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TAe Palace of the Caesars,
House of the Tragic Poet-Salhtst,
Egyptian Feast, - .- „
Approach to Karnac, - - -
Temple of Karnac, - - .
The Philae Islands.
School of the Vestal Viigins,
PACE
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TABJLE OF CONTEN
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pOMPJEII.
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'dPJfOf.
The Glory of the City— Destruction — Excavation— JE^n-ierm^r Pompeii (Page 21-25) — The
Streets of the City — The Theatres of Pompeii — Villa of Julia Felix— Pavements and
'&i^Q'W9\k.s— Arrangement of Private Houses {Page 26-53) — Elegance of Domestic
Architecture — Ground Plan of Roman House — Exterior Apartments — Interior
Apartments — Dining Halls — The Triclinium — Materials and Construction — The
Salve Lucru— Paintings and Decorations — The Drunken Hercules — Wall Decorati'ii
— The Peristyle — The House of SiricusV-Political Inscriptions — Electioneering
Advertisements — The Graffiti— Street of the Lupanar^Eighty Loaves of Bread Found
■ — The House of the Balcony — Human Bodies Preserved — Discovered Bodies — House
of Diomedes (Page .3i-7i)— Location of the Villa — Ground Plan of the Villa — Detail
of Ground Plan — The Caldarium — Galleries and Halls — Porticoes and Terraces —
Tomb and Family Sepulchre — The Villa Destroyed — Conclusive Evidence — Jewels
and Ornaments — Pliny's Account of a Roman Garden — Stores and Eating Houses
^Page 75-81) — Restaurant— Pompeian Bill of Fare — Circe, Daughter of the Sun —
Houses of Pansa and Sallust (Page 82102) — Curious Religious Painting— General
View of House — Worship of the Lares — Domesti ated Serpents— Discoveries Con-
firm Ancient Authors — Ornamentation and Draperies — Remarkable Mansions —
House of the Vestals — Surgical and other Instruments — Shop of an Apothecary —
House of Holconius {Page 103-112) — Decorations of the Bed-Chambers — Perseus and
Andromeda— Epigraphs and Inscriptions — Ariadne Discovered by Bacchus —
General Survey of the City (Page 113-118)— Wioe Merchant's Sign — Sculptor's
Laboratory — House of Emperor Joseph II 17-119
^MUpEMENTg.
The Amphitheatre — Coliseum— 84,000 Seats — The Bloody Entertainments — Examining
the Wounded — Theatres— iJo wan Baths (Page i47-:Z5ff)— Description of the Baths —
Cold Baths — Warm Chambers — The Vapor Baths — Hot-Air Baths— Social Games
and Sports (Page 157-162)— Domestic Games — Jugglers — Game of Cities — Gym-
nastic Arts — Social Entertainments (Page 163-lSO) — Characteristics of the Dance
5
VI TABLE OF CONTENTS.
— Grace and Dress of the Dancers — Position at the Table — Vases and Ornaments —
Food and Vegetables — Mode of Eating — Reminders of Mortality — Egyptian Afusio
and Entertainments (Page 181-188) — Musical Instruments— Jewish Music — Beer,
Palm Wine, Etc— Games and Sports of the Egyptians (Page 189-202)— G&mes with
Dice — Games of Ball— Wrestling — Intellectual Capabilities- -Hunting. ..120-20?
pOMEgTIC JalFE.
Occupation of Women — Bathing — Wedding Ceremonies— Children's Toys — Writing
Materials — Families, Schools and Marriages — Duties of Children — Dress, Toilet
and Jewelry {Page 219-232)— The Chiton— Dress Materials— Styles of Wearing Hair
— Head-Dress of Women — Hair-Pins — Sunshades — Crimes and Punishments j Con-
tracts, Deeds, Etc. [Page 255-252)— Punishments — Laws Respecting Debt — Contracts
— Superstition- Cure of Diseases— /fowsea, Villas, Farmyards, Orchards, Gardens^
Etc. {Page 253-270) — Character of the People — Construction of Houses — Plans oi
Villas— Irrisation— Gardens— ^^yp<w/i Wealth {Page 271-280)— Gold and Silver-
Worth of Gold— Treasures— Total Value of Gold. 203-280
pOME^TIC ^TENglL^.
Writing Materials— Literature— Curious Lamps — The Candelabrum — Candelabra— Oil-
Lamps — The Steelyard — Drinking Vessels— Colored Glass— Glass — Glass Vessels —
Articles of Jewelry— Toilet-Boxes, Etc.— Furniture {Page 509-522)— Chairs and
Stools— Bed-Room Furniture — Tables. Etc. — Pottery — Drawings on Vases— Frt«e*
(Page 32.3-342)— GreeVi Vases — Inscriptions on Vases — Historical Subjects on Vases
— Uses of Vases— Vases Found in Tombs — Silver Vessels — Decorated Vases.. 28 1-342
J^JVIPLOYJVIENT.
Colored Glass Vessels — Imitation Jewels — Potters— Carpenter's Tools— Professions —
Husbandry— Rise of the Nile— Agricultural Implements— Agriculture— 5rtA;m^,
Dyeing and Painting (Page 363-3S4)— Flour Mills— Bread-Baking— Dyeing— Scour-
ing and Dyeing— Coloring Substances— Mineral Used for Dyeing — Cost of Dyeing
— Cloth Manufacture — Persian Costumes 343-384
^F{OY.
Ruins at Hissarlik— Settlement of Troy- First Settlers— Scsean Gate— Call of Menelaus—
Houses at Troy— Objects Found in Houses — Silver Vases— Taking out the Treasure
—Shield of the Treasure— Contents of the Treasure— Ear-Rings and Chains— Gold
Buttons, Studs, Etc.— Silver Goblet and Vases— Weapons of Troy— Terra Cotta
Mugs— Condition of the Roads— Lack of Inscriptions 385-422
TABLE OF CONTENTS. Vll
]N(lJ^£VEH /Kf\D ^PaBYLO}^.
Explorations of NiubaUr !iu 1 Ricli— Excavations iit Kouyunjik P.ilace -Sennacherib's
Conquests— Highly-Finished Sculptures— Xorth Palace, Kouyuujili— Temple of
Solnmon-The Oracle -Description of the Palace— Modern Houses of Persia—
Chambers in the Palace- Tlie Walls— Grandeur of Babylon— Building Msiterials—
History of Babylon -^fflr««c and B'lalbec {Page 46^;-475)-Siupeudous Remains-
Temple of Luxor— Chambers of the Great Pyramid -The Great Temple— The
Pantheon at Rome— Egyptian Obelisks— Obelisks 423-484
^^ELiqiON 01^ ^YTHOLOqv.
Mythology-Mythological Characters-The Pythian Apollo-Pliocbus Apollo-Niobe
and Leto-Daphne— Kyrene-Hermes— The Sorrow of Demeter— The Sleep of
Endymion— Phaethon— Briareos— Dionysos— Peutheus-Asklepios— Ixion-Tauta.
los— The Toils of Herakles— Admetos— Epiraetheus and Pandora- lo and Prome-
theus-Deukal ion -Poseidon and Athene-Medusa— Danae— Perseus-Andromeda
— Akrisios-Kephalos and Prokris— Skylla— Phrixos and Helle-Medeia— Theseua
—Ariadne— Arethusa—Tyro-Narkissos— Orpheus and Eurydike— Kadmos and
Europa— Belleropliou— Althaia and tlie Burning Brand 485-642
Egyptian Soul i>ture — Etruscan Piiinling— Renowned Painters— Parrhasius-Colors
Used— Sculpture Painting— Fresco ?Ami\ng— Sculpturing {Page 667-^9^)— Sculp-
ture in Greece and Egypt— Sculptures of Ancient Kinsrs— Animal Sculpture-
Modeling of the Human Fiirure— " The Sculptor of the Gods "—Grandeur of Style
—Statues— Description of Statues— Work of Lysippus- The Macedonian Age-
Roman Art— Copies of Ancient Gods Momic {Page 695-70i?)— Mosaic Subjects-
Battle Represented in Mosaics - Grandeur of Style 643-702
liilTERATURE."
Homer— Paris— Achilles— The Vengeance of Odysseus— Sophocles— Herodotus— The
Crocodile — Artabanus Dissuades Xerxes — Socrates — Socrates and Aristodemus —
Aristophanes — Plato — The Perfect Beauty — Last Hours of Socrates — Demos-
thenes— Philip and the Athenians — Measures to Resist Philip — Former Athenians
Described — Oration on the Crown— Invective against Catiline — Expulsion of Cati-
line from Rome— The Tyrant Praetor Denounced— Immortality of the Soul— Julius
Cssar— The Germans— Batlle of Pharsalia — Virgil — Employment of the Bee-
Punishments in Hell — Horace — To Licinius-Hapi^lness Founded on Wisdom —
The Equality of Man — Plutarch — Proscription of Sylla— Demosthenes and Cicero
Compared 703-832
Vlll
TABLE OF CONTENTS
^0MB3 AND j^ATACOJVlB^.
Extent of the Tombs— An Acre and a quarter in a Tomb— Sculpturiugs— Painting —
Burying According to Rank— Mummies— Mummy Cases and Sai-copbagi- Roman
Tombs— Inscriptions— TAe Catacombs {Page 875-9JfO)— Inscriptions— Catacombs-
Christian Inscriptions— Early lustriptioiis— Catacombs, nearly 900 miles long —
Utensils from the Catacombs— Paintings— S. Calixtus— Lord's Supper 833-910
^RUTH OF THE ^\BVE.
The Assyriap ana Babylonian Discoveries — 1100 Christian Inscriptions — The use of
the Bible for Excavators — Accordance with Ancient Writirrgs — Frieze from the
Arch of Titus — No Book produced by Chance — God the Author — Its Great Antiq-
uity— The Pentateuch — Preservation of the Scripture — Its Important Discoveries
— Its Peculiar Style — Its Harmony — Its Impartiality — Its Prophecies— Its Impor-
taint Doctrines — Its Holy Tendency — Its Aims— Its Effects — Its General Reception
— Persecuted but not Persecuting 911-944
OoLisEUM OF Rome ] 28
Destruction of Pompeii 17
View of Pompeii. {From a PJiotograph) 23
Plan of a Roman House 28
YeSTIBULK OF A PoMPKIAN IloUSK 30
Triclinium or Dining-room 33
Hercules Drunk. CFrom Pompni) 37
Discovered Body at Pompeii 51
■Ground Plan of the Suburban Villa of Diomedes 57
"Wall Painting at Pompeii 69
Household Utensils 72
Restaurant. {From Wall Painting) 77
Bed and Table at Pompeii. {From Wall Painting) 78
Plan of a Triclinium 79
Head of Circe 81
Kitchen Furniture at Pompeii S-1-
Brooches of Gold found at Pompeii. . 98
Scales found at Pompeii ^ 100
Wall Painting found at Pompeii 105
Gold Breastpins found at Pompeii 114
A Laboratory, as found in Pompeii 117
Pirst Walls Discovered in Pompeii 118
X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page.
View of the Amphitheatre at Pompeii 121
Examining the Wounded 133
Asking Pardon 135
Not Granted 135
Combats with Beasts 137
YiEw OF the Tepidarium 151
Ancient Bath PooM. {As Discovered) 155
Egyptian Vases 173
Social Enjoyment of Women. {From an Ancient Painting) 205
Gold Pins 220
Shawl or Toga Pin 220
Pearl Set Pins 221
Stone Set Brooches 224
Hair Dress. {From Pompeii) 227
Toilet Articles found at Pompeii ,....» 231
W REATH of Oak. (Life Saving) , 247
Tabuljs, Calamus, and Papyrus 283
Tabul.'E, Stylus, and Papyrus , 283
Tabula and Ink Stand 284
Gold Lamp. {Found nt Pompeii) 287
Candelabrum, or Lamp Stand 289
Candelabra, or Lamp Stands 290
Standing Lamp 293
Ancient Lamps 293
Scales and Weights 295
Vessels. {From Pompeii) 296
Drinking Vessel 297
Glass Vessels {From Pompeii) 302
Cups and Metals 304
Gold Jewelry. {From Pompeii) 305
Heavy Gold Pins 306
Brooches Inset with Stone 307
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xi
Page.
Safety Toga Pins 308
Plundering Corinth 317
Greek Vase 321
Etruscan Vase 324
Roman Vases 325
Vase Representing a Marriage. {Found at Pompeii) 328
Vase Representing Trojan War. {Found at Pompeii) 333
Vase. {Found at Pompeii) 334
Vase Representing Greek Sacrifice 336
Vase 2,000 Years Old 337
Silver Plattek 339
Silver Cup. {Found at Hildesheim) 340
Vase of the First Century 341
DisFi OF THE First Century 341
Ancient Glass Vessels 346
Glass Brooch 347
Imitation of Real Stone 348
Ancient Egyptian Pottery 350
Mill and Bakery at Pompeii 365
Bread Discovered in Pompeii 371
Metals and Beads 389
Terra-cotta Lamps 394
Bronze Lamps 394
Golden Cups of Priam. {Found at Troy) 396
Wonderful Vases of Terra-cotta from Palace of Priam 399
From Palace of Priam 400
Lids and Metals of Priam 401
Treasures of Priam. {Found at Troy) 404
Part of Machine of Priam 406
Jewelry of Gold and Stones 406
Vessel Found in the Palace of Priam 407
Shield of the Palace of Priam 408
XU LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page.
Gold Necklace of Troy 409
Gold Tassels of Tkoy 409
Lamps found at Tkoy 409
Studs and Bracelets of Priam 411
Gold Pins with Set Gems 411
Gold Ear-rings of Troy 412
Spears, Lances, Ax and Chain 415
Shears, Knives and Spears 415
Lances Found at Palack of Pkiam, Troy 416
Coins or Metals 418
Elegant Brooch of Troy 421
Lamp found at Troy 422
Palace of Sennacherib 427
Discovered in the Palace , 435
View of a Hall 445
Columns of Karnac , 463
The Great Pyramids and Sphinx 469
Ruins of Baalbec 473
YiEW OF THE Pantheon at Rome 475
Pantheon at Rome 477
Half Section of the Pantheon 478
Obelisk of Heliopolis 481
Jupiter {or Zeus) 491
Apollo. {From an Ancient Sculpture) 491
Pluto and His "Wife 503
Ceres (or Demeier. From Pompeii WaU Painting) 522
Juno (or Sere) 51(5
Diana (or Artemis) 520
Vulcan (or Eephaistos) 526
Minerva (or Pallas Athene. Found at Pompeii) 53O
Ancient Sculpturing on Tantalos 537
Urania. (^use of Astronomy) 533
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XIU
Page.
JrPITER {or Zeus with his Thunderbolt) 544:
Thalia, the Muse ; 550
Laocoon, the False Pkiest 555
Grecian Altar {3000 years old) 563
Euterpe. {Muse of Pleasure) 5Y7
Thalia. (Muse of Comedy) 584
NUMA PoMPILIUS YlSITING THE NyMPH EgEUIA 591
Polyhymnia. {Muse of Rhetoric) 603
Sphinx of Egypt 60Y
Calliope. (Muse of Heroic Verse) 614
The Origin of Man G17
Erate. {Muse of the Lute) 623
Terpsichore. {Muse of Dancing) 625
Ancient Sacrifice. {From Wall Painting of Pompeii) 631
Melpomene. {Muse of Tragedy) 639
Clio. {Muse of History) 642
Ancient Art and Literature. . 645
Painting {2600 years old) 655
Dying Gladiator 688
Mosaic Floor 696
Mosaic Doves 697
Apollo Charming Nature 701
Ancient Authors 709
Library of Herculaneum 721
Trojan Heroes 735
Ancient Metal Engraving 745
Socrates Drinking the Poison 762
From Ancient Sculpturing 775
King Philip {of Maeedon) 784
Augustus C^sar, {Found at Pompeii) 795
Julius C^SAR. {From an Ancient Sculpturing) 805
YiRGiL AND Horace 813
XIV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page.
Euclid 824
Alexander Severus 831
Egyptian Tomb 835
Sarcophagus, or Coffin. {With Noah's Ark cut in relief on the outside) . . 841
Coffin of Alabaster. {Features of the Deceased Sculptured) 843
Discovered Tomb with its Treasures. {At Pompeii) 847
Articles Found in a Tomb 852
Hieroglyphics 857, 858, 859
Egyptian Pillar 862
Egyptian Column 867
Sections of the Catacombs with Chambers 874
Plan of the Catacombs at Rome 875
Stone Coffin 878
Stone Coffin with Open Side 879
Inside Yiew of the Catacombs , 881
Lamps Found in the Catacombs 884
Tomb Inscription 896
Painted Ceiling 906
Chamber of a Catacomb . 909
Frieze from the Arch of Titcs 916
Pentateuch, Written 3200 Years Ago 921
Shishak and His Captives on Sculptured Wall at Karnac 935
Portrait of Rehoboam 936
^DDREg^ TO THE ^UJVIMY.
"And thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!)
In Thebes' streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium was in all its glory^
And time had not begun to overthrow ■ ^ ,, ]
Those temples, palaces and piles stupendous,
Of which the very ruins are tremendous, /. ".;,,"'
"Perhaps that very hand now pinioned flat,
Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass;
Or dropped a half-penny in Homer's hat;
Or doflPed thine own to let Queen Dido pass;
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,
A torch at the great Temple's dedication.
"Thou couldst develop — if that withered tongue
Could tell us what those sightless orbs have seen —
How the world looked when it was fresh and young
And the great deluge still had left it green;
Or was it then so old that history's pages
Contained no record of its early ages?
" Since first thy form was in this box extended
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations;
The Roman Empire has begun and ended.
New worlds have risen — we have lost o}d nations;
And countless kings have into dust been humbled,
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.
15
i6
ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY.
" If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold:
A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled;
Have children climbed those knees and kissed that face?
What wsls thy name and station, age and race? "
^j^gWJBR.
"Chiljd. of the later days! thy words have broken
A spell that lopg has bound these lungs of clay,
.?'or since this smoke-dried tongue of mine hath spoken,
Three thousand tedious years have rolled away.
Unswathed at length, I 'stand at ease' before ye.
List, then, O list, while I unfold my story."
fu
WfipSlI-
Pompeii was in its full glory at the commencement of the
Christian era. It was a city of wealth and refinement, with
about 35,000 inhabitants, and beautifully located at the foot of
Mount Vesuvius; it possessed all local advantages that the most
refined taste could de-
sire. Upon the verge
of the sea, at the en-
trance of a fertile
plain, on the bank of
a navigable river, it
united the convenien-
ces of a commercial
town with the secu"i-
ty of a military sta-
tion, and the romantic
beauty of a spot cele-
brated in all ages for
its pre-eminent loveli-
ness. Its environs,
even to the heights of
Vesuvius, were cover-
ed with villas, and the
coast, all the way to
Naples, was so orna-
mented with gardens
and villages, that the shores of the whole gulf appeared as one
city.
DESTRUCTION OF POMPEII.
l8 THE GLORY OF THE CITY.
What an enchanting picture must have presented itseh' to
one approaching Pompeii by sea ! He beheld the bright, cheer-
ful Grecian temples spreading out on the slopes before him ; the
pillared Foioim ; the rounded marble Theatres. He saw the
grand Palaces descending to the very edge of the blue waves by
noble flights of steps, surrounded with green pines, laurels and
cypresses, from amidst whose dark foliage marble statues of gods
gleamed whitely.
The skillful architect, the sculptors, the painters, and the
casters of bronze were all employed to make Pompeii an asylum
of arts; all trades and callings endeavored to grace and beautify
the city. The prodigious concourse of strangers who came here
in search of health and recreation added new charms and life to
the scene.
But behind all this, and encased as it were in a frame, the
landscape rose in a gentle slope to the summit of the thundering
mountain. But indications were not wanting of the peril with
which the city was threatened. The whole district is volcanic ;
and a few years before the final catastrophe, an earthquake had
shaken Pompeii to its foundations; some of the buildings were
much injured. On August 24, A.D. 79, the inhabitants were
busily engaged in repairing the damage thus wrought, when sud-
denly and without any previous warning a vast column of black
smoke burst from the overhanging mountain. Rising to a pro-
digious height in the cloudless summer sky, it then gradually
spread out like the head of some mighty Italian pine, hiding the
sun, and overshadowing the earth for miles in distance.
The darkness grew into profound night, only broken by the
blue and sulphurous flashes which darted from the pitchy cloud.
Soon the thick rain of thin, light ashes, almost imperceptible to
the touch, fell upon the land. Then quickly succeeded showers
of small pumice stones and heavier ashes, and emitting stifling,
eruptic fumes. After a time the sounds of approaching torrents
DESTRUCTION. I9
were heard, and soon streaming rivers of dense black mud poured
slowly but irresistibly down the mountain sides, and circled
through the streets, insidiously creeping into such recesses as
even the subtle ashes had failed to penetrate. There was now no
place of shelter left. No man could defend himself against this
double enemy. It was too late for flight for such as had remained
behind. Those who had taken refuge in the innermost parts of
the houses, or in the subterranean passages, were closed up for-
ever. Those who sought to flee through the streets were clogged
by the small, loose pumice stones, which lay many feet deep, or
were entangled and overwhelmed in the mud-streams, or were
struck down by the rocks which fell from the heavens. If they
escaped these dangers, blinded by the drifting ashes and groping
in the dark, not knowing which way to go, they were overcome
by the sulphurous vapors, and sinking on the highway were soon
buried beneath the volcanic matter. Even many who had gained
the open country, at the beginning of the eruption, were over-
taken by the darkness and falling cinders, and perished miserably
in the field or on the sea-shore, where they had vainly sought the
means of flight.
In three days the doomed city had disappeared. It lay
buried beneath a vast mass of ashes, pumice stone and hardened
mud, from twenty to seventy feet deep. Those of its terror-
stricken inhabitants who escaped destruction, abandoned forever
its desolate site. Years, generations, centuries went by, and the
existence of Pompeii— yea, even its very name — had ceased to be
remembered. The rich volcanic soil became covered with a pro-
lusion of vegetation. Vineyards flourished and houses were built
on the site of the buried city.
Nearly eighteen hundred years had elapsed since the thun-
derer Vesuvius had thrown the black mantle of ashes over the
fair city before the resuscitation arrived. Some antique bronzes
and utensils, discovered by a peasant, excited universal attention.
20 EXCAVATION.
Excavations were begun, and Pompeii, shaking off as it were her
musty grave clothes, stared from the classic and poetical age of
the first into the prosaic modern world of the nineteenth century.
The world was startled, and looked with wondering interest to
see this ancient stranger arising from her tomb — to behold the
awakening of the remote past from the womb of the earth which
had so long hoarded it.
The excavation has been assiduously prosecuted, until to-day
three hundred and sixty houses, temples, theatres, schools,
stores, factories, etc., have been thrown open before us with their
treasured contents. It is often, but erroneously, supposed that
Pompeii, like Herculaneum, was overwhelmed by a flood of lava.
Had this been, the case, the work of excavation would have been
immensely more difficult, and the result would have been far less
important. The marbles must have been calcined, the bronzes
melted, the frescoes effaced, and smaller articles destroyed by
the fiery flood. The ruin was effected by showers of dust and
scoriae, and by torrents of liquid mud, which formed a mould,
encasing the objects, thus preserving them from injury or decay.
We thus gain a perfect picture of what a Roman city was eight-
een hundred years ago, as everything is laid bare to us in almost
a perfect state.
What wealth of splendid vessels and utensils was contained
in the chests and closets! Gold and gilded ivory, pearls and
precious stones were used to decorate tables, chairs and vessels
for eating and drinking. Elegant lamps hung from the ceiling,
and candelabra and little lamps of most exquisite shapes illumin-
ated the apartments at night. To-day, looking at the walls, the
eyes may feast on beautiful fresco paintings, with colors so vivid
and fresh as if painted but yesterday; while gleaming everywhere
on ceiling, wall and floor, are marbles of rarest hue, sculptured
into every conceivable form of grace and beauty, and inlaid in
most artistic designs.
ENTERING POMPEII. 21
^NTERINQ 'PoMPEII.
We will now proceed to describe the general aspect of the
city, and for this purpose it will be convenient to suppose that
we have entered it by the gate of Herculaneum, though in other
respects the Porta della Marina is the more usual, and, perhaps,
the best entrance. •
On entering, the visitor finds himself in a street, running a
little east of south, which leads to the Forum. To the right,
stands a house formerly owned by a musician ; to the left, a
thermopolium or shop for hot drinks; beyond is the house of the
Vestals ; beyond this the custom-house ; and a little further on,
where another street runs into this one from the north at a very
acute angle, stands a public fountain. In the last-named street is
a surgeon's house ; at least one so named from the quantity of
surgical instruments found in it, all made of bronze. On the
right or western side of the street, by which we entered, the
houses, as we have said, are built on the declivity of a rock, and
are several stories high.
The fountain is about one hundred and fifty yards from the
city gate. About the same distance, further on, the street
divides into two ; the right-hand turning seems a by-street, the
left-hand turning conducts you to the Forum. The most import-
ant feature in this space is a house called the house of Sallust or
of Actseon, from a painting in it representing that hunter's death.
It stands on an area about fort}^ yards square, and is encompassed
on three sides by streets ; by that namely which we have been
describing, by another nearly parallel to it, and by a third, per«
pendicular to these two. The whole quarter at present exca
vated, as far as the Street of the Baths, continued by the Street
of Fortune, is divided, by six longitudinal and one transverse
street, into what the Romans called islands, or insulated musses
22 THE STREETS OF THE CITY.
of houses. Two of these are entirely occupied by the houses of
Pansa and of the Faun, which, with their courts and gardens, are
about one hundred yards long by forty wide.
From the Street of the Baths and that of Fortune, which
bound these islands on the south, two streets lead to the two cor-
ners of the Forum; between them are baths, occupying nearly
the whole island. Among other buildings are a milk-shop and
gladiatorial school. At the northeast corner of the Forum was
a triumphal arch. At the end of the Street of the Baths and
beginning of that of Fortune, another triumphal arch is still to
be made out, spanning the street of Mercury, so that this was
plainly the way of state into the city. The Forum is distant
from the gate of Herculaneum about four hundred yards. Of it
we shall give a full description in its place. Near the south-
eastern corner two streets enter it, one running to the south, the
other to the east. We will follow the former for about eighty
yards, when it turns eastward for two hundred 3^ards, and con-
ducts us to the quarter of the theatres. The other street, which
runs eastward from the Forum, is of more importance, and is
called the Street of the Silversmiths ;* at the end of which a short
street turns southwards, and meets the other route to the thea-
tres. On both these routes the houses immediately bordering on
the streets are cleared; but between them is a large rectangular
plot of unexplored ground. Two very elegant houses at the
southwest corner of the Forum were uncovered by the French
general Championnet, while in command at Naples, and are
known by his name. On the western side of the Forum two
streets led down towards the sea; the excavations here consist
almost entirely of public buildings, which will be described here-
after.
The quarter of the theatres comprises a large temple, called
the Temple of Neptune or Hercules, a temple of Isis, a temple
* Now the Street of Abundance.
THE THEATRES OF POMPEII..
23
of ^sculapius, two theatres, the Triangular Forum, and the
quarters of the soldiers or gladiators. On the north and east it
VIEW OF POMPEII. [From, a photograph.)
is bounded by streets; to the south and west it seems to have
been enclosed partly by the town walls, partly by its own. Here
the continuous excavation ends, and we must cross vineyards to
24 VILLA OF JULIA FELIX.
the amphitheatre, about five hundred and fifty yards distan ixo*ii
the theatre, in the southeast corner of the city, close to the walls,
and in an angle formed by them. Close to the amphitheatre are
traces of walls supposed to have belonged to a Forum Boarium.
or cattle market. Near at hand, a considerable building, called
the villa of Julia Felix, has been excavated and filled up again.
On the walls of it was discovered the following inscription, which
may serve to convey an idea of the wealth of some of the Pom'
peian proprietors :
In Praedis Juli^e Sp. F. Felicis
locantur
Balneum Venerium et Nongentum TABERNiE Pergul^e
CcENACULA Ex Idibus Aug Primis
In idus Aug. Sextas Annos Continuos Quinque
S. Q. D. L. E. N. C.
That is: " On the estate of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius, are
to be let a bath, a venereum, nine hundred shops, with booths and
garrets, for a term of five continuous years, from the first to the
sixth of the Ides of August." The formula, S. Q. D. L. E. N. C,
with which the advertisement concludes, is thought to stand for
— si quis domi lenocinium exerceat ne conducito: "let no one
apply who keeps a brothel."
A little to the south of the smaller theatre was discovered,
in 1 85 1, the Gate of Stabise. Hence a long straight street, which
has been called the Street of Stabiae, traversed the whole breadth
of the city, till it issued out on the northern side at the gate of
Vesuvius. It has been cleared to the point where it intersects
the Streets of Fortune and of Nola, which, with the Street of
the Baths, traverse the city in its length. The Street of Stabiae
forms the boundary of the excavations ; all that part of Pompeii
which lies to the east of it, with the exception of the amphithea-
tre, and the line forming the Street of Nola, being still occupied
by vineyards and cultivated fields. On the other hand, that part
PAVEMENTS AND SIDEWALKS. 25
of the city lying to the west of it has been for the most part dis-
interred; though there are still some portions lying to the south
and west of the Street of Abundance and the Forum, and to the
east of the Vico Storto, which remain to be excavated.
The streets of Pompeii are paved with large irregular pieces
of lava joined neatly together, in which the chariot wheels have
worn ruts, still discernible ; in some places they are an inch and a
half deep, and in the narrow streets follow one track; where the
streets are wider, the ruts are more numerous and irregular. The
width of the streets varies from eight or nine feet to about twenty-
two, including the footpaths or trottoirs. In many places they
are so narrow that they may be crossed at one stride; where they
are wider, a raised stepping-stone, and sometimes two or three,
have been placed in the centre of the crossing. These stones,
though in the middle of the carriage way, did not much incon-
venience those who drove about in the biga, or two-horsed chariot^
as the wheels passed freely in the spaces left, while the horses,
being loosely harnessed, might either have stepped over the stones
or passed by the sides. The curb-stones are elevated from one
foot to eighteen inches, and separate the foot-pavement from the
road. Throughout the city there is hardly a street unfurnished
with this convenience. Where there is width to admit of a broad
foot-path, the interval between the curb and the line of building
is filled up with earth, which has then been covered over with
stucco, and sometimes with a coarse mosaic of brickwork. Here
and there traces of this sort of pavement still remain, especially
in those streets which were protected by porticoes.
)\rRANQEMENT op pRIVATE JioU^E^.
We will now give an account of some of the most remark-
able private houses which have been disinterred ; of the paintings,
domestic utensils, and other articles found in them; and such in-
formation upon the domestic manners of the ancient Italians as
may seem requisite to the illustration of these remains. This
branch of our subject is not less interesting, nor less extensive
than the other. Temples and theatres, in equal preservation, and
of greater splendor than those at Pompeii, may be seen in many
places; but towards acquainting us with the habitations, the pri-
vate luxuries and elegancies of ancient life, not all the scattered
fragments of domestic architecture which exist elsewhere have
done so much as this city, with its fellow- sufferer, Herculaneum.
Towards the last years of the republic, the Romans natu-
ralized the arts of Greece among themselves ; and Grecian archi-
tecture came into fashion at Rome, as we may learn, among other
sources, from the letters of Cicero to Atticus, which bear con-
stant testimony to the strong interest which he took in ornament-
ing his several houses, and mention Cyrus, his Greek architect.
At this time immense fortunes were easily made from the spoils
of new conquests, or by peculation and maladministration of sub-
ject provinces, and the money thus ill and easily acquired was
squandered in the most lavish luxury. One favorite mode of in-
dulgence was in splendor of building. Lucius Cassius was the
first who ornamented his house with columns of foreign marble ;
they were only six in number, and twelve feet high. He was
26
ELEGANCE OF DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 27
soon surpassed by Scaurus, who placed in his house columns of
the black marble called Lucullian, thirty-eight feet high, and of
such vast and unusual weight that the superintendent of sewers,
as we are told by Pliny,* took security for any injury which
might happen to the works under his charge, before they were
suffered to be conveyed along the streets. Another prodigal, by
name Mamurra, set the example of lining his rooms with slabs
•of marble. The best estimate, however, of the growth of archi-
tectural luxury about this time may be found in what we are told
by Pliny, that, in the year of Rome 676, the house of Lepidus
was the finest in the city, and thirty-five years later it was not
the hundredth.-j- We may mention, as an example of the lavish
expenditure of the Romans, that Domitius Ahenobarbus offered
for the house of Crassus a sum amounting to near $242,500,
which was refused by the owner.;}; Nor were they less extrava-
gant in their country houses. We may again quote Cicero, whose
attachment to his Tusculan and Formian villas, and interest in
ornamenting them, even in the most perilous times, is well known.
Still more celebrated are the villas of Lucullus and Pollio ; of the
latter some remains are still to be seen near Pausilipo.
Augustus endeavored by his example to check this extrav-
agant passion, but he produced little effect. And in the palaces
of the emperors, and especially the Aurea Domus, the Golden
House of Nero, the domestic architecture of Rome, or, we might
probably say, of the world, reached its extreme.
The arrangement of the houses, though varied, of course, by
local circumstances, and according to the rank and circumstances
of the master, was pretty generally the same in all. The prin-
cipal rooms, differing only in size and ornament, recur every-
where; those supplemental ones, which were invented only for
convenience or luxury, vary according to the tastes and circum-
stances of the master.
* Nat. Hist, xxxvi. 2 f lb. xxxvi. 15. | Sexagies sestertium.
28
GROUND PLAN OF ROMAN HOUSE.
GIIOUND PLAN OK A ROMAN HOUSE.
The private part
comprised the peri-
style, bed - cham-
bers, tricHnium^
ceci, picture-galle-
ry, library, baths,
exedra, xystus, etc.
We proceed to ex-
plain the meaning
of these terms.
Before great
mansions there was generally a court or area, upon which the
portico opened, either surrounding three sides of the area, or
merely running along the front of the house. In smaller houses-
the portico ranged even with the street. Within the portico, or
if there was no portico, opening directly to the street, was the
vestibule, consisting of one or more spacious apartments. It was
considered to be without the house, and was always open for the
reception of those who came to wait there until the doors should
be opened. The prothyrum, in Greek architecture, was the
same as the vestibule. In Roman architecture, it was a passage-
room, between the outer or house-door which opened to the ves-
tibule, and an inner door which closed the entrance of the atrium..
In the vestibule, or in an apartment opening upon it, the porter,.
ostiai'ius^ usually had his seat.
The atrium, or cavsedium, for they appear to have signified
the same thing, was the most important, and usually the most
splendid apartment of the house. Here the owner received his
crowd of morning visitors, who were not admitted to the inner
apartments. The term is thus explained by Varro : " The hol-
low of the house (cavum sedium) is a covered place within the
walls, left open to the common use of all. It is called Tuscan^
from the Tuscans, after the Romans began to imitate their cavae-
EXTERIOR APARTMENTS 29
dium. The word atrium is derived from the Atriates, a people
of Tuscany, from whom the pattern of it was taken." Origi-
nally, then, the atrium was the common room ot resort for the
whole family, the place of their domestic occupations; and such
it probably continued in the humbler ranks of lile. A general
description of it may easily be given. It was a large apartment,
roofed over, but with an opening in the centre, called compluvium^
towards which the roof sloped, so as to throw the rain-water
into a cistern in the floor called zmpluvium.
The roof around the compluvium was edged with a row of
highly ornamented tiles, called antefixes, on which a mask or
some other figure was moulded. At the corners there were usu-
ally spouts, in the form of lions' or dogs' heads, or any fantastical
device which the architect might fancy, which carried the rain-
vi^ater clear out into the impluvium, whence it passed into cisterns ;
irom which again it was drawn for household purposes. For
drinking, river- water, and still more, well-water, was preferred.
Often the atrium was adorned with fountains, supplied through
leaden or earthenware pipes, from aqueducts or other raised heads
of water; for the Romans knew the property of fluids, which
causes them to stand at the same height in communicating
vessels. This is distinctly recognized by Pliny,* though their
common use of aqueducts, in preference to pipes, has led to a
supposition that this great hydrostatical principle was unknown
to them. The breadth of the impluvium, according to Vitruvius,
was not less than a quarter, nor greater thart a third, of the whole
breadth of the atrium; its length was regulated by the same
standard. The opening above it was often shaded by a colored
veil, which diffused a softened light, and moderated the intense
heat of an Italian sun.f The splendid columns of the house of
* Nat. Hist. xxxi. 6, 8. 31 : Aqua in plumbo subit altitudmem exortus sui.
f Rubent (vela scil.) in cavis aedium, et museum a sole defendunt. We may con-
elude, then, that the impluvium was sometimes ornamented with moss or flowers,
unless the words cavis sedium may be extended to the court of the peristyle, which was
commonly laid out as a garden. [The latter seems more likely .j
30
INTERIOR APARTMENTS.
Scaurus, at Rome, were placed, as we learn from Plin}^,* in the
atrium of his house. The walls were painted with landscapes or
arabesques — a practice introduced about the time of Augustus —
or lined with slabs of foreign and costly marbles, of which the
Romans were passionately fond. The pavement was composed
of the same precious material, or of still more valuable mosaics.
The tablinum
was an append-
age of the atrium,,
and usually en-
tirely open to it»
It contained, as its
name imports,*!-
the family arch-
ives, the statues,,
pictures, geneal-
ogical tables, and
other relics of a
long line of an-
cestors.
Alse, wings,.
were similar but
smaller apart-
ments, or rather
recesses, on each
VESTIBULE OF A POMPEIAN HOUSE.
side of the fur-
ther part of the
atrium. Fauces^
jaws, were pas-
sages, more especially those which passed to the interior of the
house from the atrium.
* x.xxvi. 1.
f From tnbula, or tabella, a picture. Another derivation is, '' quasi e tabulis com-
pactum," because the large openings into it might be closed by shutters.
DINING HALLS. 3 1
In houses of small extent, strangers were lodged in cham-
bers which surrounded and opened into the atrium. The great,
whose connections spread into the provinces, and who were
visited by numbers who, on coming to Rome, expected to profit
by their hospitality, had usually a hospitium^ or place of recep-
tion for strangers, either separate, or among the dependencies of
their palaces.
Of the private apartments the first to be mentioned is the
peristyle, which usually lay behind the atrium, and communicated
with it both through the tablinum and by fauces. In its general
plan it resembled the atrium, being in fact a court, open to the
sky in the middle, and surrounded by a colonnade, but it was
larger in its dimensions, and the centre court was often decorated
with shrubs and flowers and fountains, and was then called xystus.
It should be greater in extent when measured transversely than
in length,* and the intercolumniations should not exceed four, nor
fall short of three diameters of the columns.
Of the arrangement of the bed-chambers we know little.
They seem to have been small and inconvenient. When there
was room they had usually a procceton, or ante-chamber. Vitru-
vius recommends that they should face the east, for the benefit
of the early sun. One of the most important apartments in the
whole house was the triclinium, or dining-room, so named from
the three beds, which encompassed the table on three sides,
leaving the fourth open to the attendants. The prodigality
of the Romans in matters of eating is well known, and it ex-
tended to all matters connected with the pleasures of the table.
In their rooms, their couches, and all the furniture of their enter-
tainments, magnificence and extravagance were carried to their
highest point. The rich had several of these apartments, to be
used at different seasons, or on various occasions. Lucullus, cele-
brated for his wealth and profuse expenditure, had a cercain
* This rule, however, is seldom observed in the Pompeian houses.
32 THE TRICLINIUM.
standard of expenditure for each triclinium, so that when his ser-
vants were told which hall he was to sup in, they knew exactly
the style of entertainment to be prepared; and there is a well-
known story of the way in which he deceived Pompey and Cicero,
when they insisted on going home with him to see his family sup-
per, by merely sending word home that he would sup in the
Apollo, one of the most splendid of his halls, in which he never
gave an entertainment for less than 50,000 denarii, about $8,000.
Sometimes the ceiling was contrived to open and let down a sec-
ond course of meats, with showers of flowers and perfumed
waters, while rope-dancers performed their evolutions over the
heads of the company. The performances of these funa^nhuli
are frequently represented in paintings at Pompeii. Mazois, in
his work entitled " Le Palais de Scaurus," has given a fancy pic-
ture of the habitation of a Roman noble of the highest class, in
which he has embodied all the scattered notices of domestic life,
which a diligent perusal of the Latin writers has enabled him to
collect. His description of the triclinium of Scaurus will give
the reader the best notion of the style in which such an apartment
"was furnished and ornamented. For each particular in the de-
scription he quotes some authority. We shall not, however,
encumber our pages with references to a long list of books not
likely to be in the possession of most readers.
" Bronze lamps,* dependent from chains of the same metal,
or raised on richly -wrought candelabra, threw around the room
a brilliant light. Slaves set apart for this service watched them,
trimmed the wicks, and from time to time supplied them with
oil.
" The triclinium is twice as long as it is broad, and divided,
as it were, into two parts — the upper occupied by the table and
the couches, the lower left empty for the convenience of the
attendants and spectators. Around the former the walls, up to
* The best of these were made at ^gina. The more common ones cost from $100 to
$125; some sold for as much as $2000. Plin. Hist. Nat. xxxiv. 8.
THE TRICLINIUM.
33
a certain height, are ornamented with valuable hangings. The
decorations ol the rest of the room are noble, and yet appropriate
to its destination ; garlands, entwined with ivy and vine-branches,
divide the walls into compartments bordered with fanciful orna-
ments ; in the centre of each of which are painted with admirable
elegance young Fauns,
or half-naked Bacchant-
es, carrying thyrsi, vases
and all the furniture of
festive meetings. Above
the columns is a large
frieze, divided into
twelve compartments ;
each of these is sur-
mounted by one of the
signs of the Zodiac, and
contains paintings of the
meats which are in high-
est season in each month ;
so that under Sagittary (December), we see shrimps, shell-fish,
and birds of passage ; under Capricorn (January), lobsters, sea-
fish, wild-boar and game ; under Aquarius (February), ducks,
plovers, pigeons, water-rails, etc.
" The table, made of citron wood* from the extremity of
Mauritania, more precious than gold, rested upon ivory feet, and
was covered by a plateau of massive silver, chased and carved,
weighing five hundred pounds. The couches, which would con-
tain thirty persons, were made of bronze overlaid with ornaments
in silver, gold and tortoise-shell ; the mattresses of Gallic wool,
* These citrese mensae have given rise to considerable discussion. Pliny says that
they were made of the roots or knots of the wood, and esteemed on account of their veins
and markings, which were like a tiger's skin, or peacock's tail (xiii. 91. sqq ) Some
copies read cedri for citri ; and it has been suargested that the cypress is really meant, the
roots and knots of which are large and veined; whereas the citron is never used for
cabinet work, and is neither veined nor knotted.
TUICLINIUM.
