bytrade winds. "Too late" is the curse of Athenian action; a vacillatingpolicy ruins every expedition. 

 "Such a system was possible earlier, but now we are on the razor's edge. In my opinion some god in utter shame at our history has inspired Philip with his restlessness. If he had been content with his conquests and annexations, some of you would be quite satisfied with a position which would have branded our name with infamy and cowardice; as it is, perhaps his unceasing aggressions and lust for extension might spur you--unless you are utterly past redemption. "

He grimly refutes all those well-informed persons who "happen to know"Philip's object--we had scores of them in our own late war. 

 "Why, of course he is intoxicated at the magnitude of his successes and builds castles in the air; but I am quite sure that he will never choose a policy such that the most hopeless fools here are likely to know what it is, for gossipers are hopeless fools. "

It should be remembered that these are the words of a young man ofthirty-four, unconnected with any party, yet capable of forming a sanepolicy. That they are great words will be obvious to anyone whoreplaces the name of Philip by that of his country's enemy; the resultis startling indeed. 

The last and most formidable problem Philip had yet to solve, thedestruction of Olynthus, the centre of a great confederation ofthirty-two towns. Military work against it was begun in 349 and led atonce to an appeal to Athens for assistance. The pacifists and traitorswere busy intriguing for Philip; Demosthenes delivered three speechesfor Olynthus. The _First Olynthiac_ sounds the right note. 

 "The present crisis all but cries aloud saying that you must tackle the problem your own selves if you have any concern for salvation. The great privilege of a military autocrat, that he is his own Cabinet, Commander-in-Chief, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, that he is everywhere personally in service with his army, gives him an enormous advantage for the speedy and timely performance of military duties, but it makes him incapable of obtaining from Olynthus the truce he longs for. Olynthus now knows she is fighting not for glory or territory but to avoid ejection and slavery. She has before her eyes his treatment of Amphipolis and Pydna. In a word, despotism is a thing no free country can trust, especially if it is its neighbour. "

He warns his hearers that once Olynthus falls, there is nothing tohinder Philip from marching straight on Athens. 

A definite policy is then suggested. 

 "Carping criticism is easy; any person can indulge in it; but only a statesman can show what is to be done to meet a pressing difficulty. I know well enough that if anything goes wrong you lose your tempers not with the guilty persons, but with the last speaker. Yet for all that, no thought of private safety will make me conceal what I believe to be our soundest course of action. "

By a perfectly scandalous abuse, the surplus funds of the StateTreasury had been doled out to the poor to enable them to witnessplays in the theatre, on the understanding that the doles should ceaseif war expenses had to be met. In time the lower orders came toconsider the dole as their right, backed by the demagogues refused tosurrender it. This theatre-fund Demosthenes did not yet venture toattack, for it was dangerous to do so. He had no alternative but topropose additional taxes on the rich. He concludes with an admirableperoration. 

 "You must all take a comprehensive view of these questions and bear a hand in staving off the war into Macedonia. The rich must spend a little of their possessions to enjoy the residue without fear; the men of military age must gain their experience of war in Philip's country and make themselves formidable defenders of their own soil; the speakers must facilitate an enquiry into their own conduct, that the citizen body may criticise their policy according to the political situation at the moment. May the result be good on every ground. "

The _Second Olynthiac_ strikes a higher note, that of indignantprotest against the perfidy of Macedonian diplomacy. 

 "When a State is built on unanimity, when allies in a war find their interests identical, men gladly labour together, bearing their troubles and sticking to their task. But when a power like Philip's is strong through greed and villainy, on the first pretext or the slightest set-back the whole system is upset and dismembered. Injustice and perjury and lies cannot win a solid power; they survive for a brief and fleeting period and show many a blossom of promise perhaps, but time finds them out; their leaves soon wither away. Houses or ships need foundations of great strength; policies require truth and righteousness as their origin and first principles. Such are not to be found in Philip's career. "

A history of Macedonian progress shows the weak places in the system. 