34 THE TRICLINIUM.
dyed purple ; the valuable cushions, stuffed with feathers, were
covered with stuffs woven and embroidered with silk mixed with
threads of gold. Chrysippus told us that they were made at
Babylon, and had cost four millions of sesterces.*
" The mosaic pavement, by a singular caprice of the archi-
tect, represented all the fragments of a feast, as if they had fallen
in common course on the floor ; so that at the first glance the
room seemed not to have been swept since the last meal, and it
was called from hence, asarotos oihos^ the unswept saloon. At
the bottom of the hall were set out vases of Corinthian brass.
This triclinium, the largest of four in the palace of Scaurus, would
easily contain a table of sixty covers ;f but he seldom brings to-
gether so large a number of guests, and when on great occasions
he entertains four or five hundred persons, it is usually in the
atrium. This eating-room is reserved for summer; he has others
for spring, autumn, and winter, for the Romans turn the change
of season into a source of luxury. His establishment is so ap-
pointed that for each triclinium he has a great number of tables
of different sorts, and each table has its own service and its par-
ticular attendants.
" While waiting for their masters, young slaves strewed over
the pavement saw-dust dyed with saffron and vermilion, mixed
with a brilliant powder made from the lapis specularis, or talc.''
Pinacotheca, the picture-gallery, and Bibliotheca, the li-
brary, need no explanation. The latter was usually small, as a
large number of rolls {yolumina) could be contained within a
narrow space.
Exedra bore a double signification. It is either a seat, in-
tended to contain a number of persons, like those before the Gate
* About $161,000.
t The common furniture of a triclinium was three couches, placed on three sides of
a square table, each containing three persons, in accordance with the favorite maxim,
that a party should not consist of more than the Muses nor of fewer than the Graces, not
more than nine nor less than three. Where such numbers were entertained, couches
must have been placed along the sides of long tables.
MATERIALS AND CONSTRUCTION. 35
of Herculaneum, or a spacious hall for conversation and the gen-
eral purposes of society. In the public baths, the word is espe-
cially applied to those apartments which were frequented by the
philosophers.
Such was the arrangement, such the chief apartments of a
Roman house; they were on the ground-floor, the upper stories
being for the most part left to the occupation of slaves, freed-
men, and the lower branches of the family. We must except,
however, the terrace upon the top of all (solarium), a favorite
place of resort, often adorned with rare flowers and shrubs,
planted in huge cases of earth, and with fountains and trellises,
under which the evening meal might at pleasure be taken.
The reader will not, of course, suppose that in all houses all
these apartments were to be found, and in the same order. From
the confined dwelling of the tradesman to the palace of the patri-
cian, all degrees of accommodation and elegance were to be
found. The only object of this long catalogue is to familiarize
the reader with the general type of those objects which we are
about to present to him, and to explain at once, and collectively,
those terms of art which will be of most frequent occurrence.
The reader will gain a clear idea of a Roman house from
the ground-plan of that of Diomedes, given a little further on,
which is one of the largest and most regularly constructed at
Pompeii.
We may here add a few observations, derived, as well as
much of the preceding matter, from the valuable work of Mazois,
relative to the materials and method of construction of the Pom-
peian houses. Every species of masonry described by Vitruvius,
it is said, may here be met with ; but the cheapest and most dur-
able sorts have been generally preferred.
Copper, iron, lead, have been found employed for the same
purposes as those for which we now use them. Iron is more
plentiful than copper, contrary to what is generally observed in
36 THE SALVE LUCRU.
ancient works. It is evident from articles of furniture, etc., found
in the ruins, that the Italians were highly skilled in the art of
working metals, yet they seem to have excelled in ornamental
work, rather than in the solid and neat construction of useful arti-
cles. For instance, their lock-work is coarse, hardly equal to
that which is now executed in the same country; while the ex-
ternal ornaments of doors, bolts, handles, etc., are elegantly
wrought.
The first private house that we will describe is found by
passing down a street from the Street of Abundance. The visitor
finds on the right, just beyond the back wall of the Thermae.
Stabianae, the entrance of a handsome dwelling. An inscription
in red letters on the outside wall containing the name of Siricus
has occasioned the conjecture that this was the name of the
owner of the house ; while a mosaic inscription on the floor of
the prothyrum, having the words Salve Lucru, has given rise
to a second appellation for the dwelling.
On the left of the prothyrum is an apartment with two
doors, one opening on a wooden staircase leading to an upper
floor, the other forming the entry to a room next the street, with
a window like that described in the other room next the prothy-
rum. The walls of this chamber are white, divided by red and
yellow zones into compartments, in which are depicted the sym-
bols of the principal deities — as the eagle and globe of Jove, the
peacock of Juno, the lance, helmet and shield of Minerva, the
panther of Bacchus, a Sphinx, having near it the mystical chest
and sistrum of Isis, who was the Venus Physica of the Pomp-
eians, the caduceus and other emblems of Mercury, etc. There
are also two small landscapes.
Next to this is a large and handsome exedra, decorated with
good pictures, a third of the si^e of life. That on the left repre-
sents Neptune and Apollo presiding at the building of Troy; the
former, armed with his trident, is seated ; the latter, crowned
PAINTINGS AND DECORATIONS.
37
with laurel, is on foot, and leans with his right arm on a lyre.
On the wall opposite to this is a picture of Vulcan present-
ing the arms of Achilles to Thetis. The celebrated shield is
supported by Vulcan on the anvil, and displayed to Thetis, who
is seated, whilst a winged female figure standing at her side
HERCUi-ES BRUNK. (From Pompeii.)
points out to her with a rod the marvels of its workmanship.
Agreeably to the Homeric description the shield is encircled with
the signs of the zodiac, and in the middle are the bear, the
dragon, etc. On the ground are the breast-plate, the greaves
and the helmet.
In the third picture is seen Hercules crowned with ivy, ine-
briated, and lying on the ground at the foot of a cypress tree.
38 THE DRUNKEN HERCULES.
He is clothed in a sandyx^ or short transparent tunic, and has on
his feet a sort of shoes, one of which he has kicked off. He sup-
ports himseh' on his left arm, while the right is raised in drunken
ecstasy. A little Cupid plucks at his garland of ivy, another
tries to drag away his ample goblet. In the middle of the pic-
ture is an altar with festoons. On the top of it three Cupids,
assisted by another who has climbed up the tree, endeavor to
bear on their shoulders the hero's quiver; while on the ground,
to the left of the altar, four other Cupids are sporting with his
club. A votive tablet with an image of Bacchus rests at the foot
of the altar, and indicates the god to whom Hercules has been
sacrificing.
On the left of the picture, on a little eminence, is a group of
three females round a column having on its top a vase. The
chief and central figure, which is naked to the waist, has in her
hand a fan ; she seems to look with interest on the drunken hero,
but whom she represents it is difficult to say. On the right, half
way up a mountain, sits Bacchus, looking on the scene with a com-
placency not unmixed with surprise. He is surrounded by his
usual rout of attendants, one of whom bears a thyrsus. The an-
nexed engraving will convey a clearer idea of the picture, which
for grace, grandeur of composition, and delicacy and freshness of
coloring, is among the best discovered at Pompeii. The exedra
is also adorned with many other paintings and ornaments which
it would be too long to describe.
On the same side of the atrium, be3'Ond a passage leading
to a kitchen with an oven, is an elegant triclinium fenestratum
looking upon an adjacent garden. The walls are black, divided
by red and yellow zones, with candelabra and architectural mem-
bers intermixed with quadrupeds, birds, dolphins, Tritons, masks,
etc., and in the middle of each compartment is a Bacchante. In
each wall are three small paintings executed with greater care.
WALL DECORATION. 39
The first, which has been removed, represented ^neas in his
tent, who, accompanied by Mnestheus, Achates, and young
Ascanius, presents his thigh to the surgeon, lapis, in order to ex-
tract from it the barb of an arrow. yEneas supports himseh'
with the lance in his right hand, and leans with the other on the
shoulder of his son, who, overcome by his father's misfortune,
wipes the tears from his eyes with the hem of his robe; while
lapis, kneeling on one leg before the hero, is intent on extracting
the barb with his forceps. But the wound is not to be healed
without divine interposition. In the background of the picture
Venus is hastening to her son's relief, bearing in her hand the
branch of dictamnus, which is to restore him to his pristine vigor.
The subject of the second picture, which is much damaged,
is not easy to be explained. It represents a naked hero, armed
with sword and spear, to whom a woman crowned with laurel
and clothed in an ample peplum is pointing out another female
figure. The latter expresses by her gestures her grief and in-
dignation at the warrior's departure, the imminence of which is
signified by the chariot that awaits him. Signor Fiorelli thinks
he recognizes in this picture Turnus, Lavinia, and Amata, when
the queen supplicates Turnus not to fight with the Trojans.
The third painting represents Hermaphroditus surrounded
by six nymphs, variously employed.
From the atrium a narrow fauces or corridor led into the
garden. Three steps on the left connected this part of the house
with the other and more magnificent portion having its entrance
from the Strada Stabiana. The garden was surrounded on two
sides with a portico, on the right of which are some apartments
which do not require particular notice.
The house entered at a higher level, by the three steps just
mentioned, was at first considered as a separate house, and by
Fiorelli has been called the House of the Russian Princes,
from some excavations made here in 1851 in presence of the sons
40 THE PERISTYLE.
of the Emperor of Russia. The pecuharities observable in this
house are that the atrium and peristyle are broader than they are
deep, and that they are not separated by a tablinum and other
rooms, but simply by a wall. In the centre of the Tuscan atrium,
entered from the Street of Stabiae, is a handsome marble im-
pluvium. At the top of it is a square cippus, coated with marble,
and having a leaden pipe which flung the water into a square vase
or basin supported by a little base of white marble, ornamented
with acanthus leaves. Beside the fountain is a table of the same
material, supported by two legs beautifully sculptured, of a
chimaera and a griffin. On this table was a little bronze group
of Hercules armed with his club, and a young Phrygian kneeling
before him.
From the atrium the peristyle is entered by a large door. It
is about forty-six feet broad and thirty-six deep, and has ten col-
umns, one of which still sustains a fragment of the entablature.
The walls were painted in red and yellow panels alternately, with
figures of Latona, Diana, Bacchantes, etc. At the bottom of
the peristyle, on the right, is a triclinium. In the middle is a
small cecus^ with two pillars richly ornamented with arabesques.
A little apartment on the left has several pictures.
In this house, at a height of seventeen Neapolitan palms
(nearly fifteen feet) from the level of the ground, were discovered
four skeletons together in an almost vertical position. Twelve
palms lower was another skeleton, with a hatchet near it. This
man appears to have pierced the wall of one of the small cham-
bers of the prothyrum, and was about to enter it, when he was
smothered, either by the falling in of the earth or by the mephitic
exhalations. It has been thought that these persons perished
while engaged in searching for valuables after the catastrophe.
In the back room of a thermopolium not far from this spot
was discovered a graffito of part of the first line of the ^neid,
in which the rs were turned into h :
Alma vilumque cano Tlo.
-^ THE HOUSE OF SIRICUS. AI
We will now return to the house of Siricus. Contiguous to
it in the Via del Lupanare is a building having two doors sepa-
rated with pilasters. By way of sign, an elephant was painted
on the wall, enveloped by a large serpent and tended by a pigmy.
Above was the inscription : Sittius restituit elephantum ; and be-
neath the following :
Hospitiura hie locatur
Triclinium cum tribus lectis
Etcomm.
Both the painting and the inscription have now disappeared.
The discovery is curious, as proving that the ancients used signs
for their taverns. Orelli has given in his Inscriptions in Gaul,
one of a Cock (a Gallo Gallinacio). In that at Pompeii the last
word stands for " commodis." " Here is a triclinium with three
beds and other conveniences."
Just opposite the gate of Siricus was another house also sup-
posed to be a caupona^ or tavern, from some chequers painted on
the door-posts. On the wall are depicted two large serpents, the
emblem so frequently met with. They were the symbols of the
Lares viales, or compitales, and, as we have said, rendered the
place sacred against the commission of any nuisance. The cross,
which is sometimes seen on the walls of houses in a modern
Italian city, serves the same purpose. Above the serpents is the
following inscription, in tolerably large white characters: Otio-
sis locus hie non est, discede morator. " Lingerer, depart; this
is no place for idlers." An injunction by the way which seems
rather to militate against the idea of the house having been a
tavern.
The inscription just mentioned suggests an opportunity for
giving a short account of similar ones; we speak not of inscrip-
tions cut in stone, and affixed to temples and other public build-
ings, but such as were either painted, scrawled in charcoal and
other substances, or scratched with a sharp point, such as a nail
42 POLITICAL INSCRIPTIONS.
or knife, on the stucco of walls and pillars. Such inscriptions
afford us a peep both into the public and the domestic life of the
Pompeians. Advertisements of a political character were com-
monly painted on the exterior walls in large letters in black and
red paint; poetical effusions or pasquinades, etc., with coal or
chalk (Martial, Epig. xii. 6i, 9); while notices of a domestic
kind are more usually found in the interior of the houses, scratched,
as we have said, on the stucco, whence they have been called
graffiti.
The numerous political inscriptions bear testimony to the
activity of public life in Pompeii. These advertisements, which
for the most part turn on the election of sediles, duumvirs, and
other magistrates, show that the Pompeians, at the time when
their city was destroyed, were in all the excitement of the ap-
proaching comitia for the election of such magistrates. We shall
here select a few of the more interesting inscriptions, both relat-
ing to public and domestic matters.
It seems to have been customary to paint over old advertise-
ments with a coat of white, and so to obtain a fresh surface for
new ones, just as the bill-sticker remorselessly pastes his bill over
that of some brother of the brush. In some cases this new coat-
ing has been detached, or has fallen off, thus revealing an older
notice, belonging sometimes to a period antecedent to the Social
War. Inscriptions of this kind are found only on the solid stone
pillars of the more ancient buildings, and not on the stucco, with
which at a later period almost everything was plastered. Their
antiquity is further certified by some of them being in the Oscan
dialect; while those in Latin are distinguished from more recent
ones in the same language by the forms of the letters, by the
names which appear in them, and by archaisms in grammar and
orthography. Inscriptions in the Greek tongue are rare, though
the letters of the Greek alphabet, scratched on walls at a little
height from the ground, and thus evidently the work of school-
ELECTIONEERING ADVERTISEMENTS. 43
boys, show that Greek must have been extensively taught at
Pompeii.
The normal form of electioneering advertisements contains
the name of the person recommended, the office for which he is a
candidate, and the name of the person, or persons, who recom-
mended him, accompanied in general with the formula O. V. F.
From examples written in full, recently discovered, it appears that
these letters mean orat (or orant) vosfaciatis: " beseech you to
create " (aedile and so forth). The letters in question were, be-
fore this discovery, very often thought to stand for orat utfaveat^
" begs him to favor;" and thus the meaning of the inscription was
entirely reversed, and the person recommending converted into
the person recommended. In the following example for instance
— M. Holconium Priscuni duumvirum juri dicundo O. V. JF.
Philippus ,' the meaning, according to the older interpretation,
will be: " Philippus beseeches M. Holconius Priscus, duumvir of
justice, to favor or patronize him;" whereas the true sense is:
" Philippus beseeches you to create M. Holconius Priscus a
duumvir of justice." From this misinterpretation wrong names
have frequently been given to houses ; as is probably the case, for
instance, with the house of Pansa, which, from the tenor of the
inscription, more probably belonged to Paratus, who posted on
his own walls a request to passers-by to make his friend Pansa
aedile. Had it been the house of Pansa, when a candidate for the
sedileship, and if it was the custom for such candidates to post
recommendatory notices on their doors, it may be supposed that
Pansa would have exhibited more than this single one from a
solitary friend. This is a more probable meaning than that Par-
atus solicited in this way the patronage of Pansa; for it would
have been a bad method to gain it by disfiguring his walls in so
impertinent a manner. We do not indeed mean to deny that
adulatory inscriptions were sometimes written on the houses or
doors of powerful or popular men or pretty women. A verse of
44 ELECTIONEERING ADVERTISEMENTS.
Plautus bears testimony to such a custom (Impleantur mese Ibreis
elogiorum carbonibus. Mercator^ act ii. sc. 3). But first, the
inscription on the so-called house of Pansa was evidently not of
an adulatory, but of a recommendatory character; and secondly,
those of the former kind, as we learn from this same verse, seem
to have been written by passing admirers, with some material
ready to the hand, such as charcoal or the like, and not painted
on the walls with care, and time, and expense; a proceeding
which we can hardly think the owner of the house, if he was a
modest and sensible man, would have tolerated.
Recommendations of candidates were often accompanied
with a word or two in their praise; as dignus^ or difrnissimus
est^ probtssimus^ juvenis integer^ frugi^ otnni bono meritus^ and
the like. Such recommendations are sometimes subscribed by
guilds or corporations, as well as by private persons, and show
that there were a great many such trade unions at Pompeii
Thus we find mentioned the offectores (dyers), -pistores (bakers)
au7'ifices (goldsmiths), pomarii (fruiterers), ccepaj'ii (green
grocers), lignarii (wood merchants), plostrarii (cart-wrights)
ptscicapi (fishermen), agricolce (husbandmen), inuliones (mule
teers), cuUnarti (cooks) ^yullones (fullers), and others. Adver
tisements of this sort appear to have been laid hold of as a vehicle
for street wit, just as electioneering squibs are perpetrated among
ourselves. Thus we find mentioned, as if among the companies,
the pilicrepi (ball -players), the seribibi (late topers), the dor-
mientes universi (all the worshipful company of sleepers), and as
a climax, Pompeiani universi (all the Pompeians, to a man, vote
for so and so). One of these recommendations, purporting to
emanate from a " teacher '' or " professor," runs, V^alentius cufii
discentes siws (Valentius with his disciples) ; the bad grammar
being probably intended as a gibe upon one of the poor man's
weak points.
The inscriptions in chalk and coal, the graffiti, and occa-
THE GRAFFITI. 45
sionally painted inscriptions, contain sometimes well-known verses
from poets still extant. Some of these exhibit variations from
the modern text, but being written by not very highly educated
persons, they seldom or never present any various readings that
it would be desirable to adopt, and indeed contain now and then
prosodical errors. Other verses, some of them by no means con-
temptible, are either taken from pieces now lost, or are the inven-
tion of the writer himself. Many of these inscriptions are of
course of an amatory character ; some convey intelligence of not
much importance to anybody but the writer — as, that he is
troubled with a cold — or was seventeen centuries ago — or that he
considers somebody who does not invite him to supper as no
better than a brute and barbarian, or invokes blessings on the man
that does. Some are capped by another hand with a biting sar-
casm on the first writer, and many, as might be expected, are
scurrilous and indecent. Some of the graffiti on the interior
walls and pillars of houses are memoranda of domestic trans-
actions; as, how much lard was bought, how many tunics sent
to the wash, when a child or a donkey was born, and the like.
One of this kind, scratched on the wall of the peristyle of the
corner house in the Strada della Fortuna and Vicolo deorli
Scienziati^ appears to be an account of the dispensator or over-
seer of the tasks in spinning allotted to the female slaves of the
establishment, and is interesting as furnishing us with their names,
which are Vitalis, Florentina, Amarullis, Januaria, Heracla, Maria
(M<2ria, feminine of Marius, not Mar/a), Lalagia (reminding us
of Horace's Lalage), Damalis, and Doris. The fensum, or
weight of wool delivered to each to be spun, is spelled pesu, the n
and final in being omitted, just as we find salve lucru, for lucrum^
written on the threshold of the house of Siricus. In this form,
fesu is very close to the Italian word -peso.
We have already alluded now and then to the rude etchings
and caricatures of these wall-artists, but to enter fully into the
46 STREET OF THE LUPANAR,
subject of the Pompeian inscriptions and graffiti would almost
demand a separate volume, and we must therefore resume the
thread of our description.
A little beyond the house of Siricus, a small street, running
down at right angles from the direction of the Forum, enters the
Via del Lupanare. Just at their junction, and having an en-
trance into both, stands the Lupanar, from which the latter street
derives its name. We can not venture upon a description of this
resort of Pagan immorality. It is kept locked up, but the guide
will procure the key for those who may wish to see it. Next to
it is the House of the Fuller, in which was found the elegant
little bronze statuette of Narcissus, now in the Museum. The
house contained nothing else of interest.
The Via del Lupanare terminates in the Street of the
Augustals, or of the Dried Fruits. In this latter street, nearly
opposite the end of the Via del Lupanare, but a little to the left,
is the House of Narcissus, or of the Mosaic Fountain. This
house is one of recent excavation. At the threshold is a Mosaic
of a bear, with the word Have. The prothyrum is painted with
figures on a yellow ground. On the left is a medallion of a
satyr and nymph; the opposite medallion is destroyed.
The atrium is paved with mosaic. The first room on the
right-hand side of it has a picture of Narcissus admiring him-
self in the water. The opposite picture has a female figure
seated, with a child in her arms, and a large chest open before
her. The tablinum is handsomely paved with mosaic and marble.
Behind this, in place of a peristyle, is a court or garden, the wall
of which is painted with a figure bearing a basin. At the bot-
tom is a handsome mosaic fountain, from which the house derives
one of its names, with a figure of Neptune surrounded by fishes
and sea-fowl ; above are depicted large wild boars.
On the opposite side of the way, at the eastern angle of the
Street of the Lupanar, is the House of the Rudder and Trident,
EIGHTY LOAVES OF BREAD FOUND. 47
also called the House of Mars and Venus. The first of these
names is derived from the mosaic pavement in the prothyrum,
in which the objects mentioned are represented; while a riedal-
lion picture in the atrium, with heads of Mars and Venus, gave
rise to the second appellation. The colors of this picture are
still quite fresh, a result which Signor Fiorelli attributes to his
having caused a varnish of wax to be laid over the painting at
the time of its discovery. Without some such protection the
colors of these pictures soon decay; the cinnabar, or vermilion,
especially, turns black after a few days' exposure to the light.
The atrium, as usual, is surrounded with bed-chambers. A
peculiarity not yet found in any other house is a niche or closet
on the left of the atrium, having on one side an opening only large
enough to introduce the hand, whence it has been conjectured
that it served as a receptacle for some valuable objects. It is
painted inside with a wall of quadrangular pieces of marble of
various colors, terminated at top with a cornice. In each of the
squares is a fish, bird, or quadruped.
This closet or niche stands at a door of the room in which is
an entrance to a subterranean passage, having its exit in the Via
del Lupanare. There is nothing very remarkable in the other
apartments of this house. Behind is a peristyle with twelve
columns, in the garden of which shrubs are said to have been dis-
covered in a carbonized state.
Further down the same Street of the Augustals, at the angle
which it forms with the Street of Stabiae, is the house of a baker,
having on the external wall the name Modestum in red letters.
For a tradesman it seems to have been a comfortable house,
having an atrium and fountain, and some painted chambers. Be-
yond the atrium is a spacious court with mills and an oven. The
oven was charged with more than eighty loaves, the forms of
which are still perfect, though they are reduced to a carbona-
ceous state. They are preserved in the Museum.
48 THE HOUSE OF THE BALCONY.
The narrow street to which we have alluded, as entering the
Via del Lupanare nearly opposite to the house of Siricus, has been
called the Via del Balcone, from a small house with a projecting
balcony or msenianum. Indications of balconies have been found
elsewhere, and indeed there were evidently some in the Via del
Lupanare ; but this is the only instance of one restored to its
pristine state, through the care of Signor Fiorelli in substituting
fresh timbers for those which had become carbonized. The vis-
itor may ascend to the first floor of this house, from which the
balcony projects several feet into the narrow lane. In the atrium
of this house is a very pretty fountain.
The house next to that of the Balcony, facing the entrance
of a small street leading from the Via dell Abbondanza, and num-
bered 7 on the door post, has a few pictures in a tolerable state
of preservation. In a painting in the furthest room on the left of
the atrium Theseus is seen departing in his ship ; Ariadne, roused
from sleep, gazes on him with despair, while a little weeping
Cupid stands by her side. In the same apartment are two other
well-preserved pictures, the subjects of which it is not easy to ex-
plain. In one is a female displaying to a man two little figures
in a nest, representing apparently the birth of the Dioscuri. The
other is sometimes called the Rape of Helen. There are also
several medallion heads around.
In the small street which runs parallel with the eastern side
of the Forum, called the Vico di Eumachia, is a house named
the Casa nuova delta Caccia^ to distinguish it from one of the
same name previously discovered. As in the former instance, its
appellation is derived from a large painting on the wall of the
peristyle, of bears, lions, and other animals. On the right-hand
wall of the tablinum is a picture of Bacchus discovering Ariadne.
A satyr lifts her vest, while Silenus and other figures look on in
admiration. The painting on the left-hand wall is destroyed.
On entering the peristyle a door on the right leads down some
HUMAN BODIES PRESERVED. 49
steps into a garden, on one side of which is a small altar before a
wall, on which is a painting of shrubs.
Proceeding from this street into the Vico Storto, which
forms a continuation of it on the north, we tind on the right a
recently excavated house, which, from several slabs of variously
colored marbles found in it, has been called the House of the
Dealer in Marbles. Under a large court in the interior, sur-
rounded with Doric columns, are some subterranean apartments,
in one of which was discovered a well more than eighty feet deep
and still supplied with fresh water ; almost the only instance of
the kind at Pompeii. The beautiful statuette of Silenus, already
described, was found in this house. Here also was made the rare
discovery of the skeletons of two horses, with the remains of a
bis^a.
This description might be extended, but it would be tedious
to repeat details of smaller and less interesting houses, the fea-
tures of which present in general much uniformity; and we shall
therefore conclude this account of the more recent discoveries
with a notice of a group of bodies found in this neighborhood, the
forms of which have been preserved to us through the ingenuity
of Signor Fiorelli.
It has already been remarked that the showers of laptllo^ or
pumice stone, by which Pompeii was overwhelmed and buried,
were followed by streams of a thick, tenacious mud, which flow-
ing over the deposit of lapillo^ and filling up all the crannies and
interstices into which that substance had not been able to pene-
trate, completed the destruction of the city. The objects over
which this mud flowed were enveloped in it as in a plaster mould,
and where these objects happened to be human bodies, their
decay left a cavity in which their forms were as accurately pre-
served and rendered as in the mould prepared for the casting of
a bronze statue. Such cavities had often been observed. In
some of them remnants of charred wood, accompanied with
4
50 DISCOVERED BODIES.
bronze or other ornaments, showed that the object inclosed had
been a piece of furniture ; while in others, the remains of bones
and of articles of apparel evinced but too plainly that the hollow
had been the living grave which had swallowed up some unfor-
tunate human being. In a happy moment the idea occurred to
Signor Fiorelli of filling up these cavities with liquid plaster, and
thus obtaining a cast of the objects which had been inclosed in
them. The experiment was first made in a small street leading
from the Via del Balcone Pensile towards the Forum. The
bodies here found were on the lapillo at a height of about fifteen
feet from the level of the ground,
" Among the first casts thus obtained were those of four
human beings. They are now preserved in a room at Pompeii,
and more ghastly and painful, yet deeply interesting and touch-
ing objects, it is difficult to conceive. We have death itself
moulded and cast — the very last struggle and final agony brought
before us. They tell their story with a horrible dramatic truth
that no sculptor could ever reach. They would have furnished
a thrilling episode to the accomplished author of the ' Last Days
of Pompeii.'
" These four persons had perished in a street. They had
remained within the shelter of their homes until the thick black
mud began to creep through every cranny and chink. Driven
from their retreat they began to flee when it was too late. The
streets were already buried deep in the loose pumice stones which
had been falling for many hours in unremitting showers, and
which reached almost to the windows of the first floor. These
victims of the eruption were not found together, and they do not
appear to have belonged to the same family or household. The
most interesting of the casts is that of two women, probably
mother and daughter, lying feet to feet. They appear from their
garb to have been people of poor condition. The elder seems to
lie tranquilly on her side. Overcome by the noxious gases, she
DISCO VERiED BODIES. 5!
probably fell and died without a struggle. Her limbs are ex-
tended, and her left arm drops loosely. On one finger is still
seen her coarse iron ring. Her child was a girl of fifteen; she
//ms-Ttrts
52 DISCOVERED BODIES.
seems, poor thing, to have struggled hard for life. Her legs are
drawn up convulsively; her little hands are clenched in agony.
In one she holds her veil, or a part of her dress, with which she
had covered her head, burying her face in her arm, to shield her-
self from the falling ashes and from the foul sulphurous smoke.
The form of her head is perfectly preserved. The texture of her
coarse linen garments may be traced, and even the fashion of her
dress, with its long sleeves reaching to her wrists ; here and there
it is torn, and the smooth young skin appears in the plaster like
polished marble. On her tiny feet may still be seen her em-
broidered sandals.
" At some distance from this group lay a third woman. She
appears to have been about twenty-five years of age, and to have
belonged to a better class than the other two. On one of her
fingers were two silver rings, and her garments were of a finer
texture. Her linen head-dress, falling over her shoulders like
that of a matron in a Roman statue, can still be distinguished.
She had fallen on her side, overcome by the heat and gases, but
a terrible struggle seems to have preceded her last agony. One
arm is raised in despair; the hands are clenched convulsively;
her garments are gathered up on one side, leaving exposed a
limb of beautiful shape. So perfect a mould of it has been
formed by the soft and yielding mud, that the cast would seem to
be taken from an exquisite work of Greek art. She had fled
with her little treasure, which lay scattered around her — two
silver cups, a few jewels, and some dozen silver coins ; nor had
she, like a good housewife, forgotten her keys, after having prob-
ably locked up her stores before seeking to escape. They were
found by her side.
" The fourth cast is that of a man of the people, perhaps a
common soldier. As may be seen in the cut, he is of almost col-
ossal size; he lies on his left arm extended by his side, and his
head rests on his right hand, and his legs drawn up as if, finding
DISCOVERED BODIES.
53
escape impossible, he had laid himself down to meet death like a
brave man. His dress consists of a short coat or jerkin and
tight-fitting breeches of some coarse stuff, perhaps leather. On
one finger is seen his iron ring. His features are strongly marked
the mouth open, as in death. Some of the teeth still remain, and
even part of the moustache adheres to the plaster.
" The importance of Signor Fiorelli's discovery may be un-
derstood from the results we have described. It may furnish us
with many curious particulars as to the dress and domestic habits ,
of the Romans, and with many an interesting episode of the last
day of Pompeii. Had it been made at an earlier period we might
perhaps have possessed the perfect cast of the Diomedes, as they
clung together in their last struggle, and of other victims whose
remains are now mingled together in the bone-house."
J-foU^E OF PlOJVlEDE^.
This house, the most interesting, and by far the most ex-
tensive of the private buildings yet discovered, is the Suburban
Villa, as it is called, from its position a little way without the
gatc-3, in the Street of the Tombs, which led to, or formed part
of, the suburb called Augustus Felix. It is worthy of remark
that the plan of this edifice is in close accord with the descriptions
of country houses given us by Vitruvius and others — a circum-
stance which tends strongly to confirm the belief already ex-
pressed, that the houses of the city are built upon the Roman
system of arrangement, although the Greek taste may predomi-
nate in their decoration. We will commence by extracting the
most important passages in Pliny the Younger's description of his
Laurentine villa, that the reader may have some general notion
of the subject, some standard with which to compare that which
we are about to describe.
" My villa is large enough for convenience, though not splen-
did. The first apartment which presents itself is a plain, yet not
mean, atrium; then comes a portico, in shape like the letter O,
which surrounds a small, but pleasant area. This is an excellent
retreat in bad weather, being sheltered by glazed windows, and
still more effectually by an overhanging roof. Opposite the cen-
tre of this portico is a pleasant cavaedium, after which comes a
handsome triclinium, which projects upon the beach, so that when
the southwest wind urges the sea, the last broken waves just dash
54
HOUSE OF DIOMEDES. 55
ao-ainst its walls. On every side of this room are folding doors,
or windows equally large, so that from the three sides there is a
view, as it were, of three seas at once, while backwards the eye
wanders through the apartments already described, the cavaidium,
portico, and atrium, to woods and distant mountains. To the
left are several apartments, including a bed-chamber, and room
fitted up as a library, which jets out in an elliptic form, and, by
its several windows, admits the sun during its whole course.
These apartments I make my winter abode. The rest of this side
of the house is allotted to my slaves and freedmen, yet it is for
the most part neat enough to receive my friends. To the right
of the triclinium is a very elegant chamber, and another, which
you may call either a very large chamber (cubiculufn)^ or mod-
erate-sized eating-room {coenaHo\ which commands a full pros-
pect both of the sun and sea. Passing hence, through three or
four other chambers, you enter the cella frigidaria of the baths,
in which there are two basins projecting from opposite walls,
abundantly large enough to swim in, if you feel inclined to do so
in the first instance. Then come the anointing-room, the hypo-
caust, or furnace, and two small rooms; next the warm bath,
which commands an admirable view of the sea. Not far off is
the s^hoeristeriutn^ a room devoted to in-door exercises and
games, exposed to the hottest sun of the declining day. Beside
it is a triclinium, where the noise of the sea is never heard but in
a storm, and then faintly, looking out upon the garden and the
gestatio^ or place for taking the air in a carriage or litter, which
encompasses it. The gestatio is hedged with box, and with rose-
mary where the box is wanting ; for box grows well where it is
sheltered by buildings, but withers when exposed in an open sit-
uation to the wind, and especially within reach of spray from the
sea. To the inner circle of the gestatio is joined a shady walk
of vines, soft and tender even to the naked feet. The garden is
full of mulberries and figs, the soil being especially suited to the
56 LOCATION OF THE VILLA.
former. Within the circuit of the gestatio there is also a crypto-
portico, for extent comparable to public buildings, having win-
dows on one side looking to the sea, on the other to the garden.
In front of it is a xystus, fragrant with violets, where the sun's
heat is increased by reflection from the cryptoportico, which, at
the same time, breaks the northeast wind. At either end of it
is a suite of apartments, in which, in truth, I place my chief
delight."* Such was one of several villas described by Pliny.
The directions given by Vitruvius for building country houses
are very short. " The same principles," he says, " are to be
observed in country houses as in town houses, except that in the
latter the atrium lies next to the door, but in pseudo-urban houses
the peristyles come first, then atria surrounded by paved por-
ticoes, looking upon courts for gymnastic exercises and walking "
{^paloestras et ambulationes).^ It will appear that the distribu-
tion of the Suburban Villa was entirely in accordance with these
rules.
The house is built upon the side of the hill, in such a manner
that the ground falls away, not only in the line of the street,
across the breadth of the house, but also from the front to the
back, so that the doorway itself being elevated from five to six
feet above the roadway, there is room at the back of the house
for an extensive and magnificent suite of rooms between the level
of the peristyle and the surface of the earth. These two levels
are represented on the same plan, being distinguished by a dif-
ference in the shading. The darker parts show the walls of the
upper floor, the lighter ones indicate the distribution of the lower.
A further distinction is made in the references, which are by fig-
ures to the upper floor, and b}' letters to the lower. There are
besides subterraneous vaults and galleries not expressed in the
plan.
* Plin. Ep. lib. ii. 17. We liave very much shortened the original, leavine out the
description of, at least, one unper floor, and other particulars which did not appear
necessary to tlie illustration of our subject.
f Vitruvius, vi. 8.
GROUND PLAN OF THE VILLA. 57
I. Broad foot pavement raised nine inches or a foot above
the carriage way, running along the whole length of the Street
GROUND PLAN OP THE SUBaiiBAN VILLA OF DIOMEDES.
of Tombs. 2. Inclined planes, leading up to the porch on each
side. 3. Entrance. 4. Peristyle. This arrangement corresponds
exactly with the directions of Vitruvius for the building of coun-
58 DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN.
try houses just quoted. The order of the peristyle is extremely
elegant. The columns, their capitals, and entablatures, and the
paintings on the walls are still in good preservation. The archi-
tectural decorations are worked in stucco; and it is observed by
Mazois that both here and in other instances the artist has taken
liberties, which he would not have indulged in had he been work-
ing in more valuable materials. On this ground that eminent
architect hazards a conjecture that the plasterer had a distinct
style of ornamenting, different from that of architects, or of the
masons in their employ. The lower third of the columns, which
is not fluted, is painted red. The pavement was formed of o-piis
Signinuin. 5. Uncovered court with an impluvium, which col-
lected the rain water and fed a cistern, whence the common house-
hold wants were supplied. 6. Descending staircase, which led
to a court and building on a lower level, appropriated to the
offices, as the kitchen, bakehouse, etc., and to the use of slaves.
It will be recollected that the ground slopes with a rapid descent
away from the city gate. This lower story, therefore, was not
under ground, though near eight feet below the level of the peri-
style. It communicates with the road by a back door. From
the bottom of the stair there runs a long corridor, A, somewhat
indistinct in our small plan, owing to its being crossed several
times by the lines of the upper floor, which leads down by a gen-
tle slope to the portico surrounding the garden. This was the
back stair, as we should call it, by which the servants communi-
cated with that part of the house. There was another staircase,
B, on the opposite side of the house, for the use of the family. 7.
Door and passage to the upper garden, marked 17, on the same
level as the court. 8. Open hall, corresponding in position with
a tablinum. Being thus placed between the court and the gal-
lery, 28, it must have been closed with folding doors of wood,
which perhaps were glazed. 9, 10, 11, 12. Various rooms con-
taining nothing remarkable. 13. Two rooms situated in the
DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN. 59
most agreeable manner at the two ends of a long gallery, 28, and
looking out upon the upper terraces of the garden, from which
the eye took in the whole gulf of Naples to the point of Sorrento,
and the island of Capreae. 14. Procseton, or antechamber. 15.
Lodge of the cubicular slave, or attendant upon the bed-room.
16. Bed-room, probably that of the master, or else the state-
chamber, h. Alcove. Several rings were found here which had
evidently belonged to a curtain to draw across the front of it.
c. Hollow stand or counter of masonry, probably coated with
stucco or marble, which served for a toilet-table. Several vases
were found there, which must have contained perfumes or cos-
metic oils. The form of this bed-room is very remarkable, and
will not fail to strike the reader from its exact correspondence
with the elliptic chamber or library described by Pliny in his
Laurentine villa. The windows in the semi-circular end are so
placed that they receive the rising, noontide, and setting sun.
Bull's eyes, placed above the windows, permitted them to be
altogether closed without darkening the room entirely. These
windows opened on a garden, where, in Mazois' time, the care of
the guardian had planted roses, which almost beguiled him into
the belief that he had found the genuine produce of a Pompeian
garden. This must have been a delightful room, from its ample
size, elegance of ornament, and the quiet cheerful retirement of
its situation.
17. Upper garden upon the level of the court.
18. Entrance to the baths, which, though originally rare in
private houses, had become so common, long before the destruc-
tion of Pompeii, that few wealthy persons were without them.
The word balneum was peculiarly applied to domestic, thermcB
to public baths. This specimen, which fortunately was almost
perfect, small as it is, suffices to give an idea of the arrangement
of private baths among the Romans. 19. Portico upon two sides
of a small triangular court. There is as much skill in the dispo-
6o DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN.
sition. as taste in the decoration, of this court, which presents a
symmetrical plan, notwithstanding the irregular form of the space
allotted to it. Its situation is conformable to the advice of Vitru-
vlus; and as it could not front the west, it has been placed to the
south. The columns of the portico are octagonal. At the ex-
tremity of the gallery, on the left of the entrance, there is a small
furnace where was prepared some warm beverage or restorative
for the use of the bathers, who were accustomed to take wine or
cordials before they went away. Here a gridiron and two frying
pans were found, still blackened with smoke. In the centre of
the base, or third side of the court, is placed a bath, 20, about
six feet square, lined with stucco, the edge of which is faced with
marble. It was covered with a roof, the mark of which is still
visible on the walls, supported by two pillars placed on the pro-
jecting angles. The holes in the walls to admit the three princi-
pal beams are so contrived that each side is lined with a single
brick. Under this covering the whole wall was painted to repre-
sent water, with fish and other aquatic animals swimming about.
The water was blue, and rather deep in color: the fish were
represented in the most vivid and varied tints. Some years ago
this painting recovered, on being wetted, the original freshness
and brilliancy of its coloring; but exposure to the weather has
done its work, and now scarce a trace of it remains. In the mid-
dle of it there is a circular broken space to which a mask was
formerly attached, through which a stream gushed into the basin
below. Two or three steps led down to this ba^tisterium^ where
the cold bath was taken in the open air. This court and portico
were paved in mosaic. 21. Apodyterium. 22. Frigidarium.
23. Tepidarium. These two rooms, in neither of which was
there a bathing vessel, show that frequently rooms thus named
were not intended for bathing, but simply to preserve two inter-
mediate gradations of temperature, between the burning heat of
the caldarium or laconicum and the open air. In fact, no trace
THE CALDARIUM. 6 1
of any contrivance for the introduction or reception of water has
been found in No. 22. It was simply a cold chamber, cella frigi-
daria. Nor was the little chamber, 23, large enough to receive
conveniently a bathing vessel ; but seats of wood were found
there for the convenience of those who had quitted the bath, and
who came there to undergo the discipline of the strigil, and a
minute process of purification and anointing. This room is not
above twelve feet by six : the bath, therefore, could not have been
calculated for the reception of more than one, or, at most, of two
persons at once. Here the great question relative to the use of
glass windows by the ancients was finally settled. This apart-
ment was lighted by a window closed by a movable frame of
wood, which, though converted into charcoal, still held, when it
was found, four panes of glass about six inches square. A more
elaborate and curious glass window was found at a later period
in the public baths. 24. Caldarium. It might, however, be em-
ployed at pleasure as a tepid or cold bath, when the weather was
too cold for bathing in the open air. The suspensura caldari-
orum, as Vitruvius calls the hollow walls and floors raised upon
pillars, are in remarkably good preservation. By means of these
the whole apartment was entirely enveloped in flame, and might
be easily raised to a most stifling temperature.
We will, however, add that Vitruvius directs a bed of clay
mixed with hair to be laid between the pillars and the pavement ;
and some tradition of this custom may be imagined to subsist, for
the potters of the country, in some cases, work up wool with their
clay, a practice unknown elsewhere, as we believe, in the art of
pottery. The burning vapor passed out above the ceiling, gain-
ing no entrance into the apartment. Air and light were admit-
ted by two windows, one higher than the other. In one of these
Mazois found a fragment of glass. The bathing- vessel, e, lined
with stucco, and coated on the outside with marble, was fed by
two cocks, which must have been very small, to judge from the
62 DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN.
Space which they occupied. Hence, hot and cold water were
supplied at pleasure; and it was only to fill the vessel with boil-
ing water, and the whole apartment would be converted into one
great vapor bath.
As it would have been difficult or impossible to have kept
alive a lamp or torch in so dense a steam, there is near the door
a circular hole, closed formerly by a glass, which served to admit
the light of a lamp placed in the adjoining chamber. The hypo-
caust, or furnace and apparatus, 25, for heating the water, are so
placed that they can not be seen from the triangular court. They
are small, but correspond with the small quantity of boiling water
which they were required to furnish, f. Stone table, g. Cis-
tern, h. Mouth of hypocaust. i. A furnace, probably for boil-
ing water when merely a tepid bath was required, without heating
the suspensura caldariorum. By the side of the hypocaust were
placed the vases for hot and cold water, as described in the chap-
ter on Baths; their pedestals were observable between the mouth
of the furnace and the letter h. I. Wooden staircase, no longer
in existence, which led to the apartments above. 26. Reservoir.
Such was the distribution of this bath. Some paintings and
mosaics, which are ordinary enough, formed its only decorations ;
yet, from the little that remains, we can discover that the good
taste which reigned everywhere, and the freshness of the colors,
must have rendered the effect of the whole most agreeable.
27. This chamber seems to have been used as a wardrobe,
where the numerous garments of the opulent masters of this dwell-
ing were kept under presses, to give them a lustre. This con-
jecture is founded upon the remains of calcined stuffs, and the
fragments of wardrobes and carbonized plank found in the course
of excavation.
28. Great gallery, lighted by windows which looked upon
the two terraces, 34, separated by the large hall, t,2>- This gal-
GALLERIES AND HALLS. 63
lery furnished an agreeable promenade, when the weather did not
permit the enjoyment of the external porticoes or terraces.
29, 29. These two small apartments, which were open to the
gallery, and probably were closed by glass, may very well have
been, one a library, the other a reading-room, since the place in
which books were kept was not usually the place in which they
were read; being small and confined, suitable to the compara-
tively small number of volumes which an ancient library generally
contained, and also to the limited space within which a consider-
able number of rolls of papyrus might be placed.
A bust, painted on the wall of one of them, confirms this
supposition, for it is known that the ancients were fond of keep-
ing the portraits of eminent men before their eyes, and especially
of placing those of literary men in their libraries.
30. The form of this hall is suitable to a triclinium, and its
situation, protected from the immediate action of the sun's rays,
would seem to mark it as a summer triclinium. Still the guests
enjoyed the view of the country and of the sea, by means of a
door opening upon the terrace. In front of the little chamber, 3 1 ,
is a square opening for the staircase, which descends to the point
B upon the floor below. It is to be remarked, that at the en-
trance of each division of the building there is a lodge for a slave.
No doubt each suite of rooms had its peculiar keeper. The
chamber, 10, seems to have been reserved for the keeper of the
peristyle; the apartment, 15, belonged to the slave of the bed-
chamber, who watched the apartment of his master; a recess
under the staircase, 35, was, without doubt, the place of the
atriensis, or attendant on the atrium, when the hall, 8, was
open, to give admission to the interior of the house ; and when
this hall was closed, he attended in the chamber, 12, which com-
manded the entrance through the passage, or fauces.
Lastly, the small lodge, 31, is so placed as to keep watch
over all communication between the upper floor, where is the
64 DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN.
peristyle, and the lower floor, in which the apartments of the
family seem to have been chiefly situated.
32. Apartment, entirely ruined, to which it is difliicult to
assign a name.
33. Large cyzicene cecus, about thirty-six feet by twenty-
six. All the windows of this apartment opened almost to the
level of the floor, and gave a view of the garden, the terraces and
trellises which ornamented them, as well as of the vast and beau-
tiful prospect towards the sea and Vesuvius.
34. Large terraces, perhaps formerly covered with trellises,
which communicate with the terraces over the gallery by which
the garden is surrounded.
35. Staircase leading to the upper floor, on which may have
been the gynaeceum, or suite of apartments belonging to the
women. So retired a situation, however, did not always suit the
taste of the Roman ladies.
Cornelius Nepos says that " they occupy for the most part
the first floor in the front of the house." Mazois was long im-
pressed with the idea that there must have been an upper story
here, but for a long time he could not find the staircase.
At last he discovered in this place marks in the plaster,
which left no doubt in his mind but that it had existed here,
though being of wood it disappeared with the other woodwork.
He recognized the inclination and the height of the steps, and
found that they were high and narrow, like those stone stairs
which exist still in the same dwelling.
36. A sort of vestibule at the entrance of the building, appro-
priated to the oflftces. This lower court probably contained the
kitchen.
37. Bake-house, apartments of the inferior slaves, stables,
and other accessories. These are separated from the main build-
ing by means of a mesaulon, or small internal court, to diminish
the danger in case of a fire happening in the kitchen or bake-
PORTICOES AND TERRACES. 65
house. There were two ways of communication from the level of
the street to the level of the garden ; on one side by the corridor,
A, A, principally reserved for the servants, on the other by the
staircase, B. C, C, C. Portico round the garden.
The side beneath the house and that at the right of the plan
are perfectly preserved, but it has been found necessary to sup-
port the terrace on this side by inserting a modern pillar between
each of the old ones, and to build two massive piers beneath the
terrace on which the great cyzicene hall is situated. This por-
tico was elegantly ornamented. If we may judge of the whole
from a part, which is given by Mazois, the interior entablature
was ornamented with light mouldings and running patterns, while
there was a little picture over each pillar. That in his plate
represents a swan flying away with a serpent. The pillars were
square, the lower part painted with flowers springing from trel-
lises, apparently of very delicate execution. The same style of
painting occurs in the court of the baths. The ceiling of the por-
tico beneath the terrace is, in respect of its construction, one of
the most curious specimens of ancient building which have
reached our time. It is a plane surface of masonry, hung in the
air, supported neither on the principle of the arch, nor by iron
cramps, but owing its existence entirely to the adherence of the
mortar by which it is cemented. Tt is divided into compartments
by false beams (caissons) of the same construction. The whole
is of remarkable solidity. D. Open hall at the end of the west-
ern portico. E. Fountain, supplied perhaps by the water of the
cistern. There was formerly a well upon the terrace, 34, by
which water might be drawn from the reservoir of this fountain,
but it was effaced when the area of the terrace was restored.
F, F, F. Different chambers, halls, triclinium, in which the re-
mains of a carpet were found on the floor, and other rooms, to
which it is difficult to assign any particular destination. They
are all decorated in the most elegant and refined manner, but their
5
66 DETAIL OF GROUND PLAN.
paintings are hastening to decay with a rapidity which is grievous
to behold. Fortunately, the Academy of Naples has published a
volume of details, in which the greater part of the frescos of this
villa are engraved. G. Passage, leading by the staircase B to
the upper floor, and by the staircase H to the subterranean gal-
leries. There is a similar staircase, H, on the other side of the
portico.
These galleries form a crypt beneath the portico, lighted and
aired by loop-holes on the level of the ground. Amphorae, placed
in sand against the wall, are still to be seen there, and for this
reason it has been conjectured that the crypt served the purposes
of a cellar; but even this crypt was coarsely painted. I. Mesau-
lon, or court, which separates the offices from the house. K.
Small room at the extremity of the garden. L. An oratory;
the niche served to receive a little statue. M. Xystus, or gar-
den. N. Piscina, with a j'ef (Teau. O. Enclosure covered with
a trellis. P. Door to the country and towards the sea. Q. This
enclosure, about fifteen feet wide, appears to have been covered
with a trellis, and must have been much frequented, since there
is a noble flight of steps leading down to it from the upper gar-
den. It fronted the south, and must have been a delightful win-
ter promenade.
The arch to the left is the end of the open hall, D, above the
portico; on each side are the terraces, 34, 34, and in the centre
are the remains of the cyzicene hall. Beneath on the level of the
portico, are the several rooms marked F, probably the chief sum-
mer abode of the family, being well adapted to that purpose by
their refreshing coolness. Their ceilings for the most part are
semicircular vaults, richly painted, and the more valuable because
few ceilings have been found in existence. We should attempt
in vain to describe the complicated subjects, the intricate and va-
ried patterns with which the fertile fancy of the arabesque painter
has clothed the walls and ceilings, without the aid of drawings,
TOMB AND FAMILY SEPULCHRE. 67
which we are unable to give; and, indeed, colored plates would
be requisite to convey an adequate notion of their effect. In the
splendid work which Mr. Donaldson has published upon Pompeii,
several subjects taken from these rooms will be found, some of
them colored, together with eight mosaics, some of very compli-
cated, all of elegant design; and to this and similar works we
must refer the further gratification of the reader's curiosity.
Such was this mansion, in which no doubt the owner took
pride and pleasure, to judge from the expense lavished with un-
sparing hand on its decoration; and if he could be supposed to
have any cognizance of what is now passing on earth, his vanity
might find soine consolation for having been prematurely de-
prived of it, in the posthumous celebrity which it has obtained.
But his taste and wealth have done nothing to perpetuate his
name, for not a trace remains that can indicate to what person or
to what family it belonged. It is indeed usually called the Villa
of Marcus Arius Diomedes, on the strength of a tomb discovered
about the same period immediately opposite to it, bearing that
name. No other tomb had then been discovered so near it, and
on this coincidence of situation a conclusion was drawn that this
must have been a family sepulchre, attached to the house, and,
by consequence, that the house itself belonged to Diomedes. The
conjecture at the outset rested but on a sandy foundation, which
has since been entirely sapped by the discovery of numerous
other tombs almost equally near. All that we know of the owner
or his family may be comprised in one sentence, which, short as
it is, speaks forcibly to our feelings. Their life was one of ele-
gant luxury and enjoyment, in the midst of which death came on
them by surprise, a death of singular and lingering agony.
When Vesuvius first showed signs of the coming storm the -
air was still, as we learn from the description of Pliny, and the ,
smoke of the mountain rose up straight, until the atmosphere 1
would bear it no higher, and then spread on all sides- into a cano-
^ 07 TT
68 THE VILLA DESTROYED.
py, suggesting to him the idea of an enormous pine tree. After
this a wind sprung up from the west, which was favorable to carry
Pliny from Misenum to Stabiae, but prevented his return. The
next morning probably it veered something to the north, wh^n,
in the younger Pliny's words, a cloud seemed to descend upon
the earth, to cover the sea, and hide the Isle of Caprese from his
view. The ashes are said by Dion Cassius to have reached Egypt,
and in fact a line drawn southeast from Vesuvius would pass very
near Pompeii, and cut Egypt. It was probably at this moment
that the hail of fire fell thickest at Pompeii, at daybreak on the
second morning, and if any had thus long survived the stifling air
and torrid earth which surrounded them, their misery probably
was at this moment brought to a close. The villa of which we
speak lay exactly between the city and the mountain, and must
have felt the first, and, if there were degrees of misery, where all
perished alike, the worst effects of this fearful visitation. Fearful
is such a visitation in the present day, even to those who crowd to
see an eruption of Vesuvius as they would to a picture-gallery or
an opera ; how much more terrible, accompanied by the certainty
of impending death, to those whom neither history nor experience
had familiarized with the most awful phenomenon presented by na-
ture. At this, or possibly an earlier moment, the love of life
proved too strong for the social affections of the owner of the
house. He fled, abandoning to their fate a numerous family, and
a young and beautiful daughter, and bent his way, with his most
precious movables, accompanied only by a single slave, to the
sea, which he never reached alive. His daughter, two children,
and other members of his family and household sought protection
in the subterranean vaults, which, by the help of the wine-jars
already stored there, and the provisions which they brought down
with them, the}'^ probably considered as sufficient refuge against
an evil of which they could not guess the whole extent. It was
a vain hope; the same fate awaited them all by different ways.
70 CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE.
The strong vaults and narrow openings to the day protected
them, indeed, from the faUing cinders; but the heat, sufficient to
char wood, and volatilize the more subtle part of the ashes, could
not be kept out by such means. The vital air was changed into
a sulphurous vapor, charged with burning dust. In their despair,
longing for the pure breath of heaven, they rushed to the door,
already choked with scoriae and ruins, and perished in agonies on
which the imagination does not willingly dwell.
This the reader will probably be inclined to think might do
very well for the conclusion of a romance, but why invent such
sentimental stories to figure in a grave historical account? It is
a remarkable instance, perhaps the strongest which has yet oc-
curred, of the peculiar interest which the discoveries at Pompeii
possess, as introducing us to the homes, nay, to the very persons
of a long-forgotten age, that every circumstance of this tale can
be verified by evidence little less than conclusive. Beside the
garden gate, marked P, two skeletons were found ; one presumed
to be the master, had in his hand the key of that gate, and near
him were about a hundred gold and silver coins ; the other,
stretched beside some silver vases, was probably a slave charged
with the transport of them. When the vaults beneath the room,
D, were discovered, at the foot of the staircase, H, the skeletons
of eighteen adult persons, a boy and an infant were found hud-
dled up together, unmoved during seventeen centuries since they
sank in death. They were covered by several feet of ashes of
extreme fineness, evidently slowly borne in through the vent-
holes, and afterwards consolidated by damp. The substance
thus formed resembles the sand used by metal founders for cast-
ings, but is yet more delicate, and took perfect impressions of
everything on which it lay. Unfortunately this property was not
observed until almost too late, and little was preserved except the
neck and breast of a girl, which are said to display extraordinary
beauty of form. So exact is the impression, that the very texture
JEWELS AND ORNAMENTS. 7 1
of the dress in which she was clothed is apparent, which by its
extraordinary fineness evidently shows that she had not been a
slave, and may be taken for the fine gauze which Seneca calls
woven wind. On other fragments the impression of jewels worn
on the neck and arms is distinct, and marks that several mem-
bers of the family here perished. The jewels themselves were
found beside them, comprising, in gold, two necklaces, one set
with blue stones, and four rings, containing engraved gems. Two
of the skeletons belonged to children, and some of their blonde
hair was still existent ; most of them are said to have been recog-
nized as female. Each sex probably acted in conformity to its
character, the men trusting to their own strength to escape, the
women waiting with patience the issue of a danger from which
their own exertions could not save them.
In the same vault bronze candelabra and other articles,
jewels and coins were found. Amphorae were also found ranged
against the wall, in some of which the contents, dried and hard-
ened by time, were still preserved. Archaeologists, it is said,
pretend to recognize in this substance the flavor of the rich strong
wine for which the neighborhood of Vesuvius is celebrated.
Besides the interior garden within the portico, there must
have been another garden extending along the southern side of
the house. The passage from the peristyle, 7, the position of the
elliptic chamber, 16, and the trellis work, Q, with its spacious
steps, leave no doubt on this subject. It has been stated in a
German periodical that traces of the plowshare have been distin-
guished in the fields adjoining this villa. This is the only author-
ity we have for supposing that the process of excavation has
been extended at all beyond the house itself. The garden to the
south is stilly to the best of our information, uncleared, nor is it
likely that it contains objects of sufficient interest to recompense
the labor which would be consumed in laying it open. Our
limited knowledge of ancient horticulture is not therefore likely
72
JEWELS AND ORNAMENTS.
to be increased by means oi Pompeii; for such small flower-pots
as are attached to houses within the town can not contain any-
thing worth notice beyond a fountain or a summer triclinium.
nOUSEHOLD UTENSILS.
We will do our best, however, to complete the reader's
notion of an Italian villa, and show what might have been, since
we can not show what has been here, by borrowing Pliny's ac-
count of the garden attached to his Tuscan villa, the only account
of a Roman garden which has come down to us.
" In front of the house lies a spacious hippodrome, entirely
PLINY'S account of a ROMAN GARDEN. 73
open in the middle, by which means the eye, upon your first en-
trance, takes in its whole extent at one view. It is encompassed
on every side with plane trees covered with ivy, so that while
their heads flourish with their own green, their bodies enjoy a
borrowed verdure ; and thus the ivy twining round the trunk and
branches, spreads from tree to tree and connects them together.
Between each plane tree are placed box trees, and behind these,
bay trees, which blend their shade with that of the planes. This
plantation, forming a straight boundary on both sides of the hip-
podrome, bends at the further end into a semi-circle, which, being
set round and sheltered with cypresses, casts a deeper and more
gloomy shade; while the inward circular walks (for there are
several) enjoying an open exposure, are full of roses, and correct
the coolness of the shade by the warmth of the sun.
" Having passed through these several winding alleys, you
enter a straight walk, which breaks out into a variety of others,
divided by box edges. In one place you have a little meadow;
in another the box is cut into a thousand different forms, some-
times into letters; here expressing the name of the master, there
that of the artificer; while here and there little obelisks rise, in-
termixed with fruit trees; when on a sudden, in the midst of this
elegant regularity, you are surprised with an imitation of the
negligent beauties of rural nature, in the centre of which lies a
spot surrounded with a knot of dwarf plane trees. Beyond this
is a walk, interspersed with the smooth and twining apanthus,
where the trees are also cut into a variety of names and shapes.
At the upper end is an alcove of white marble, shaded with vines,
supported by four small columns of Carystian marble. Here is a
triclinium, out of which the water, gushing through several little
pipes, as if it were pressed out by the weight of the persons who
repose upon it, falls into a stone cistern underneath, from whence
it is received into a fine polished marble basin, so artfully con-
trived that it is always full without ever overflowing. When I
74 pliny's account of a roman garden.
sup here, this basin serves for a table, the larger sort of dishes
being placed round the margin, while the smaller swim about in
the form of little vessels and water-fowl.
" Corresponding to this is a fountain, which is incessantly
emptying and filling ; for the water, which it throws up to a great
height, falling back again into it, is returned as fast as it is re-
ceived, by means of two openings.
" Fronting the alcove stands a summer-house of exquisite
marble, whose doors project and open into a green enclosure,,
while from its upper and lower windows also the eye is pre-
sented with a variety of different verdures. Next to this is a
little private closet, which, though it seems distinct, may be laid
into the same room, furnished with a couch; and notwithstand-
ing it has windows on every side, yet it enjo3^s a very agreeable
gloominess, by means of a spreading vine, which climbs to the
top and entirel}' overshades it. Here you may lie and fancy
yourself in a wood, with this difference only, that you are not ex-
posed to the weather. In this place a fountain also rises, and in-
stantly disappears. In different quarters are disposed several
marble seats, which serve, as well as the summer-house, as so
many reliefs after one is tired of walking. Near each seat is a little
fountain, and throughout the whole hippodrome several small
rills run murmuring along, wheresoever the hand of art thought
proper to conduct them, watering here and there different spots
of verdure, and in their progress refreshing the whole."
^TORE^ AND J^ATINQ j-foU^Eg.
To notice all the houses excavated at Pompeii, would be
wearisome in the extreme. We intend therefore merely to select
some of the most important, to be described at length, the
arrangement of which may serve, with variations according to
place and circumstances, as a type of the whole. Some, which
offer no particularity in their construction, are remarkable for the
beauty of their paintings or other decorations; and, indeed, it is
from the paintings on the walls that many of the houses have de-
rived their names. Some again are designated from mosaics or
inscriptions on the threshold, from the trade or profession evi-
dently exercised by the proprietors, or from some accident, as
the presence of distinguished persons at their excavation — as, for
instance, those called the House of the Emperor Joseph II., del
Gran Duca, degli Scienziati, etc. As it is the object of this work
to convey a general notion of the remains of Pompeii, and to ex-
hibit, as far as our materials will permit, the private life of the
first century in all its degrees, we shall begin with one or two of
the stores. These present great similarity in their arrangements,
and indicate that the tribe of storekeepers was very inferior in
wealth and comfort to that of our own time and country. They
are for the most part very small, and sometimes without any in-
terior apartment on the ground floor. The upper floor must
75
76 STORES AND EATING HOUSES. .
have comprised one or two sleeping-rooms ; but there is, as we
believe, only one house in which the upper floor is in existence.
It is rare at Pompeii to see a whole house set apart for pur-
poses of trade, a part being occupied by the store itself, the rest
furnishing a comfortable dwelling for the owner. The houses of
the richer classes, instead of presenting a handsome elevation to
the street, were usually surrounded with stores. They furnished
considerable revenue.
Cicero, in a letter to Atticus, speaks of the ruinous state into
which some of his stores had fallen, " insomuch that not only the
men, but the mice had quitted them," and hints at the gain which
he hoped to derive from this seemingly untoward circumstance.
One Julia Felix possessed nine hundred stores, as we learn from
an inscription in Pompeii.
At night the whole front was closed with shutters, sliding in
grooves cut in the lintel and basement wall before the counter,
and by the door, which is thrown far back, so as to be hardly
visible.
There is an oven at the end of the counter furthest from
the street, and three steps have been presumed to support dif-
ferent sorts of vessels or measures for liquids. From these in-
dications it is supposed to have been a cook's shop; for the sale,
perhaps, both of undressed and dressed provisions, as is indicated
in the view. The oven probably served to prepare, and keep
constantly hot, some popular dishes for the service of any chance
customer; the jars might hold oil, olives, or the fish-pickle
called garum^ an article of the highest importance in a Roman
kitchen, for the manufacture of which Pompeii was celebrated.*
* It was made of the entrails offish macerated in brine. That made from the fish
called scomber was the best. This word is sometimes translated a herring, but the best
authorities render it a mackerel. It was caught, according to Pliny, in the Straits of
Gibraltar, entering from the ocean, and was used for no purpose but to make garum.
The best was called garum sociorum, a term of which we have seen no satisfactory ex-
planation, and sold for 1 000 sesterces for two congii, about $20 a gallon. An inferior
kind, made from the anchovy (aphya), was called alec, a name also given to the dregs
of garum. " No liquid, except unguents," Pliny says, " fetched a higher price."— Hist.
Nat. xxxi. 43.
COOK SHOP RESTORED.
77
Fixed vessels appear inconvenient for such uses on account
of the difficulty of cleaning them out ; but the practice, it is said,
continues to this day at Rome, where the small shopkeepers keep
their oil in similar jars, fixed in a counter of masonry. All the
ornaments in the view are copied from Pompeii. In front of the
store, which stands opposite the passage leading behind the small
theatre to the Soldiers' Quarters, are three stepping-stones, to en-
able persons to cross the road without wetting their feet in bad
weather.
In conjunction with a street view, we give the view of an-
other shop, which
has also a counter
containing jars for
the reception of
some liquid com-
modity. By some
it is called a Ther-
mopolium, or store
for the sale of hot
drinks, while others
call it an oil store.
In front is a foun-
tain. It is situated
at the angle of the
street immediately
adjoining the House of Pansa. The left-hand street leads to
the Gate of Herculaneum; the right, skirting Pansa's house, is
terminated by the city walls.
Tracks of wheels are very visible on the pavement. The inte-
rior was gaily painted in blue panels and red borders, as we learn
from the colored view in Mr. Donaldson's Pompeii, from which
this is taken. The counter is faced and covered with marble.
Numerous thermopolia have been discovered in Pompeii, many
RESTAUUANT. {From Wall Paintiucj.)
78
STORES AND EATING HOUSES.
BED AND TABLE AT POMPEII. (From Wall Painting.')
of them identified, or supposed to be identified, by the stains left
upon the counters by wet glasses.
In the centre is a small altar, placed before a niche, orna-
inented with the painting of some goddess holding a cornucopia.
She is reposing on a couch, closely resembling a modern French
bed. The mattress is
white, striped with
violet, and spotted
with gold ; the cushion
is violet. The tunic
of the goddess is blue,
the bed, the table,
and the cornucopia,
gold. This house
stands just by the
gate of Herculaneum, adjoining the broad flight of steps which
leads up to the ramparts. Bonucci supposes that it belonged to
the officer appointed to take charge of the gate and walls.
We may take this opportunity to describe the nature and ar-
rangement of the triclinium, of which such frequent mention has
been made. In the earlier times of Rome, men sat at table —
the habit of reclining was introduced from Carthage after the
Punic wars. At first these beds were clumsy in form, and cov-
ered with mattresses stuffed with rushes or straw. Hair and
wool mattresses were introduced from Gaul at a later period, and
were soon followed by cushions stuffed with feathers. At first
these tricliniary beds were small, low, and round, and made of
wood; afterwards, in the time of Augustus, square and highly
ornamented couches came into fashion. In the reign of Tiberius
they began to be veneered with costly woods or tortoisesKell, and
'were covered with valuable embroideries, the richest of which
came from Babylon, and cost incredible sums.
Each couch contained three persons, and, properly, the whole
POMPEIAN BILL OF FARE.
79
3
I
6
5 4
7
8
2
9
PLAN OF A TRICLINIUM.
iirrangement consisted of three couches, so that the number at
table did not exceed the number of the Muses, and each person
had his seat according to his rank and dignity. The places
were thus appropriated: i. The
host. 2. His wife. 3. Guest. 4.
Consular place, or place of honor.
This was the most convenient sit-
uation at table, because he who oc-
cupied it, resting on his left arm,
could easily with his right reach
any part of the table without incon-
venience to his neighbors. It was,
therefore, set apart for the person of highest rank. 5, 6, 7, 8,
•9. Other guests.
The entertainment itself usually comprised three services ;
the first consisting of fresh eggs, olives, oysters, salad, and other
light delicacies ; the second of made dishes, fish, and roast meats ;
the third of pastry, confectionery, and fruits. A remarkable
painting, discovered at Pompeii, gives a curious idea of a com-
plete feast. It represents a table set out with every requisite for
a grand dinner. In the centre is a large dish, in which four pea-
-cocks are placed, one at each corner, forming a magnificent dome
w^ith their tails. All round are lobsters— one holding in his claws
a blue egg, a second an oyster, a third a stuffed rat, a fourth a
little basket full of grasshoppers. Four dishes of fish decorate
the bottom, above which are several partridges, and hares, and
squirrels, each holding its head between its paws. The whole is
surrounded by something resembling a German sausage; then
comes a row of yolks of eggs; then a row of peaches, small
melons, and cherries ; and lastly, a row of vegetables of different
sorts. The whole is covered with a sort of green-colored sauce.
Another house, also of the minor class, yet superior to any
hitherto described, is recommended to our notice by the beauty
8o STORES AND EATING HOUSES.
of the paintings found. That the proprietor was not rich is evi-
dent from its limited extent and accommodation ; yet he had
some small property, as we may infer from the shop communi-
cating with the house, in which were sold such articles of agri-
cultural produce as were not required for the use of the family.
This house was formerly decorated with paintings taken
from the Odyssey, and from the elegant fictions of Grecian my-
thology. When Mazois visited it in 1812, two paintings in the
atrium were still in existence, though in a very perishing state.
Shortly after he had copied them they fell, owing to the plaster
detaching itself from the wall. One of them is taken from the
Odyssey, and represents Ulysses and Circe, at the moment when
the hero, having drunk the charmed cup with impunity, by virtue
of the antidote given him by Mercury, draws his sword and
advances to avenge his companions.* The goddess, terrified,
makes her submission at once, as described by Homer, while her
two attendants fly in alarm; yet one of them, with a natural
curiosity, can not resist the temptation to look back, and observe
the termination of so unexpected a scene. Circe uses the very
gesture of supplication so constantly described by Homer and the
tragedians, as she sinks on her knees, extending one hand to
clasp the knees of Ulysses, with the other endeavoring to touch
his beard.f This picture is remarkable, as teaching us the origin
of that ugly and unmeaning glory with which the heads of saints
are often surrounded. The Italians borrowed it from the Greek
artists of the lower empire, in whose paintings it generally has
the appearance, as we believe, of a solid plate of gold. The
* " Hence, seek the sty — there wallow with thy friends."
She spake. I drawing from beside ray thigh
My faulchion keen, with death-denouncing looks
Rushed on her; she with a sliriil scream of fear
Ran under mv raised arm, seized fast my knees,
And in winged accents plaintive thus beg^n:
" Say, who art thou," etc. — Cowper's Odyss. x. 320.
f She sat before him, clasped with her left hand
His knees; her right beneath his chin she placed.
And thus the king, Saturnian Jove, implored. — II. i. 500.
CIRCE, DAUGHTER OF THE SUN. 01
glory round Circe's head has the same character, the outer limb
or circle being strongly defined, not shaded off and divining into
rays, as we usually see it in the Italian school. This glory was
called nimbus, or aureola, and is defined by Servius to be " the
luminous fluid which encircles the heads of the gods." It be-
longs with peculiar propriety to Circe, as the daughter of the sun.
The emperors, with their usual modesty, assumed it as the mark
of their divinity; and, under this respectable patronage, it passed,
like many other Pagan superstitions and customs, in the use of
the church.
The other picture represents Achilles at Scyros, where The-
tis had hidden him among the daughters of Lycomedes, to pre-
vent his engaging in the Trojan war. Ulysses discovered him
by bringing for sale arms mixed with female trinkets, in the char-
acter of a merchant. The story is well known. The painting
represents the moment when the young hero is seizing the arms.
Deidamia seems not to know what to make of the matter, and
tries to hold him back, while Ulysses is seen behind with his fin-
ger on his lips, closely observing all that passes.
HEAD OF CIRCK.
JioU^E^ Of pAJ^^A AND ^ALLU^T.
The two compartments marked 30 are houses of a very
mean class, having formerly an upper story. Behind the last of
them is a court, which gives light to one of the chambers of
Pansa's house. On the other side of the island or blocjc are
three houses (32), small, but of much more respectable extent
and accommodation, which probably were also meant to be let.
In that nearest the garden were found the skeletons of four wom-
en, with gold ear and finger rings having engraved stones, be-
sides other valuables; showing that such inquilini^ or lodgers,
were not always of the lowest class.
The best view of this house is from the front of the door-
way. It offers to the eye, successively, the doorway, the pro-
thyrum, the atrium, with its impluvium, the Ionic peristyle, and
the garden wall, with Vesuvius in the distance. The entrance
is decorated with two pilasters of the Corinthian order. Besides
the outer door, there was another at the end of the prothyrum, to
secure the atrium against too early intrusion. The latter apart-
ment was paved with marble, with a gentle inclination towards
the impluvium. Through the tablinum the peristyle is seen, with
two of its Ionic capitals still remaining. The columns are six-
teen in number, fluted, except for about one-third of their height
from the bottom. They are made of a volcanic stone, and, with
their capitals, are of good execution. But at some period subse-
quent to the erection of the house, probably after the earthquake,
A.D. 63, they have been covered with hard stucco, and large
82
CURIOUS RELIGIOUS PAINTING. 83
leaves of the same material set under the volutes, so as to trans-
form them into a sort of pseudo-Corinthian, or Composite order.
It is not impossible that the exclusively Italian order, which we
call Composite, may have originated in a similar caprice. * Of
the disposition of the garden, which occupied the open part of the
peristyle, we have little to say. Probably it was planted with
choice flowers. Slabs of marble were placed at the angles to re-
ceive the drippings of the roof, which were conducted by metal
conduits into the central basin, which is about six feet in depth,
and was painted green. In the centre of it there stood a jet
d'eau, as there are indications enough to prove. This apartment,
if such it may be called, was unusually spacious, measuring about
sixty-five feet by fifty. The height of the columns was equal to
the width of the colonnade, about sixteen feet. Their unfluted
part is painted yellow, the rest is coated with white stucco. The
floor is elevated two steps above the level of the tablinum.
A curious religious painting, now almost effaced, was found
in the kitchen, representing the worship offered to the Lares,
under whose protection and custody the provisions and all the
cooking utensils were placed. In the centre is a sacrifice in honor
of those deities, who are represented below in the usual form of
two huge serpents brooding over an altar. There is something
remarkable in the upper figures. The female figure in the centre
holds a cornucopia, and each of the male figures holds a small
vase in the hand nearer to the altar, and a horn in the other. All
the faces are quite black, and the heads of the male figures
are surrounded with something resembling a glory. Their
dress in general, and especially their boots, which are just like the
Hungarian boots now worn on the stage, appear different from
anything which is to be met with elsewhere. Are these figures
meant for the Lares themselves ? On each side are represented
different sorts of eatables. On the left a bunch of small birds,
a string of fish, a boar with a girth about his body, and a magnif
84
HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
icently curling tail, and a few loaves, or rather cakes, of the pre-
cise pattern of some which have been found in Pompeii: on the
right, an eel spitted on a wire, a ham, a boar's head, and a joint
of meat, which, as pig-meat seems to have been in request here,
we may conjecture to be a loin of pork ; at least it is as like that
as anything else. It is suspended by a reed, as is still done at
Rome. The execution of this painting is coarse and careless in
the extreme, yet there is a spirit and freedom of touch which has
hit off the character of the objects represented, and forbids us to
impute the negligence which is displayed to incapacity. Another
object of interest in the kitchen is a stove for stews and similar
preparations, very much like those charcoal stoves which are
seen in exten-
sive kitchens
at the present
day. Before it
lie a knife,
strainers, and a
strange - look-
ing sort of a fry-
ing-pan, with
four spherical
cavities, as if it
were meant to
cook eggs. A similar one, containing twenty- nine egg-holes, has
been found, which is circular, about fifteen inches in diameter,
and without a handle. Another article of kitchen furniture is a
sort of flat ladle pierced with holes, said to belong to the class
called trua. It was meant apparently to stir up vegetables, etc.,
while boiling, and to strain the water from them.
This house has been long excavated, and perhaps that is the
reason that, considering its extent and splendor, the notices of it
are particularly meagre. Of the decorations we have been able
KITCHEN FURNITURE AT POMPEII.
^ GENERAL VIEW OF HOUSE. 85
to procure no detailed accounts, though several paintings are said
to have been found in it, and among them, one of Danae amid
the golden shower, deserving of notice. Of the garden little can
be said, for little is known. According to the best indications
which Mazois could observe, it consisted of a number of straight
parallel beds, divided by narrow paths, which gave access to them
for horticultural purposes, but with no walk for air and exercise
except the portico which adjoins the house.
Inferior to the House of Pansa, and to some others in size,
but second to none in elegance of decoration and in the interest
which it excites, is a house in the street leading from the Gate of
Herculaneum to the Forum, called by some the House of Actaeon,
from a painting found in it ; by others the House of Caius Sallus-
tius. It occupies the southernmost portion of an insula extend-
ing backwards to the city walls.
It is remarkable that the architects of Pompeii seem to have
been careless for the most part whether they built on a regular or
an irregular area. The practice of surrounding the owner's
abode with shops, enabled them to turn to advantage the sides
and corners of any piece of ground, however misshapen. Thus
in another plan the apartments of the dwelling-houses are
almost all well shaped and rectangular, though not one of the
four angles of the area is a right angle.
The general view of this house is taken from the street in
front, and runs completely through to the garden wall. One of
the pilasters which flank the doorway has its capital still in good
preservation. It is cut out of gray lava, and represents a Silenus
and Faun side by side, each holding one end of an empty leather
bottle, thrown over their shoulders. Ornaments of this char-
acter, which can be comprehended under none of the orders of
architecture, are common in Pompeii, and far from unpleasing in
their effect, however contrary to established principles. Oa the
right is the large opening into the vestibule. In the centre of the
86 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
view is the atrium, easily recognized by the impluvium, and be-
yond it through the tabHnum are seen the pillars of the portico.
Beyond the impluvium is the place of a small altar for the wor-
ship of the Lares. A bronze hind, through the mouth of which a
stream of water flowed, formerly stood in the centre of the basin.
It bore a figure of Hercules upon its back.
The walls of the atrium and tablinum are curiously stuccoed
in large raised panels, with deep channels between them, the
panels being painted of different colors, strongly contrasted with
each other.
We find among them different shades of the same color, sev-
eral reds, for instance, as sinopis, cinnabar, and others. This
sort of decoration has caused some persons to call this the house
of a color-seller — a conjecture entirely at variance with the luxury
and elegance which reign in it. The floor was of red cement,
with bits of white marble imbedded in it.
The altar in the atrium and the little oratory in the left-hand
ala belong to the worship of the Lares domestici or familiares^
as is indicated by the paintings found in the false doorway, but
now removed. They consisted of a serpent below and a group
of four figures above, employed in celebrating a sacrifice to these
gods.
In the centre is a tripod, into which a priest, his head cov-
ered, is pouring the contents of a patera. On each side are two
young men, dressed alike, apparently in the praetexta; at least
their robes are white, and there is a double red stripe down the
front of their tunics, and a red drapery is thrown over the should-
ers of each. In one hand each holds a patera ; in the other each
holds aloft a cow's horn perforated at the small end, through
which a stream is spouting into the patera at a considerable dis-
tance. This, though an inconvenient, seems to have been a com-
mon drinking- vessel. The method of using it has already been
described. In the background is a man playing on the double flute.
WORSHIP OF THE LARES. 87
The worship of the Lares was thus pubHcly represented, and
their images were exposed to view, that all persons might have
an opportunity of saluting them and invoking prosperity on the
house. Noble families had also a place of domestic worship
{adytum or -penetrale) in the most retired part of their mansions,
where their most valuable records and hereditary memorials were
preserved.
The worship of these little deities {Dii minuti^ or -patellarii)
was universally popular, partly perhaps on account of its eco-
nomical nature, for they seem to have been satisfied with any-
thing that came to hand, partly perhaps from a sort of feeling of
good fellowship in them and towards them, like that connected
with the Brownies and Cluricaunes, and other household goblins
of northern extraction.
Like those goblins they were represented sometimes under
very grotesque forms. There is a bronze figure of one found at
Herculaneum, and figured in the Antiquites d'Herculanum,
plate xvii. vol. viii., which represents a little old man sitting on
the ground with his knees up to his chin, a huge head, ass's ears,
a long beard, and a roguish face, which would agree well with
our notion of a Brownie. Their statues were often placed be-
hind the door, as having power to keep out all things hurtful,
especially evil genii. Respected as they were, they sometimes
met with rough treatment, and were kicked or culEfed, or thrown
out of window without ceremony, if any unlucky accident had
chanced through their neglect. Sometimes they were imaged
under the form of dogs, the emblems of fidelity and watchfulness,
sometimes, like their brethren of the highways (Lares compi-
tales), in the shape of serpents.
The tutelary genii of men or places, a class of beings closely
allied to Lares, were supposed to manifest themselves in the same
shape: as, for example, a sacred serpent was believed at Athens
to keep watch in the temple of Athene in the Acropolis. Hence
88 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST
paintings of these animals became in some sort the guardians of
the spot in which they were set up, like images of saints in
Roman Catholic countries, and not unfrequently were employed
when it was wished to secure any place from irreverent treat-
ment.
From these associations the presence of serpents came to
be considered of good omen, and by a natural consequence they
were kept (a harmless sort of course) in the houses, where they
nestled about the altars, and came out like dogs or cats to be
patted by the visitors, and beg for something to eat. Nay, at
table, if we may build upon insulated passages, they crept about
the cups of the guests ; and in hot weather ladies would use them
as live boas, and twist them round their necks for the sake of
coolness.
Martial, however, our authority for this, seems to consider
it as an odd taste. Virgil, therefore, in a fine passage, in which
he has availed himself of the divine nature attributed to serpents,
is only describing a scene which he may often have witnessed :
Scarce had he finished, when with speckled pride,
A serpent from the tomb be^an to glide ;
His hugy balk on seven high volumes rolled ;
Blue was his breadth of back, but streaked with scaly gold;
Thus, riding on his curls, he seemed to pass
A rolling fire along, and singe the grass.
More various colors through his body run,
Than Iris, when her bow imbibes the sun.
Betwixt the rising altars, and around,
The rolling monster shot along the ground.
With harmless play amidst the bowls he pas«ed,
And with his lolling tongue assayed the taste;
Thus fed with holy food, the wondrous guest
Within the hollow tomb retired to rest.
The pious prince, surprised at what he viewed,
The funeral lionors with more zeal renewed;
Doubtful if this the place's genius were,
Or guardian of his father's sepulchre.
We may conjecture from the paintings, which bear a marked
DOMESTICATED SERPENTS. 89
resemblance to one another, that these snakes were of consider-
able size, and of the same species, probably that called ^scula-
pius, which was brought from Epidaurus to Rome with the
worship of the god, and, as we are told by Pliny, was commonly
fed in the houses of Rome. These sacred animals made war on
the rats and mice, and thus kept down one species of vermin;
but as they bore a charmed life, and no one laid violent hands on
them, they multiplied so fast, that, like the monkeys of Benares,
they became an intolerable nuisance. The frequent fires at Rome
were the only things that kept them under.
Passing through the tablinum, we enter the portico of the
xystus, or garden, a spot small in extent, but full of ornament and
of beauty, though not that sort of beauty which the notion of a
garden suggests to us. It is not larger than a city garden, the
object of our continual ridicule ; yet while the latter is ornamented
only with one or two scraggy poplars, and a few gooseberry-
bushes with many more thorns than leaves, the former is elegant-
ly decorated by the hand of art, and set apart as the favorite re-
treat of festive pleasure. True it is that the climate of Italy suits
out-of-door amusements better than our own, and that Pompeii
was not exposed to that plague of soot whicH soon turns marble
goddesses into chimney-sweepers. The portico is composed of
columns, fluted and corded, the lower portion of them painted
blue, without pedestals, yet approaching to the Roman rather
than to the Grecian Doric. The entablature is gone. From the
portico we ascend by three steps to the xystus. Its small extent,
not exceeding in its greatest dimensions seventy feet by twenty,
did not permit trees, hardly even shrubs, to be planted in it. The
centre, therefore, was occupied by a pavement, and on each side
boxes filled with earth were ranged for flowers; while, to make
amends for the want of real verdure, the whole wall opposite the
portico is painted with trellises and fountains, and birds drinking
from them; and above, with thickets enriched and ornamented
with numerous tribes of their winged inhabitants.
90 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
The most interesting discoveries at Pompeii are those which
throw light on, or confirm passages of ancient authors. Exactly
the same style of ornament is described b}' Pliny the Younger as
existing in his Tuscan villa. "Another cubiculum is adorned
with sculptured marble for the height of the podium ; above which
is a painting of trees, and birds sitting on them, not inferior in
elegance to the marble itself. Under it is a small fountain, and
in the fountain a cup, round which the pla3'ing of several small
water-pipes makes a most agreeable murmur." At the end of
this branch of the garden, which is shaped like an L, we see an
interesting monument of the customs of private life. It is a sum-
mer triclinium, in plan like that which has been mentioned in the
preceding chapter, but much more elegantly decorated. The
couches are of masonry, intended to be covered with mattresses
and rich tapestry when the feast was to be held here: the round
table in the centre was of marble. Above it was a trellis, as is
shown by the square pillars in front and the holes in the walls
which enclose two sides of the triclinium. These walls are ele-
gantly painted in panels, in the prevailing taste ; but above the
panelling there is a whimsical frieze, appropriate to the purpose
of this little pavilion, consisting of all sorts of eatables which can
be introduced at a feast. When Mazois first saw it the colors
were fresh and beautiful ; but when he wrote, after a lapse of
ten years, it was already in decay, and ere now it has probably
disappeared, so perishable are all those beauties which can not
be protected from the inclemency of the weather b}' removal.
In front a stream of water pours into a basin from the wall,
on which, half painted, half raised in relief, is a mimic fountain
surmounted by a stag. Between the fountain and triclinium, in
a line between the two pilasters which supported the trellis, was
a small altar, on which the due libations might be poured by
the festive party. In the other limb of the garden is a small
furnace, probably intended to keep water constantly hot for the
DISCOVERIES CONFIRM ANCIENT AUTHORS. 9I
use of those who preferred warm potations. Usually the Romans
drank their wine mixed with snow, and clarified through a
strainer, of which there are many in the Museum of Naples,
curiously pierced in intricate patterns ; but those who were under
medical care were not always suffered to enjoy this luxury.
Martial laments his being condemned by his physician to drink
no cold wine, and concludes with wishing that his enviers may
have nothing but warm water. At the other end of the garden,
opposite the front of the triclinium, was a cistern which collected
the rain waters, whence they were drawn tor the use of the
garden and of the house. There was also a cistern at the end
of the portico, next the triclinium.