 "Success throws a veil over these at present, for prosperity shrouds many a scandal. If he makes one false step, all his vices will come into the clearest relief; this will soon become obvious under Heaven's guidance, if you will only show some energy. As long as a man is in health, he is unaware of his weaknesses, but when sickness overtakes him, his whole constitution is upset. Cities and despots are the same; while they are invading their neighbours their secret evils are invisible, but when they are in the grip of an internal war these weaknesses all become quite evident. "

An exhortation to personal service is succeeded by a protest against aparochial view of politics which causes petty jealousies and paralysesjoint action. The whole State should take its turn at doing some warduty. 

In the _Third Olynthiac_ Demosthenes takes the bull by the horns. Theinsane theatre-doles were sapping the revenues badly needed forfinancing the fight for existence. Olynthus at last was aware of herdanger; she could be aided not by passing decrees, but by annullingsome. 

 "I will tell you quite plainly I mean the laws about the theatre-fund. When you have done that and when you make it safe for your speakers to give you the best advice, then you may expect somebody to propose what you all know is to your interest. The men to repeal these laws are those who proposed them. It is unfair that they who passed them should be popular for damaging the State while a statesman who proposes a measure which would benefit us all should be rewarded with public hatred. Before you have set this matter right you cannot expect to find among you a superman who will violate these laws with impunity or a fool who will run his head into a manifest noose. "

With the same superb courage he tackles the demagogues who are thecause of all the mischief. 

 "Ever since the present type of orator has appeared who asks anxiously, 'What do you want? What can I propose? What can I give you?' the city's prestige has melted in compliment; the net result is that these men have made their fortunes while the city is disgraced. "

A bitter contrast shows how the earlier popular leaders made Athenswealthy, dominant and respected; the modern sort had lost territory, spent a mint of money on nothing, alienated good allies and raised upa trained enemy. But there is one thing to their credit, they hadwhitewashed the city walls, had repaired roads and fountains. And thetrade of public speaking is profitable. Some of the demagogues' housesare more splendid than the public buildings; as individuals they haveprospered in exact proportion as the State is reduced to impotence. Infact, they have secured control of the constitution; their system ofbribery and spoon-feeding has tamed the democracy and made it obedientto the hand. "I should not be surprised, " he continues, "if my words bring me into greater trouble than the men who have started these abuses. Freedom of speech on every subject before you is not possible--I am surprised that you have not already howled me down. "

The doles he compares to the snacks prescribed by doctors; they cannothelp keep a patient properly alive and will not allow him to die. Personal service and an end of gratuities is insisted upon. 

 "Without adding or taking away, only slightly altering our present chaos, I have suggested a uniform scheme whereby each man can do the duties fitted to his years and his opportunities. I have nowhere proposed that you should divide the earnings of the workers among the unemployable, nor that you should slack and amuse yourselves and be reduced to beggary while somebody else is fighting for you--for that is what is happening now. "

What a speech is here! Doles, interruptions of men who tell the truth, organised democratic corruption, waste of public money on whitewashare familiar to the unhappy British tax-payer. Where is ourDemosthenes who dare appeal to the electorate to sweep the system andits prospering advocates back into the darkness?

Having captured Olynthus in 348 and razed it to the ground, Philipattacked Euboea. A further advance was checked by a disgraceful peaceengineered by Philocrates and Aeschines in 346. The embassy whichobtained it was dodged by Philip until he had made the maximum ofconquest; he had excluded the Phocians from its scope, a people ofprimary importance because they controlled Thermopylae, but a weekafter signing the peace he had destroyed Phocian unity and usurpedtheir place on the great Council which met at Delphi. This evidentattack on the liberty of southern Greece raised a fever of excitementat Athens. The war-party clamoured for instant action; strangelyenough Demosthenes advised his city to observe the peace. In contrastwith his fiery audience he speaks with perfect coolness and calm. Hereviews the immediate past, explains the shameful part played by anactor Neoptolemus who persuaded Athens to make the peace, thenrealised all his property and went to live in Macedon; he describesthe good advice he gave them which they did not follow, and bases hisclaim to speak not on any cleverness but on his incorruptibility. 