The several rooms to the lell of the atrium offer nothing re-
markable. On the right, however, as will be evident upon in-
specting the plan, a suite of apartments existed, carefully detached
from the remainder of the house, and communicating only with
the atrium by a single passage. The disposition and the orna-
ments of this portion of the house prove that it was a private
venereum^ a place, if not consecrated to the goddess from whom
it derives its name, at least especially devoted to her service.
The strictest privacy has been studied in its arrangements ; no
building overlooks it; the only entrance is closed by two doors,
both of which we may conjecture, were never suffered to be open
at once; and beside them was the apartment of a slave, whose
duty was to act as porter and prevent intrusion. Passing the
second door, the visitor found himself under a portico supported
by octagonal columns, with a court or open area in the centre,
and in the middle of it a small basin. At each end of the por-
tico is a small cabinet, with appropriate paintings: in one of them
a painting of Venus, Mars, and Cupid is conspicuous.
The apartments were paved with marble, and the walls lined
breast-high with the same material. A niche in the cabinet
nearest the triclinium contained a small image, a gold vase, a
92 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
gold coin, and twelve bronze medals of the reign of Vespasian;
and near this spot were found eight small bronze columns, which
appear to have formed part of a bed.
In the adjoining lane four skeletons were found, apparently a
female attended by three slaves ; the tenant perhaps of this ele-
gant apartment. Beside her was a round plate of silver, which
probably was a mirror, together with several golden rings set
with engraved stones, two ear-rings, and five bracelets of the
same metal.
Both cabinets had glazed windows, which commanded a
view of the court and of each other ; it is conjectured that they
were provided with curtains. The court itself presents no trace
of pavement, and, therefore, probably served as a garden.
The ground of the wall is black, a color well calculated to
set off doubtful complexions to the best advantage, while its
sombre aspect is redeemed by a profusion of gold-colored orna-
ment, in the most elegant taste. The columns were painted with
the color called sino-pis Ponticum^ a species of red ochre of bril-
liant tint. Nearly all the wall of the court between the cabinets
is occupied by a large painting of Actseon, from which the house
derives one of its names ; on either side it is flanked by the repre-
sentation of a statue on a high pedestal. The centre piece com-
prises a double action. In one part we see a rocky grotto, in
which Diana was bathing when the unwary hunter made his ap-
pearance above : in the other he is torn by his own dogs, a severe
punishment for an unintentional intrusion. The background rep-
resents a wild and mountainous landscape. A painted frieze,
and other paintings on the walls, complete the decorations of the
portico.
The large apartment was a triclinium for the use of this
portion of the house, where the place of the table, and of the beds
which surrounded it on three sides, was marked by a mosaic pave-
ment. Over the left-hand portico there was a terrace. The
ORNAMENTATION AND DRAPERIES. 93
Space marked 36 contained the stair which gave access to it, a
stove connected probably with the service of the tricHnium and
other conveniences. -f
In the centre room is the opening into the tabHnum, which
probably was only separated from the atrium by curtains {para-
-peiasmata), which might be drawn or undrawn at pleasure.
Through the tablinum the pillars of the peristyle and the fountain
painted on the garden wall are seen. To the right of -the tab-
linum is the fauces, and on each side of the atrium the alse are
seen, partly shut off, like the tablinum, by handsome draperies.
The nearer doors belong to chambers which open into the atrium.
Above the colored courses of stucco blocks the walls are painted
in the light, almost Chinese style of architecture, which is so
common, and a row of scenic masks fills the place of a cornice.
The ceiling is richly fretted.
The compluvium also was ornamented with a row of tri-
angular tiles called antefixes, on which a mask or some other
object was moulded in relief. Below, lions' heads are placed
along the cornice at intervals, forming spouts through which the
water was discharged into the impluvium beneath. Part of this
cornice, found in the house of which we speak, is well deserving
our notice, because it contains, within itself, specimens of three
different epochs of art, at which we must suppose the house was
first built, and subsequently repaired.
It is made of fine clay, with a lion's head moulded upon it,
well designed, and carefully finished. It is plain, therefore, that
it was not meant to be stuccoed, or the labor bestowed in its
execution would have been in great part wasted. At a later
period it has been coated over with the finest stucco, and addi-
tional enrichments and mouldings have been introduced, yet with-
out injury to the design or inferiority in the workmanship;
indicating that at the time of its execution the original simplicity
of art had given way to a more enriched and elaborate style of
94
HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
ornament, yet without any perceptible decay, either in the taste
of the designer or the skill of the workman.
Still later this elegant stucco cornice had been covered with
a third coating of the coarsest materials, and of design and exe-
cution most barbarous, when it is considered how fine a model
the artists had before their eyes.
In the restoration, the impluvium is surrounded with a mosaic
border. This has disappeared, if ever there was one; but mosaics
are frequently found in this situation, and it is, therefore, at all
events, an allowable liberty to place one here, in a house so dis-
tinguished for the richness and elegance of its decorations.
Beside the impluvium stood a machine, now in the National
Museum, for heating water, and at the same time warming the
room if requisite. The high circular part, with the lid open, is a
reservoir, communicating with the semi-circular piece, which is
hollow, and had a spout to discharge the heated water. The
three eagles placed on it are meant to support a kettle. The char-
coal was contained in the square base.
In the preceding pages we have taken indiscriminately, from
all quarters of the town, houses of all classes, from the smallest
to the most splendid, in the belief that such would be the best
way of showing the gradations of wealth and comfort, the dif-
ferent styles of dwelling adopted by different classes of citizens, in
proportion to their means. It would, however, be manifestly im-
possible so to classify all the houses which contain something
worthy of description, and we shall, therefore, adopt a topographi-
cal arrangement as the simplest one, commencing at the Gate of
Herculaneum, and proceeding in as regular order as circum-
stances will permit through the excavated part of the town.
Most of the houses immediately about the gate appear to
have been small inns or eating-houses, probably used chiefly by
country people, who came into market, or by the lower order of
travelers. Immediately to the right of it, however, at the be-
REMARKABLE MANSIONS. 95
ginning of the street called the Via Consularis, or Domitiana,
there is a dwelling of a better class, called the House of the
Musician, from paintings of musical instruments which ornamented
the walls. Among these were the sistrum, trumpet, double flute,
and others. Upon the right side of the street, however, the
buildings soon improve, and in that quarter are situated some of
the most remarkable mansions, in respect of extent and construc-
tion, which Pompeii affords. They stand in part upon the site of
the walls which have been demolished upon this, the side next
the port, for what purpose it is not very easy to say; not to make
room for the growth of the city, for these houses stand at the
very limit of the available ground, being partly built upon a
steep rock. Hence, besides the upper floors, which have perished,
they consist each of two or three stories, one below another, so
that the apartments next the street are always on the highest
level. Those who are familiar with the metropolis of Scotland
will readily call to mind a similar mode of construction very
observable on the north side of the High Street, where the
ground-floor is sometimes situated about the middle of the house.
One of the most remarkable of these houses contains three
stories; the first, level with the street, contains the public part of
the house, the vestibule, atrium, and tablinum, which opens upon
a spacious terrace. Beside these is the peristyle and other private
apartments, at the back of which the terrace of which we have
just spoken offers an agreeable walk for the whole breadth of the
house, and forms the roof of a spacious set of apartments at a
lower level, which are accessible either by a sloping passage from
the street, running under the atrium, or by a staircase communi-
cating with the peristyle. This floor contains baths, a triclinium,
a spacious saloon, and other rooms necessary for the private use
of a family. Behind these rooms is another terrace, which over-
looks a spacious court surrounded by porticoes, and containing a
piscina or reservoir in the centre. The pillars on the side next
96 HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
the house are somewhat higher than on the other three sides, so
as to give the terrace there a greater elevation. Belov^^ this
second story there is yet a third, in part under ground, which
contains another set of baths, and, besides apartments for other
purposes, the lodging of the slaves. This was divided into little
cells, scarcely the length of a man, dark and damp; and we can
not enter into it without a lively feeling of the wretched state to
which these beings were reduced.
A few steps further on the same side, is another house some-
what of the same description, which evidently belonged to some
man of importance, probably to Julius Polybius, whose name has
been found in several inscriptions. Fragments of richly-gilt
stucco-work enable us to estimate the richness of its decoration
and the probable wealth of its owner. It will be readily distin-
guished by its immense Corinthian atrium, or rather peristyle.
It has the further peculiarity of having two vestibules each com-
municating with the street and with the atrium. The portico of
the atrium is formed by arcades and piers, ornamented with at-
tached columns, the centre being occupied by a court and foun-
tain. These arcades appear to be enclosed by windows. Square
holes, worked in the marble coping of a dwarf wall which sur-
rounds the little court, were perfectly distinguishable, and it is
concluded that they were meant to receive the window-frames.
Pliny the Younger describes a similar glazed portico at his
Laurentine villa; and an antique painting, representing the baths
of Faustina, gives the view of a portico, the apertures of which
are entirely glazed, as we suppose them to have been here. The
portico, and three apartments which communicate with it, were
paved in mosaic. Attached to one of the corner piers there is a
fountain. The kitchen and other apartments were below this
floor. There was also an upper story, as is clear from the re-
mains of stair-cases. This house extends to the point at which a
by-street turns away from the main road to the Forum. We
HOUSE OF THE VESTALS. 97
will now return to the gate, to describe the triangular island of
houses which bounds the main street on the eastern side.
That close to the gate, called the House of the Triclinium,
derives its name from a large triclinium in the centre of the peri-
style, which is spacious and handsome, and bounded by the city
walls. The House of the Vestals is a little further on. What
claim it has to this title, except by the rule of contraries, we are
at a loss to guess; seeing that the style of its decorations is very
far from corresponding with that purity of thought and manners
which we are accustomed to associate with the title of vestal.
The paintings are numerous and beautiful, and the mosaics re-
markably fine. Upon the threshold here, as in several other
houses, we find the word " Salve" (Welcome), worked in mosaic.
One may be seen in cut on page 30.
We enter by a vestibule, divided into three compartments,
and ornamented with four attached columns, which introduces us
to an atrium, fitted up in the usual manner, and surrounded by
the usual apartments. The most remarkable of these is a tricli-
nium, which formerly was richly paved with glass mosaics.
Hence we pass into the private apartments, which are thus de-
scribed by Bonucci: — "This house seems to have been originally
two separate houses, afterwards, probably, bought by some rich
man, and thrown into one. After traversing a little court, around
which are the sleeping chambers, and that destined to business,
we hastened to render our visit to the Penates. We entered the
pantry, and rendered back to the proprietors the greeting that,
from the threshold of this mansion, they still direct to strangers.
We next passed through the kitchen and its dependencies. The
corn-mills seemed waiting for the accustomed hands to grind with
them, after so many years of repose. Oil standing in glass ves-
sels, chestnuts, dates, raisins, and figs, in the next chamber, an-
nounce the provision for the approaching winter, and large am-
phorae of wine recall to us the consulates of Caesar and of Cicero.
7
98
HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST,
"We entered the private apartment. Magnificent porticoes
are to be seen around it. Numerous beautiful columns covered
with stucco, and with very fresh colors, surrounded a very agree-
able garden, a pond, and a bath. Elegant paintings, delicate
ornaments, stags, sphinxes, wild and fanciful flowers everywhere
cover the walls. The cabinets of young girls, and their toilets,
with appropriate paintings, are disposed along the sides. In this
BROOCHES OP GOLD FO0ND AT POMPEII.
last were found a great quantity of female ornaments, such as seen
in the cut, and others, and the skeleton of a little dog. At the
extremity is seen a semicircular room adorned with niches, and
formerly with statues, mosaics, and marbles. An altar, on which
the sacred fire burned perpetually, rose in the centre. This is
the sacrarimn. In this secret and sacred place the most solemn
and memorable days of the family were spent in rejoicing; and
here, on birthdays, sacrifices were offered to Juno, or the Genius,
the protector oi the new-born child."
SURGICAL AND OTHER INSTRUMENTS. 99
The next house is called the House of a Surgeon, because a
variety of surgical instruments were found in it. In number they
amounted to forty ; some resembled instruments still in use, others
are different from anything employed by modern surgeons. In
many the description of Celsus is realized, as, for instance, in the
specillum, or probe, which is concave on one side and flat on the
other; the scalper excisorius, in the shape of a lancet-point on one
side and of a mallet on the other; a hook and forceps, used in
obstetrical practice. The latter are said to equal in the con-
venience and ingenuity of their construction the best efforts of
modern cutlers. Needles, cutting compasses (circini excisorii),
and other instruments were found, all of the purest brass with
bronze handles, and usually enclosed in brass or boxwood cases.
There is nothing remarkable in the house itself, which con-
tains the usual apartments, atrium, peristyle, etc., except the
paintings. These con^st chiefly of architectural designs, combi-
nations of golden and bronze-colored columns placed in perspec-
tive, surmounted by rich architraves, elaborate friezes, and
decorated cornices, one order above another. Intermixed are
arabesque ornaments, grotesque paintings, and compartments with
figures, all apparently employed in domestic occupations.
One of them represents a female figure carrying rolls of
papyrus to a man who is seated and intently reading. The method
of reading these rolls or volumes, which were written in trans-
verse columns across the breadth of the pap3^rus, is clearly shown
here. Behind him a young woman is seated, playing on the harp.
All these figures are placed under the light architectural designs
above described, which seem intended to surmount a terrace. It
is a common practice at the present day in Italy, especially near
Naples, to construct light treillages on the tops of the houses,
where the inhabitants enjoy the evening breeze, al fresco^ in the
same way as is represented in these paintings.
The peristyle is small, but in good preservation. Its inter-
lOO
HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
SCALES FOUND AT POMPEII.
columniations are filled up by a dwarf wall painted red, the lower
part of the columns being painted blue. This house runs through
the island from one street to the other. Adjoining it, on the
south, is the custom-house,
telonium. Here a wide en-
trance admits us into an am-
ple chamber, where many
scales were found, and among
them a steelyard, staterUy
much resembling those now
in use, but more richly and
tastefully ornamented.
Many weights of lead and
marble were found here ; one
with the inscription, " Eme
et habebis " (Buy and you
shall have), also scales. Near the custom-house is a soap manu-
factory. In the first room were heaps of lime, the admirable
quality of which has excited the wonder of modern plasterers.
In an inner room are the soap-vats, placed on a level with the
ground.
Besides these, the block contains three houses which have
been distinguished by names, the House of Isis and Osiris, the
House of Narcissus, and the House of the Female Dancers. Of
these the latter is remarkable for the beauty of the paintings
which adorn its Tuscan atrium.
Among them are four very elegant figures of female dancers,
from which the name given to the house is taken. Another rep-
resents a figure reposing on the border of a clear lake, surrounded
by villas and palaces, on the bosom of which a flock of ducks
and wild-fowl are swimming. The house of Narcissus is dis-
tinguished by the elegance of its peristyle; the inter-columnia-
tions are filled up by a dwarf wall, which is hollowed at the top,
SHOP OF AN APOTHECARY. lOI
probably to receive earth for the cultivation of select flowers.
Our materials do not admit of a fuller description of the houses
in this quarter.
Passing onwards from the House of Sallust, the next island
to the south, separated from it by a narrow lane, affords nothing
remarkable, except the shop of a baker, to the details of which,
in conjunction with the art of dyeing, we purpose to devote a.
separate chapter. It is terminated in a sharp point' b})' the foun-
tain before mentioned. The disposition of the streetetand hbti^t^s;'
everywhere is most unsymmetrical, but here it is remarkably so,
even for Pompeii. Just by the house with the double vestibule
the main street divides into two, inclined to each other at a very
acute angle, which form, together with a third cross street of
more importance, called the Strada delle Terme, or Street of the
Baths, another small triangular island.
The house of the apex was an apothecary's shop. A great
many drugs, glasses, and vials of the most singular forms, were
found here; in some of the latter fluids were yet remaining. In
particular one large glass vase is to be mentioned, capable of
holding two gallons, in which was a gallon and a half of a reddish
liquid, said to be balsam. On being opened, the contents began
to evaporate very fast, and it was, therefore, closed hermetically.
About an inch in depth of the contents has been thus lost, leaving
on the sides of the vessel a sediment, reaching up to the level to
which it was formerly filled. The right-hand street leads to
buildings entirely in ruins, the left-hand one, which is a continua-
tion of the Via Consularis, or Domitiana, conducts us towards
the Forum.
Immediately to the eastward of the district just described is
the House of Pansa, which occupies a whole block. The block
between it and the city walls, on the north, offers nothing remark-
able. Beyond, still to the east, is a block separated from it by a
narrow street, called the Via della Fullonica, and bounded on the
I02
HOUSES OF PANSA AND SALLUST.
other side by the Street ot Mercur}^, which runs in a straight line
from the walls nearly to the Forum. This block contains, besides
several private houses of great beauty, the FuUonica, or estab-
lishment for the fulling and dyeing of woolen cloths. This, to-
gether with the bake-house above mentioned, will be described
further on.
JioU^E OF J4oLCONIU^.
Passing on the insula or block, bounded on the north by the
Street of Holconius, on the south by the Street of Isis, on the west
by the Street of the Theatres, and on the east by that of Stabiae,
we find two remarkable houses excavated within the last few
years. That at the northern corner of the street of the Theatres,
numbered 4 on the entrance, is sometimes called the House of
Holconius. The two stores which precede it, numbered 2 and 3,
seem to have been the property of the master of the house, and
communicate with each other. A third shop, numbered i, at
the angle of the street, appears to have been occupied by a dyer,
and is called Taberna Offectoris. On the front of the house were
some inscriptions for electioneering purposes.
The pilasters on either side of the main entrance are painted
red to about the height of a man, beyond which they are of white
plaster. On entering the prothyrum may be observed a large
hole in the wall, destined for the reception of the re-pagulum^ or
strong wooden bar with which the door was secured. The door
appears, from the places for bolts on the threshold, to have been
composed af two pieces (bifora). The walls of the prothyrum
are painted black, with a red podium, divided into three com-
partments by green and yellow lines, in the middle of which are
an aquatic bird, perhaps ar ihis^ a swan with spread wings, and
an ornament that can not be made out. Towards the top the
walls are painted with fantastic pieces of architecture on a white
ground; amidst which, on one side, is a nymph descending appar-
103
104 HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS.
ently from heaven. She has a golden-colored vest, on her
shoulders is a veil agitated by the breeze, and she bears in her
hand a large dish filled with fruits and herbs. On the other side
was a similar figure, playing on the lyre, with a sky-blue vest and
rose-colored veil that fluttered about her. The remaining archi-
tectural paintings contained little winged Cupids, one holding a
cornucopia, another a drum, and two with baskets of fruits and
flowers. These were the good geniuses, which, by being depict-
ed at the entrance of a house, repelled all evil influences and ren-
dered it a joyful abode.
The pavement of the Tuscan atrium is variegated with small
pieces of white marble placed in rows. The impluvium in the
middle appears to have been undei repair, as it is stripped of its
marble lining. The walls of the atrium are painted red, with
vertical black zones like pilasters, or ajitce^ besides lines and orna-
ments of various colors. On the wall to the left of the entrance
is painted a recumbent Silenus, crowned with ivy, and pressing
in his arms the little Bacchus, who in alarm is endeavoring to es-
cape from his embraces. Near it, on a yellow ground, is the
bearded head of a man, with two claws projecting from his
temples like horns, and a beard floating as if it was in the water.
It may probably be a mask of Oceanus, who is represented on
coins of Agrigentum in a somewhat similar manner. Under the
head is the figure of a hippocampus.
Many objects were found in this atrium, some at the height
of four or five yards from the floor, which must consequently
have fallen in from the upper stories ; and others on the pavement
itself. But one of the most important discoveries was the skele-
ton of a woman, near the entrance of the tablinum. She appears
to have been in the act of flight, and had with her a small box
containing her valuables and nick-nacks. Among the most
curious of these was a necklace composed of amulets, or charms,
which, it will be observed, are all attributes of Isis and her at-
DECORATIONS OF THE BED-CHAMBERS.
105
tendant, Anubis, or of her husband Osiris, here considered as
Bacchus. The mystic articles kept in the Isiac coffer were, says
Euscbius, a ball, dice, {turbo) wheel, mirror, lock of wool.
The tirst bed-chamber on the right of the atrium communi-
cated with the store No. 3, and was probably occupied by the
WALIi PAINTING DISCOVERED AT POMPEII.
sfave who conducted the business of it. The first bed-chamber
on the left had a similar communication with the store outside.
There are few houses in Pompeii in which the paintings are
\nore numerous or better preserved than in that which we are ex-
amining. The second bed-chamber on the right has several. In
this room may be observed a space hollowed in the wall to re-
ceive the foot q£ a bed or couch. The walls are white, with
Io6 HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS.
a red podium, and are surmounted by a cornice from which
springs the vault. The upper part is painted with Hues, be-
tween which are depicted griffins in repose, baskets with thyrsi,
branches of herbs, and other objects.
The lower part of the walls is divided into larger compart-
ments by candelabra supporting little globes. In each compart-
ment are eight small pictures, representing the heads and busts
of Bacchic personages, in a very good state of preservation. On
the left is Bacchus, crowned with ivy, his head covered with the
mitra^ a sort of veil of fine texture which descends upon his left
shoulder. This ornament, as well as the cast of his features, re-
veals the half feminine nature of the deity. Opposite to him is
the picture of Ariadne, also crowned with ivy, clothed in a green
chiton and a violet himation. She presses to her bosom the in-
fant lacchus, crowned with the eternal ivy, and bearing in his
hand the thyrsus. Then follow Bacchic or Panic figures, some
conversing, some drinking together, some moving apparently in
the mazes of the dance. Paris, with the Phrygian cap and crook,
seems to preside over this voluptuous scene, and to listen to a
little Cupid seated on his shoulder.
In the chamber on the opposite side of the atrium, fronting
that just described, were also four pictures, two of which are
destroyed, the walls having apparently been broken through, not
long after the destruction of Pompeii, by persons in search of
their buried property. Of the other two, which are almost
effaced, one represents an aged Faun, holding in his hands a
thyrsus and a vase; the other a young woman conversing with
an African slave. A wooden chest seems to have stood close to
the left-hand wall.
The left ala^ or wing, has its walls painted in yellow and
red compartments, with a black podium. In the middle of each
was a valuable painting, but these, with the exception of the
greater part of one fronting the entrance, have been almost
PERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA. IO7
destroyed. The one saved represents Apollo, who has over-
taken Daphne, and is clasping her in his arms, while the nymph,
who has fallen on her knees, repels the embraces of the deity. A
malicious little Cupid, standing on tiptoes, draws aside the golden-
tissued veil which covered the nymph, and displays her naked
form. On the left of the same apartment is a picture, almost
effaced, of Perseus and Andromeda; and on the right another
with three male figures, of which only the lower part remains.
The right ala^ which, however, from its capability of being
closed with a door, does not properly come under that denomina-
tion, seems, from various culinary utensils of metal and earthen-
ware found in it, to have served as a kitchen, or rather perhaps
as a store-closet.
The tablinum, opposite the entrance, and, as usual, without
any enclosure on the side of the atrium, has a small marble
threshold, and on its floor little squares of colored marbles sur-
rounded with a mosaic border. The yellow walls, divided into
compartments by vertical stripes of red, white, and black, were
beautifully ornamented with the usual architectural designs and
flying figures. On each side were two larger pictures, of which
only that on the left of the spectator remains. It represents Leda
showing to Tyndareus a nest containing the two boys produced
from the Q^^. A stucco cornice runs round the wall, above
which a flying nymph is painted on a white ground, between two
balconies, from which a man and woman are looking down.
There are also figures of sphinxes, goats, etc,
A wooden staircase on the left of the tablinum, the first step
being of stone, led to the floor above. On the right is the pas-
sage called /fl;^/c65•, leading to the peristyle. On its left-hand side,
near the ground, was a rudely traced figure of a gladiator, with
an inscription above, of which only the first letters, PRIMI, re-
main. On the left wall of the fauces, near the extremity, and
level with the eye, is another inscription, or graffito^ in small char-
Io8 HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS.
acters, difficult to be deciphered from the unusual nexus of the
letters, but which the learned have supposed to express the design
of an invalid to get rid of the pains in his limbs by bathing them
in water.
At the extremity of the fauces, on the right, there is an en-
trance to a room which has also another door leading into the
portico of the peristyle. The walls are painted black and red,
and in the compartments are depicted birds, animals, fruits, etc.
Two skeletons were found in this room. In the apartment to the
left, or east of the tablinum, of which the destination can not be
certainly determined, the walls are also painted black, with arch-
itectural designs in the middle, and figures of winged Cupids
variously employed. On the larger walls are two paintings, of
which that on the right represents the often-repeated subject of
Ariadne, who, just awakened from sleep, and supported by a fe-
male figure with wings, supposed to be Nemesis, views with an
attitude of grief and stupor the departing ship of Theseus, already
far from Naxos. On the left side is a picture of Phryxus, cross-
ing the sea on the ram and stretching out his arms to Helle, who
has fallen over and appears on the point of drowning. The form
of this chamber, twice as long as it is broad, its vicinity to the
kitchen, and the window, through which the slaves might easily
convey the viands," appear to show that it was a triclinium, or
dining-room.
The floor, which is lower by a step than the peristyle, is
paved with opus Sif^ninum, and ornamented only at one end with
a mosaic. On one of the walls, about ten feet from the floor, is
ihe graffito, Sodales Avete (Welcome Comrades), which could
have been inscribed there only by a person, probably a slave,
mounted on a bench or a ladder.
The viridarium, or xystus, surrounded with spacious porti-
coes, was once filled with the choicest flowers, and refreshed by
the grateful murmur of two fountains. One of these in the mid-
EPIGRAPHS AND INSCRIPTIONS. IO9
die of the peristyle is square, having in its centre a sort of round
table from which the water gushed forth. The other fountain,
which faces the tablinum, is composed of a little marble staircase,
surmounted by the statue of a boy having in his right hand a
vase from which the water spirted, and under his left arm a
goose. The statue is rather damaged.
Many objects were found in the peristyle, mostly of the kind
usually discovered in Pompeian houses. Among them was an
amphora, having the following epigraph in black paint :
COUM. GRAN.
OF.
ROM^. ATERIO. FELICI.
which has been interpreted to mean that it contained Coan wine
flavored with pomegranate, and that it came from Rome, from
the stores of Aterius Felix.
The portico is surrounded by strong columns, and seems to
have had a second order resting on the first, as may be inferred
from some indications to the right of him who enters from the
fauces. The walls are painted red and black, with architectural
designs, candelabra, meanders, birds, winged Cupids, etc. There
are also fourteen small pictures enclosed in red lines, eight of
which represent landscapes and sea-shores, with fishermen, and
the other six fruits and eatables. On the wall on the right side
is the following graffito^ or inscription, scratched with some sharp
instrument :
IIX. ID. IVL. AXVNGIA. PCC.
ALIV. MANVPLOS. CCL.
That is: " On the 25th July, hog's lard, two hundred pounds,
Garlic, two hundred bunches." It seems, therefore, to be a do-
mestic memorandum of articles either bought or sold.
Around the portico are several rooms, all having marble
thresholds, and closed by doors turning on bronze hinges. On
no HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS.
the right hand of the peristyle, near the entrance, is a private door,
or -posticum^ leading into the Street of the Theatres, by which the
master of the house might escape his importunate clients.
The rooms at the sides of the peristyle offer nothing remark-
able, but the three chambers opposite to the tablinum are of con-
siderable size, and contain some good pictures. The first on the
right has two figures of Nereids traversing the sea, one on a sea-
bull the other on a hippocampus. Both the monsters are guided
by a Cupid with reins and whip, and followed by dolphins.
Another painting opposite the entrance is too much effaced to be
made out. The same wall has a feature not observed in any other
Pompeian house, namely, a square aperture of rather more than
a foot reaching down to the floor, and opening upon an enclosed
place with a canal or drain for carrying off the water of the ad-
joining houses. It seems also to have been a receptacle for
lamps, several of which were found there.
Adjoining this room is a large exedra with a little impluvzum
in the middle, which seems to indicate an aperture in the roof, a
construction hitherto found only in atria. The absence of any
channels in the floor for conducting water seems to show that it
could not have been a fountain. This exedra is remarkable for
its paintings. In the wall in front is depicted Narcissus with a
javelin in his hand, leaning over a rock and admiring himself in
the water, in which his image is reflected; but great part of the
painting is destroyed. A little Cupid is extinguishing his torch
in the stream. In the background is a building with an image
of the bearded Bacchus; and near it a terminal figure of Priapus
Ithyphallicus, with grapes and other fruits. This picture was
much damaged in the process of excavation.
On the left wall is a painting of a naked Hermaphroditus.
In his right hand is a little torch reversed; his left arm rests on
the shoulders of Silenus, who appears to accompany his songs on
the lyre, whilst a winged Cupid sounds the double flute. On the
ARIADNE DISCOVERED BY BACCHUS. I I I
other side is a Bacchante with a thyrsus and tambourine, and
near her a little Satyr, who also holds a torch reversed.
But the best picture in this apartment is that representing
Ariadne discovered by Bacchus. A youthful figure with wings,
supposed to represent Sleep, stands at Ariadne's head, and seems
to indicate that she is under his influence. Meanwhile a little
Faun lifts the veil that covers her, and with an attitude indicating
surprise at her beauty, turns to Bacchus and seems to invite him
to contemplate her charms. The deity himself, crowned with ivy
and berries, clothed in a short tunic and a pallium agitated by
the breeze, holds in his right hand the thyrsus, and lifts his left in
token of admiration. In the background a Bacchante sounds her
tympanum, and invites the followers of the god to descend from
the mountains. These, preceded by Silenus, obey the summons ;
one is playing the double flute, another sounding the cymbals, a
third bears on her head a basket of fruit. A Faun and a Bac-
chante, planted on a mountain on the left, survey the scene from
a distance.
The adjoining triclinium, entered by a door from the exedra,
had also three paintings, one of which however is almost destroyed.
Of the remaining two, that on the left represents Achilles dis-
covered by Ulysses among the damsels of Lycomedes. The sub-
ject of that on the right is the Judgment of Paris. It is more
remarkable for its spirit and coloring than for the accuracy of its
drawing. This apartment has also six medallions with heads of
Bacchic personages.
In the same block as the house just described, and having
its entrance in the same street, stands the house of Cornelius
Rufus. It is a handsome dwelling, but as its plan and decora-
tions have nothing to distinguish them from other Pompeian
houses, we forbear to describe them. The only remarkable fea-
ture in this excavation was the discovery of a Hermes at the bot-
tom of the atrium on the left, on which was a marble bust of the
112 HOUSE OF HOLCONIUS.
owner, as large as life and well executed, having his name in-
scribed beneath.
Not far from the houses just described, in the Street of
Stabise, at the angle formed by the street leading to the amphi-
theatre, stands the House of Apollo Citharoedus, excavated in
1864. It derives its name from a fine bronze statue, as large as
life, of Apollo sounding the lyre, which was found there, but has
now been placed in the Museum at Naples. In this house the
tablinum and a peristyle beyond are on a higher level than the
atrium ; consequently the fauces, or passage leading to the latter,
ascends. In the peristyle is a semicircular fountain, on the mar-
gin of which were disposed several animals in bronze, represent-
ing a hunting scene. In the centre was a wild boar in flight at-
tacked by two dogs ; at the sides were placed a lion, a stag, and
a serpent. These animals, arranged in the same way in which
they were found, are now preserved in the Museum.
Adjoining, the House of Lucretius are several stores. That
next door but one appears to have belonged to a chemist or color-
maker. On the right of the atrium is a triple furnace, constructed
for the reception of three large cauldrons at different levels, which
were reached by steps. The house contained a great quantity
of carbonized drugs. At the sides of the entrance were two
stores for the sale of the manufactured articles. In one of these
stores was discovered, some yards below the old level of the soil,
the skeleton of a woman with two bracelets of gold, two of silver,
four ear-rings, five rings, forty-seven gold, and one hundred and
ninety-seven silver coins, in a purse of netted gold.
<^ENERAL ^URVEY Of THE j]llTY.
Proceeding southward along the Street of Mercury, we pass
under the triumphal arch of Nero, and crossing the transverse
street which leads towards the Gate of Nola, enter the Street of
the Forum, a continuation of the Street of Mercury, leading
straight to the triumphal arch at the north end of the Forum,
and bounding the island of the Baths on the eastern side. This
street is one of the most spacious in Porripeii. A long list of ar-
ticles was found here in the course of excavation. One of the
houses about the centre of the street nearly opposite the entrance
to the Thermae, is of more consequence than the rest, and has
been named the House of Bacchus, from a large painting of that
god on a door opposite to the entry. Channels for the introduc-
ion of water were found in the atrium, which has been sur-
rounded by a small trough, formed to contain flowers, the outer
side of which is painted blue, to imitate water, with boats float-
ing upon it. The wall behind this is painted with pillars, between
which are balustrades of various forms. Cranes and other birds
perch upon these, and there is a back ground of reeds and other
vegetables, above which the sky is visible. The greater portion
of the eastern side of the street is occupied by a row of shops
with a portico in front of them. It is flanked on either side by
footpaths, and must have presented a noble appearance when
' terminated by triumphal arches at either end, and overlooked b}^
the splendid Temple of Jupiter and that of Fortune elevated on
its lofty basis.
8 113
114
GENERAL SURVEY OF THE CITY.
It i;: to be noticed that the last-named edifice does not stand
symmetrically either with the Street of the Forum or with the
Street of the Baths running past the House of the Pansa. " The
portico," we quote again from Gell, " is turned a little towards
the Forum, and the front of the temple is so contrived that a part
of it might be seen also from the other street. It is highly prob-
GOLD BREASTPINS FOUND AT POMPEII.
able that these circumstances are the result of design rather than
of chance. The Greeks seem to have preferred the view of a
magnificent building from a corner, and there is scarcely a right-
angled plan to be found either in ancient or modern Italy." In
the Street of the Forum has been established a temporary museum
of articles found in Pompeii. Adjoining it is a library containing
all the best works that have been written on the city.
The street running westward between the baths and the
Forum presents nothing remarkable, except that in it are the
signs of the milk-shop and school of gladiators. There is also an
WINE merchant's SIGN. II 5
altar, probably dedicated to Jupiter, placed against the wall of a
house; above it is a bass-relief in stucco, with an eagle in the
tympanum. Eastward of the Forum this street assumes the
name of the Street of Dried Fruits, from an inscription showing
that dried fruits were sold in it; and, indeed, a considerable
quantity of figs, raisins, chestnuts, plums, hempseed, and similar
articles were found. It is now, however, usually called the Street
of the Augustals.
Near the point at which this street is intersected by that of
Eumachia, running at the back of the east side of the Forum,
there is a remarkably graceful painting of a youthful Bacchus
pressing the juice of the grape into a vase placed upon a pil-
lar, at the foot of which is a rampant animal expecting the liquor,
apparently meant for a tiger or panther, but of very diminutive
size. This picture is one foot five inches high and one foot two
inches wide. It probably served for the sign of a wine-merchant.
Corresponding with it, on the other side of the shop, is a painting
of Mercury, to render that knavish god propitious to the owner's
trade.
We will now proceed to the Street of Abundance, or of the
Merchants, formerly called the Street of the Silversmiths. This
is about twenty-eight feet wide, and bordered on each side by
foot-paths about six feet wide, which are described as made in
several places of a hard plaster, probably analogous to o^u^
Sig-ninufn. At the end next the Forum it is blocked up by two
steps, which deny access to wheel carriages, and is in other parts
so much encumbered by large stepping-stones that the passage
of such vehicles, if not prohibited, must have been difficult and
inconvenient.
We may here take notice of a peculiarity in this street. It
slopes with a very gentle descent away from the Forum, and the
courses of masonry, instead of being laid horizontally, run par-
Il6 GENERAL SURVEY OF THE CITY.
allel to the slope of the ground, a unique instance, as we beHeve,
of such a construction.
The doors of several shops in this street have left perfect
impressions on the volcanic deposit, by which it appears that the
planks of which they were made lapped one over the other, like
the planks of a boat.
Although the houses that line this street have now been
cleared, there still remains a large unexcavated space on its
southern side. The only house requiring notice is that called the
Casa del Cinghiale, or House of the Wild Boar, a little way
down on the right-hand side in going from the Forum. Its name
is derived from the mosaic pavement of the prothyrum, repre-
senting a boar attacked by two dogs. The house is remarkable
for its well-preserved peristyle of fourteen Ionic columns, with
their capitals. On the right is a brick staircase leading to a large
garden. The atrium is bordered with a mosaic representing the
walls of a city with towers and battlements, supposed by some
to be the walls of Pompeii.
Just beyond this house is a small street or lane, turning down
to the right, called the Vicolo dei Dodici Dei^ from a painting on
the outside wall of the corner house, in the manner of a frieze,
representing the twelve greater divinities. Below is the usual
painting of serpents. At the corner of the quadrivium is the
apothecary's shop, in which was a large collection of surgical in-
struments, mortars, drugs, and pills. The house is not otherwise
remarkable.
Of the early excavations at the southern extremity of the
town few records are preserved. In the Quarter of the Theatres,
besides the public buildings, there are but two houses of any in-
terest. These occupy the space between the Temple of vEscu-
lapius and the small theatre. The easternmost of them is one of
the most interesting 3''et discovered in Pompeii, not for the beauty
or curiosity of the biiilding itself, but for its contents, which prove
sculptor's laboratory.
117
it to have been the abode of a sculptor. Here were found
statues, some half finished, others just begun, with blocks of
marble, and all the tools required by the artist. Among these
were thirty-two mallets, many compasses, curved and straight, a
great quantity of chisels, three or four levers, jacks for raising
blocks, saws, etc., etc. The house has the usual arrangement of
atrium, tablinum, and peristyle, but, owing to the inclination of
the ground, the peristyle is on a higher level than the public part
A LABORATORY, AS FOUND IN POMPKH.
of the house, and communicates with it by a flight of steps. A
large reservoir for water extended under the peristyle, which was
in good preservation when first found, but has been much injured
by the failure of the vault beneath.
Returning by the southernmost of the two roads which lead
to the Forum, we find, beside the wall of the triangular Forum
as it is called, one of the most remarkable houses in Pompeii, if
not for its size, at least for its construction.
The excavations here made were begun in April, 1769, in
the presence of the Emperor Joseph II., after whom this house
has been named; but after curiosity was satisfied, they were filled
up again with rubbish, as was then usual, and vines and poplars
ii8
HOUSE OF EMPEROR JOSEPH II.
covered them almost entirely at the time when Mazois examined
the place, insomuch that the underground stories were all that he
could personally observe. The emperor was accompanied in his
visit by his celebrated minister, Count Kaunitz, the King and
Queen of Naples, and one or two distinguished antiquaries. This
was one of the first private dwellings excavated at Pompeii. It
appears to have been a mansion of considerable magnificence,
and, from its elevated position, must have commanded a fine view
over the Bay of Naples towards Sorrento. The " find " was so
good on the occasion of the emperor's visit, as to excite his sus-
picion of some deceit. The numerous articles turned up afforded
Sir W. Hamilton an opportunity to display his antiquarian knowl-
edge. Joseph appears to have been rather disgusted on hearing
that only thirty men were employed on the excavations, and in-
sisted that three thousand were necessary. We give a cut of the
house, page 1 19.
^^fi^^SfiSj^T?.
The Amphitheatre stands some hundred yards from the
theatres, in the south-eastern angle of the walls of the town Al-
though, perhaps, of Etruscan origin, the exhibitions of the amphi-
theatre are so peculiarly Roman, and Pompeii contains so many
mementos of them, that a detailed account of them will not per-
haps be misplaced. At an early period, B. C. 263, the practice
of compelling human beings to fight for the amusement of spec-
tators was introduced ; and twelve years later the capture of sev-
eral elephants in. the first Punic war proved the means of intro-
ducing the chase, or rather the slaughter, of wild beasts into the
Roman circus. The taste for these spectacles increased of course
with its indulgence, and their magnificence with the wealth of
the city and the increasing facility and inducement to practice
bribery which was offered by the increased extent of provinces
subject to Rome. It was not, however, until the last period of the
republic, or rather until the domination of the emperors had col-
lected into one channel the tributary wealth which previously was
divided among a numerous aristocracy, that buildings were erect
ed solely for the accommodation of gladiatorial shows ; buildings
entirely beyond the compass of a subject's wealth, and in which
perhaps the magnificence of imperial Rome is most amply dis-
120
THE AMPHITHEATRE.
121
played. Numerous examples scattered throughout her empire,
in a more or less advanced state of decay, still attest the luxury
and solidity of their construction; while at Rome the Coliseum
(see frontispiece) asserts the pre-eminent splendor of the metrop-
olis— a monument surpassed in magnitude by the Pyramids alone,
and as superior to them in skill and varied contrivance of design
as to other buildings in its gigantic magnitude.
VIEW OF THE AMPHXTilEATllE AT POMPEII.
The Greek word, which by a slight alteration of its termi-
nation we render amphitheatre, signifies a theatre, or place of
spectacles, forming a continuous inclosure, in opposition to the
simple theatre, which, as we have said, was semicircular, but
with the seats usually continued somewhat in advance of the di-
ameter of the semicircle. The first amphitheatre seems to have
been that of Curio, consisting of two movable theatres, which
could be placed face to face or back to back, according to the
species of amusement for which they were required.
Usually, gladiatorial shows were given in the Forum, and
122 AMUSEMENTS.
the chase and combats of wild beasts exhibited in the Circus,
where once, when Pompey was celebrating games, some enraged
elephants broke through the barrier which separated them from
the spectators. This circumstance, together with the unsuitable-
ness of the Circus for such sports, from its being divided into two
compartments by the spina, a low wall surmounted by pillars,
obelisks, and other ornamental erections, as well as from its dis-
proportionate length, which rendered it ill adapted to afford a
general view to all the spectators, determined Julius Caesar, in his
dictatorship, to construct a wooden theatre in the Campus Mar-
tins, built especially for hunting, " which was called amphithea-
tre (apparently the first use of the word) because it was encom-
passed by circular seats without a scene."
The first permanent amphitheatre was built partly of stone
and partly of wood, by Statilius Taurus, at the instigation of
Augustus, who was passionately fond of these sports, especially
of the hunting of rare beasts. This was burnt during the reign
of Nero, and though restored, fell short of the wishes of Vespas-
ian, who commenced the vast structure — completed by his son
Titus — called the Flavian Amphitheatre, and subsequently the
Coliseum. The expense of this building it is said would have
sufficed to erect a capital city, and, if we may credit Dion, 9,000
wild beasts were destroyed in its dedication. Eutropius restricts
the number to 5,000. When the hunting was over the arena
was filled with water, and a sea-fight ensued.