 "Our true interest reveals itself to me in its real outlines as I judge the existing situation. But whenever a man throws a bribe into the opposite scale it drags the reason after it; the corrupt person will never afterwards have any true or sane judgment about anything. "

In the present case the real point at issue is clear enough. It is aquestion of fighting not Philip but the whole body of states who wererepresented at the Delphic Council, for they would fly to arms at onceif Athens renounced _the Peace_; against such a combination she couldnot survive, just as the Phocians could not cope with the combinedattack of Macedonia, Thessaly and Thebes, natural enemies united for abrief moment to achieve a common end. After all, a seat on the DelphicCouncil was a small matter; only fools would go to war for anunsubstantial shadow. 

Firmly planted in Greece itself, Philip started intriguing inPeloponnesus, supporting Argos, Megalopolis and Messene againstSparta. An embassy to these three cities headed by Demosthenes warnedthem of the treacherous friendship. Returning to Athens in 344 hedelivered his _Second Philippi_, which contains an account of thespeeches of the recent tour. Philip acted while Athens talked. 

 "The result is inevitable and perhaps reasonable; each of you excels in that wherein you are most diligent--he in deeds, you in words. "

Hence comes the intrigue against Sparta. He can dupe stupid peoplelike the Thebans, or the Peloponnesians; warning therefore isnecessary. To the latter he said:--

 "You now stare at Philip offering and promising things; if you have any sense, pray you may never see him practising his tricks and evasions. Cities have invented all kinds of protections and safeguards such as stockades, walls, trenches--all of which are made by hand and expensive. But men of sense have inherited from Nature one defence, good and salutary--especially democrats against despots--namely, mistrust. If you hold fast to this, you will never come to serious harm. You hanker after liberty, I suppose. Cannot you see that Philip's very title is the exact negation of it? Every king or despot is a foe to freedom and an adversary of law. Beware lest while seeking to be quit of a war you find a master. "

He then mentions the silly promises of advantages to come whichinduced Athens to make the infamous Peace, and quotes the famousremark whereby the traitor gang raised a laugh while in the act ofselling their country. "Demosthenes is naturally a sour and peevishfellow, for he drinks water. " Drawing their attention to this originof all their trouble, he asks them to remember their names--at thesame time remarking that even if a man deserved to die, punishmentshould be suspended if it meant loss and ruin to the State. 

The next three years saw various Macedonian aggressions, especially inThrace. That country on its eastern extremity formed the northerncoast of the Dardanelles, named the Chersonese, important assafeguarding the corn supplies which passed through the Straits. Ithad been in the possession of Miltiades, was lost in the Peloponnesianwar and was partly recovered by Timotheus in 863. Diopeithes had beensent there with a body of colonists in 346. Establishing himself inpossession, he took toll of passing traders to safeguard them againstpirates and had collided with the Macedonian troops as they slowlyadvanced to the Narrows. Philip sent a protest to Athens; in a livelydebate _on the Chersonese_ early in 341 Demosthenes delivered a greatspeech. 

First of all he shows that Diopeithes is really the one guarantee thatPhilip will not attack Attica itself. In Thrace is a force which cando great damage to Macedonian territory. 

 "But if it is once disbanded, what shall we do if Philip attacks the Chersonese? Arraign Diopeithes, of course--but that will not improve matters. Well then, send reinforcements from here--if the winds allow us. Well, Philip will not attack--but there is nobody to guarantee that. "

He suggests that Diopeithes should not be cast off but supported. Sucha plan will cost money, but it will be well spent for the sake offuture benefits. 

 "If some god were to guarantee that if Athens observes strict neutrality, abandoning all her possessions, Philip would not attack her, it would be a scandal, unworthy of you and your city's power and past history to sacrifice the rest of Greece. I would rather die than suggest such action. "

He then turns to the pacifists, pointing out that it is useless toexpect a peace if the enemy is bent on a war of extermination. Nonebut fools would wait till a foe admits he is actually fighting if hisactions are clearly hostile. The traitors who sell the city should bebeaten to death, for no State can overcome the foe outside till it haschastised the enemy within. The record of Macedonian duplicityfollows; the hectoring insolence of Philip is easily explained; Athensis the only place in the world in which freedom of speech exists; soprevalent is it that even slaves and aliens possess it. AccordinglyPhilip has to stop the mouths of other cities by giving them territoryfor a brief period, but Athens he can rob of her colonies and be sureof getting praise from the anti-national bribe-takers. He concludeswith a striking and elevated passage describing the genuine statesman. 

 "Any man who to secure your real interests opposes your wishes and never speaks to get applause but deliberately chooses politics as his profession (a business in which chance exercises greater influence than human reason), being perfectly ready to answer for the caprices is a really brave and useful citizen. I have never had recourse to the popular arts of winning favour; I have never used low abuse or stooped to humour you or made rich men's money public; I continue to tell you what is bound to make me unpopular among you and yet advance your strength if only you will listen-so unenviable is the counsellor's lot. "

A deep and splendid courage in hopelessness is here manifest. 

A little later in the same year was delivered the last and greatest ofall the patriotic speeches, the _Third Philippic_. Early in the speechthe whole object of the Macedonian threat is made apparent--thejugular veins of Athens, her trade-routes. 

 "Any man who plots and intrigues to secure the means of my capture is at war with me, even if he has not fired a shot. In the last event, what are the danger-spots of Athens? The Hellespont, Megara and Euboea, the Peloponnese. Am I to say then that a man who has fired this train against Athens is at peace with her?"

Then the plot against all Greek liberty is explained. 

 "We all recognise the common danger, but we never send embassies to one another. We are in such a sorry plight, so great a gulf has been fixed between cities by intrigue that we are incapable of doing what is our duty and our interest; we cannot combine; we can make no confederation of mutual friendship and assistance; we stare at the man as he grows greater; each of us is determined to take advantage of the time during which another is being ruined, never considering or planning the salvation of Greece. Every one knows that Philip is like a recurring plague or a fit of some malevolent disease which attacks even those who seem to be out of his reach. Remember this; all the indignities put on Greece by Sparta or ourselves were at least the work of genuine sons of the land; they may be likened to the wild oats of some heir to a great estate--if they were the excesses of some slave or changeling we all would have considered them monstrous and scandalous. But that is not our attitude to Philip and his diplomacy, though he is not a Greek or a relation; rather he is not born even of decent barbarian parents--he is a cursed wretch from Macedonia which till recently could not supply even a respectable servant. "

The bitterness of this is intense in a man who generally refrains fromanything undignified in a public speech. 

The cause of this disunion is bribery. In former times

 "it was impossible to buy from orators or generals knowledge of the critical moment which fortune often gives to the careless against the industrious. But now all our national virtues have been sold out of the market; we have imported in their place the goods which have tainted Greek life to the very death. These are--envy for every bribe-taker, ridicule for any who confesses his guilt, hatred for every one who exposes him. We have far more warships and soldiers and revenue to-day, but they are all useless, unavailing and unprofitable owing to treason. "

To punish these seems quite hopeless. 

 "You have sunk to the very depth of folly or craziness or I know not what. Often I cannot help dreading that some evil angel is persecuting us. For some ribaldry or petty spite or silly jest--in fact, for any reason whatsoever you invite hirelings to address you, and laugh at their scurrilities. "

He points to the fate of all the cities whom Philip flattered. 

 "In all of them the patriots advised increased taxation--the traitors said it was not necessary. They advised war and distrust--the traitors preached peace, till they were caught in the trap. The traitors made speeches to get votes, the others spoke for national existence. In many cases the masses listened to the pro-Macedonians not through ignorance, but because their hearts failed them when they thought they were beaten to their knees. "

The doom of these cities it was not worth while to describe overmuch. 

 "As long as the ship is safe, that is the time for every sailor and their captain to be keen on his duties and to take precautions against wilful or thoughtless upsetting of the craft. But once the sea is over the decks, all zeal is vain. We then who are Athenians, while we are safe with our great city, our enormous resources, our splendid reputation--what shall we do?"