The construction of these buildings so much resembles the
construction of theatres, that it will not be necessary to describe
them at any great length. Without, they usually presented to
the view an oval wall, composed of two or more stories of arcades,
supported by piers of different orders of architecture adorned
with pilasters or attached pillars. Within, an equal number ot
stories of galleries gave access to the spectators at different ele-
vations, and the inclined plane of the seats was also supported
THE AMPHITHEATRE. 1 23
Upon piers and vaults, so that the ground plan presented a num-
ber of circular rows of piers, arranged in radii converging to the
centre of the arena. A suitable number of doors opened upon
the ground floor, and passages from thence, intersecting the cir-
cular passages between the piers, gave an easy access to every
part of the building. Sometimes a gallery encompassed the
whole, and served as a common access to all the stairs which led
to the upper stories. This was the case in the amphitheatre at
Nismes. Sometimes each staircase had its distinct communica-
tion from without: this was the case at Verona.
The arrangement of the seats was the same as in theatres;
they were divided horizontally by praecinctiones, and vertically
into cunei by staircases. The scene and apparatus of the stage
was of course wanting, and its place occupied by an oval area,
called arena, from the sand with which it was sprinkled, to ab-
sorb the blood shed, and give a firmer footing than that aflforded
by a stone pavement. It was sunk twelve or fifteen feet below
the lowest range of seats, to secure the spectators from injury,
and was besides fenced with round wooden rollers turning in their
sockets, placed horizontally against the wall, such as the reader
may have observed placed on low gates to prevent dogs from
climbing over, and with strong nets. In the time of Nero these
nets were knotted with amber, and the Emperor Carinus caused
them to be made of golden cord or wire. Sometimes, for more
complete security, ditches, called euripi, surrounded the arena.
This was first done by Caesar, as a protection to the people against
the elephants which he exhibited, that animal being supposed to
be particularly afraid of water. The arena was sometimes spread
with pounded stone. Caligula, in a fit of extravagance, used
chrysocolla ; and Nero, to surpass him, caused the brilliant red of
cinnabar to be mixed with it.
In the centre of the arena was an altar dedicated sometimes
to Diana or Pluto, more commonly to Jupiter Latiaris. the pro-
124 AMUSEMENTS.
tector of Latium, in honor of whom human sacrifices were offered.
Passages are to be found in ancient writers, from which it is in-
ferred that the games of the amphitheatre were usually opened
by sacrificing a bestiarius^ one of those gladiators whose profes-
sion was to combat wild beasts, in honor of this bloodthirsty
deity. Beneath the arena dens are supposed to have been con-
structed to contain wild beasts.
At the Coliseum numerous underground buildings are said
by Fulvius to have existed, which he supposed to be sewers con-
structed to drain and cleanse the building. Others with more
probability have supposed them to be the dens of wild beasts.
Immense accommodation was requisite to contain the thousands
of animals which were slaughtered upon solemn occasions, but no
great provision need have been made to carry off the rain-water
which fell upon the six acres comprised within the walls of the
building. Others again have supposed them formed to introduce
the vast bodies of water by which the arena was suddenly trans-
formed into a lake when imitations of naval battles were exhib-
ited. Doors pierced in the wall which supported the podium
communicated with these, or with other places of confinement
beneath the part allotted to the audience, which being thrown
open, vast numbers of animals could be introduced at once. Vo-
piscus tells us that a thousand ostriches, a thousand stags, and a
thousand boars were thrown into the arena at once by the Em-
peror Probus. Sometimes, to astonish, and attract by novelty,
the arena was converted into a wood. " Probus," says the same
author, " exhibited a splendid hunting match, after the following
manner : Large trees torn up by the roots were firmly connected
by beams, and fixed upright; then earth was spread over the
roots, so that the whole circus was planted to resemble a wood,
and offered us the gratification of a green scene."
The same order of precedence was observed as at the the-
atre— senators, knights, and commons having each their appro-
THE AMPHITHEATRE. 1 25
priate place. To the former was set apart the podium, a broad
precinction or platform which ran immediately round the arena.
Hither they brought the curule seats or bisellia, described in
speaking of the theatres of Pompeii ; and here was the suggestus,
a covered seat appropriated to the Emperor. It is supposed that
in this part of the building there were also seats of honor for the
exhibitor of the games and the vestal virgins. If the podium was
insufficient for the accommodation of the senators, some of the
adjoining seats were taken for their use. Next to the senators
sat the knights, who seem here, as in the theatre, to have had
fourteen rows set apart for them; and with them sat the civil and
military tribunes. Behind were the popularia, or seats of the
plebeians. Different tribes had particular cunei allotted to them.
There were also some further internal arrangements, for Augus-
tus separated married from unmarried men, and assigned a sep-
arate cuneus to youths, near whom their tutors were stationed.
Women were stationed in a gallery, and attendants and servants
in the highest gallery. The general direction of the amphithe-
atre was under the care of ah officer named villicus amphitheatri.
Officers called locarii attended to the distribution of the people,
and removed any person from a seat which he was not entitled
to hold. We may notice, as a refinement of luxury, that concealed
conduits were carried throughout these buildings, from which
scented liquids were scattered over the audience. Sometimes the
statues which ornamented them were applied to this purpose, and
seemed to sweat perfume through minute holes, with which the
pipes that traversed them were pierced. It is this to which Lu-
can alludes in the following lines: —
As when mighty Rome's spectators meet
In the full theatre's capacious scat,
At once, by secret pipes and channels fed,
Rich tinctures jrush from every antique head ;
At once ten thousand saffron currents flow,
And rain their odors on the crowd below.
Rowe's Lucan, book ix.
126 AMUSEMENTS.
Saffron was the material usually employed for these refreshing
showers. The dried herb was infused in wine, more especially
in sweet wine. Balsams and the more costly unguents were
sometimes employed for the same purpose.
Another contrivance, too remarkable to be omitted in a gen-
eral account of amphitheatres, is the awning by which spectators
were protected from the overpowering heat of an Italian sun.
This was called Velum, or Velarium; and it has afforded matter
for a good deal of controversy, how a temporary covering could
be extended over the vast areas of these buildings. Something
of the kind was absolutely necessary, for the spectacle often last-
ed for many hours, and when anything extraordinary was ex-
pected the people went in crowds before daylight to obtain places,
and some even at midnight.
The Campanians first invented the means of stretching awn-
ings over their theatres, by means of cords stretched across the
cavea and attached to masts which passed through perforated
blocks of stone deeply bedded in the wall. Quintus Catulus
introduced them at Rome when he celebrated games at the dedi-
cation of the Capitol, B. C. 69. Lentulus Spinther, a contem-
porary of Cicero, first erected fine linen awnings (carbasina vela).
Julius Caesar covered over the whole Forum Romanum, and the
Via Sacra, from his own house to the Capitol, which was esteemed
even more wonderful than his gladiatorial exhibition. Dio men-
tions a report that these awnings were of silk, but he speaks
doubtfully; and it is scarcely probable that even Caesar's extrava-
gance would have carried him so far. Silk at that time was not
manufactured at Rome ; and we ' learn from Vopiscus, that even
in the time of Aurelian the raw material was worth its weight in
gold. Lucretius, speaking of the effect of colored bodies upon
transmitted light, has a fine passage illustrative of the magnifi-
cence displayed in this branch of theatrical decoration.
THE AMPHITHEATRE. 1 27
This the crowd surveys
Oft in the theatre, whose awnings broad,
Bedecked with crimson, yellow, or tlie tint
Of steel cerulean, from their fluted heights
Wave tremulous ; and o'er the scene beneath,
Each marble statue, and the rising rows
Of rank and beauty, fling their tint superb.
While as the walls with ampler shade repel
The garish noonbeam, every object round
Laughs with a deeper dye, and wears profuse
A lovelier lustre, ravished from the day.
Wool, however, was the most common material, and the
velaria made in Apulia were most esteemed, on account of the
whiteness of the wool.
Those who are not acquainted by experience with the diffi-
culty of giving stability to tents of large dimensions, and the
greater difficulty of erecting awnings, when, on account of the
purpose for which they are intended, no support can be applied
in the centre, may not fully estimate the difficulty of erecting and
managing these velaria. Strength was necessary, both for the
cloth itself and for the cords which strained and supported it, or
the whole would have been shivered by the first gust of wind,
and strength could not be obtained without great weight. Many
of our readers probably are not aware, that however short and
light a string may be, no amount of tension applied horizontally
will stretch it into a line perfectly and mathematically straight.
Practically the deviation is imperceptible where the power ap-
plied is very large in proportion to the weight and length of the
string. Still it exists ; and to take a common example, the reader
probably never saw a clothes-line stretched out, though neither
the weight nor length of the string are considerable, without the
middle being visibly lower than the ends. When the line is at
once long and heavy, an enormous power is required to suspend
it even in a curve between two points ; and the amount of tension,
and difficulty of finding materials able to withstand it, are the
128 AMUSEMENTS.
only obstacles to constructing chain bridges which should be
thousands, instead of hundreds of feet in length.
In these erections the piers are raised to a considerable
height, that a sufficient depth may be allowed for the curve of the
chains without depressing the roadway. Ten times — a hundred
times the power which was applied to strain them into that shape
would not suffice to bring them even so near to a horizontal line
but that the most inaccurate and unobservant eye should at once
detect the inequality in their level; and the chains themselves
would probably give way before such a force as this could be ap-
plied to them. The least diameter of the Coliseum is nearly
equal in length to the Menai bridge ; and if the labor of stretch-
ing cords over the one seems small in comparison with that of
raising the ponderous chains of the other, we may take into con-
sideration the weight of cloth which those cords supported, and
the increase of difficulties arising from the action of the wind on
so extensive a surface.
In boisterous weather, as we learn from Martial and other
authors, these difficulties were so great that the velum could not
be spread. When this was the case the Romans used broad hats,
or a sort of parasol, which was called utnbella or umhraciilum^
from umbra^ shade. We ma}' add, in conclusion, that Suetonius
mentions as one of Caligula's tyrannical extravagances, that
sometimes at a show of gladiators, when the sun's heat was most
intense, he would cause the awning to be drawn back, and, at the
same time, forbid any person to leave the place.
The difficulty of the undertaking has given rise to consider-
able discussion as to the means by which the Romans contrived
to extend the velum at such a height over so great a surface, and
to manage it at pleasure. Sailors were employed in the service,
for the Emperor Commodus, who piqued himself on his gladia-
torial skill, and used to fight in the arena, believing himself
mocked by the servile crowd of spectators, when once they hailed
130 AMUSEMENTS.
clus. In course of time it became usual to sacrifice slaves at the
funeral of all persons of condition ; and either for the amusement
of the spectators, or because it appeared barbarous to massacre
defenceless men, arms were placed in their hands, and they were
incited to save their own lives by the death of those who were
opposed to them.
In later times, the furnishing these unhappy men became
matter of speculation, and they were carefully trained to the pro-
fession of arms, to increase the reputation and popularity of the
contractor who provided them. This person was called lanista
by the Romans. At first these sports were performed about the
funeral pile of the deceased, or near his sepulchre, in consonance
with the idea of sacrifice in which they originated ; but as they
became more splendid, and ceased to be peculiarly appropriated
to such occasions, they were removed, originally to the Forum,
and afterwards to the Circus and amphitheatres.
Gladiators were first exhibited at Rome, B. C. 265, by M.
and D. Brutus, on occasion of the death of their father. This
show consisted only of three pairs. B.C. 216, the three sons
of M. ^milius Lepidus, the augur, entertained the people in the
Forum with eleven pair, and the show lasted three days. B. C.
201, the three sons of M. Valerius Lsevinus exhibited twenty-five
pairs. And thus these shows increased in number and frequency,
and the taste for them strengthened with its gratification, until
not only the heir of any rich or eminent person lately deceased,
but all the principal magistrates, and the candidates for magis-
tracies, presented the people with shows of this nature to gain
their favor and support.
This taste was not without its inconveniences and dangers.
Men of rank and political importance Vlq^I families^ as they were
called, of gladiators — desperadoes ready to execute any command
of their master; and towards the fall of the republic, when party
rage scrupled not to have recourse to open violence, questions of
Iras IVBBSIT 7)1
THE AMPHITHEATRE. I3I
the highest import were debated in the streets of the city by the
most despised of its slaves. In the conspiracy of CatiHne so
much danger was apprehended from them, that particular meas-
ures were taken to prevent their joining the disaffected party ; an
event the more to be feared because of the desperate war in which
they had engaged the republic a few years before, under the com-
mand of the celebrated Spartacus. At a much later period, at
the triumph of Probus, A.D. 281, about fourscore gladiators ex-
hibited a similar courage. Disdaining to shed their blood for the
amusement of a cruel people, they killed their keepers, broke out
from the place of their confinement, and filled the streets of Rome
with blood and confusion. After an obstinate resistance they
were cut to pieces by the regular troops.
The oath which they took upon entering the service is pre-
served by Petronius, and is couched in these terms: " We swear,
after the dictation of Eumolpus, to suffer death by fire, bonds,
stripes, and the sword; and whatever else Eumolpus may com-
mand, as true gladiators we bind ourselves body and mind to our
master's service."
From slaves and freedmen the inhuman sport at length
spread to persons of rank and fortune, insomuch that Augustus
was obliged to issue an edict, that none of senatorial rank should
become gladiators; and soon after he laid a similar restraint on
the knights.
Succeeding emperors, according to their characters, encour-
aged or endeavored to suppress this degrading taste. Nero is
related to have brought upwards of four hundred senators and
six hundred knights upon the arena; and in some of his exhibi-
tions even women of quality contended publicly. The excellent
Marcus Aurelius not only retrenched the enormous expenses of
these amusements, but ordered that gladiators should contend
only with blunt weapons. But they were not abolished until
some time after the introduction of Christianity. Constantine
132 AMUSEMENTS.
published the first edict which condemned the shedding of human
blood, and ordered that criminals condemned to death should
rather be sent to the mines than reserved for the service of the
amphitheatre. In the reign of Honorius, when he was celebra-
ting with magnificent games the retreat of the Goths and the de-
liverance of Rome, an Asiatic monk, by name Telemachus, had
the boldness to descend into the arena to part the combatants.
" The Romans were provoked by this interruption of their pleas-
ures, and the rash monk was overwhelmed under a shower of
stones. But the madness of the people soon subsided; they re-
spected the memory of Telemachus, who had deserved the hon-
ors of martyrdom, and they submitted without a murmur to the
laws of Honorius, which abolished forever the human sacrifices
of the amphitheatre." This occurred A.D. 404. It was not,
however, until the year 500 that the practice was finally and
completely abolished by Theodoric.
Some time before the day appointed for the spectacle, he
who gave it {editor) published bills containing the name and en-
signs of the gladiators, for each of them had his own distinctive
badge, and stating also how many were to fight, and how long
the show would last. It appears that like our itinerant showmen
they sometimes exhibited paintings of what the sports were to
contain. On the appointed day the gladiators marched in pro-
cession with much ceremony into the amphitheatre. They then
separated into pairs, as they had been previously matched. An
engraving on the wall of the amphitheatre at Pompeii seems to
represent the beginning of a combat. In the middle stands the
arbiter of the fight, marking out with a long stick the space for
the combatants. On his right stands a gladiator only half armed,
to whom two others are bringing a sword and helmet. On the
left another gladiator, also only partly armed, sounds the trum-
pet for the commencement of the fight ; whilst behind him two
THE AMPHITHEATRE.
133
companions, at the foot of one of the Victories which enclose the
scene, are preparing his helmet and shield.
At first, however, they contended only with staves, called
rtides^ or with blunted weapons ; but when warmed and inspirited
by the pretense of battle, they changed their weapons, and ad-
vanced at the sound of trumpets to the real strife. The conquered
looked to the people or to the emperor for life; his antagonist had
EXAMINING THE WOUNDED.
no power to grant or to refuse it; but if the spectators were dis-
satisfied and gave the signal of death, he was obliged to become
the executioner of their will. This signal was the turning down
the thumbs ; as is well known. If any showed signs of fear, their
death was certain; if on the other hand they waited the fatal
stroke with intrepidity, the people generally relented. But fear
and want of spirit were of very rare occurrence, insomuch that
Cicero more than once proposed the principle of honor which act-
uated gladiators as an admirable model of constancy and courage,
by which he intended to animate himself and others to suffer
everything in defence of the commonwealth.
134 AMUSEMENTS.
The bodies of the slain were dragged with a hook or on a
cart through a gate called Libitinensis, the Gate of Death.
The victor was rewarded with a sum of money, contributed by
the spectators or bestowed from the treasury, or a palm-branch,
or a garland of palm ornamented with colored ribbons — ensigns
of frequent occurrence in ancient monuments. Those who sur-
vived three years were released from this service, and sometimes
one who had given great satisfaction was enfranchised on the
spot. This was done by presenting the staff (rudis) which was
used in preluding to the combat; on receiving which, the gladia-
tor, if a freeman, recovered his liberty; if a slave, he was not
made free, but was released from the obligation of venturing his
life any further in the arena.
Gladiators were divided, according to the fashion of their
armor and offensive weapons, into classes, known by the names of
Thrax, Samnis, Myrmillo, and many others, of which a mere
catalogue would be tedious, and it would be the work of a treat-
ise to ascertain and describe their distinctive marks.
Another group consists of four figures. Two are secutorcs^ fol-
lowers, the other two, retiaru^ net men, armed only with a tri-
dent and net, with which they endeavored to entangle their
adversar3% and then dispatch him. These classes, like the Thrax
and Myrmillo, were usual antagonists, and had their name from
the secutor following the retiarius, who eluded the pursuit until
he found an opportunity to throw his net to advantage. Nepimus,
one of the latter, five times victorius, has fought against one of
the former, whose name is lost, but who had triumphed six times
in different combats. He has been less fortunate in this battle.
Nepimus has struck him in the leg, the thigh, and the left arm;
his blood runs, and in vain he implores mercy from the specta-
tors. As the trident with which Nepimus is armed is not a
weapon calculated to inflict speedy and certain death, the secutor
THE AMPHITHEATRE.
135
Hyppolitus performs this last office to his comrade. The con-
demned wretch bends the knee, presents his throat to the sword,
and throws himself forward to meet the blow, while Nepimus,
his conqueror, pushes him, and seems to insult the last moments
of his victim. In the distance is the retiarius, who must fight
H3^ppolitus in his turn. The secutores have a very plain helmet,
that their adversary may have little or no opportunity of pulling
it off with the net or trident; the right arm is clothed in armor,
ASKING PARDON.
NOT GRANTED.
the left bore a clypeus, or large round shield ; a sandal tied with
narrow bands forms the covering for their feet. They wear no
body armor, no covering but a cloth round the waist, for by their
lightness and activity alone could they hope to avoid death and
gain the victory. The retiarii have the head bare, except a fillet
bound round the hair; they have no shield, but the left side is
covered with a demi-cuiarass, and the left arm protected in the
usual manner, except that the shoulder-piece is very high. They
wear the caliga, or low boot common to the Roman soldiery, and
bear the trident; but the net with which they endeavored to en-
velop their adversaries is nowhere visible. Thisbas-relief is ter-
minated by the combat between a light-armed gladiator and a
Samnite. This last beseeches the spectators to save him, but it
136 AMUSEMENTS.
appears from the action of the principal figure that this is not
granted. The conqueror looks towards the steps of the amphi-
theatre; he has seen the fatal signal, and in reply prepares him-
self to strike.
Between the pilasters of the door the frieze is continued.
Two combats are represented. In the first a Samnite has been
conquered by a Myrmillo. This last wishes to become his com-
rade's executioner without waiting the answer from the people,
to whom the vanquished has appealed; but the lanista checks
his arm, from which it would seem that the Samnite obtained
pardon.
Another pair exhibits a similar combat, in which the Myr-
millo falls stabbed to death. The wounds, the blood, and the
inside of the bucklers are painted of a very bright red color. The
swords, with the exception of that of Hyppolitus, are omitted; it
is possible that it was intended to make them of metal.
The bas-reliefs constituting the lower frieze are devoted to
the chase and to combats between men and animals. In the
upper part are hares pursued by a dog; beyond is a wounded
stag pursued by dogs, to whom he is about to become the prey;
below, a wild boar is seized by an enormous dog, which has al-
ready caused his blood to flow.
In the middle of the composition a bestiarius has transfixed
a bear with a stroke of his lance. This person wears a kind of
short hunting boot, and is clothed as well as his comrade in a
light tunic without sleeves, bound round the hips, and called
subucula. It was the dress of the common people, as we learn
from the sculptures on Trajan's column. The companion of this
man has transfixed a bull, which flies, carrying with him the
heavy lance with which he is wounded. He turns his head toward
his assailant, and seems to wish to return to the attack ; the man by
his gestures appears astonished, beholding himself disarmed and
at the mercy of the animal, whom he thought mortally stricken.
THE AMPHITHEATRE.
m
Pliny (lib. viii. cap. 45) speaks of the ferocity shown by bulls in
these combats, and of having seen them, when stretched for dead
on the arena, lift themselves up and renew the combat.
Another sort of amphitheatrical amusements consisted in
witnessing the death of persons under sentence of the law, either
by the hands of t'he executioner, or by being exposed to the fury
of savage animals. The early Christians were especially sub-
^- jected to this species of
cruelty. Nero availed
himself of the prejudice
against them to turn
aside popular indigna-
tion after the great con-
flagration of Rome,
which is commonly as-
cribed to his own wanton
love of mischief; and we
learn from Tertullian,
that, after great public
misfortunes, the cry of
the populace was, " To
the lions with the Christians."
The Coliseum now owes its
preservation to the Christian
blood so profusely shed within
its walls. After serving during
ages as a quarry of hewn stone
for the use of all whose station and power entitled them to a share
in public plunder, it was at last secured from further injury by
Pope Benedict XIV., who consecrated the building about the
middle of the last century, and placed it under the protection of
the martyrs, who had there borne testimony with their blood to
the sincerity of their belief
138 AMUSEMENTS.
There is nothing in the amphitheatre of Pompeii at variance
with the general description of this class of buildings, and our
notice of it will therefore necessarily be short. (See page 121.)
Its form, as usual, is oval: the extreme length, from outside to
outside of the exterior arcade, is 430 feet, its greatest breadth is
335 feet. The spectators gained admission by tickets, which had
numbers or marks on them, corresponding with similar signs on
the arches through which they entered. Those who were enti-
tled to occupy the lower ranges of seats passed through the per-
forated arcades of the lower order; those whose place was in the
upper portion of the cavea ascended by staircases between the
seats and the outer wall of the building. From hence the women
again ascended to the upper tier, which was divided into boxes,
and appropriated to them.
The construction consists for the most part of the rough
masonry called o^us incertum^ with quoins of squared stone,
and some trifling restorations of rubble. This rude mass was
probably once covered with a more sumptuous facing of hewn
stone; but there are now no other traces of it than a few of the
key-stones, on one of which a chariot and two horses is sculptured^
on another a head; besides which there are a few stars on the
wedge-stones.
At each end of the ellipse were entrances into the arena for
the combatants, through which the dead bodies were dragged out
into the spoliarium. These were also the principal approaches to
the lower ranges of seats, occupied by the senators, magistrates,
and knights, b}^ means of corridors to the right and left which
ran round the arena. The ends of these passages were secured
by metal gratings against the intrusion of wild beasts. In the
northern one are nine places for pedestals to form a line of sep-
aration, dividing the entrance into two parts of unequal breadth.
The seats are elevated above the arena upon a high podium or
parapet, upon which, when the building was first opened, there
THEATRES. 1 39
remained several inscriptions, containing the names of duumvirs
who had presided upon different occasions. There were also
paintings in fresco, one representing a tigress fighting with a wild
boar; another, a stag chased by a lioness; another, a battle be-
tween a bull and bear. Other subjects comprised candelabra, a
distribution of palms among the gladiators, winged genii, min-
strels, and musicians; but all disappeared soon after their ex-
posure to the atmosphere. The amphitheatre comprises twenty-
four rows of seats, and about 20,000 feet of sitting-room.
It may be observed that the arena of the amphitheatre of
Pompeii appears to be formed of the natural surface of the earth,
and has none of those vast substructions observable at Pozzuoli
and Capua. It does not, therefore, appear capable of being
turned into a Naumachia, nor indeed would it have been easy to
find there water enough for such a purpose.
In the Roman theatre the construction of the orchestra and
stage was different from that of the Greeks. By the construction
peculiar to the Roman theatre, the stage was brought nearer to
the audience (the arc not exceeding a semi-circle), and made con-
siderably deeper than in the Greek theatre. The length of the
stage was twice the diameter of the orchestra. The Roman or-
chestra contained no thymele. The back of the stage, or pro-
scenium, was adorned with niches, and columns, and friezes of
great richness, as may be seen in some of the theatres of Asia
Minor, and in the larger theatre at Pompeii, which belong to the
Roman period.
On the whole, however, the construction of a Roman theatre
resembled that of a Greek one. The Senate, and other dis-
tinguished persons, occupied circular ranges of seats within the
orchestra; the prsetor had a somewhat higher seat. The space
between the orchestra and the first proecinctio, usually consisting
of fourteen seats, was reserved for the equestrian order, tribunes,
etc. Above them were the seats of the plebeians. Soldiers were
140 AMUSEMENTS.
separated from the citizens. Women were appointed by Augus-
tus to sit in the portico, which encompassed the whole. Behind
the scenes were the postscenium, or retiring-room, and porticoes,
to which, in case of sudden showers, the people retreated from
the theatre.
The earliest theatres at Rome were temporary buildings of
wood. A magnificent wooden theatre, built by M. yEmilius
Scaurus, in his edileship, B.C. 58, is described by Pliny. In 55
B.C., Cn. Pompe}^ built the first stone theatre at Rome, near the
Campus Martins. A temple of Venus Victrix, to whom he dedi-
cated the whole building, was erected at the highest part of the
cavea.
The next permanent theatre was built by Augustus, and
named after his favorite, the young Marcellus, son of his sister
Octavia. Vitruvius is generally reported to have been the arch-
itect of this building, which would contain 30,000 persons. The
audience part was a semi-circle 410 feel in diameter. Twelve
arches of its external wall still remain. From marks still vis-
ible in the large theatre at Pompeii, the place reserved for each
spectator was about 13 inches. This theatre contained 5,000.
The theatre of Pompeii, at Rome, contained 40,000. The the-
atre of Scaurus is said to have contained 80,000. The Romans
surpassed the Greeks in the grandeur and magnificence of these
buildings. They built them in almost all their towns. Remains
of them are found in almost every country where the Romans
carried their rule. One of the most striking Roman provincial
theatres is that of Orange, in the south of France.
Odeum was a building intended for the recitations of rhap-
sodists and the performances of citharsedists, before the theatre
was in existence. In its general form and arrangements the
odeum was very similar to the theatre. There were, however,
some characteristic diflferences. The odeum was much smaller
than the theatre, and it was roofed over. The ancient and origi-
THEATRES. I4I
nal Odeum of Athens in the Agora was probably erected in the
time of Hipparchus, who, according to Plato, first introduced at
Athens the poems of Homer, and caused rhapsodists to recite
them durinor the Panathenaea. There were two others in Athens
— the Odeum of Pericles, and that of Herodes Atticus. The
Odeum of Pericles was built in imitation of the tent of Xerxes.
It was burnt by Sylla, but was restored in exact imitation of the
original building. It lay at the east side of the theatre of Diony-
sus. The Odeum of Herodes Atticus was built by him in mem-
ory of his departed wife Regilla, whose name it commonly bore.
It lies under the southwest angle of the Acropolis. Its greatest
diameter within the walls was 240 feet, and it is calculated to
have held about 8,000 persons. There were odea in several of
the towns of Greece, in Corinth, Patrse, and at Smyrna, Ephesus
and other places of Asia Minor. There were odea also in Rome;
one was built by Domitian, and a second by Trajan. There
are ruins of an Odeum in the villa of Adrian, at Tivoli and at
Pompeii.
Remains of amphitheatres are found in several cities of
Etruria. The amphitheatre of Sutri is considered to be pecu-
liarly Etruscan in its mode of construction. It is cut out of the
tufa rock, and was no doubt used by that people for festal repre-
sentations long before Rome attempted anything of the kind. The
Romans copied these edifices from the Etruscans. We have his-
torical evidence, also, that gladiatorial combats had an Etruscan
origin, and were borrowed by the Romans.
Amphitheatres were peculiar to the Romans. The gladia-
torial shows, and the chase and combats of wild beasts with
which the amphitheatre is always connected, were at first given
in the circus. Its unsuitableness for such sports determined Julius
Caesar, in his dictatorship, to construct a wooden theatre in the
Campus Martius, built especially for hunting. Caius Scribonius
Curio built the first amphitheatre, for the celebration of his
142 AMUSEMENTS.
father's funeral games. It was composed of two theatres of
wood, placed on pivots, so that they could be turned round,
spectators and all, and placed face to face, thus forming a double
theatre, or amphitheatre, which ending suggested its elliptical
shape. Statilius Taurus, the friend of Augustus, B.C. 30, erected
a more durable amphitheatre, partly of stone and partly of wood,
in the Campus Martius. Others were afterwards built by Cali-
gula and Nero. The amphitheatre of Nero was of wood, and
<n the Campus Martius.
The assembled people in a crowded theatre must have been
an imposing spectacle, in which the gorgeous colors of the dresses
were blended with the azure of a southern sky. No antique ren-
dering of this subject remains. The spectators began to assem-
ble at early dawn, for each wished to secure a good seat, after
paying his entrance fee. This, not exceeding two oboloi, was
payable to the builder or manager of the theatre. After the
erection of stone theatres at Athens, this entrance fee was paid
for the poorer classes by Government, and formed, indeed, one of
the heaviest items of the budget. For not only at the Dionysian
ceremonies, but on many other festive occasions, the people
clamored for free admission, confirmed in their demands by
the demagogues. Frequently the money reserved for the
emergency of a war had to be spent for this purpose.
The seats in a theatre were, of course, not all equally
good, and their prices varied accordingly. The police of
the theatre had to take care that everybody took his seat in the
row marked on his ticket. Most of the spectators were men.
In older times women were allowed only to attend at tragedies,
the coarse jokes of the comedy being deemed unfit for the ears
of Athenian ladies. Only hetairai made an exception to this rule.
It is almost certain that the seats of men and women were sepa-
rate. Boys were allowed to witness both tragedies and comedies.
Whether slaves were admitted amongst the spectators seems
THEATRES. 1 43
doubtful. As pedagogues were not allowed to enter the school-
room, it seems likely that they had also to leave the theatre after
having shown their young masters to their seats. Neither were
the slaves carrying the cushions for their masters' seats admitted
amongst the spectators. It is, however, possible that when the
seats became to be for sale, certain classes of slaves were allowed
to visit the theatre. Favorite poets and actors were rewarded
with applause and flowers; while bad performers had to submit
to whistling, and, possibly, other worse signs of public indigna-
tion. Greek audiences resembled those of southern Europe at
the present day in the vivacity of their demonstrations, which
were even extended to public characters amongst the spectators
on their clearing the theatre.
Vitruvius has given some minute directions, strongly illustra-
tive of the importance of the subject, for choosing a proper situa-
tion for a theatre. " When the Forum is finished, a healthy
situation must be sought for, wherein the theatre may be erected
to exhibit sports on the festival days of the immortal gods. For
the spectators are detained in their seats by the entertainment of
the games, and remaining quiet for a long time, their pores are
opened, and imbibe the draughts of air, which, if they come from
marshy or otherwise unhealthy places, will pour injurious humors
into the body. Neither must it front the south; for when the
sun fills the concavity, the inclosed air, unable to escape or circu-
late, is heated, and then extracts and dries up the juices of the
body. It is also to be carefully observed that the place be not
unfitted to transmit sound, but one in which the voice may ex-
pand as clearly as possible."
The ancient scene was not, like that ot the modern stage,
capable of being shifted. It consisted of a solid building {scena
stahilis)^ representing the facade of a royal palace, and adorned
with the richest architectural ornaments. It was built of stone,
or brick cased with marble, and had three doors, of which the
144 AMUSEMENTS.
middle one, called -porta regia^ larger and handsomer than the
others, was supposed to form the entrance to the palace. This
was used only in the representation of tragedies, and then only by
the principal personages of the drama. The door in the right
wing was appropriated to inferior personages, and that on the left
to foreigners or persons coming from abroad. In our plan, the
five angles of the triangles not yet disposed of determine the dis-
position of the scene. Opposite the centre one are the regal
doors ; on each side are those by which the secondary characters
entered. Behind the scene, as in the Greek theatre, there were
apartments for.the actors to retire into; and under it were vaults
or cellars, which, as in the modern stage, served for the entrance
of ghosts, or the appliance of any needful machinery. The -pro-
scenium^ or space between the orchestra and the scene, answer-
ing to our stage, though deeper than the Greek, was of no great
depth, which was not required for the performance of ancient
dramas, in which only a few personages appeared on the stage at
once. Besides, in the absence of any roof, the voice of the per-
formers would have been lost if the stage had been too deep.
That of Pompeii is only about twenty-one feet broad, though its
length is one hundred and nine.
Along the front of the stage, and between it and the orchestra,
runs a tolerably deep linear opening, the receptacle for the
aul(Bum^ or curtain, the fashion of which was just the reverse of
ours, as it had to be depressed instead of elevated when the play
began. This operation, performed by machinery of which we
have no clear account, was called aulceum prernere. as in the
well-known line of Horace : *
Quatuor aut plures aulsea premuntur in horas.
It should, however, be mentioned that the ancients seem also to
have had movable scenery (scena dtictilis)^ to alter the appearance
*Epp. ii. 1,189.
THEATRES. I45
of the permanent scene when required. This must have consisted
of painted board or canvas.
Another method of illusion was by the use of masks. These
were rendered necessary by the vastness of the ancient theatres,
and the custom of performing in the open air.
In the eastern portico of the Triangular Forum are four en-
trances to different parts of the greater theatre. The first two,
as you enter, lead into a large circular corridor surrounding the
whole cavea; the third opens on an area behind the scene, from
which there is a communication with the orchestra and privileged
seats; the fourth led down a long flight of steps, at the bottom
of which you turn, on the right, into the soldiers' quarter, on the
left, into the area already mentioned. The corridor is arched
over. It has two other entrances, one by a large passage from
the east side, another from a smaller passage on the north. Six
inner doors, called vomitoria, opened on an equal number of stair-
cases which ran down to the first prsecinctio. The theatre is
formed upon the slope of a hill, the corridor being the highest
part, so that the audience upon entering descended at once to
their seats, and the vast staircases, which conducted to the upDer
seats of the theatres and amphitheatres at Rome, were saved.
By the side of the first entrance is a staircase which led up to the
women's gallery above the corridor; here the seats were parti-
tioned into compartments, like our boxes. The benches were
about one foot three inches high and two feet four inches wide.
One foot three inches and a half was allowed to each spectator,
as may be ascertained in one part, where the divisions are marked
off and numbered. There is space to contain about five thou-
sand persons. Here the middle classes sat, usually upon cushions
which they brought with them; the men of rank sat in the or-
chestra below, on chairs of state carried thither by their slaves.
Flanking the orchestra, and elevated considerably above it, are
observable two divisions, appropriated, one perhaps to the pro-
10
146 AMUSEMENTS.
consul, 01 duumvirs and their officers, the other to the vestal
virgins, or to the use of the person who gave the entertainments.
This is the more Hkely, because in the smaller theatre, where
these boxes, if we may call them so, are also found, they have a
communication with the stage.
This theatre appears to have been entirely covered with
marble; the benches of the cavea were of marble, the orchestra
was of marble, the scene with all its ornaments was also of
marble ; and yet of this profusion of marble only a few fragments
remain.
It appears, from an inscription found in it, to have been
erected, or much improved, by one Holconius Rufus. Upon the
first step of the orchestra was another inscription, composed of
bronze letters let into the marble. The metal has been carried
away, but the cavities in the marble still remain. They were
placed so as partly to encompass a statue, and run thus :
M. HOLCONIO. M. F. RVFO. II. V.I.D. QVINQVIENS. ITER.
QVINQ. TRIE. MIL. A. P. FLAMEN. AVG.
PATR. COLON. D.D.
signifying, that the colony dedicated this to its patron, M. Hol-
conius Rufus, son of Marcus: then follow his titles. In the
middle of this inscription is a vacant space, where probably stood
the statue of Holconius, as the cramps, by which something was
fastened, still remain. Or possibly it may have been an altar, as
it was the custom among the ancients to sacrifice to Bacchus in
the theatre.
l^ojviyvN !]pATHp.
After the excavations at Pompeii had been carried on to a
considerable extent, it was matter of surprise that no public baths
were discovered, particularly as they were sure almost to be
placed in the most frequented situation, and therefore probably
somewhere close to the Forum. The wonder was increased by the
small number of baths found in private houses. That public baths
existed, was long ago ascertained from an inscription discovered in
1749, purporting that one Januarius, an enfranchised slave, sup-
plied the baths of Marcus Crassus Frugi with water, both fresh
and salt. At length an excavation in the vicinity of the Forum
brought to light a suite of public baths, admirably arranged,
spacious, highly decorated, and superior to any even in the most
considerable of our modern cities. They are fortunately in good
preservation, and throw much light on what the ancients, and
especially Vitruvius, have written on the subject.
Inscription in the Court of tiie Baths.
DEDICATIONE, THERMARUM, MUNERIS. CN^I.
ALLEI. NIGIDII. MATl. VENATIO. ATHLETE.
SPARSIONES. VELA. ERUNT. MAIO.
PRINCIPI. COLONIC. PELICITER.
" On occasion of the dedication of the baths, at the expense of Cnseus Alleius Nigi-
diiis Mains, there will be the cha<5eof wild beasts, athletic contests, sprinkling of per-
fumes, and an awning. Prosperity to Mains, chief of the colony."
This announcement of a public entertainment is written on a
wall of the court of the baths, to the right hand on entering
The provincial towns, imitating the example of Rome, and
H7
148 AMUSEMENTS.
equally fond of all sorts of theatrical and gladiatorial exhibitions,
of which we have spoken at length in describing the various
theatres of Pompeii, usually solemnized the completion of any
edifices or monuments erected for the public service by dedi-
cating them. This ceremony was nothing more than opening or
exhibiting the building to the people in a solemn manner, grati-
fying them at the same time with largesses and various spectacles.
When a private man had erected the building, he himself was
usually the person who dedicated it. When undertaken by the
public order and at the public cost, the citizens deputed some
magistrate or rich and popular person to perform the ceremony.
In the capital vast sums were expended in this manner; and a
man who aspired to become a popular leader could. scarcely lay
out his money to better interest than in courting favor by the
prodigality of his expenses on these or similar occasions. It ap-
pears, then, that upon the completion of the baths, the Pompeians
committed the dedication to Cnseus Alleius Nigidius Mains, who
entertained them with a sumptuous spectacle.
There were combats (yenatio) between wild beasts, or be-
tween beasts and men, a cruel sport, to which the Romans were
passionately addicted; athletic games (athletce)^ sprinkling of per-
fumes (spar stones)^ and it was further engaged that an awning
should be raised over the amphitheatre. The convenience of
such a covering will be evident, no less as a protection against
sun than rain under an Italian sky; the merit of the promise,
which may seem but a trifle, will be understood by considering
the difficulty of stretching a covering over the immense area of
an ancient amphitheatre. We may observe, by the way, that
representations of hunting and of combats between wild beasts
are common subjects of the paintings of Pompeii. A combat
between a lion and a horse, and another, between a bear and a
bull, have been found depicted in the amphitheatre. The velarium,
or awning, is advertised in all the inscriptions yet found which give
ROMAN BATHS. 1 49
notice of public games. Athletae and sparsiones appear in no
other. We learn from Seneca that the perfumes were dissemi-
nated by being mixed with boiling water, and then placed in the
centre of the amphitheatre, so that the scents rose with the steam,
and soon became diffused throughout the building.
There is some reason to suppose that the completion and
dedication of the baths preceded the destruction of the city but a
short time, from the inscription being found perfect on the wall
of the baths, for it was the custom to write these notices in the
most public places, and after a very short season they were cov-
ered over by others, as one billsticker defaces the labors of his
predecessors. This is abundantly evident even in the present
ruined state of the town, especially at the corners of the principal
streets, where it is easy to discover one inscription painted over
another.
But to return to the Baths. They occupy almost an entirt
block, forming an irregular quadrangle; the northern front, fac.
ing to the Street of the Baths, being about 162 feet in length, the
southern front about 93 feet, and the average depth about 174
feet. They are divided into three separate and distinct compart-
ments, one of which was appropriated to the fireplaces and to the
servants of the establishment; the other two were occupied each
by a set of baths, contiguous to each other, similar and adapted
to the same purposes, and supplied with heat and water from the
same furnace and from the same reservoir. It is conjectured that
the most spacious of them was for the use of the men, the lesser
for that of the women. The apartments and passages are paved
with white marble in mosaic. It appears, from Varro and
Vitruvius, that baths for men and women were originally united,
as well for convenience as economy of fuel, but were separated
afterwards for the preservation of morals, and had no communi-
cation except that from the furnaces. We shall call these the old
Baths by way of distinction, and because the}' were first discov-
150 AMUSEMENTS.
ered; but in reality, the more recently discovered Stabian Baths
may probably be the more ancient.
It should be observed here that the old Pompeian thermce
are adapted solely to the original purposes of a bath, namely, a
place for bathing and washing. They can not therefore for a
moment be compared to the baths constructed at Rome during
the period of the empire, of which such magnificent remains may
still be seen at the baths of Diocletian, and especially at those of
Caracalla. In these vast establishments the bath formed only a
part of the entertainment provided. There were also spacious
porticoes for walking and conversing, halls and courts for athletic
games and gladiatorial combats, apartments for the lectures and
recitations of philosophers, rhetoricians and poets. In short, they
formed a sort of vast public club, in which almost every species
of amusement was provided. In the more recently discovered
baths, called the Thermae Stabianae, there is indeed a large quad-
rangular court, or palaestra, which may have served for gymnas-
tic exercises, and among others for the game of ball, as appears
from some large balls of stone having been found in it. Yet even
this larger establishment makes but a very slight approach to the
magnificence and luxury of a Roman bath.
The tepidarium, or warm chamber, was so called from
a warm, but soft and mild temperature, which prepared the
bodies of the bathers for the more intense heat which they were
to undergo in the vapor and hot baths; and, vice versa^ softened
the transition from the hot bath to the external air. The wall is
divided into a number of niches or compartments by Telamones,
two feet high, in high relief, and supporting a rich cornice. These
are male, as Caryatides are female statues placed to perform the
office of pillars. By the Greeks they were named Atlantes, from
the well-known fable of Atlas supporting the heavens. Here
they are made of terra-cotta, or baked clay, incrusted with the
finest marble stucco. Their only covering is a girdle round the
ROMAN BATHS.
i5i
loins; they have been painted flesh-color, with black hair and
beards; the moulding of the pedestal and the baskets on their
heads were in imitation ot gold; and the pedestal itself, as well
as the wall behind them and the niches for the reception of the
clothes of the bathers, were colored to resemble red porphyry.
Six of these niches are closed up without any apparent reason.
RECEPTION TO THE EATUS (at rompeii).