The universal appeal of this white-hot speech is its most noteworthyfeature. The next year the disgraceful peace was ended, the freetheatre-tickets withdrawn. All was vain. In 338 Athens and Thebes weredefeated at Chaeroneia; the Cassandra prophecies of the great patriotcame true. In 330 one more triumph was allowed him. He was attacked bythe traitor Aeschines and answered him so effectively in his speech_on the Crown_ that his adversary was banished. A cloud settled overthe orator's later life; he outlived Alexander by little more than ayear, but when Antipater hopelessly defeated the allies at Crannon in322 he poisoned himself rather than live in slavery. 

Of all the orators of the ancient world none is more suitable formodern use than Demosthenes. It is true that he is guilty of gross badtaste in some of his speeches--but rarely in a parliamentary oration. Cicero is too verbose and often insincere. Demosthenes is as a ruleshort, terse and forcible. It is the undoubted justice of his causewhich gives him his lofty and noble style. He lacks the gentler touchof humour--but a man cannot jest when he sees servitude before thecountry he loves. With a few necessary alterations a speech ofDemosthenes could easily be delivered to-day, and it would besuccessful. Even Philip is said to have admitted that he would havevoted for him after hearing him, and Aeschines after winning applausefor declaiming part of Demosthenes' speech told his audience that theyought to have heard the beast. 

Yet all this splendid eloquence seems to have been wasted. The oratorcould see much that was dark to his contemporaries, and spokeprophecies true though vain. But the greatest thing of all wasconcealed from his view. The inevitable day had dawned for thegenuinely Greek type of city. It was brilliant but it was a source ofeternal divisions in a world which had to be unified to be of anyservice. Its absurd factions and petty leagues were really a hindranceto political stability. Further, the essential vices of democracycried aloud for a stern master, and found him. Treason, bribery, appeals to an unqualified voting class, theft of rich men's propertyunder legal forms, free seats in the theatre, belittlement of a greatempire, pacifism, love of every state but the right one--these are theopen sores of popular control. For such a society only one choice ispossible; it needs discipline either of national service or nationalextinction. Its crazy cranks will not disappear otherwise. Modernpolitical life is democratic; those who imagine that the voice of themajority is the voice of Heaven should produce reasons for theirbelief. They will find it difficult to hold such a view if they willpatiently consider the hard facts of history and the unceasingwarnings of Demosthenes. 

 * * * * *

No account of Greek literature would be complete without a mention ofthe influence which has revolutionised human thought. It is a strangecoincidence that Aristotle was born and died in the same years asDemosthenes. His native town was Stagira; he trained Alexander theGreat, presided over the very famous Peripatetic School at Athens forthirteen years and found time to investigate practically every subjectof which an ancient Greek could be expected to have any knowledge. 

His method was the slow and very patient observation of individualfacts. He is the complement of Plato, who tended to neglect the factfor the "idea" or general law or type behind it and logically prior toit. Deductive reasoning was Plato's method--that of the poet or greatartist, who worships not what he sees but the unseen perfect formbehind; inductive reasoning was Aristotle's method--that of theordinary man, who respects what he sees that he may by patience findout what is the unseen class to which it belongs. This latter has beenthe foundation-stone of all modern science; in the main theresemblance between Aristotle's system of procedure and that of thegreatest liberators of the human mind, Bacon and Descartes, are morevaluable than the differences. 

It would be difficult to mention any really great subject on whichAristotle has not left some work which is not to be lightlydisregarded. His works are in the form of disjointed notes, taken downat his lectures by his disciples. As a rule they are dry and precise, though here and there rays of glory appear which prove that the masterwas capable of poetic expression even in prose. A rather fine hymn hasbeen ascribed to him. As we might expect, he is weakest in scientificresearch, mainly because he could not command the use of instrumentsfamiliar to us. That a human being who possessed no microscope shouldhave left such a detailed account of the most minute marks on thebodies of fish and animals is an absolute marvel; so perfect is hisdescription that it cannot be bettered to-day. Cuvier and Linnaeus aregreat names in Botany; Darwin said that they were mere schoolboyscompared with Aristotle--in other words, botanical research hadprogressed thewrong way. 

Many works have appeared on Ethics and Philosophy; few of them arelikely to survive as long as Aristotle's _Ethics_ and _Metaphysics_Sometimes our modern philosophers seem to forget their obligation toresemble human beings in their writings. We hear so much of mist andtranscendentalism, problems, theories, essays, critiques that a bookof Aristotle's dry but exact definition seems like the words ofsoberness after some nightmare. The man is not assaulting the air; hisfeet are on firm ground. This is how he proceeds. "Virtue is a meanbetween excess and defect. " In fact, his object appears to have beento teach something, not to mystify everybody and to cover thehonourable name of philosophy with ridicule. 

It is the same story everywhere. Do we want the best book on_Rhetoric_ or _Politics_? Aristotle may supply it, mainly because hetook the trouble to classify his instances and show the reason whythings not only are of such a kind, but must inevitably be so. Acourse of Aristotelian study might profitably be prescribed to everyperson who thinks of talking in public; he would at least learn how torespect himself and his audience, however ignorant and powerful it maybe; he would tend to use words in an exact sense instead of indulgingin the wild vagueness of speech which is so common and so dangerous. This dry-as-dust philosopher who cut up animals and plants and wroteabout public speeches and constitutions found time to give the world abook on Poetry. Modern scientists sometimes deny their belief in theexistence of such a thing as poetry, or scoff at its value; no poetictreatise has yet appeared from them, for it seems difficult for modernscience to keep alive in its devotees the weakest glimmerings of asense of beauty. Herein their great founder and father shows himselfto be more humane than his so-called progressive children. His_Poetics_ was the foundation of literary criticism and shows no signof being superseded. 

Turning his eyes upwards, he gave the world a series of notes on whathe saw there. Not possessing a telescope, he could but do his bestwith the methods available. Let us not jeer at his results; rather letus remember that this same astronomer found time to observe theheavens in addition to revolutionising thought in the brief compass ofsixty-two years. 

For the miracle of miracles is this man's universality of outlook. Itmakes us ashamed of our own pretentiousness and swollen-headed pridewhen we reflect what this great architectonic genius has performed. Just as our bodies have decreased in size with the progress ofhistory, so our intelligences seem to have narrowed themselves sinceAristotle's day. Great as our modern scientists are, there is not oneof them who would be capable of writing an acknowledged masterpiece onEthics, Politics, Rhetoric, Poetry, Metaphysics as well as on his ownsubject. 

Nor have we yet mentioned this stupendous thinker's full claim toabsolute predominance in intellectual effort. His works on Medicinewere known to and appreciated by the Arabs, who translated them andbrought them to Spain and Sicily when they conquered those countries. Averroes commented on them and added notes of his own whichcontributed not a little to the development of the healing art. Morethan this, and greatest of all, during the later Middle AgesAristotle's system alone was recognised as possessing universal value;it was taken as the foundation on which the most famous and importantSchoolmen erected their philosophies--Chaucer mentions a clerk whopossessed twenty books, a treasure indeed in those days; it provided aEuropean Church with a Theology and the cosmopolitan EuropeanUniversities with a curriculum. Greater honour than this no man everhad or ever can have. Thus, although the Greek city-state seemed toperish in mockery with Demosthenes, yet the Greek spirit of freediscussion which died in the great orator was set free in another formin that same year; leaving Aristotle's body, it ranged through theworld conquering and civilising. If in our ignorance and bigotry wetry to kill Greek literature, we shall find that, like the hero of the_Bacchae_, we are turning our blows against our own selves, to thedelight of all who relish exhibitions of perfect folly. 

TRANSLATIONS:

Kennedy's edition is the best. It is vigorous and reads almost like anEnglish work. 

Butcher's _Demosthenes_ is the standard introduction to the speeches. 

Many reminiscences of Demosthenes are to be found in the speeches ofLord Brougham. 

ARISTOTLE

_Politics_. Jowett (Oxford). Welldon (Macmillan). 

_Poetics_. Butcher (Macmillan). Bywater (Oxford). 

Both contain excellent commentaries and notes. 

_Ethics_. Welldon. 

_Rhetoric_. Welldon. (Contains valuable analysis and notes. )

The article on Greek Science in the _Legacy of Greece_ (Oxford) shouldnot be omitted.