The ceiling is worked in stucco, in low relief, with scattered
figures and ornaments of little flying genii, delicately relieved on
medallions, with foliage carved round them. The ground is
painted, sometimes red and sometimes blue. The room is lighted
by a window two feet six inches high and three feet wide, in the
bronze frame of which were found set four very beautiful panes
of glass fastened by small nuts and screws, very ingeniously con-
trived, with a view to remove the glass at pleasure. In this room
was found a brazier, seven feet long and two feet six inches broad,
made entirely of bronze, with the exception of an iron lining.
The two front legs are winged sphinxes, terminating in lions'
152 AMUSEMENTS.
paws; the two other legs are plain, being intended to stand
against the wall. The bottom is formed with bronze bars, on
which are laid bricks supporting pumice-stones for the reception
of charcoal. There is a sort of false battlement worked on the
rim, and in the middle a cow is to be seen in high relief. Three
bronze benches also were found, alike in form and pattern. They
are one foot four inches high, one foot in width, and about six
feet long, supported by four legs, terminating in the cloven hoofs
of a cow, and ornamented at the upper ends with, the heads of
the same animal. Upon the seat is inscribed, M. NIGIDIUS,
VACCULA. P. S.
Varro, in his book upon rural affairs, tells us that many of
the surnames of the Roman families had their origin in pastoral
life, and especially are derived from the animals to whose breed-
ing they paid most attention. As, for instance, the Porcii took
their name from their occupation as swine-herds; the Ovini from
their care of sheep; the Caprilli, of goats; the Equarii, of
horses; the Tauri, of bulls, etc. We may conclude, therefore,
that the family of this Marcus Vaccula were originally cow-
keepers, and that the figures of cows so plentifully impressed on
all the articles which he presented to the baths are a sort of can-
ting arms^ to borrow an expression from heraldry, as in Rome
the family Toria caused a bull to be stamped on their money.
A doorway led from the tepidarium into the caldarium, or
vapor-bath. It had on one side the laconicum, containing the
vase called labrum. On the opposite side of the room was
the hot bath called lavacrum. Here it is necessary to refer
to the words of Vitruvius as explanatory of the structure of the
apartments (cap. xi. lib. v.): "Here should be placed the vaulted
sweating-room, twice the length of its width, which should have
at each extremity, on one end the Iacomcu?n^ made as described
above, on the other end the hot bath." This apartment is ex-
actly as described, twice the length of its width, exclusively of
ROMAN BATHS. I 53
the laconicum at one end and the hot bath at the other. The
pavement and walls of the whole were hollowed to admit the
heat.
The labrum was a great basin or round vase of white
marble, rather more than live feet in diameter, into which the
hot water bubbled up through a pipe in its centre, and served
for the partial ablutions of those who took the vapor-bath. It
was raised about three feet six inches above the level of the pave-
ment, on a round base built of small pieces of stone or lava,
stuccoed and colored red, five feet six inches in diameter, and has
within it a bronze inscription, which runs thus:
CN^O. MELISS.EO. CN^I. FILIO. APRO. MARCO. STAIO. MARCI. FILIO.
RUFO. DUUMVIRIS. ITERUM. lURE. DICUNDO. LA.BRUM. EX DECURI-
ONUM DECRETO. EX. PECUNIA. PUBLICA. FACIE.VDUM. CURARUNT
CONSTAT. HS. D.C.C.L.
Relating that " Cngeus Melissseus Aper, son of Cnaeus Aper. Mar-
cus Staius Rufus, son of M. Rufus, duumvirs of justice for the
second time, caused the labrum to be made at the public expense,
by order of the Decurions. It cost 5,250 sesterces " (about
$200). There is in the Vatican a. magnificent porphyry labrum
found in one of the imperial baths ; and Baccius, a great modern
authority on baths, speaks of labra made of glass.
This apartment, like the others, is well stuccoed and painted
yellow; a cornice, highly enriched with stucco ornaments, is sup-
ported by fluted pilasters placed at irregular intervals. These
are red, as is also the cornice and ceiling of the laconicum, which
is worked in stucco with little figures of boys and animals.
The women's bath resembles very much that of the men,
and 'differs only in being smaller and less ornamented. It is
heated, as we have already mentioned, by the same fire, and sup-
plied with water from the same boilers. Near the entrance is an
inscription painted in red letters. All the rooms yet retain in
perfection their vaulted roofs. In the vestibule are seats similar
154 AMUSEMENTS.
to those which have been described in the men's baths as appro-
priated to slaves or servants of the establishment. The robing-
room contains a cold bath; it is painted with red and yellow pil-
asters alternating with one another on a blue or black ground,
and has a light cornice of white stucco and a white mosaic pave-
ment with a narrow black border. There are accommodations for
ten persons to undress at the same time. The cold bath is much
damaged, the wall only remaining of the alveus, which is square,
the whole incrustation of marble being destroyed. From this
room we pass into the tepidarium, about twenty feet square,
painted yellow with red pilasters, lighted by a small window far
from the ground. This apartment communicates with the warm
bath, which, like the men's, is heated by flues formed in the floors
and walls.
There are in this room paintings of grotesque design upon a
yellow ground, but they are much damaged and scarcely visible.
The pavement is of white ^ marble laid in mosaic. The room in
its general arrangement resembles the hot bath of the men; it
has a labrum in the laconicum, and a hot bath contiguous to the
furnace. The hollow pavement and the flues in the walls are al-
most entirely destroyed ; and of the labrum, the foot, in the mid-
dle of which was a piece of the leaden conduit that introduced the
water, alone remains. On the right of the entrance into these
women's baths is a wall of stone of great thickness and in a good
style of masonry.
These baths are so well arranged, with so prudent an
economy of room and convenient distribution of their parts, and
are adorned with such appropriate elegance, as to show clearly
the intellect and resources of an excellent architect. At the same
time some errors of the grossest kind have been committed, such
as would be inexcusable in the most ignorant workman; as, for
instance, the symmetry of parts has been neglected where the
parts correspond ; a pilaster is cut oflf by a door which passes
ANCIENT BATH-KOOM. (As discovered).
I5C> AMUSEMENTS.
through the middle of it; and other mistakes occur which might
have been avoided without difficuhy. This strange mixture of
good and bad taste, of skill and carelessness, is not very easily
accounted for, but it is of constant recurrence in Pompeii.
Vitruvius recommends the selecting a situation for baths de-
fended from the north and northwest winds, and forming windows
opposite the south, or if the nature of the ground would not per-
mit this, at least towards the south, because the hours of bath-
ing used by the ancients being from after mid-day till evening,
those who bathed could, by those windows, have the advantage
of the rays and of the heat of the declining sun.
For this reason the Pompeian baths hitherto described have
the greater part of their windows turned to the south, and are
constructed in a low part of the city, where the adjoining build-
ings served as a protection to them from the inconvenience of the
northwest winds.
Before concluding this account of the Stabian baths, we
should mention that under the portico, near the entrance to the
men's baths, was found a sun-dial, consisting as usual of a half
circle inscribed in a rectangle, and with the gnomon in perfect
preservation. It was supported by lion's feet and elegantly orna-
mented. On its base was an Oscan inscription, which has been
interpreted as follows by Minervini: Marius. Atinius, Marii Al-
ius, qusestor, ex multatitia pecunia conventus decreto fieri man-
davit. That is: the Quaestor M. Atinius, in accordance with a
decree of the assembly, caused it to be made out of money levied
by fines. The title of " Quaestor " seems to show that this in-
scription must have been written after the occupation of Pompeii
by the Romans, but at the same time at a period when the
Oscan tongue continued to be generally spoken. The fines alluded
to were probably levied for breaches of the rules to be observed
in the palaestra.
^OCIAL ^C^AME? AND ^PORTg.
Jugglers of both sexes, either single or in gangs, were com-
mon all over Greece putting up their booths, as Xenophon says,
wherever money and silly people could be found. These fre-
quently amused the guests at drinking feasts with their tricks.
The reputation of this class of people was anything but above
suspicion, as is proved by the verse of Manetho (" Apotheles,"
IV., 276), in which they are described as the " birds of the country,
the foulest brood of the city." Their tricks were innumerable,
and outvied in boldness and ingenuity those of our conjurors,
barring, of course such as are founded on the modern discoveries
of natural science. Male and female jugglers jumped forwards
and backwards over swords or tables ; girls threw up and caught
again a number of balls or hoops to the accompaniment of a
musical instrument ; others displayed an astounding skill with
their feet and toes while standing on their hands. Rope-dancers
performed the most dangerous dances and sqlti-mortali. In Rome
even elephants were trained to mount the rope. Flying-machines
of a construction unknown to us are also mentioned, on which
bold aeronauts traversed the air. Alkiphron tells a story about
a peasant who, on seeing a juggler pulling little bullets from the
noses, ears, and heads of the spectators, exclaimed: " Let such a
beast never enter my yard, or else everything would soon disap-
pear." Descriptions of these tricks are frequent in ancient wri-
ters, particularly in the indignant invectives of the early fathers
158 AMUSEMENTS.
of the Church. Amongst the pictures of female jugglers in all
kinds of impossible postures, can be seen a girl performing the
dangerous sword-dance, described by Plato. It consists in her
turning somersaults forwards and backwards across the points of
three swords stuck in the ground. A similar picture we see on
a vase of the Berlin Museum. Another vase shows a female jug-
gler dressed in long drawers standing on her hands, and filling
with her feet a kantharos from a krater placed in front of her.
She holds the handle of the kantharos with the toes of her left
foot, while the toes of her other foot cling round the stem of the
kyathos used for drawing the liquor. A woman sitting in front
of her performs a game with three balls, in which the other artiste
also seems to take a part. In another, a girl in a rather awkward
position is shooting an arrow from a bow.
Of social games played by the topers we mention, besides
the complicated kottabos, the games played on a board or with
dice. Homer already mentions a game of the former class, and
names Palamedes as its inventor ; of the exact nature of this game
'we know little or nothing. Neither are we informed of the de-
tails of another kind of petteia played with five little stones on a
board divided by five lines.
The so-called " game of cities " seems to have resembled our
chess or draughts. The board was divided into five parts. Each
player tried to checkmate the other by the skillful use of his men.
Games of hazard with dice and astragaloi were most likely
greater favorites with the topers than the intellectual ones hitherto
described. The number of dice was at first three, afterwards
two; the figures on the parallel sides being i and 6, 2 and 5, 3
and 4. In order to prevent cheating, they were cast from coni-
cal beakers, the interior of which was formed into different steps.
Each cast had its name, sixty-four of which have been transmit-
ted to us by the grammarians. The luckiest cast, each of the
dice showing the figure 6, was called Aphrodite; the unluckiest,
SOCIAL GAMES AND SPORTS. 1 59
the three dice showing the figure i, had the names of "dog" or
'" wine " appHed to it.
Another game of a similar nature was played with the so-
called astragaloi, dice of a lengthy shape made of the knuckles
of animals. Two of the surfaces were flat, the third being raised,
and the fourth indented slightly. The last-mentioned side was
marked i, and had, amongst many other names, that of " dog;"
the opposite surface, marked 6. The Latin names of the two
other sides marked 3 and 4 were suppus and planus respectively.
The figures 2 and 5 were wanting on the astragaloi, the narrow
€nd-surfaces not being counted. The number of astragaloi used
was always four, being the same as in the game of dice. Here
also the luckiest cast was called Aphrodite, with which at the
same time the honor of king-of-the-feast was connected.
Young girls liked to play at a game with five astragaloi, or
little stones, which were thrown into the air and caught on the
upper surface of the hand. This game is still in use in many
countries. We possess many antique representations of these
various games.
Two vase paintings show soldiers playing at draughts. As-
tragaloi and dice of different sizes, some with the figures as above
described on them, others evidently counterfeited, are preserved
in several museums. Of larger representations we mention the
marble statue of a girl playing with astragaloi in the Berlin
Museum, and a Pompeian wall-painting in which the children of
Jason play the same game, while Medea threatens their lives
with a drawn sword. The celebrated masterpiece of Polykletes,
representing two boys playing with astragaloi, formerly in the
palace of Titus in Rome, has unfortunately been lost. Another
wall-painting shows in the foreground Aglaia and Hileaira, daugh-
ters of Niobe, kneeling and playing the same game.
In connection with these social games we mention a few
other favorite amusements of the Greeks. The_existence of cock-
fuiTIVERSITr,
l6o AMUSEMENTS.
fights is proved by vase-paintings, gems, and written evidence.
It was a favorite pastime with both old and young. Themistokles,
after his victory over the Persians, is said to have founded an an-
nual entertainment of cock-fights, which made both these and the
fights of quails popular among the Greeks. The breeding of
fighting-cocks was a matter of great importance, Rhodes, Chal-
kis, and Media being particularly celebrated for their strong and
large cocks. In order to increase their fury, the animals were
fed with garlic previous to the fight. Sharp metal spurs were at-
tached to their legs, after which they were placed on a table with
a raised border. Very large sums were frequently staked on
them by owners and spectators.
Here, again, we see antique customs reproduced by various
modern nations. The Italian game of niorra {il giuco alia
morra or fare alia morrd) was also known to the ancients. In
it both players open their clenched right hands simultaneously
with the speed of lightning, whereat each has to call out the
number of fingers extended by the other. It is the same game
which figured among Eg3^ptian amusements. Mimetic dan-
ces were another favorite amusement at symposia. They mostly
represented mythological scenes. A few words about Greek
dancing ought to be added.
Homer mentions dancing as one of the chief delights of the
feast; he also praises the artistic dances of the Phaiakian youths.
This proves the esteem in which this art was held even at that
early period. In the dances of the Phaiakai, all the young men
performed a circular movement round a singer standing in the
centre, or else two skilled dancers executed a -pas de deux.
Homer's words seem to indicate that the rhythmical motion was
not limited to the legs, as in our modern dances, but extended to
the upper part of the body and the arms. Perhaps the germs of
mimetic art may be looked for in this dance.
According to Lucian, the aim of the dance was to express
SOCIAL GAMES AND SPORTS. l6t
sentiment, passion, and action by means of gestures. It soon de-
veloped into highest artistic beauty, combined with the rhythmic
grace peculiar to the Greeks. Like the gymnastic and agonistic
arts, the dance retained its original purity as long as public mor-
ality prevailed in Greece: its connection with religious worship
preserved it from neglect. Gradually, however, here also mechan-
ical virtuosity began to supplant true artistic principles.
The division of dances according to their warlike or religious
character seems objectionable, because all of them were origi-
nally connected with religious worship. The distinction between
warlike and peaceful dances is more appropriate. Among the
warlike dances particularly adapted to the Doric character, was
the oldest and that most in favor. It dates from mythical times.
Pyrrhichos, either a Kretan or Spartan by birth, the Dioskuroi,
also Pyrrhos, the son of Achilles, are mentioned as its originators.
The Pyrrhic dance, performed by several men in armor, imitated
the movements of attack and defence. The various positions were
defined by rule ; hands and arms played an important part in the
mimetic action. It formed the chief feature of the Doric gym-
nopaidia and of the greater and lesser Panathenaia at Athens.
The value attached to it in the latter city is proved by the fact
of the Athenians making Phrynichos commander-in-chief owing
to the skill displayed by him in the Pyrrhic dance.
Later a Bacchic element was introduced into this dance,
which henceforth illustrated the deeds of Dionysos. A fragment
of a marble frieze shows a satyr with a thyrsos and laurel crown
performing a wild Bacchic dance between two soldiers, also exe-
cuting a dancing movement; it most likely illustrates the Pyrrhic
dance of a later epoch.
Of other warlike dances we mention the karpeia, which
rendered the surprise of a warrior plowing a field by robbers,
and the scufl3e between them. It was accompanied on the flute.
More numerous, although less complicated, were the peace-
II '
l62
AMUSEMENTS.
ful choral dances performed at the feasts of difterent gods, ac-
cording to their individualities. With the exception of the Bacchic
dances, they consisted of measured movements round the altar.
More lively in character were the gymnopaidic dances performed
by men and bo3^s. They were, like most Spartan choral dances,
renowned for their graceful rhythms. They consisted of an imi-
tation of gymnastic exercises, particularl}' of the wrestling-match
and the Pankration; in later times it was generally succeeded
by the warlike Pyrrhic dance.
mB^^^
^OCIAL J^NTERTAINMENTg.
We will now give some of the more domestic entertainments,
such as parties or dinners, given by the Egyptians. In their en-
tertainments they appear to have omitted nothing which could
promote festivity and the amusement of the guests. Music, songs,
dancing, buffoonery, feats of agility, or games of chance, were
generally introduced; and they welcomed them with all the lux-
uries which the cellar and the table could afford.
The party, when invited to dinner, met about midday, and
they arrived successively in their chariots, in palanquins borne by
their servants, or on foot. Sometimes their attendants screened
them from the sun by holding up a shield (as is still done in
Southern Africa), or by some other contrivance; but the chariot
of the king or of a princess, was often furnished with a large par-
asol; and the flabella borne behind the king, which belonged ex-
clusively to royalty, answered the same purpose. They were
composed of feathers, and were not very unlike those carried on
state occasions behind the Pope in modern Rome. Parasols or
umbrellas were also used in Assyria, Persia, and other Eastern
countries.
When a visitor came in his car, he was attended by a num-
ber of servants, some of whom carried a stool, to enable
him to alight, and others his writing tablet, or whatever
he might want during his sta}^ at the house. The guests are as-
sembled in a sitting room within, and are entertained with music
during the interval preceding the announcement of dinner; for,
like the Greeks, they considered it a want of good breeding to sit
163
164 AMUSEMENTS.
down to table immediately on arriving, and, as Bdelycleon, in
Aristophanes, recommended his father Philocleon to do, they
praised the beauty of the rooms and the furniture, taking care to
show particular interest in those objects which were intended for
admiration. As usual in all countries, some of the party arrived
earlier than others ; and the consequence, or affectation of fashion,
in the person who now drives up in his curricle, is shown by his
coming some time after the rest of the company ; one of his foot-
men runs forward to knock at the door, others, close behind the
chariot, are ready to take the reins, and to perform their accus-
tomed duties; and the one holding his sandals in his hand, that
he may run with greater ease, illustrates a custom, still common
in Egypt, among the Arabs and peasants of the country, who find
the power of the foot greater when freed from the encumbrance
of a shoe.
To those who arrived from a journey, or who desired it,,
water was brought for their feet, previous to entering the festive
chamber. They also washed their hands before dinner, the water
being brought in the same manner as at the present day; and
ewers, not unlike those used by the modern Egyptians, are repre-
sented, with the basins belonging to them, in the paintings of a
Theban tomb. In the houses of the rich they were of gold, or
other costly materials. Herodotus mentions the golden foot -pan,
in which Amasis and his guests used to wash their feet.
The Greeks had the same custom of bringing water to the
guests, numerous instances of which we find in Homer; as when
Telemachus and the son of Nestor were received at the house of
Menelaus, and when Asphalion poured it upon the hands of his
master, and the same guests, on another occasion. Virgil also
describes the servants bringing water for this purpose when
-/Eneas was entertained by Dido. Nor was the ceremony thought
superfluous, or declined, even though they had previously bathed
md been anointed with oil.
SOCIAL ENTERTAINMENTS. 1 65
It is also probable that, like the Greeks, the Egyptians an-
ointed themselves before they left home; but still it was custom-
ary for a servant to attend every guest, as he seated himself, and
to anoint his head ; which was one of the principal tokens of wel-
come. The ointment was sweet-scented, and was contained in
an alabaster, or in an elegant glass or porcelain vase, some of
which have been found in the tombs of Thebes. Servants took
the sandals of the guests as they arrived, and either put them by
in a convenient place in the house, or held them on their arm
while they waited upon them.
After the ceremony of anointing was over, and in some cases
at the time of entering the saloon, a lotus flower was presented to
each guest, who held it in his hand during the entertainment.
Servants then brought necklaces of flowers, composed chiefly of
the lotus; a garland was also put round the head, and a single'
lotus bud, or a full-blown flower, was so attached as to hang over
the forehead. Many of them, made up into wreaths and other
devices, were suspended upon stands in the room ready for imme-
diate use; and servants were constantly employed to bring other
fresh flowers from the garden, in order to supply the guests as
their bouquets faded.
The Greeks and Romans had the same custom of presenting
guests with flowers or garlands, which were brought in at the
beginning of their entertainments, or before the second course.
They not only adorned their heads^ necks^ and breasts^ like the
Egyptians, but often bestrewed the couches on which they lay,
and all parts of the room, with flowers; though the head was
chiefly regarded, as appears from Horace, Anacreon, Ovid, and
other ancient authors. The wine-bowl, too, was crowned with
flowers, as at an Egyptian banquet. They also perfumed the
apartment with myrrh, frankincense, and other choice odors,
which they obtained from Syria ; and if the sculptures do not give
any direct representation of this practice among the Egyptians,
l66 AMUSEMENTS.
we know it to have been adopted and deemed indispensable among
them; and a striking instance is recorded by Plutarch, at the re-
ception of Agesilaus by Tachos. A sumptuous dinner was pre-
pared for the Spartan prince, consisting, as usual, of beef, goose,
and other Egyptian dishes; he was crowned with garlands of
papyrus, and received with every token of welcome; but when
he refused " the sweatmeats, confections, and perfumes," the
Egyptians held him in great contempt, as a person unaccustomed
to, and unworthy of, the manners of civilized society.
The Greeks, and other ancient people, usually put on a par-
ticular garment at festive meetings, generally of a white color;
but it does not appear to have been customary with the Egyptians
to make any great alteration in their attire, though they evidently
abstained from dresses of a gloomy hue.
The guests being seated, and having received these tokens
of welcome, wine was offered them by the servants. To the la-
dies it was generally brought in a small vase, which, when emptied
into the drinking-cup, was handed to an under servant, or slave,
who followed; but to the men it was frequently presented in a
one-handled goblet, without being poured into any cup, and some-
times in a larger or small vase of gold, silver, or other materials.
Herodotus and Hellanicus both say that they drank wine out
of brass or bronze goblets; and, indeed, the former affirms that
this was the only kind of drinking-cup known to the Egyptians;
but Joseph had one of silver, and the sculptures represent them
of glass and porcelain, as well as of gold, silver and bronze.
Those who could not afford the more costly kind were satisfied
with a cheaper quality, and many were contented with cups of
common earthenware; but the wealthy Egyptians used vases of
glass, porcelain, and the precious metals, for numerous purposes,
both in their houses and in the temples of the gods.
The practice of introducing wine at the commencement of an
entertainment, or before dinner had been served up, was not pe-
CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DANCE. 167
culiar to this people; and the Chinese, to the present day, offer it
at their parties to all the guests, as they arrive, in the same man-
ner as the ancient Egyptians. They also drank wine during the
repast, perhaps to the health of one another or of an absent friend,
like the Romans; and no doubt the master of the house, or " the
ruler of the feast," recommended a choice wine, and pledged
them to the cup.
While dinner was preparing the party was enlivened by the
sound of music; and a band, consisting of the harp, lyre, g-iiitar^
tambourine, double and single pipe, flute and other instruments,
played the favorite airs and songs of the country. Nor was it
deemed unbecoming the gravity and dignity of a priest to admit
musicians into his house, or to take pleasure in witnessing the
dance; and seated with their wives and famil}' in the midst of
their friends, the highest functionaries of the sacerdotal order en-
jo3'ed the lively scene. In the same manner, at a Greek enter-
tainment, diversions of all kinds were introduced; and Xenophon
and Plato inform us that Socrates, the wisest of men, amused his
friends with music, jugglers, mimics, buffoons, and whatever
could be desired for exciting cheerfulness and mirth.
The dance consisted mostly of a succession of figures, in
which the performers endeavored to exhibit a great variety of
gesture ; men and women danced at the same time, or in separate
parties, but the latter were generally preferred, from their su-
perior grace and elegance. Some danced to slow airs, adapted
to the style of their movement; the attitudes they assumed fre-
quently partook of a grace not unworthy of the Greeks; and
others preferred a lively step, regulated by an appropriate tune.
Men sometimes danced with great spirit, bounding from the
ground more in the manner of Europeans than of an Eastern
people; on which occasions the music was not always composed
of many instruments, but consisted only of crotala or maces, a
1 68 AMUSEMENTS.
man clapping his hand, and a woman snapping her fingers to
the time.
Graceful attitudes and gesticulation were the general style ot
their dance; but, as in other countries, the taste of the perform-
ance varied according to the rank of the person by whom they
were employed, or their own skill ; and the dance at the house of
a priest differed from that among the uncouth peasantry, or the
lower classes of townsmen.
It was not customary for the upper orders of Egyptians to
indulge in this amusement, either in public or private assemblies,
and none appear to have practiced it but the lower ranks of so-
ciety, and those who gained their livelihood by attending festive
meetings. The Greeks, however, though they employed women
who professed music and dancing, to entertain the guests, looked
upon the dance as a recreation in which all classes might indulge,
and an accomplishment becoming a gentleman; and it was also
a Jewish custom for young ladies to dance at private entertain-
ments, as it still is at Damascus and other Eastern towns.
The Romans, on the contrary, were far from considering it
worthy of a man of rank, or of a sensible person; and Cicero
says: "No man who is sober dances, unless he is out of his
mind, either when aIo?ie^ or in any decent society; for dancing is
the companion of wanton conviviality, dissoluteness, and luxury."
Nor did the Greeks indulge in it to excess; and effeminate
dances, or extraordinary gesticulation, were deemed indecent in
men of character and wisdom. Indeed, Herodotus tells a story
of Hippoclides, the Athenian, who had been preferred before all
the nobles of Greece, as a husband for the daughter of Clisthenes,
king of Argos, having been rejected on account of his extrava-
gant gestures in the dance.
Of all the Greeks, the lonians were most noted for their
fondness of this art ; and, from the wanton and indecent tendency
of their songs and gestures, dances of a voluptuous character
GRACE AND DRESS OF THE DANCERS. 169
{like those of the modern Almehs of the East) were styled by the
Romans " Ionic movements." Moderate dancing was even deemed
worthy of the gods themselves. Jupiter, "the father of gods and
men," is represented dancing in the midst of the other deities;
and Apollo is not only introduced by Homer thus engaged, but
received the title of " the dancer," from his supposed excellence
in the art.
Grace in posture and movement was the chief object of those
employed at the assembhes of the rich Egyptians; and the ridic-
ulous gestures of the buffoon were permitted there, so long as
they did not transgress the rules of decency and moderation.
Music was always indispensable, whether at the festive meetings
of the rich or poor; and they danced to the sound of the harp,
lyre, guitar, pipe, tambourine, and other instruments, and, in the
streets, even to the drum.
Many of their postures resembled those of the modern ballet,
and the ■pirouette delighted an Egyptian party four thousand years
ago.
The dresses of the female dancers were light, and of the
finest texture, showing, by their transparent quality, the forms
and movement of the limbs; they generally consisted of a loose
flowing robe, reaching to the ankles, occasionally fastened tight
at the waist; and round the hips was a small narrow girdle,
adorned with beads, or ornaments of various colors. Sometimes
the dancing figures appear to have been perfectly naked ; but
this' is from the outline of the transparent robe having been
effaced ; and, like the Greeks, they represented the contour of the
figure as if seen through the dress.
Slaves were taught dancing as well as music; and in the
houses of the rich, besides their other occupations, that of dancing
to entertain the family, or a party of friends, was required of
them ; and free Egyptians also gained a livelihood by their per-
formances.
170 AMUSEMENTS.
While the party was amused with music and dancing, and
the late arrivals were successively announced, refreshments con-
tinued to be handed round, and every attention was shown to the
assembled guests. Wine was offered to each new comer, and
chaplets of flowers were brought by men servants to the gentle-
men, and by women or white slaves to the ladies, as they took
their seats. An upper servant, or slave, had the oflnce of hand-
ing the wine, and a black woman sometimes followed, in an in-
ferior capacity, to receive an empty cup when the wine had been
poured into the goblet. The same black slave also carried the
fruits and other refreshments; and the peculiar mode of holding
a plate with the hand reversed, so generally adopted by women
from Africa, is characteristically shown in the Theban paintings.
To each person after drinking a napkin was presented for
wiping the mouth, answering to the mahrama of the modern
Egyptians; and the bearer of it uttered a complimentary senti-
ment, when she oflfered it and received back the goblet: as,
"May it benefit you!" and no oriental at the present day drinks
water without receiving a similar wish. But it was not considered
rude to refuse wine when offered, even though it had been poured
out; and a teetotaller might continue smelling a lotus without
any aftront.
Men and women either sat together, or separately, in a dif-
ferent part of the room; but no rigid mistrust prevented strangers,
as well as members of the family, being received into the same
society; which shows how greatly the Egyptians were advanced
in the habits of social life. In this they, like the Romans, dif-
fered widely from the Greeks, and might say with Cornelius
Nepos, " Which of us is ashamed to bring his wife to an en-
tertainment ? and what mistress of a family can be shown who
does not inhabit the chief and most frequented part of the house .'^
Whereas in Greece she never appears at any entertainments, ex-
cept those to which relations alone are invited, and constantl}'
POSITION AT THE TABLE. 17I
lives in the women's apartments at the upper part of the house,
into which no man has admission, unless he be a near relation."
Nor were married people afraid of sitting together, and no idea
of their having had too much of each other's compan}^ made it
necessary to divide them. In short, they were the most Darby
and Joan people possible, and they shared the same chair at
home, at a party, and even in their tomb, where sculpture grouped
them together.
The master and mistress of the house accordingly sat side by
side on a large fauteuil, and each guest as he arrived walked up
to receive their welcome. The musicians and dancers hired for
the occasion also did obeisance to them, before they began their
part. To the leg of the fauteuil was tied a lavorite monkey, a
dog, a gazelle, or some other pet; and a young child was per-
mitted to sit on the ground at the side of its mother, or on its
father's knee.
In the meantime the conversation became animated, especial-
ly in those parts of the room where the ladies sat together, and
the numerous subjects that occurred to them were fluently dis-
cussed. Among these the question of dress was not forgotten,
and the patterns, or the value of trinkets, were examined with
proportionate interest. The maker of an ear-ring, and the store
where it was purchased, were anxiously inquired ; each compared
the workmanship, the style, and the materials of those she wore,
coveted her neighbor's, or preferred her own ; and women of every
class vied with each other in the display of "jewels of silver
and jewels of gold," in the texture of their " raiment," the neat-
ness of their sandals, and the arrangement or beauty of their
plaited hair.
It was considered a pretty compliment to offer each other a
flower from their own bouquet, and all the vivacity of the Egyp-
tians was called forth as they sat together. The hosts omitted
nothing that could make their party pass off pleasantly, and keep
172 AMUSEMENTS.
up agreeable conversation, which was with them the great charm
of accompHshed society, as with the Greeks, who thought it
" more requisite and becoming to gratify the company by cheer-
ful conversation, than with variety of dishes." The guests, too,
neglected no opportunity of showing how much they enjoyed
themselves; and as they drew each other's attention to the many
nick-nacks that adorned the rooms, paid a well-turned compli-
ment to the taste of the owner of the house. They admired the
vases, the carved boxes of wood or ivory, and the light tables on
which many a curious trinket was displayed; and commended
the elegance and comfort of the luxurious fauteuils, the rich
cushions and coverings of the couches and ottomans, the carpets
and the other furniture. Some, who -vv^ere invited to see the
sleeping apartments, found in the ornaments on the toilet-tables,
and in the general arrangements, fresh subjects for admiration;
and their return to the guest-chamber gave an opportunity of
declaring that good taste prevailed throughout the whole house.
On one occasion, while some of the delighted guests were in these
raptures of admiration, and others were busied with the chitchat,
perhaps the politics, or the scandal of the day, an awkward
youth, either from inadvertence, or a little too much wine, re-
clined against a wooden column placed in the centre of the room
to support some temporary ornament, and threw it down upon
those who sat beneath it.* The confusion was great: the women
screamed; and some, with uplifted hands, endeavored to protect
their heads and escape its fall. No one, however, seems to have
been hurt ; and the harmony of the party being restored, the inci-
dent afforded fresh matter for conversation; to be related in full
detail to their friends, when they returned home.
The vases were very numerous, and varied in shape, size,
and materials; being of hard stone, alabaster, glass, ivory, bone,
porcelain, bronze, brass, silver, or gold; and those of the poorer
* We regret having lost the copy of this amusing subject. It was in a tomb at Thebes.
VASES AND ORNAMENTS.
173
classes were of glazed pottery, or common earthenware. Many
of their ornamental vases, as well as those in ordinary use, were
of the most elegant shape, which would do honor to the Greeks,
the Egyptians frequently displaying in these objects of private
luxe the taste of a highly refined people; and so strong a resem-
blance did they bear to the productions of the best epochs of an-
cient Greece, both in their shape and in the fancy devices upon
them, that some might even suppose them borrowed from Greek
patterns. But they were purely Egyptian, and had been univer-
EGTPTIAN VASES.
sally adopted in the valley of the Nile, long before the graceful
forms we admire were known in Greece; a fact invariably ac-
knowledged by those who are acquainted with the remote age of
Egyptian monuments, and of the paintings that represent them.
For some of the most elegant date in the earl}^ age of the
third Thothmes, who lived between 3,300 and 3,400 years
before our time; and we not only admire their forms, but the
richness of the materials of which they were made, their color, as
well as the hieroglyphics, showing them to have been of gold and
silver, or of this last, inlaid with the more precious metal.
Those of bronze, alabaster, glass, porcelain, and even of or-
dinary pottery, were also deserving of admiration, from the beauty
of their shapes, the designs which ornamented them, and the
superior quality of the material; and gold and silver cups were
1 74 AMUSEMENTS.
often beautifully engraved, and studded with precious stones.
Among these we readily distinguish the green emerald, the pur-
ple amethyst, and other gems; and when an animal's head adorned
their handles, the eyes were frequently composed of them,
except when enamel, or some colored composition, was employed
as a substitute.
While the guests were entertained with music and the dance
dinner was prepared ; but as it consisted of a considerable number
of dishes, and the meat was killed for the occasion, as at the pres-
ent day in Eastern and tropical climates, some time elapsed before
it was put upon table. An ox, kid, wild goat, gazelle or an oryx,
and a quantity of geese, ducks, teal, quails and other birds, were
generally selected; but mutton was excluded from a Theban
table. Plutarch even states that " no Egyptians would eat the
flesh of sheep, except the Lycopolites," who did so out of compli-
ment to the wolves they venerated; and Strabo confines the sac-
crifice of them to the Nome of Nitriotis. But though sheep were
not killed for the altar or the table, they abounded in Egypt and
even at Thebes; and large flocks were kept for their wool, par-
ticularly in the neighborhood of Memphis. Sometimes a flock
consisted of more than 2,000; and in a tomb below the Pyramids,
dating upwards of 4,000 years ago, 974 rams are brought to be
registered by his scribes, as part of the stock of the deceased;
implying an equal number of ewes, independent of lambs.
A considerable quantity of meat was served up at those re-
pasts, to which strangers were invited, as among people of the
East at the present day; whose azooma^ or feast, prides itself in
the quantity and variety of dishes, in the unsparing profusion of
viands, and, whenever wine is permitted, in the freedom of the
bowl. An endless succession of vegetables was also required on
all occasions ; and, when dining in private, dishes composed chiefly
of them were in greater request than joints, even at the tables of
the rich ; and consequently the Israelites, who, by their long resi-
FOOD AND V^EGETABLES. 1 75
dence there, had acquired similar habits, regretted them equally
with the meat and fish of Egypt.
Their mode of dining was very similar to that now adopted
in Cairo and throughout the East; each person sitting round a
table, and dipping his bread into a dish placed in the centre, re-
moved on a sign made by the host, and succeeded by others,
whose rotation depends on established rule, and whose number is
predetermined according to the size of the party, or the quality
of the guests.
Among the lower orders, vegetables constituted a very great
part of their ordinary food, and they gladly availed themselves of
the variety and abundance of esculent roots growing spontane-
ously, in the lands irrigated by the rising Nile, as soon as its
waters had subsided; some of which were eaten in a crude state,
and others roasted in the ashes, boiled or stewed: their chief ali-
ment, and that of their children, consisting of milk and cheese,
roots, leguminous, cucurbitaceous and other plants, and the ordi-
nary fruits of the country. Herodotus describes the food of the
workmen who built the Pyramids, to have been the " raphanus^
onions and garlic;'' the first of which, now called y^^/, is like a
turnip-radish in flavor; but he has omitted one more vegetable,
lentils, which were always, as at the present day, the chief arti-
cle of their diet ; and which Strabo very properly adds to the
number.
The nummulite rock, in the vicinity of those monuments,
frequently presents a conglomerate of testacea imbedded in it,
which, in some positions, resemble small seeds ; and Strabo imag-
ines they were the petrified residue of the lentils brought there
by the workmen, from their having been the ordinary food of the
laboring classes, and of all the lower orders of Egyptians.
Much attention was bestowed on the culture of this useful
pulse, and certain varieties became remarkable for their excel-
lence, the lentils of Pelusium being esteemed both in Egypt and
in foreig-n countries.
176 AMUSEMENTS.
That dinner was served up at mid-day, may be inferred from
the invitation given by Joseph to his brethren; but it is probable
that, Hke the Romans, they also ate supper in the evening, as is
still the custom in the East. The table was much the same as
that of the present day in Egypt: a small stool, supporting a
round tray, on which the dishes are placed; but it differed from
this in having its circular summit fixed on a pillar, or leg, which
was often in the form of a man, generally a captive, who sup-
ported the slab upon his head ; the whole being of stone, or some
hard wood. On this the dishes were placed, together with loaves
of bread, some of which were not unlike those of the present day
in Egypt, flat and round as our crumpets. Others had the form
of rolls or cakes, sprinkled with seeds.
It was not generally covered with any linen, but, like the
Greek table, was washed with a sponge, or napkin, after the
dishes were removed, and polished by the servants, when the
company had retired; though an instance sometimes occurs of a
napkin spread on it, at least on those which bore offerings in
honor of the dead.
One or two guests generally sat at a table, though from the
mention of persons seated in rows according to rank, it has been
supposed the tables were occasionally of a long shape, as may
have been the case when the brethren of Joseph "sat before
him, the first born according to his birth-right, and the youngest
according to his youth," Joseph eating alone at another table
where "they set on for him by himself." But even if round,
they might still sit according to rank; one place being always
the post of honor, even at the present day, at the round table of
Egypt.
In the houses of the rich, bread was made of wheat; the
poorer classes being contented with bakes of barley, or of doora
(holcus sorghum), which last is still so commonly used by them;
for Herodotus is as wrong in saying that they thought it " the
MODE OF EATING. 1 77
greatest disgrace to live on wheat and barley," as that " no one
drank out of any but bronze (or brazen) cups." The drinking
cups of the Egyptians not only varied in their materials, but
also in their forms. Some were plain and unornamented; others,
though of small dimensions, were made after the models of larger
vases ; many were like our own cups without handles ; and
others may come under the denomination of beakers, and saucers.
Of these the former were frequently made of alabaster, with a
round base, so that they could not stand when tilled, and were
held in the hand, or, when empty, were turned downwards upon
their rim: and the saucers, which were of glazed pottery, had
sometimes lotus blossoms, or fish, represented on their concave
surface.
The tables, as at a Roman repast, were occasionally brought
in, and removed, with the dishes on them; sometimes each joint
was served up separately, and the fruit, deposited in a plate or
trencher, succeeded the meat at the close of the dinner; but in
less fashionable circles, particularly of the olden time, fruit was
brought in baskets, which stood beside the table. The dishes
consisted of fish; meat boiled, roasted, and dressed in various
ways ; game, poultry, and a profusion of vegetables and fruit,
particularly figs and grapes, during the season; and a soup, or
" pottage of lentils," as with the modern Egyptians, was not an
unusual dish.
Of figs and grapes they were particularly fond, which is shown
by their constant introduction, even among the choice offerings
presented to the gods ; and figs of the sycamore must have been
highly esteemed, since they were selected as the heavenly fruit,
given by the goddess Netpe to those who were judged worthy
of admission to the regions of eternal happiness. Fresh dates
during the season, and in a dried state at other periods of the
year, were also brought to table, as well as a preserve of the
12
178 AMUSEMENTS.
fruit, made into a cake of the same form as the tamarinds now
brought from the interior of Africa, and sold in the Cairo market.
The guests sat on the ground, or on stools and chairs, and,
having neither knives and forks, nor any substitute for them an-
swering to the chop-sticks of the Chinese, they ate with their
fingers, like the modern Asiatics, and invariably with the right
hand; nor did the Jews and Etruscans, though they had forks
for other purposes, use any at table.
Spoons were introduced when required for soup, or other
liquids; and, perhaps, even a knife was employed on some occa-
sions, to facilitate the carving of a large joint, which is some-
times done in the East at the present day.
The Egyptians washed after, as well as before, dinner ; an
invariable custom throughout the East, as among the Greeks,
Romans, Hebrews, and others ; and Herodotus speaks of a golden
basin, belonging to Amasis, which was used by the King, and
^' the guests who were in the habit of eating at his table."
An absorbent seems also to have been adopted for scouring
the hands ; and a powder of ground lupins, the doqaq of modern
Egypt, is no doubt an old invention, handed down to the present
inhabitants.
Soap was not unknown to the ancients, and a small quantity
has been found at Pompeii. Pliny, who mentions it as an inven-
tion of the Gauls, says it was made of fat and ashes ; and Are-
tseus, the physician of Cappadocia, tells us, that the Greeks
borrowed their knowledge of its medicinal properties from the
Romans. But there is no evidence of soap having been used by
the Egyptians; and if by accident they discovered something of
the kind, while engaged with mixtures of natron or potash, and
other ingredients, it is probable that it was only an absorbent,
without oil or grease, and on a par with steatite, or the argil-
laceous earths, with which, no doubt, they were long acquainted.
The Egyptians, a scrupulously religious people, were never
REMINDERS OF MORTALITY. 1 79
remiss in expressing their gratitude for the blessings they en-
joyed, and in returning thanks to the gods for that pecuHar pro-
tection they were thought to extend to them and to their country,
above all the nations of the earth.
They, therefore, never sat down to meals without saying
grace; and Josephus says that when the seventy-two elders were
invited by Ptolemy Philadelphus to sup at the palace, Nicanor
requested Eleazer to say grace for his countrymen, instead of
those Egyptians to whom that duty was committed on other OC'
casions.
It was also a custom of the Egyptians, during or after theii
repasts, to introduce a wooden image of Osiris, from one foot and
a half to three feet in height, in the form of a human mummy,
standing erect, or lying on a bier, and to show it to each of the
guests, warning him of his rnortality, and the transitory nature
of human pleasures. He was reminded that some day he would
be like that figure; that men ought " to love one another, and
avoid those evils which tend to make them consider life too long,
when in reality it is too short;" and while enjoying the blessings
of this world, to bear in mind that their existence was precarious,
and that death, which all ought to be prepared to meet, must
eventually close their earthly career.
Thus, while the guests were permitted, and even encouraged,
to indulge in conviviality, the pleasures of the table, and the mirth
so congenial to their lively disposition, they were exhorted to put
a certain degree of restraint upon their conduct ; and though this
sentiment was perverted by other people, and used as an incentive
to present excesses, it was perfectly consistent with the ideas of
the Egyptians to be reminded that this life was only a lodging,
or " inn " on their way, and that their existence here was the
preparation for a future state.
" The ungodly," too, of Solomon's time, thus expressed
themselves: " Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a
l8o AMUSEMENTS.
man there is no remedy; neither was there any man known to
have returned from the grave. For we are born at all adventure,
and we shall be hereafter as though we had never been, . . .
come on, therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are present,
. . . . let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments;
and let no flower of the spring pass by us ; let us crown ourselves
with rosebuds, before they be withered ; let none of us go with-
out his part of our voluptuousness; let us leave tokens of our
joyfulness in every place."
But even if the Egyptians, like other men, neglected a good
warning, the original object of it was praiseworthy ; and Plutarch
expressly states that it was intended to convey a moral lesson.
The idea of death had nothing revolting to them; and so little
did the Egyptians object to have it brought before them, that they
even introduced the mummy of a deceased relative at their
parties, and placed it at table, as one of the guests; a fact which
is recorded by Lucian, in his " Essay on Grief," and of which he
declares himself to have been an eye-witness.
After dinner, music and singing were resumed; hired men
and women displayed feats of agility ; swinging each other round
by the hand; throwing up and catching the ball; or flinging them-
selves round backwards head-over-heels, in imitation of a wheel ;
which was usually a performance of women. They also stood on
each other's backs, and made a somersault from that position; and
a necklace, or other reward, was given to the most successful
tumbler.
J^QYPTIAJS ^UpiC yVND J^NTERTAINJVIENT^.
Though impossible for us now to form any notion of the
character or style of Egyptian music, we may be allowed to con-
jecture that it was studied on scientific principles ; and, whatever
defects existed in the skill of ordinary performers, who gained
their livelihood by playing in public, or for the entertainment of
a private party, music was looked upon as an important science,
and diligently studied by the priests themselves. According to
Diodorus it was not customary to make music part of their edu-
cation, being deemed useless and even injurious, as tending to
render the minds of men effeminate; but this remark can only
apply to the custom of studying it as an amusement. Plato, who
was well acquainted with the usages of the Egyptians, says that
they considered music of the greatest consequence, from its bene-
ficial effects upon the mind of youth; and according to Strabo,
the children of the Egyptians were taught letters, the songs ap-
pointed by law, and a certain kind of music, established by gov-
ernment.
That the Egyptians were particularly fond of music is abun-
dantly proved by the paintings in their tombs of the earliest times;
and we even find they introduced figures performing on the fav-
orite instruments of the country, among the devices with which
they adorned fancy boxes or trinkets. The skill of the Egyptians
in the use of musical instruments is also noticed by Athenaeus,
who says that both the Greeks and barbarians were taught by
i8i
l82 AMUSEMENTS.
refugees from Egypt, and that the Alexandrians were the most
scientific and skiUful players on pipes and other instruments.
It is sufficiently evident, from the sculptures of the ancient
Egyptians, that their hired musicians were acquainted with the
triple symphony: the harmony of instruments; of voices; and of
voices and instruments. Their band was variously composed,,
consisting either of two harps, with the single pipe and flute; of
the harp and double pipe, frequently with the addition of the
guitar; of a fourteen-stringed harp, a guitar, lyre, double pipe,
and tambourine; of two harps, sometimes of different sizes, one
of seven, the other of four, strings ; of two harps of eight chords,
and a seven-stringed lyre ; of the guitar and the square or oblong
tambourine; of the lyre, harp, guitar, double pipe, and a sort of
harp with four strings, which was held upon the shoulder; of the
harp, guitar, double pipe, lyre, and square tambourine; of the
harp, two guitars, and the double pipe; of the harp, two flutes,
and a guitar; of two harps and a flute; of a seventeen-stringed
lyre, the double pipe, and a harp of fourteen chords ; of the harp
and two guitars; or of two seven-stringed harps and an instru-
ment held in the hand, not unlike an eastern fan, to which were
probably attached small bells, or pieces of metal that emitted a
jingling sound when shaken, like the crescent-crowned bells of
our modern bands. There were many other combinations of
these various instruments ; and in the Bacchic festival of Ptolemy
Philadelphus, described by Athenseus, more than 600 musicians
were employed in the chorus, among whom were 300 performers
on the cithara.
Sometimes the harp was played alone, or as an accompani-
ment to the voice; and a band of seven or more choristers fre-
quently sang to it a favorite air, beating time with their hands
between each stanza. They also sang to other instruments, as
the lyre, guitar or double pipe; or to several of them played to-
gether, as the flute and one or more harps; or to these last with
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. 183
a lyre or a guitar. It was not unusual for one man or one woman
to perform a solo; and a chorus of many persons occasionally
sang at a private assembly without any instrument, two or three
beating time at intervals with the hand. Sometimes the band of
choristers consisted of more than twenty persons, only two of
whom responded by clapping their hands; and in one instance we
have seen a female represented holding what v/as perhaps another
kind of jingling instrument.
The custom of beating time by clapping the hands between
the stanzas is still usual in Egypt.
On some occasions women beat the tambourine and dara-
booka drum, without the additk)n of any other instrument ; danc-
ing or singing to the sound; and bearing palm branches or green
twigs in their hands, they proceeded to the tomb of a deceased
friend, accompanied by this species of music. The same custom
may still be traced in the Friday visit to the cemetery, and in
some other funeral ceremonies among the Moslem peasants of
modern Egypt.
If it was not customary for the higher classes of Eg3'ptians
to learn music for the, purpose of playing in society, and if few
amateur performers could be found among persons of rank, still
some general knowledge of the art must have been acquired by
a people so alive to its charms; and the attention paid to it by
the priests regulated the taste, and prevented the introduction of
a vitiated style.
Those who played at the houses of the rich, as well as the
ambulant musicians of the streets, were of the lower classes, and
made this employment the means of obtaining their livelihood;
and in many instances both the minstrels and the choristers were
bhnd.
It was not so necessary an accomplishment for the higher
classes of Egyptians as of the Greeks, who, as Cicero says, "con-
sidered the arts of singing and playing upon musical instruments
184 AMUSEMENTS.
a very principal part of learning; whence it is related of Epa-
minondas, who, in my judgment, was the first of all the Greeks,
that he played very well upon the flute. And, some time before,
Themistocles, upon refusing the harp at an entertainment, passed
for an uninstructed and ill-bred person Hence, Greece became
celebrated for skillful musicians; and as all persons there learned
music, those who attained to no proficiency in it were thought
uneducated and unaccomplished.'"
Cornelius Nepos also states that Epaminondas " played the
harp and flute, and perfectly understood the art of dancing, with
other liberal sciences," which, " though trivial things in the opinion
of the Romans, were reckoned highly commendable in Greece.''
The Israelites also delighted in music and the dance; and
persons of rank deemed them a necessary part of their education.
Like the Egyptians with whom they had so long resided, the
Jews carefully distinguished sacred from profane music. They
introduced it at public and private rejoicings, at funerals, and in
religious services; but the character of the airs, like the words
of their songs, varied according to the occasion; and they had
canticles of mirth, of praise, of thanksgiving, and of lamentation.
Some were epithalamia^ or songs composed to celebrate mar-
riages; others to commemorate a victory, or the accession of a
prince; to return thanks to the Deity, or to celebrate his praises;
to lament a general calamity, or a private affliction; and others,
again, were peculiar to their festive meetings. On these occa-
sions they introduced the harp, lute, tabret, and various instru-
ments, together with songs and dancing, and the guests were
entertained nearly in the same manner as at an Egyptian feast.
In the temple, and in the religious ceremonies, the Jews had fe-
male as well as male performers, who were generally daughters
of the Levites, as the Pallaces of Thebes were either of the royal
family, or the daughters of priests ; and these musicians were at-
tached exclusively to the service of religion.
JEWISH music:. 185
David was not only remarkable for his taste and skill in
music, but took a delight in introducing it on every occasion.
*' And seeing that the Levites w^ere numerous, and no longer em-
ployed as formerly in carrying the boards, veils, and vessels of
the tabernacle, its abode being fixed at Jerusalem, he appointed
a great part of them to sing and play on instruments, at the re-
ligious festivals."
Solomon, again, at the dedication of the temple, employed
*' 120 priests, to sound with trumpets;" and Josephus pretends
that no less than 200,000 musicians were present at that cere-
mony, besides the same number of singers, who were Levites.
When hired to attend at a private entertainment, the musi-
cians either stood in the centre, or at one side, of the festive
chamber, and some sat cross-legged on the ground, like the Turks
and other Eastern people of the present day. They were usually
accompanied on these occasions by dancers, either men or women,
sometimes both ; whose art consisted in assuming all the graceful
or ludicrous gestures, which could obtain the applause, or tend to
the amusement, of the assembled guests. For music and dancing
were considered as essential at their entertainments, as among
the Greeks; but it is by no means certain that these diversions
counteracted the effect of wine, as Plutarch imagines ; a sprightly
air is more likely to have invited another glass ; and sobriety at a
feast was not one of the objects of the lively Egyptians.
They indulged freely in whatever tended to increase their
enjoyment, and wine flowed freely at their entertainments.
Private individuals were under no particular restrictions with
regard to its use, and it was not forbidden to women. In this
they differed widely from the Romans ; for" in early times no fe-
male at Rome enjoyed the privilege, and it was unlawful for
women, or, indeed, for young men below the age of thirty, to
drink wine, except at sacrifices.
Even at a later time the Romans considered it disg^raceful
lob AMUSEMENTS.
for a woman to drink wine ; and they sometimes saluted a female
relation, whom they suspected, in order to discover if she had
secretly indulged in its use. It was afterwards allowed them on
the plea of health.
That Egyptian women were not forbidden the use of wine, is
evident from the frescoes which represent their feasts; and the
painters, in illustrating this fact, have sometimes sacrificed their
gallantry to a love of caricature. Some call the servants to sup-
port them as they sit, others with difficulty prevent themselves
from falling on those behind them ; a basin is brought too late by
a reluctant servant, and the faded flower, which is ready to drop
from their heated hands, is intended to be characteristic of their
own sensations.
That the consumption of wine in Egypt was very great is
evident from the sculptures, and from the accounts of ancient
authors, some of whom have censured the Egyptians for their
excesses; and so much did the quantity used exceed that made
in the country, that, in the time of Herodotus, twice every year a
large importation was received from Phoenicia and Greece.
Notwithstanding all the injunctions or exhortations of the
priests in favor of temperance, the Egyptians of both sexes ap-
pear from the sculptures to have committed occasional excesses,
and men were sometimes unable to walk from a feast, and were
carried home by servants. These scenes, however, do not appear
to refer to members of the higher, but of the lower, classes, some
of whom indulged in extravagant buffoonery, dancing in a ludi-
crous manner, or standing on their heads, and frequently in
amusements which terminated in a fight.
At the tables of the rich, stimulants were sometimes intro-
duced, to excite the palate before drinking, and Athengeus men-
tions cabbages as one of the vegetables used by the Egyptians for
this purpose.
Besides beer, the Egyptians had what Pliny calls factitious,
BEER, PALM WINE, ETC. 1 87
or artificial, wine, extracted from various fruits, as figs, myxas^
pomegranates, as well as herbs, some of which were selected for
their medicinal properties. The Greeks and Latins comprehended
every kind of beverage made by the process of fermentation
under the same general name, and beer was designated as barley-
tvi'ne; but, by the use of the name zythos, they show that the
Egyptians distinguished it by its own peculiar appellation. Palm-
wine was also made in Egypt, and used in the process of em-
balming.
The palm-wine now made in Egypt and the Oases is simply
from an incision in the heart of the tree, immediately below the
base of the upper branches, and a jar is attached to the part to
catch the juice which exudes from it. But a palm thus tapped
is rendered perfectly useless as a fruit-bearing tree, and generally
dies in consequence ; and it is reasonable to suppose that so great
a sacrifice is seldom made except when date-trees are to be felled,
or when they grow in great abundance.
The modern name of this beverage in Egypt is lowhgeh;
in flavor it resembles a very new light wine, and may be drunk
in great quantity when taken from the tree; but, as soon as the
fermentation has commenced, its intoxicating qualities have a
powerful and speedy effect.
Among the various fruit-trees cultivated by the ancient
Egyptians, palms, of course, held the first rank, as well from their
abundance as from their great utility. The fruit constituted a
principal part of their food, both in the month of August, when
it was gathered fresh from the trees, and at other seasons of the
year, when it was used in a preserved state.
They had two different modes of keeping the dates; one
was by the simple process of drying them, the other was by mak-
ing them into a conserve, like the agiveh of the present day;
and of this, which was eaten either cooked or as a simple sweet-
l88 AMUSEMENTS.
meat, there have been found some cakes, as well as the dried
dates, in the sepulchres of Thebes.
Pliny makes a just remark respecting the localities where
the palm prospers, and the constant irrigation it requires; and
though every one in the East knows the tree will not grow ex-
cept where water is abundant, we still read of " palm-trees of
the desert," as if it delighted in an arid district. Wherever
it is found it is a sure indication of water; and if it may be
said to flourish in a sandy soil, this is only in situations where
its roots can obtain a certain quantity of moisture. The numerous
purposes for which its branches and other parts might be applied
rendered the cultivation of this valuable and productive tree a
matter of primary importance, for no portion of it is without its
peculiar use.
The trunk serves for beams, either entire, or split in half;
of the gereet^ or branches, are made wicker baskets, bedsteads,
coops, and ceilings of rooms, answering ever}' purpose for which
laths or any thin woodwork are required; the leaves are con-
verted into mats, brooms, and baskets ; of the fibrous tegument
as the base of the branches, strong ropps and mats are made,
and even the thick ends of the gereet are beaten flat and formed
into brooms.
Besides the lo-vjhgeh of the tree, brandy, wine, and vinegar
are made from the fruit; and the quantity of saccharine matter
in the dates might be used in default of sugar or honey.
In Upper Egypt another tree, called the Dom^ or Theban
palm, was also much cultivated, and its wood, more solid and
compact than the date-tree, is found -to answer as well for rafts,
and other purposes connected with water, as for beams and
rafters.
<^AME^ AND ^PORT^ OF TH£ J!|qYPTIAN^.
The game of morra was common in ancient as well as mod-
ern Italy, and was played by two persons, who each simultaneous-
ly threw out the fingers of one hand, while one party guessed the
sum of both. They were said in Latin, " micare digitis," and
this game, still so common among the lower order of Indians,
existed in Egypt, about four thousand years ago, in the reigns of
the Osirtasens.
The same, or even a greater, antiquity may be claimed for
the game of draughts, or, as it has been called, chess. As in the
two former, the, players sat on the ground, or on chairs, and the
pieces, or men, being ranged in line at either end of the tables,
moved on a chequered board, as in our own chess.
The pieces were all of the same size and form, though they
varied on different boards, some being small, others large with
round summits: some were surmounted by human heads; and
many were of a lighter and neater shape, like small nine-pins,
probably the most fashionable kind, since they were used in the
palace of king Reraeses. These last seem to have been about
one inch and a half high, standing on a circular base of half an
inch in diameter; but some are only one inch and a quarter in
height, and little more than half an inch broad at the lower end.
Others have been found, of ivory, one inch and six eighths high,
and one and an eighth in diameter, with a small knob at the top,
exactly like those represented at Beni Hassan, and the tombs near
the Pyramids.
189 • ■
190 AMUSEMENTS.
They were about equal in size upon the same board, one set
black, the other white or red; or one with round, the other with
flat heads, standing on opposite sides; and each player, raising it
with the finger and thumb, advanced his piece towards those of
his opponent; but though we are unable to say if this was done
in a direct or a diagonal line, there is reason to believe they could
not take backwards as in the Polish game of chess, the men being
mixed together on the board.
It was an amusement common in the houses of the lower
classes, as in the mansions of the rich; and king Remeses is him-
self portrayed on the walls of his palace at Thebes, engaged in
the game of chess with the ladies of his household.
The modern Egyptians have a game of chess, very similar,
in the appearance of the men, to that of their ancestors, which
they call dameJi^ and play much in the same manner as our own.
Analogous to the game of odd and even was one, in which
two of the players held a number of shells, or dice, in their closed
hands, over a third person who knelt between them, with his face
towards the ground, and who was obliged to guess the combined
number ere he could be released from this position.
Another game consisted in endeavoring to snatch from each
other a small hoop, by means of hooked rods, probably of metal ;
and the success of a player seems to have depended on extricat-
ing his own from an adversary's rod, and then snatching up the
hoop, before he had time to stop it.
There were also two games, of which the boards, with the
men, are in the possession of Dr. Abbott. One is eleven inches
long by three and a half, and has ten spaces or squares in three
rows; the other twelve squares at the upper end (or four squares
in three rows) and a long line of eight squares below, forming
an approach to the upper part, like the arrangement of German
tactics. The men in the drawer of the board are of two shapes,
one set ten, the other nine in number.
GAMES WITH DICE. I9I
Other games are represented in the paintings, but not in a
manner to render them intelligible; and many, which were doubt-
less common in Egypt, are omitted both in the tombs, and in the
writings of ancient authors.
The dice discovered at Thebes and other places, may not be
of a Pharaonic period, but, from the simplicity of their form, we
may suppose them similar to those of the earliest age, in which,
too, the conventional number of six sides had probably always
been adopted. They were marked with small circles, represent-
ing units, generally with a dot in the centre ; and were of bone or
ivory, varying slightly in size.
Plutarch shows that dice were a very early invention in
Egypt, and acknowledged to be so by the Egyptians themselves,
since they were introduced into one of their oldest mythological
fables ; Mercury being represented playing at dice with the Moon,
previous to the birth of Osiris, and winning from her the five
days of the epact, which were added to complete the 365 days of
the year.
It is probable that several games of chance were known to
the Egyptians, besides dice and morra^ and, as with the Romans,
that many a doubtful mind sought relief in the promise of suc-
cess, by having recourse to fortuitous combinations of various
kinds; and the custom of drawing, or casting lots, was common,
at least as early as the period of the Hebrew Exodus.
The games and amusements of children were such as tended
to promote health by the exercise of the body, and to divert the
mind by laughable entertainments. Throwing and catching the
ball, running, leaping, and similar feats, were encouraged, as soon
as their age enabled them to indulge in them; and a young child
was amused with painted dolls, whose hands and legs, moving on
pins, were made to assume various positions by means of strings.
Some of these were of rude form, without legs, or with an im-
perfect representation of a single arm on one side. Some had
IQ2 AMUSEMENTS.
numerous beads, in imitation of hair, hanging from the doubtful
place of the head; others exhibited a nearer approach to the form
of a man; and some, made with considerable attention to propor-
tion, were small models of the human figure. They were colored
according to fancy; and the most shapeless had usually the
most gaudy appearance, being intended to catch the eye of an
infant. Sometimes a man was figured washing, or kneading
dough, who was made to work by pulling a string; and a typho-
nian monster, or a crocodile, amused a child by its grimaces, or
the motion of its opening mouth. In the toy of the crocodile, we
have sufficient evidence that the notion of this animal " not mov-
ing its lower jaw, and being the only creature which brings the
upper one down to the lower," is erroneous. Like other ani-
mals, it moves the lower jaw only; but when seizing its prey, it
throws up its head, which gives an appearance of motion in the
upper jaw, and has led to the mistake.
The game of ball was of course generally played out of
doors. It was not confined to children, nor to one sex, though
the mere amusement of throwing and catching it appears to have
been considered more particularly adapted to women. They had
different modes of playing. Sometimes a person unsuccessful in
catching the ball was obliged to suffer another to ride on her
back, who continued to enjoy this post until she also missed it;
the ball being thrown by an opposite player, mounted in the same
manner, and placed at a certain distance, according to the space
previously agreed upon; and, from the beast-of-burden office of
the person who had failed, the same name was probably applied
to her as to those in the Greek game, "who were called asses,
and were obliged to submit to the commands of the victor."
Sometimes they caught three or more balls in succession, the
hands occasionally crossed over the breast; they also threw it up
to a height and caught it, like our " sky-ball;" and the game de-
scribed by Homer to have been played by Halius and Laodamus,
GAMES OF BALL,
193
in the presence of Alcinous, was known to them; in which one
party threw the ball as high as he could, and the other, leaping
up, caught it on its fall, before his feet again touched the ground.
When mounted on the backs of the losing party, the Egyp-
tian women sat sidewise. Their dress consisted merely of a short
petticoat, without a body, the loose upper robe being laid aside
on these occasions; it was bound at the waist with a girdle, sup-
ported by a strap over the shoulder, and was nearly the same as
the undress garb of mourners, worn during the funeral lamenta-
tion on the death of a friend.
The balls were made of leather or skin, sewed with string,
crosswise, in the same manner as our own, and stuffed with bran,
or husks of corn; and those which have been found at Thebes
are about three inches in diameter. Others were made of string,
or of the stalks of rushes, platted together so as to form a circular
mass, and covered, like the former, with leather. They appear
also to have had a smaller kind of ball probably of the same
materials, and covered, like many of our own, with slips of
leather of a rhomboidal shape, sewed together longitudinally^
and meeting in a common point at both ends, each alternate slip
being of a different color; but these have only been met with in
pottery.
In one of their performances of strength and dexterity, two
men stood together side by side, and, placing one arm forward
and the other behind them, held the hands of two women, who
reclined backwards, in opposite directions, with their whole weight
pressed against each other's feet, and in this position were whirled
round; the hands of the men who held them being occasionally
crossed, in order more effectually to guarantee the steadiness of
the centre, on which they turned.
Sometimes two men, seated back to back on the ground, at
a given signal tried who should rise first from that position, with-
out i"ouching the ground with the hand. And in thi&, too, there
fuUIVEESITr.
194 AMUSEMENTS.
was probably the trial who should first make good his seat upon
the ground, fi-om a standing position.
Another game consisted in throwing a knife, or pointed wea-
pon, into a block of wood, in which each player was required to
strike his adversary's, or more probably to fix his own in the
centre, or at the circumference, of a ring painted on the wood ;
and his success depended on being able to ring his weapon most
frequently, or approach most closely to the line.
Conjuring appears also to have been known to them, at least
thimble-rig, or the game of cups, under which a ball was put,
while the opposite party guessed under which of four it was con-
cealed.
The Egyptian grandees frequently admitted dwarfs, and de-
formed persons, into their household ; originally, perhaps, from a
humane motive, or from some superstitious regard for men who
bore the external character of one of their principal gods, Pthah-
Sokari-Osiris, the misshapen Deity of Memphis; but, whatever
may have given rise to the custom, it is a singular fact, that al-
ready as early as the age of Osirtasen, or about 4,000 years ago,
the same fancy of attaching these persons to their suite existed
among the Egyptians, as at Rome, and even in modern Europe,
till a late period.
The games of the lower orders, and of those who sought to
invigorate the body by active exercises, consisted of feats of
agility and strength. Wrestling was a favorite amusement ; and
the paintings at Beni Hassan present all the varied attitudes and
modes of attack and defence of which it is susceptible. And, in
order to enable the spectator more readily to perceive the posi-
tion of the limbs of each combatant, the artist has availed him-
self of a dark and light color, and even ventured to introduce
alternately a black and red figure. The subject covers a whole
wall.
It is probable that, like the Greeks, they anointed the body
WRESTLING. I95
with oil, when preparing for these exercises, and they were en-
tirely naked, with the exception of a girdle, apparently of leathern
thongs.
The two combatants generally approached each other, hold-
ing their arms in an inclined position before the body; and each
endeavored to seize his adversary in the manner best suited to
his mode of attack. It was allowable to take hold of any part
of the body, the head, neck, or legs ; and the struggle was fre-
quently continued on the ground, after one or both had fallen; a
mode of wrestling common also to the Greeks.
They also fought with the single stick, the hand being ap-
parently protected by a basket, or guard projecting over the
knuckles; and on the left arm they wore a straight piece of
wood, bound on with straps, serving as a shield to ward off their
adversary's blow. They do not, however, appear to have used
the cestus, nor to have known the art of boxing; though in one
group, at Beni Hassan, the combatants appear to strike each
other. Nor is there an instance, in any of these contests, of the
Greek sign of acknowledging defeat, which was by holding up a
finger in token of submission; and it was probably done by the
Egyptians with a word. It is also doubtful if throwing the dis-
cus, or quoit, was an Egyptian game; but there appears to be
one instance of it, in a king's tomb of the 19th dynasty.
One of their feats of strength, or dexterity, was lifting
weights; and bags full of sand were raised with one hand from
the ground and carried with a straight arm over the head, and
held in that position.
Mock fights were also an amusement, particularly among
those of the military class, who were trained to the fatigues of
war, by these manly recreations. One party attacked a tem-
porary fort, and brought up the battering ram, under cover of
the testudo; another defended the walls and endeavored to repel
the enemy; others, in two parties of equal numbers, engaged in
196 AMUSEMENTS.
single stick, or the more usual neboot^ a pole wielded with both
hands; and the pugnacious spirit of the people is frequently
alluded to in the scenes portrayed by their artists.
The use of the neboot seems to have been as common among
the ancient, as among the modern, Egyptians; and the quarrels
oi villages were often decided or increased, as at present, by this
efficient weapon.
Crews of boats are also represented attacking each other
with the earnestness of real strife. Some are desperately wounded,
and, being felled by their more skillful opponents, are thrown
headlong into the water; and the truth of Herodotus' assertion,
that the heads of the Egyptians were harder than those of other
people, seems fully justified by the scenes described by their own
draughtsmen.
It is fortunate that their successors have inherited this
peculiarity, in order to bear the violence of the Turks, and their
own combats.
Many singular encounters with sticks are mentioned by an-
cient authors ; among which may be noticed one at Papremis, the
city of Mars, described by Herodotus. When the votaries of the
deity presented themselves at the gates of the temple, their en-
trance was obstructed by an opposing party ; and all being armed
with sticks, they commenced a rude combat, which ended, not
merely in the infliction of a few severe wounds, but even, as the
historian affirms, in the death of many persons on either side.
Bull-fights were also among their sports; which were some-
times exhibited in the dromos^ or avenue, leading to the temples,
as at Memphis before the temple of Vulcan; and prizes were
awarded to the owner of the victorious combatant. Great care
was taken in training them for this purpose ; Strabo says as much
as is usually bestowed on horses ; and herdsmen were not loth to
allow, or encourage, an occasional fight for the love of the exciting
and popular amusement.
INTELLECTUAL CAPABILITIES. I97
They did not, however, condemn culprits, or captives taken
in war, to fight with wild beasts, for the amusement of an unfeel-
ing assembly; nor did they compel gladiators to kill each other,
and gratify a depraved taste by exhibitions revolting to humanity.
Their great delight was in amusements of a lively character, as
music, dancing, buffoonery, and feats of agility; and those who
excelled in gymnastic exercises were rewarded with prizes of
various kinds ; which in the country towns consisted, among other
things, of cattle, dresses, and skins, as in the games celebrated in
Chemmis.
The lively amusements of the Egyptians show that they had
not the gloomy character so often attributed to them; and it is
satisfactory to have these evidences by which to judge of it, in
default of their physiognomy, so unbecomingly altered by death,
bitumen, and bandages.
The intellectual capabilities, however, of individuals may
yet be subject to the decision of the phrenologist ; and if they have
escaped the ordeal of the supposed spontaneous rotation of a pen-
dulum under a glass bell, their handwriting is still open to the
criticisms of the wise, who discover by it the most minute secrets
of character; and some of the old scribes may even now be
amenable to this kind of scrutiny. But they are fortunately out
of reach of the surprise, that some in modern days exhibit, at the
exact likeness of themselves, believed to be presented to them
from their own handwriting by a few clever generalities ; forget-
ting that the sick man, in each malady he reads of in a book of
medicine, discovers his own symptoms, and fancies they corre-
spond with his own particular case. For though a certain neat-
ness, or precision, carelessness, or other habit, may be discovered
by handwriting, to describe from it all the minutiae of character
is only feeding the love of the marvelous, so much on the in-
crease in these days, when a reaction of credulity bids fair to
make nothing too extravagant for our vi\o^^xv\. gobe-mouches.
198 AMUSEMENTS.
Among the various pastimes of the Egyptians, none was more
popular than the chase; and the wealthy aristocracy omitted
nothing that could promote their favorite amusement. They
hunted the numerous wild animals in the desert; they had them
caught with nets, to be turned out on some future day ; and some
very keen sportsmen took long journeys to spots noted for
abundance of game.
When a grand chase or hunt took place in the domain of
some grandee, or in the extensive tracts of the desert, a retinue
of huntsmen, beaters and others in his service, attended to manage
the hounds, to carry the game baskets and hunting poles, to set
the nets, and to make other preparations for a good day's sport.
Some took a fresh supply of arrows, a spare bow, and various
requisites for remedying accidents ; some were mereiy beaters,
others were to assist in securing the large animals caught by the
lasso, others had to mark or turn the game, and some carried a
stock of provisions for the chasseur and his friends. These last
were borne upon the usual wooden yoke, across the shoulders,
and consisted of a skin of water, and jars of good wine placed in
wicker baskets, with bread, meats, and other eatables.
Sometimes a portion of the desert of considerable extent, was
enclosed by nets, into which the animals were driven by beaters;
and the place chosen for fixing them was, if possible, across nar-
row valleys, or torrent beds, lying between some rocky hills.
Here a sportsman on horseback, or in a chariot, could waylay
them, or get within reach with a bow; for many animals, partic-
ularly gazelles, when closely pressed by dogs, fear to take a steep
ascent, and are easily overtaken, or shot as they double back.
The spots thus enclosed were usually in the vicinity of the
water brooks, to which they were in the habit of repairing in the
morning and evening; and having awaited the time when they
went to drink, and ascertained it by their recent tracks on the
accustomed path, the hunters disposed the nets, occupied proper
HUNTING. 199
positions for observing them unseen, and gradually closed in upon
them.
Such are the scenes partially portrayed in the Egyptian
paintings, where long nets are represented surrounding the space
they hunted in; and the hyaenas, jackals, and various wild beasts
unconnected with the sport, are intended to show that they have
been accidentally enclosed within the same line of nets with the
antelopes and other animals.
In the same way ^neas and Dido repaired to a wood at
break of day, after the attendants had surrounded it with a tem-
porary fence, to enclose the game.
The long net was furnished with several ropes, and was sup-
ported on forked poles, varying in length, to correspond with the
inequalities of the ground, and was so contrived as to enclose any
space, by crossing hills, valleys or streams, and encircling woods,
or whatever might present itself; smaller nets for stopping gaps
were also used ; and a circular snare, set round with wooden or
metal nails, and attached by a rope to a log of wood, which was
used for catching deer, resembled one still made by the Arabs,
The dresses of the attendants and huntsmen were generally
of a suppressed color, " lest they should be seen at a distance by
the animals," tight fitting, and reaching only a short way down
the thigh ; and the horses of the chariots were divested of the fea-
thers and showy ornaments used on other occasions.
Besides the portions of the open desert and the valleys, which
were enclosed for hunting, the parks and covers on their own do-
mains in the valley of the Nile, though of comparatively limited
dimensions, offered ample space and opportunity for indulging in
the chase ; and a quantity of game was kept there, principally the
wild goat, oryx, and gazelle.
They had also fish-ponds, and spacious poultry-yards, set
apart for keeping geese and other wild fowl, which they fattened
for the table.
200 , AMUSEMENTS.
It was the duty of the huntsmen, or the gamekeepers, to sup-
erintend the preserves; and at proper periods of the year wild
fawns were obtained, to increase the herds of gazelles and other
animals, which always formed part of the stock of a wealthy
Egyptian.
The Egyptians frequently coursed with dogs in the open
plains, the chasseur following in his chariot, and the huntsmen on
foot. Sometimes he only drove to cover in his car, and having
alighted, shared in the toil of searching for the game, his attend-
ants keeping the dogs in slips, ready to start them as soon as it
appeared. The more usual custom when the dogs threw off in a
level plain of great extent, was for him to remain in his chariot,
and, urging his horses to their full speed, endeavor to turn or in-
tercept them as they doubled, discharging a well-directed arrow
whenever they came within its range.
The dogs were taken to the ground by persons expressly
employed for that purpose, and for all the duties connected with
the kennel; and were either started one by one or in pairs, in the
narrow valleys or open plains; and when coursing on foot, the
chasseur and his attendant huntsmen, acquainted with the direc-
tion and sinuosities of the torrent beds, shortened the road as they
followed across the intervening hills, and sought a favorable op-
portunity for using the bow; or enjoyed the course in the level
space before them.
Having pursued on foot, and arrived at the spot where the
dogs had caught their prey, the huntsman, if alone, took up the
game, tied its legs together, and hanging it over his shoulders,.
once more led by his hand the coupled dogs, precisely in the
same manner as the Arabs do at the present day. But this was
generally the office of persons who carried the cages and baskets
on the usual wooden yoke, and who took charge of the game as
soon as it was caught; the supply of these substitutes for our
game cart being in proportion to the proposed range of the chase,
and the number of head they expected to kill.
HUNTING. 20I
Sometimes an ibex, oryx, or wild ox, being closely pressed
by the hounds, faced round and kept them at bay, with its for-
midable horns, and the spear of the huntsman as he came up,
was required to decide the success of the chase.
It frequently happened, when the chasseur had many attend-
ants and the district to be hunted was extensive, that they divided
into parties, each taking one or more dogs, and starting them on
whatever animal broke cover; sometimes they went without
hounds, merely having a small dog for searching the bushes, or
laid in wait for the larger and more formidable animals, and at-
tacked them with the lance.
The noose, or lasso^ was also employed to catch the wild ox,
the antelope and other animals ; but this could only be thrown by
lying in ambush for the purpose, and was principally adopted
when they wished to secure them alive.
Besides the bow, the hounds and the noose, they hunted with
lions, which were trained expressly for the chase, like the cheeta^
or hunting leopard of India, being brought up from cubs in a
tame state; and many Egyptian monarchs were accompanied in
battle by a favorite lion. But there is no instance of hawking.
The bow used for the chase was very similar to that em-
ployed in war; the arrows were generally the same, with metal
heads, though some were only tipped with stone. The mode of
drawing the bow was also the same; and if the chasseurs some-
times pulled the string only to the breast, the more usual method
was to raise it, and bring the arrow to the ear; and occasionally,
one or more spare arrows were held in the hand, to give greater
facility in discharging them with rapidity on the antelopes and
oxen.
The animals they chiefly hunted were the gazelle, wild goat
or ibex^ the oryx, wild ox, stag, kebsh or wild sheep, hare and
porcupine; of all of which the meat was highly esteemed among
the delicacies of the table; the fox, jackal, wolf, hyaena, and
202
AMUSEMENTS.
leopard, and others, being chased as an amusement, for the sake
of their skins, or as enemies of the farm-yard. For though the
fact of the hyaena being sometimes bought with the ibex and ga-
?:elle might seem to justify the beHef that it was also eaten, there
is no instance of its being slaughtered for the table. The ostrich
held out a great temptation to the hunter from the value of its
plumes. These were in great request among the Egyptians for
ornamental purposes; they were also the sacred symbol of truth;
and the members of the court on grand occasions decked them-
selves with the feathers of the ostrich. The labor endured during
the chase of this swift-footed bird was amply repaid ; even its eggs
were required for some ornamental or for some religious use (as
with the modern Copts); and, with the plumes, formed part of
the tribute imposed by the Egyptians on the conquered countries
where it abounded. Lion hunting was a favorite amusement of
the kings, and the deserts of Ethiopia always afforded good
sport, abounding as they did with lions; their success on those
occasions was a triumph they often recorded; and Amunoph III.
boasted having brought down in one battue no less than one hun-
dred and two head, either with the bow or spear. For the chase
of elephants they went still further south ; and, in after times, the
Ptolemies had hunting places in Abyssinia.
p^fis?Ti5^ um
The life of married women, maidens, children while in the
care of women, and of female slaves, passed in the gynaikonitis,
from which they issued only on rare occasions. The family life
of Greek women widely differed from our Christian idea ; neither
did it resemble the life in an Oriental harem, to which it was far
superior. The idea of the family was held up by both law and
custom, and although concubinage and the intercourse with
hetairai was suffered, nay favored, by the state, still such impure
elements never intruded on domestic relations.
Our following remarks refer, of course, only to the better
classes, the struggle for existence by the poor being nearly the
same in all ages. In the seclusion of the gynaikonitis the maiden
grew up in comparative ignorance. The care bestowed on do-
mestic duties and on her dress was the only interest of her monot-
onous existence. Intellectual intercourse with the other sex was
wanting entirely. Even where maidens appeared in public at
religious ceremonies, they acted separately from the youths. An
intercourse of this kind, at any rate, could not have a lasting in-
fluence on their culture. Even marriage did not change this
state of things. The maiden only passed from the gynaikonitis
of her father into that of her husband. In the latter, however,
she was the absolute ruler. She did not share the intellectual life
of her husband — one of the fundamental conditions of our family
life. It is true that the husband watched over her honor with
jealousy, assisted by the gynaikonomoi, sometimes even by means
203
204 DOMESTIC LIFE.
of lock and key. It is also true that common custom protected
a well-behaved woman against offence ; still her position was only
that of the mother of the family. Indeed, her duties and achieve-
ments were hardly considered by the husband, in a much higher
light than those of a faithful domestic slave.
In prehistoric times the position of women seems to have
been, upon the whole, a more dignified one. Still, even then,
their duties were essentially limited to the house, as is proved,
for instance, by the words in which Telemachos bids his mother
mind her spindle and loom, instead of interfering with the debates
of men. As the state became more developed, it took up the
whole attention of the man, and still more separated him from his
wife. Happy marriages, of course, were by no means impos-
sible; still, as a riile, the opinion prevailed of the woman being by
nature inferior to the man, and holding a position of a minor
with regard to civic rights. This principle has, indeed, been re-
peatedly pronounced by ancient philosophers and lawgivers. Our
remarks hitherto referred chiefl}' to the Ionic-Attic tribe, re-
nowned for the modesty of its women and maidens. The Doric
principle, expressed in the constitution of Sparta, gave, on the
contrary, full liberty to maidens to show themselves in public,
and to steel their strength b}'' bodily exercise. This liberty,
however, was not the result of a philosophic idea of the equality
of the two sexes, but was founded on the desire of producing
strong children by means of strengthening the body of the fe-
male.
The chief occupation of women, beyond the preparing of the
meals, consisted in spinning and weaving. In Homer we see the
wives of the nobles occupied in this way ; and the custom of the
women making the necessary articles of dress continued to pre-
vail even when the luxury of later times, together with the de-
generacy of the women themselves, had made the establishment
of workshops and places of manufacture for this purpose neces-
OCCUPATION OF WOMEN.
205
sary. Antique art has frequently treated these domestic occu-
pations. The Attic divinities, Athene Ergane and Aphrodite
Urania, as well as the Argive Here, Ilithyia, the protecting god-
dess of child-bearing, Persephone, and Artemis, all these plastic
art represents as goddesses of fate, weaving the thread of life,
SOCIAL l!;^JOY.Ml^^ 1' OF wo.Mi-.N {Fi'out an iLticient painting.)
and, at the same time, protecting female endeavors; in which
two-fold quality they have the emblem of domestic activity, the
distaff, as their attribute. Only a few representations of spinning
goddesses now remain; but many are the pictures of mortal
spinning-maidens painted on walls, chiefly for female use. For the
spinning, a spindle was used, as is still the case in places where the
2o6 DOMESTIC LIFE.
northern spinning-wheel has not supplanted the antique custom.
Homer describes noble ladies handling the distaff with the spindle
belonging to it. Helen received a present of a golden spindle, with a
silver basket to keep the thread in. The distaff, with a bundle of
wool or flax fastened to its point, was held under the left arm, while
the thumb and first finger of the right hand, slightly wetted, spun
the thread at the end of which hung the spindle, made of metal.
The web was, from the spindle, wound round a reel, to be fur-
ther prepared on the loom.
Akin to spinning are the arts of weaving and embroidering.
We frequently see in vase-paintings women with embroidering-
frames in their laps. The skill of Greek ladies in embroidery is
sufficiently proved by the tasteful embroidered patterns and
borders on Greek dresses, both of men and women. The vase-
paintings supply many examples.
Our remarks about female duties in preparing the meal must
be short. The heavy parts of the duty, like grinding the corn in
hand-mills, were performed by servants. In the palace of Odys-
seus twelve female slaves were employed all day in grinding wheat
and barley in an equal number of hand-mills, to supply the
numerous guests. The hand-mill consisted (like those still used
in some Greek islands) of two stones, each about two feet in
diameter, the upper one of which was made to rotate by means
of a crooked handle, so as to crush the corn poured through an
opening in it.
Baking and roasting meat on the spit were among the duties
of female slaves. In every house of even moderate wealth, sev-
eral of these were kept as cooks, chambermaids, and companions
of the ladies on their walks, it being deemed improper for them
to leave the house unaccompanied by several slaves. How far
ladies took; immediate part in the preparing of dainty dishes we
can not say. In later times it became customary to buy or hire
male slaves as cooks.
BATHING.
207
Antique representations of women bathing, adorning them-
selves, playing, and dancing, are numerous. The Athenian
maiden, unlike her Spartan sister, did not think it proper to pub-
licly exhibit her bodily skill and beauty in a short chiton, but
taking a bath seems to have been among her every-day habits
as is shown by the numerous bathing scenes on vases. In one
of them, a slave pours the contents of a hydria over her nude
mistress. Cowering on the floor in another we see an undressed
woman catching in her hand the water-spout issuing from a mask
of Pan in the wall into a bath. An alabastron and comb are
lying on the floor. A picture on an amphora in the museum of
Berlin offers a most interesting view of the interior of a Greek
bath-chamber. We see a bathing establishment built in the
Doric style. By a row of columns the inner space is divided
into two bath-chambers, each for two women. The water is most
likely carried by pressure to the tops of the hollow columns, the
communication among which is effected by means of pipes about
six feet from the ground. The openings of the taps are formed
into neatly modeled heads of boars, lions, and panthers, from the
mouths of which a fine rain spray is thrown on the bathers. Their
hair has been tightly arranged into plaits. The above-mentioned
pipes were evidently used for hanging up the towels; perhaps
they were even filled with hot water to warm the bathing linen.
Whether our picture represents a public or private bath seems
doubtful. The dressing after the bath has also been frequently
depicted.
We need not enter upon the subject here. We will mention
the chief utensils, as the comb, ointment-bottle, mirror, etc., on a
lo/.owing page. The scenes thus depicted are undoubtedly bor-
rowed from daily life, although Aphrodite, with her attendance
of Cupids and Graces, has taken the place of mortal women.
For music, games, and dances, we mention only a game at
ball, which was played in a dancing measure, and, therefore, con-
2o8 DOMESTIC LIFE.
sidered as a practice of graceful movements. Homer mentions
Nausikaa as a skilled player of this game. It is remarkable that
wherever women playing at ball appear in pictures they are
represented in a sitting posture. (See cut, page 205.)
The swing was essentially a female amusement. In com-
memoration of the fate of Erigone, daughter of Ikarios, a festival
had been ordained at Athens at which the maidens indulged in
the joys of the swing. Illustrations of this pastime occur fre-
quently on vases, free from any mythological symbolism, even in
cases where Eros is made to move the swing.
We now come to the point in the maiden's life when she
is to preside over her own household as the legitimate mate of
her husband. In most cases Greek marriage was a matter of con-
venience, a man considering it his duty to provide for the legiti-
mate continuation of his family. The Doric tribe did not attempt
to disguise this principle in its plain-spoken laws; the rest of
Greece acknowledged it but in silence, owing to a more refined
conception of the moral significance of marriage.
The seclusion of female life, indeed, made the question of
personal charms appear of secondary importance. Equity of
birth and wealth were the chief considerations. The choice of the
Athenian citizen was limited to Athenian maidens ; only in that
case were the children entitled to full birthright, the issue of a
marriage of an Athenian man or maiden with a stranger being
considered illegitimate by the law. Such a marriage was, in-
deed, nothing but a form of concubinage. The laws referring to
this point were, however, frequently evaded. At the solemn be-
trothal, always preceding the actual marriage, the dowry of the
bride was settled; her position as a married woman greatly de-
pended upon its value. Frequently the daughter of poor, deserv-
ing citizens were presented with a dowry by the state or by a
number of citizens.
In Homer's time the bridesrroom wooed the bride with rich
WEDDING CEREMONIES. 209
gifts ; Iphidamas, for instance, offers a hundred heifers and a thou-
sand goats as a nuptial present. But afterwards this was entirely
reversed, the father of the bride having to provide the dowry,
consisting partly in cash, partly in clothes, jewelry, and slaves.
In cases of separation the dowry had, in most cases, to be re-
turned to the wife's parents. The most appropriate age for con-
tracting a marriage, Plato in his Republic fixes, for girls, at
twenty, for men, at thirty. There was, however, no rule to this
effect. Parents were naturally anxious to dispose of their daugh-
ters as early as possible, without taking objection to the advanced
years of the wooer, as is tersely pointed out by Aristophanes.
The actual marriage ceremony, or leading home, was pre-
ceded by offerings to Zeus Teleios, Hera Teleia, Artemis Eukleia,
and other deities protecting marriage. The bridal bath was the
second ceremony, which both bride and bridegroom had to go
through previous to their union.
On the wedding day, towards dark, after the meal at her
parental home was over,* the bride left the festively adorned
house, and was conducted by the bridegroom in a chariot to his
dwelling. She sat between the bridegroom and the best maa
chosen from among his relatives or intimate friends. Accom-
panied by the sounds of the hymenseos, and the festive sounds of
flutes and friendly acclamations from all passers-by, the procession
moved slowly towards the bridegroom's house, also adorned with
wreaths of foliage. The mother of the bride walked behind the
chariot, with the wedding torches, kindled at the parental hearth,
according to custom immemorial. At the door of the bridegroom
his mother was awaiting the young couple with burning torches
in her hand. In case no wedding meal had been served at the
bride's house, the company now sat down to it. To prognosticate
the desired fertility of the union, cakes of sesame were distributed.
The same symbolic meaning attached to the quince, which, ac-
* At this meal, contrary to the usual custom, women were present.
H
2IO DOMESTIC LIFE.
I
cording to Solon's law, the bride had to eat. After the meal the
couple retired to the thalamos, where for the first time the bride
unveiled herself to her husband. Before the door of the bridal
chamber epithalamia were sung, a charming specimen of which
we possess in the bridal hymn of Helena by Theokritos. On
the two first days after the wedding, wedding-presents were re-
ceived by the pair. Not till after these days did the bride appear
without her veil.
Very different from the social position of chaste women was
that of the hetairai. We are not speaking of the lowest class of
unfortunates, worshiping Aphrodite Pandemos, but of those wo-
men who, owing to their beauty and grace of conversation, ex-
erted great influence even over superior men. We only remind
the reader of Aspasia. In the graces of society the hetairai were
naturally superior to respectable women, owing to their free in-
tercourse with men. For the hetairai did not shun the light of
day, and were not restrained by the law. Only the house of the
married man was closed to them.
Before passing from private to public life, we must cast a
glance at the early education of the child by the mother. We
begin with the earliest days of infancy. After the first bath the
new-born child was put into swaddling-clothes, a custom not per-
mitted by the rougher habits of Sparta. On the fifth or seventh
day the infant had to go through the ceremony of purification;
the midwife, holding him in her arms, walked several times
round the burning altar. A festive meal on this day was given
to the family, the doors being decorated with an olive crown for
a boy, with wool for a girl. On the tenth day after its birth,
when the child was named, another feast took place. This cere-
mony implied the acknowledgment, on the part of the father, of
the child's legitimacy. The name of the child was chosen by
both parents, generally after the name of either of the grandpar-
ents, sometimes, also, after the name or attributes of a deity, un-
CHILDREN S TOYS. 211
der whose particular protection the child was thus placed. A
sacrifice, offered chiefly to the goddess of child-bearing, Here
Ilithyia, and a meal, concluded the ceremony. At the latter,
fi-iends and relatives presented the infant with toys of metal or
clay, while the mother received painted vases. The antique cra-
dle consisted of a flat swing of basket work, such as appears in a
terra-cotta relief in the British Museum, of the infant Bacchus
being carried by a satyr brandishing a thyrsus, and a torch-
bearing bacchante. Another kind of cradle, in the form of a
shoe, is shown containing the infant Hermes, recognizable by his
petasos. It also is made of basket-work. The advantage of this
cradle consists in its having handles, and, therefore, being easily
portable. It also might be suspended on ropes, and rocked with-
out difficulty. Other cradles, similar to our modern ones, belong
to a later period.. The singing of lullabies, and the rocking of
children to sleep, were common amongst the ancients. Wet-
nurses were commonly employed amongst Ionian tribes; wealthy
Athenians chose Spartan nurses in preference, as being generally
strong and healthy. After the child had been weaned it was fed
by the dry nurse and the mother with pap, made chiefly of
honey.
The rattle, said to be invented by Archytas, was the first toy
of the infant. Other toys of various kinds were partly bought,
partly made by the children themselves on growing older. We
mention painted clay puppets, representing human beings or ani-
mals, such as tortoises, hares, ducks, and mother apes with their
offspring. Small stones were put inside, so as to produce a rat-
tling noise; which circumstance, together with the fact of small
figures of this kind being frequently found on children's graves,
proves their being toys. Small wooden carts, houses and ships
made of leather, and many other toys, made by the children
themselves, might be instanced. Up to their sixth year boys and
girls were brought up together under their mother's care; from
212 DOMESTIC LIFE.
that point their education became separate. The education
proper of the boy became a more public one, while the girl was
brought up by the mother at home, in a most simple way, ac-
cording to their notions. From amongst the domestic slaves a
trustworthy companion was chosen for the boy. He was, how-
ever, not a tutor in our sense, but rather a faithful servant, who
had to take care of the boy in his walks, particularly on his way
to and from school. He also had to instruct his pupil in certain
rules of good behavior. The boy had, for instance, to walk in
the street with his head bent, as a sign of modesty, and to make
room for his elders meeting him. In the presence of the latter
he had to preserve a respectful silence. Proper behavior at ta-
ble, a graceful way of wearing his garments, etc., might be men-
tioned as kindred subjects of education. Boys were accompanied
by pedagogues up to their sixteenth year. The latter appear
frequently in vase-paintings, and are easily recognizable by their
dress, consisting of chiton and cloak, with high-laced boots ; they
also carry sticks with crooked handles, and their hair and beards
give them a venerable aspect; while their pupils, according to
Athenian custom, are clad more lightly and gracefully. The
pedagogue of the group of the Niobides is well known.
Education was, at Athens, a matter of private enterprise.
Schools were kept by private teachers, the government super-
vision extending only to the moral not to the scientific qualifica-
tion of the schoolmaster. Grammar, music and gymnastics, to
which Aristotle adds drawing, as a means of aesthetic cultivation,
were the common subjects of education at schools and gymnasia ;
also reading, writing and arithmetic. The method of teaching
how to write consisted in the master's forming the letters, which
the pupils had to imitate on their tablets, sometimes with the
master's assistance. The writing materials were small tablets
covered with wax, into which the letters were scratched by
means of a pencil made of metal or ivory. It was pointed at
WRITING MATERIALS. 213
one end, and flattened or bent at the other, so as to extinguish
the writing, if required, and, at the same time, to smooth the
surface again for other letters. A young girl, in a charming
Pompeian wall-painting, has in her hand a double tablet, while
with her other hand she holds a pencil to her chin, as if ponder-
ing over a letter. Her nurse looking over her shoulder tries to
decipher the contents of the love-letter. Besides these tablets,
Herodotus mentions the use of paper made of the bark of the
Egyptian papyrus-plant. The stalk (three or four feet in length)
was cut longitudinally, after which the outer bark was first taken
off; the remaining layers of bark, about twenty in number, were
carefully severed with a pin; and, afterwards, the single stripes
plaited crosswise; by means of pressing and perforating the
whole with lime-water, the necessary consistency of the material
was obtained. The lower layers of bark yielded the best wri-
ting-paper, while the outer layers were made into packing-paper
(emporetica) ; the uppermost bark was used for making ropes.
A case of this kind full of parchment rolls, with a cover to it,
stands by the side of Klio in a wall-painting of Herculaneum.
In her left hand the muse holds a half-opened roll on which are
inscribed the words " Klio teaches history." The ink was made
of a black coloring substance; it was kept in an inkstand made
of metal, with a cover to it. Double inkstands, frequently seen
on monuments, were most likely destined for the keeping of
black and red inks, the latter of which was frequently used. To
write on paper or parchment, the ancients used the Memphic,
Gnidic, or Anaitic reeds, pointed and split like our pens. As
we mentioned before, it was the custom of adults to write either
reclining on the kline, with the leaf resting on the bent leg, or
sitting in a low arm-chair, in which case the writing apparatus
was supported by the knee of the writer. The latter posture is
exemplified by a reading ephebos in a vase-painting; it was, un-
doubtedly, also that of the boys sitting on the rising steps used
214 DOMESTIC LIFE.
as forms at the schools. After his elementary education was
completed, the boy was made acquainted with the works of
national poetry, particularly with the poems of Homer, the
learning by heart and reciting of which inspired him with
patriotic pride.
Of the marriage contracts of the Egyptians we are entirely
ignorant, nor do we even find the ceremony represented in the
paintings of their tombs. We may, however, conclude that they
were regulated by the customs usual among civilized nations ;
and, if the authority of Diodorus can be credited, women were
indulged with greater privileges in Eg3^pt than in any other
country. He even affirms that part of the agreement entered into
at the time of marriage was, that the wife should have control
over her husband, and that no objection should be made to her
commands^ whatever they might be; but, though we have suffi-
cient to convince us of the superior treatment of women among
the Egyptians, as well from ancient authors as from the sculp-
tures that remain, it may fairly be doubted if those indulgences
were carried to the extent mentioned by the historian, or that
command extended beyond the management of the house, and the
regulation of domestic affairs.
It is, however, remarkable that the ro3^al authority and su-
preme direction of affairs were entrusted without reserve tc
women, as in those states of modern Europe where the Salic law
has not been introduced ; and we not only find examples in Egyp-
tian history of queens succeeding to the throne, but Manetho in-
forms us that the law, according this important privilege to the
other sex, dated as early as the reign of Binothris, the third
monarch of the second dynasty.
In primitive ages the duties of women were very different
from those of later and more civilized periods, and varied of
course according to the habits of each people. Among pastoral
tribes they drew water, kept the sheep, and superintended the
FAMILIES, SCHOOLS AND MARRIAGES. 215
herds as well as flocks. As with the Arabs of the present day,
they prepared both the furniture and the woolen stuffs of which
the tents themselves were made, ground the corn, and performed
other menial offices. They were also engaged, as in ancient
Greece, in weaving, spinning, needlework, embroidery, and other
sedentary occupations within doors.
The Egyptian ladies in like manner employed much of their
time with the needle; and the sculptures represent many females
weaving and using the spindle. But they were not kept in the
same secluded manner as those of ancient Greece, who, besides
being confined to certain apartments in the house, most remote
from the hall of entrance, and generally in the uppermost part of
the building, were not even allowed to go out of doors without a
veil, as in many Oriental countries at the present day.
The Egyptians treated their women very differently, as the
accounts of ancient authors and the sculptures sufficiently prove.
At some of the public festivals women were expected to attend —
not alone, like the Moslem women at a mosque, but in company
with their husbands or relations; and Josephus states that on an
occasion of this kind, "when it was the custom for women to go
to the public solemnity, the wife of Potiphar, having pleaded ill
health in order to be allowed to stay at home, was excused from
attending," and availed herself of the absence of her husband to
talk with Joseph.
That it was the custom of the Egyptians to have only one
wife, is shown by Herodotus and the monuments, which present
so many scenes illustrative of their domestic life; and Diodorus
is wrong in supposing that the laity were allowed to marry any
number, while the priests were limited to one.
But a very objectionable custom, which is not only noticed
by Diodorus, but is fully authenticated by the sculptures both of
Upper and Lower Egypt, existed among them from the earliest
times, the origin and policy of which it is not easy to explain —
2l6 DOMESTIC LIFE.
the marriage of brother and sister — which Diodorus supposes to
have been owing to, and sanctioned by, that of Isis and Osiris ;
but as this was purely an allegorical fable, and these ideal person-
ages never lived on earth, his conjecture is of little weight; nor
does any ancient writer offer a satisfactory explanation of so
strange a custom.
Though the Egyptians confined themselves to one wife, the}',
like the Jews and other Eastern nations, both of ancient and
modern times, scrupled not to admit other inmates to their
hareetn^ most of whom appear to have been foreigners, either
taken in war, or brought to Egypt to be sold as slaves. They
became members of the family, like those in Moslem countries at
the present day, and not only ranked next to the wives and chil-
dren of their lord, but probably enjoyed a share of the property
at his death.
These women were white or black slaves, according to the
countries from which they were brought; but, generally speak-
ing, the latter were employed merely as domestics, who were re-
quired to wait upon their mistress and her female friends. The
former, likewise, officiated as servants, though they of course
held a rank above the black slaves.
The same custom prevailed among the Egyptians regarding
children, as with the Moslems and other Eastern people; no dis-
tinction being made between their offspring by a wife or any
other woman, and all equally enjoying the rights of inheritance;
' for, since they considered a child indebted to the father for its
existence, it seemed unjust to deny equal rights to all his
progeny.
In speaking of the duties of children in Egypt, Herodotus
declares, that if a son was unwilling to maintain his parents he
was at liberty to refuse, but that a daughter, on the contrary,
was compelled to assist them, and, on refusal, was amenable to
law. But we may question the truth of this statement; and.
DUTIES OF CHILDREN.
217
drawing an inference from the marked severity of filial duties
among the Egyptians, some of which we tind distinctly alluded
to in the sculptures of Thebes, we may conclude that in Egypt
much more was expected from a son than in an}* civilized nation
of the present day ; and this was not confined to the lower
orders, but extended to those of the highest ranks of society.
And if the office of fan-bearer was an honorable post, and the sons
of the monarch were preferred to fulfill it, no ordinary show of
humility was required on their part ; and they walked on foot be-
hind his chariot, bearing certain insignia over their father during
the triumphal processions which took place in commemoration
of his victories, and in the religious ceremonies over which he
presided.
It was equally a custom in the early times of European his-
tory, that a son should pay a marked deference to his parent ; and
no prince was allowed to sit at table with his father, unless
through his valor, having been invested with arms by a foreign
sovereign, he had obtained that privilege; as was the case with
Alboin, before he succeeded his father on the throne of the Lom-
bards. The European nations were not long in altering their
early habits, and this custom soon became disregarded; but a
respect for ancient institutions, and those ideas, so prevalent in
the East, which reject all love of change, prevented the Egyptians
from discarding the usages of their ancestors ; and we find this and
many other primitive customs retained, even at the period when
they were most highly civilized.
In the education of youth they were particularly strict; and
"they knew,'' says Plato, "that children ought to be early accus-
tomed to such gestures, looks, and motions as are decent and
proper, and not to be suffered either to hear or learn any verses
and songs, than those which are calculated to inspire them with
virtue ; and they consequently took care that every dance and ode
introduced at their feasts or sacrifices should be subject to certain
regulations."
2l8 DOMESTIC LIFE.
They particularly inculcated respect for old age; and the
fact of this being required even towards strangers, argues a great
regard for the person of a parent; for we are informed that, like
the Israelites and the Lacedaemonians, they required every young
man to give place to his superiors in years, and even, if seated,
to rise on their approach.
Nor were these honors limited to their lifetime; the memory
of parents and ancestors was revered through succeeding genera-
tions; their tombs were maintained with the greatest respect;
liturgies were performed by their children, or by priests at their
expense ; and we have previously seen what advantage was taken
of this feeling, in the laws concerning debt.
" For of all people," says Diodorus, " the Egyptians retain the
highest sense of a favor conferred upon them, deeming it the
greatest charm of life to make a suitable return for benefits they
have received;" and from the high estimation in which the feel-
ing of gratitude was held among them, even strangers felt a rev-
erence for the character of the Egyptians.
Through this impulse, they were induced to solemnize the
funeral obsequies of their kings with the enthusiasm described by
the historian; and to this he partly attributes the unexampled
duration of the Eg3'ptian monarchy.
It is only doing justice to the modem Egyptians to say that
gratitude is still a distinguishing trait of their character ; and
this is one of the many qualities inherited by them, for which
their predecessors were remarkable ; confirming what we have
before stated, that the general peculiarities of a people are re-
tained, though a country may be conquered, and nominally
peopled by a foreign race.
pRE^^, ^OILET AND JeWZILRY.
We now come to the dress of the Ancients. We shall have
to consider those articles of dress used as a protection against
the weather, and those prescribed by decency or fashion^ also the
coverings of the head and the feet, the arrangement of the hair
and the ornaments. Unfortunately, the terminology is, in many
cases, uncertain. Many points, therefore, must remain unde-
cided. Before entering upon details, we must remark that the
dress of the Greeks, compared with modern fashion, was extremely
simple and natural. Owing to the warmth of the climate and
the taste of the inhabitants, both superfluous and tight articles
of dress were dispensed with. Moreover, the body was allowed
to develop its natural beauty in vigorous exercise; and in this
harmony and beauty of the limbs the Greeks prided themselves,
which, of course, reacted favorably on the character of the
dress.
Identical with this in form is the chiton worn by Doric
women. It was simple, short-skirted, and with a slit in the
upper part at both sides. It was fastened with clasps over both
shoulders, and shortened as far as the knees by means of pulling
it through the girdle. In this form it is worn by two maidens
in the Louvre, destined for the service of the Lakonian Artemis
at Karyae. They carry kinds of baskets on their heads, and
are performing the festive dance in honor of the goddess. The
exomis is worn by the female statue in the Vatican known as the
" Springing Amazon," and also by statues of Artemis, and rep-
219
220 DOMESTIC LIFE.
resentations of that goddess on gems and coins. The long
chiton for women reaching down to the feet, and only a little
pulled up at the girdle, we see in a vase painting, representing
dancing 3^ouths and maidens, the former wearing the short, the
latter the long, chiton. A development of the long chiton is the
double-chiton. It was a very large, oblong piece of woven cloth,
left open on one side, like the Doric chiton for men. It was
equal to about one and a half lengths of the body. The over-
hanging part of the cloth was folded round the chest and back,
from the neck downwards, the upper edge being arranged round
the neck, and the two open cor-
ners clasped together on one
shoulder. On this
open side, therefore,
the naked body was
visible. Over the
other shoulder the upper edge of the chiton was also fastened
with a clasp — these clasps, as seen in annexed cuts, were elaborate
ornaments, some being richly
bejeweled, others being made
of wrouofht ofold — the arm beins^
put through the opening left
between this clasp and the corresponding corner of the cloth.
In the same way was arranged the half-open chiton, the
open' side of which, from the girdle to the lower hem, was
sewed up. A bronze statuette illustrates this way of putting it
on. A young girl is about to join together on her left shoulder
the chiton, which is fastened over the right shoulder by means
of an agraffe. It appears clearly that the whole chiton consists
of one piece. Together with the open and half-open kinds of
the chiton, we also find the closed double-chiton flowing down to
the feet. It was a piece of cloth considerably longer than the
human body, and closed on both sides, inside of which the per-
THE CHITON. 221
son putting it on stood as in a cylinder. As in the chiton of the
second form, the overhanging part of the cloth was turned out-
ward, and the folded rim pulled up as far as the shoulders, across
which (first on the right, and after it on the left side) the front
and back parts were fastened together by means of clasps, the
arms being put through the two openings affected in this manner.
Round the hips the chiton was fastened by means of a girdle,
through which the bottom part of the dress trailing along the
ground was pulled up just far enough to let the toes be visible.
Above the girdle the chiton was arranged in shorter or longer
picturesque folds. The chief alterations of var3ing fashion
applied to the arrangement of the diploidion which reached
either to the part under the bosom or was prolonged as far as
the hips; its front and back parts might either be clasped to-
gether across the shoulders, or the two rims might be pulled
across the upper arm as far as the elbow, and fastened in several
places by means of buttons or agraffes, so that the naked arm
became visible in the intervals, by means of which the sleeveless
chiton received the appearance of one with sleeves. Where the
diploidion was detached from the chiton, it formed a kind of
handsome cape, which, however, in its shape, strictly resembled
the Diploidion proper. Its shape was considerably modified by
fashion, taking sometimes the form of a close-fitting jacket, at
others (when the sides remained open) that of a kind of shawl,
the ends of which sometimes equaled in length the chiton itself.
222 DOMESTIC LIFE.
In the latter case, the ampechonion was naturally at least three
times as long as it was wide. In antique pictures women some-
times wear a second shorter chiton over the other. A orreat
o
many varieties of dress, more distinguishable in the vase-paint-
ings, representing realistic scenes, than in the ideal costumes of
sculptural types, we must omit, particularly as, in most cases,
they may be reduced to the described general principles.
From the chiton we now pass to the articles of dress of the
nature of cloaks. They also show throughout an oblong form,
differing in this essentially from the Roman toga. It, belonging
to this class, was arranged so that the one corner was thrown
over the left shoulder in front, so as to be attached to the body
by means of the left arm. On the back the dress was pulled
toward the right side so as to cover it completely up to the right
shoulder, or, at least, to the armpit, in which latter case the
right shoulder remained uncovered. Finally, the himation was
again thrown over the left shoulder, so that the ends fell over the
back.
Concerning the materials of the described garments, we have
mentioned before that linen was used principally by the lonians,
wool by the Dorians; the latter material in the course of time
became the rule for male garments all over Greece. The change
of seasons naturally required a corresponding modification in the
thickness of these woolen garments; accordingly we notice the
difference between summer and winter dresses. For women's
dresses, besides sheep's wool and linen, byssos, most likel}' a kind
of cotton, was commonly used. Something like the byssos, but
much finer, was the material of which the celebrated transparent
dresses were woven in the Isle of Amorgos; they consisted
of the fibre of a line sort of flax, undoubtedly resembling our
muslins and cambrics. The introduction of silk into Greece is
of later date, while in Asia it was known at a very early period.
From the interior of Asia the silk was imported into Greece^
DRESS xMATEKIALS.
223
partly in its raw state, partly worked into dresses. Ready-made
dresses of this kind differed greatly from the dresses made in
Greece of the imported raw silk. The Isle of Kos was the first
seat of silk manufacture, where silk dresses were produced
rivaling in transparency the above-mentioned. These diaph-
anous dresses, clinging close to the body, and allowing the
color of the skin and the veins to be seen, have been frequently
imitated with astonishing skill • by Greek sculptors and painters.
We only remind the reader of the beautifully modeled folds of
the chiton covering the upper part of the body of Niobe's young-
est daughter, in a kneeling position, who seeks shelter in the lap
of her mother; in painting, several wall-pictures of Pompeii may
be cited.
The antiquated notion of white having been the universal
color of Greek garments, a colored dress being considered im-
modest, has been refuted by Becker. It is, however, likely that,
with the cloak-like epiblememata, white was the usual color, as
is still the case amongst Oriental nations much exposed to the
sun. Brown cloaks are, however, by no means unusual; neither
were they amongst Greek men. Party-colored Oriental gar-
ments were also used, at least by the wealthy Greek classes, both
for male and female dresses, while white still remained the favor-
ite color with modest Greek women. This is proved, not to
mention written evidence, by a number of small painted statuettes
of burnt clay, as also by several pictures on lekythoi from Attic
graves. The original colors of the dresses, although (particularly
the reds) slightly altered from the burning process, may still be
distinctly recognized.
The dresses were frequently adorned with interwoven patterns,
or attached borders and embroideries. From Babylon and Phry-
gia, the ancient seats of the weaving and embroidering arts, these
crafts spread over the occidental world, the name "Phrygiones,"
used in Rome at a later period for artists of this kind, reminding
224 DOMESTIC LIFE.
one of this origin. As we learn from the monuments, the simplest
border either woven or sewed to the dresses, consisted of one or
more dark stripes, either parallel with the seams of the chiton,
himation, and ampechonion, or running down to the hem of the
chiton from the girdle at the sides or from the throat in front.
The vertical ornaments correspond to the Roman clavus. Be-
sides these ornaments in stripes, we also meet with others broader
and more complicated; whether woven into, or sewed on, the
dress seems doubtful. They cover the chiton from the hem up-
wards to the knee, and above the girdle up to the neck, as is seen
in the chiton worn by the spring goddess Opora, in a vase-paint-
ing. The whole chiton is sometimes covered with star or dice
patterns, particularly on vases of the archaic style. The vase-
painters of the decaying period chiefly represent Phrygian dresses
with gold fringes and sumptuous embroideries of palmetto
and " meandering" patterns, such as were worn by the luxurious
South-Italian Greeks. Such a sumptuous dress is worn by Medea
in a picture of the death of Talos on an Apulian amphora in the
Jatta collection at Ruvo. In the same picture the chitones of
Kastor and Polydeukes, and those of the Argonautai, are covered
with palmetto embroideries, the edges at the bottom showing
mythological scenes on the dark ground.
In the cities Greeks walked mostly bareheaded, owing most
likely to the more plentiful hair of southern nations, which, more-
over, was cultivated by the Greeks with particular care. Travel-
ers, hunters, and such artificers as were particularly exposed to
the sun, used light coverings for their heads. The different forms
STYLES OF WEARING HAIR. 225
of these may be classified. They were made of the skins of
dogs, weasels, or cows.
The hair is considered in Homer as one of the greatest signs
of male beauty among the long-haired Achaioi ; no less were the
well-arranged locks of maidens and women praised by the tragic
poets. Among the Spartans it became a sacred custom, derived
from the laws of Lykurgos, to let the hair of the boy grow as
soon as he reached the age of the ephebos, while up to that time
it was cut short. This custom prevailed among the Spartans up
to their being overpowered by the Achaic federation. Altogether
the Dorian character did not admit of much attention being paid
to the arrangement of the hair. Only on solemn occasions, for
instance on the eve of the battle of Thermopylae, the Spartans
arranged their hair with particular care.
At Athens, about the time of the Persian wars, men used to
wear their hair long, tied on to the top of the head in a knot^
which was fastened by a hair-pin in the form of a cicada. Of this
custom, however, the monuments offer no example. Only in the
pictures of two Pankratiastai, on a monument dating most likely
from Roman times, we discover an analogy to this old Attic cus-
tom. After the Persian war, when the dress and manners of the
lonians had undergone a change, it became the custom to cut off
the long hair of the boys on their attaining the age of epheboi,
and devote it as an offering to a god, for instance, to the Delphic
Apollo or some local river-god. Attic citizens, however, by no
means wore their hair cropped short, like their slaves, but used
to let it grow according to their own taste or the common fashion.
Only dandies, as, for instance, Alkibiades, let their hair fall down
to their shoulders in long locks. Philosophers also occasionally
attempted to revive old customs by wearing their hair long.
The beard was carefully attended to by the Greeks. The
barber's shop, with its talkative inmate, was not only frequented
by those requiring the services of the barber in cutting the hair,
226 DOMESTIC LIFE.
shaving, cutting the nails and corns, and tearing out small hairs,
but it was also, as Plutarch says, a symposion without wine,
where political and local news were discussed. Alkiphron
depicts a Greek barber in the following words: "You see how
the d d barber in yon street has treated me; the talker, who
-puts up the Brundisian looking-glass, and makes his knives to
clash harmoniously. I went to him to be shaved; he received
me politely, put me in a high chair, enveloped me in a clean
towel, and stroked the razor gently down my cheek, so as to
remove the thick hair. But this was a malicious trick of his.
He did it partly, not all over the chin ; some places he left rough,
others he made smooth without my noticing it. " After the
time of Alexander the Great, a barber's business became lucra-
tive, owing to the custom of wearing a full beard being aban-
doned, notwithstanding the remonstrances of several states.* In
works of art, particularly in portrait statues, the beard is always
treated as an individual characteristic. It is mostly arranged in
graceful locks, and covers the chin, lips and cheeks, without a
separation being made between whiskers and moustache. Only
in archaic renderings the wedge-like beard is combed in long
wavy lines, and the whiskers are strictly parted from the mous-
tache. As an example we quote the nobly formed head of Zeus
crowned with the stephane in the Talleyrand collection. The
usual color of the hair being dark, fair hair was considered a
great beauty. Homer gives yellow locks to Menelaos, Achilles,
and Meleagros; and Euripides describes Menelaos and Dionysos
as fair-haired.
The head-dress of women was in simple taste. Hats were
not worn, as a rule, because, at least in Athens, the appearance
of women in the public street was considered improper, and
* According to tradition, many Makedonians were killed by the Persians taking
hold of their long beards, and pulling them to the ground. Alexander, in consequence,
had his troops shaved during the battle.
HEAD-DRESS OF WOMEN.
227
therefore happened only on exceptional occasions. On journeys
women wore a light broad-brimmed petasos as a protection from
the sun. With a Thessalian hat of this kind Ismene appears in
" CEdipus in Kolonos." The head-dress of Athenian ladies at
home and in the street consisted, beyond the customary veil,
HAiR-DUESS. {From Pompeii.)
chiefly of different contrivances for holding together their plenti-
ful hair. We mentioned before, that the himation was some-
times pulled over the back of the head like a veil. But at a
very early period Greek women wore much shorter or longer
veils, which covered the face *up to the eyes, and fell over the
neck and back in large folds, so as to cover, if necessary, the
whole upper part of the body. The care bestowed on the hair
was naturally still greater amongst women than amongst men.
Cut shows a number of heads of Athenian women, taken from
an old painting of Pompeii. These, and the numerous heads
represented in sculptures and gems, give an idea of the exquisite
taste of these head-dresses. At the same time, it must be con-
fessed that most modern fashions, even the ugly ones, have their
models, if not in Greek, at least in Roman antiquity. The
228 DOMESTIC LIFE.
combing of the hair over the back in wavy lines was undoubtedly
much in favor. A simple ribbon tied round the head, in that
case, connected the front with the back hair. This arrangement
we meet with in the maidens of the Parthenon frieze and in a
bust of Niobe. On older monuments, for instance, in the group
of the Graces on the triangular altar in the Louvre, the front
hair is arranged in small ringlets, while the back hair partly falls
smoothly over the neck, and partly is made into long curls
hanging down to the shoulders. It was also not unusual to comb
back the front hair over the temples and ears, and tie it, together
with the back hair, into a graceful knot. Here, also, the above-
mentioned ribbon was used. It consisted of a stripe of cloth or
leather, frequently adorned, where it rested on the forehead, with
a plaque of metal formed like a frontal. This stephane appears
on monuments mostly in the hair of goddesses; the ribbon be-
longing to it, in that case, takes the form of a broad metal circle
destined no more to hold together, but to decorate the hair.
This is the case in a bust of Here in the Villa Ludovisi, in the
statue of the same goddess in the Vatican, and in a statue of
Aphrodite found at Capua. Besides this another ornamented tie
of cloth or leather was used by the Greeks, broad in the centre
and growing narrower towards both ends. Its shape had great
similarity to the sling. It was either put with its broader side
on the front of the head, the ends, with ribbons tied to them, be-
ing covered by the thick black hair, or vice versa; in which latter
case the ends were tied on the forehead in an elaborate knot.
The net, and after it the kerchief, were developed from the simple
ribbon, in the same manner as straps on the feet gradually became
boots.
The kekryphalos proper consists of a net-like combination of
ribbon and gold thread, thrown over the back hair to prevent it
from dropping. The large tetradrachmai of Syrakuse, bearing
the signature of the engraver, Kimon, show a beautiful head of
HAIR-PINS.
229
Arethusa adorned with the kekryphalos. More frequent is the
coif-like kekryphalos covering the whole hair, or only the back
hair, and tied into a knot at the top.
The modifications of the sakkos, and the wa}^ of its being
tied, are chiefly illustrated by vase-paintings. At the present day
the Greek women of Thessaly and the Isle of Chios wear a head-
dress exactly resembling the antique sakkos. The acquaintance
of the Greeks with the curling-iron and cosmetic mysteries, such
as oil and pomatum, can be proved both by written evidence and
pictures. It quite tallied with the sesthetical notions of the Greeks
to shorten the forehead by dropping the hair over it, many ex-
amples of which, in pictures of both men and women, are pre-
served to us.
We conclude our remarks about dress with the description
of some ornaments, the specimens of which in Greek graves and
in sculptural imitations are numerous. In Homer the wooers try
to gain the favor of Penelope with golden breastpins, agraffes,
ear-rings, and chains. Hephaistos is, in the same work, men-
tioned as the artificer of beautiful rings and hair-pins. The same
ornaments we meet with again at a later period as important
articles of female dress.
Many preserved specimens show the great skill of Greek
goldsmiths' breastpins. Hair-pins, in our sense, and combs for
parting and holding up the hair were unknown to the Greeks.
The double or simple comb of Greek ladies, made of box-wood,
ivory, or metal, was used only for combing the hair. The back
hair was prevented from dropping by means of long hair-pins, the
heads of which frequently consisted of a graceful piece of sculp-
ture. Well known are the hair-pins adorned with a golden cicada
which, in Solon's time, were used by both Athenian men and
women for the fastening of the kfobylos.
It was the custom of the Greeks to adorn their heads on fes-
tive occasions with wreaths and garlands. 'Tlijusu^^dorned the
^ OP the"^.^
[UITIVEESITrj
230 DOMESTIC LIFE.
bridegroom led home the bride. Flowers full of symbolic mean-
ing were offered on the altars of the gods, and the topers at
carousals were crowned with wreaths of myrtle, roses, and violets,
the latter being the favorite flower with the Athenians. The
flower-market of Athens was always supplied with garlands to
twine round the head and the upper part of the body ; for the lat-
ter also was adorned with garlands. Crowns consisting of other
flowers, and leaves of the ivy and silver-poplar, are frequently
mentioned. Wreaths also found a place in the serious business
of life. They were awarded to the victors in the games; the
archon wore a myrtle-wreath as the sign of his dignity, as did
also the orator while speaking to the people from the tribune.
The crowning with flowers was a high honor to Athenian
citizens — awarded, for instance, to Perikles, but refused to Milti-
ades. The head and bier of the dead were also crowned with
fresh wreaths of myrtle and ivy.
The luxury of later times changed the wreaths of flowers
for golden ones, with regard to the dead of the richer classes.
Wreaths made of thin gold have repeatedly been found in graves.
The barrows of the old Pantikapaion have yielded several beauti-
ful wreaths of ivy and ears of corn; a gold imitation of a crown
of myrtle has been found in a grave in Ithaka. Other specimens
from Greek and Roman graves are preserved in our museums.
A golden crown of Greek workmanship, found at Armento, a vil-
lage of the Basilicata (at present in Munich), is particularly re-
markable. A twig of oak forms the ground, from among the
thin golden leaves of which spring forth asters with chalices of
blue enamel, convolvulus, narcissus, ivy, roses, and myrtle, grace-
fully intertwined. On the upper bend of the crown is the image
of a winged goddess, from the head of which, among pieces ot
grass, rises the slender stalk of a rose. Four naked male genii
and two draped female ones, floating over the flowers, point
towards the goddess, who stands on a pedestal bearing an in-
scription.
SUNSHADES.
231
Greek, particularly Athenian, women carried a sunshade, or
employed slaves to hold it over them. In the Panathenaic pro-
cession even the daughters of metoikoi had to perform this ser-
vice. Such sunshades, which, like our own, could be shut by
means of wires, we often see depicted on vases and Etruscan
mirrors. This form was undoubtedly the most common one.
The cap-like sunshade painted on a skyphos, which a Silenus, in-
stead of a servant, holds over a dignified lady walking in front
of him, is undoubtedly intended as a parody, perhaps copied from
the scene of a comedy. In vase paintings we also see frequently
the leaf-like painted fan in the hands of women.
TOILET ARTICLES FOUND AT POMPKII.
The above articles were in good preservation when found.
a^ /, n^ are hand-mirrors; 7n^ is a wall-mirror; c, toilet-box, made
of ivory and beautifully carved; d and k^ bronze combs; /, fine
comb; h^ ear and tooth-pick; /", pin-box, with glass and steel pins;
/?, salve-box; ^, hair-pins made of ivory and gold; 6, is a pow-
der or paint-box.
Of the secrets of Greek toilette we will only disclose the fact
that ladies knew the use of paiiAt. The white they used con-
sisted of white-lead; their reds were made either of red minium
or of a root. This unwholesome fashion of painting was even
extended to the eyebrows, for which black color was used, made
either of pulverized antimony or of fine soot,
232
DOMESTIC LIFE.
The mirrors of the Greeks consisted of circular pieces of
poHshed bronze, either without a handle or with one richly
adorned. Frequently a cover, for the reflecting surface, was
added. The Etruscan custom of engraving figures on the back
of the mirror or the cover seems to have been rare among the
Greeks, to judge, at least, from the numerous specimens of mir-
rors found in Greek graves. Characteristic of these are, on the
other hand, the tasteful handles, representing mostly Aphrodite,
as in a manner the ideal of a beautifully adorned woman. These
hand-mirrors frequently occur in vase paintings, particularly in
those containing bathing utensils.
The carrying of a stick seems to have been a common cus-
tom. It is mostly of great length, with a crutched handle;
young Athenian dandies may have used shorter walking-sticks.
The first-mentioned sticks seem to have been used principally for
leaning upon in standing still, as is indicated by frequent repre-
sentations in pictures.
j^RlME? AND pUNl^HIVlENTg; j3of)TRACT^,
Peed?, J^tc.
Truth or justice was thought to be the main cardinal virtue
among the Egyptians, inasmuch as it relates more particularly to
others; prudence, temperance, and fortitude being relative quali-
ties, and tending chiefly to the immediate benefit of the individual
w^ho possesses them. It was, therefore, with great earnestness that
they inculcated the necessity of fully appreciating it; and false-
hood was not only considered disgraceful, but when it entailed an
injury on any other person was punishable by law.
A calumniator of the dead was condemned to a severe pun-
ishment; and a false accuser was doomed to the same sentence
which would have been awarded to the accused, if the ofiense
had been proved against him; but to maintain a falsehood by an
oath was deemed the blackest crime, and one which, from its
complicated nature, could be punished by nothing short of death.
For they considered that it involved two distinct crimes — a con-
tempt for the gods, and a violation of faith towards man; the for-
mer the direct promoter of every sin, the latter destructive of all
those ties which are most essential for the welfare of society.
The willful murder of a freeman, or even of a sjave^ was
punished with death, from the conviction that men ought to be
restrained from the commission of sin, not on account ot any dis-
tinction of station in life, but from the light in which they viewed
the crime itself; while at the same time it had the effect of show-
ing that if the murder of a slave was deemed an offense deserv-
233
234 DOMESTIC LIFE.
ing of so severe a punishment, they ought still more to shrink
from the murder of one who was a compatriot and a free-born
citizen.
In this law we observe a scrupulous regard to justice and
humanity, and have an unquestionable proof of the great advance-
ment made by the Egyptians in the most essential points of civ-
ilization. Indeed, the Egyptians considered it so heinous a crime
to deprive a man of life, that to be the accidental witness of an
attempt to murder, without endeavoring to prevent it, was a cap-
ital offense, which could only be palliated by bringing proofs ol
inabilit}' to act.
With the same spirit they decided that to be present when,
any one inflicted a personal injury on another, without interfering,
was tantamount to being a party, and was punishable according
to the extent of the assault ; and every one who witnessed a rob-
bery was bound either to arrest, or, if that was out of his power,.
to lay an information, and to prosecute the oftenders; and any
neglect on this score being proved against him, the delinquent
was condemned to receive a stated number of stripes, and to be
kept without food for three whole days.
Although, in the case of murder, the Egyptian law was in-
exorable and severe, the royal prerogative might be exerted ia
favor of a culprit, and the punishment was sometimes commuted
by a mandate from the king.
Sabaco, indeed, during the fifty years of his reign, " made it
a rule not to punish his subjects with death," whether guilty of
murder or any other capital offence, but, " according to the mag-
nitude of their crimes, he condemned the culprits to raise the
ground about the town to which they belonged. By these means
the situation of the different cities became greatly elevated above
the reach of the inundation, even more than in the time of Sesos-
tris;" and either on account of a greater proportion of crimihals,^
or from some other cause, the mounds of Bubastis were raised
considerably higher than those of any other city.
PUNISHMENTS. 235
The same laws that forbade a master to punish a slave with
death took from a father every right over the life of his offspring;
and the Egyptians deemed the murder of a child an odious crime,
that called for the direct interposition of justice. They did not,
however, punish it as a capital offence, since it appeared incon-
sistent to take away life from one who had given it to the child,
but preferred inflicting such a punishment as would induce grief
and repentance. With this view they ordained that the corpse
of the deceased should be fastened to the neck of its parent, and
that he should be obliged to pass three whole days and nights in
its embrace, under the surveillance of a public guard.
But parricide was visited with the most cruel of chastise-
ments; and conce-iving, as they did, that the murder of a parent
was the most unnatural of crimes, they endeavored to prevent its
occurrence by the marked severity with which it was avenged.
The criminal was, therefore, sentenced to be lacerated with
sharpened reeds, and, after being thrown on thorns, he was burned
to death.
When a woman was guilty of a capital offence, and judg-
ment had been passed upon her, they were particularly careful to
ascertain if the condemned was in a state of pregnancy; in which
case her punishment was deferred till after the birth of the child,
in order that the innocent might not suffer with the guilty, and
thus the father be deprived of that child to which he had at least
an equal right.
But some of their laws regarding the female sex were cruel
and unjustifiable; and even if, which is highly improbable, they
succeeded by their severity in enforcing chastity, and in putting
an effectual stop to crime, yet the punishment rather reminds us
of the laws of a barbarous people than of a wise and civilized
state. A woman who had committed adultery was sentenced to
lose her nose, upon the principle that, being the most conspicuous
feature, and the chief, or, at least, an indispensable, ornament of
236 DOMESTIC LIFE.
the face, its loss would be most severely felt, and be the greatest
detriment to her personal charms; and the man was condemned
to receive a bastinado of one thousand blows. But if it was
proved that force had been used against a free woman, he was
doomed to a cruel mutilation.
The object of the Egyptian laws was to preserve life, and to
reclaim an offender. -Death took away every chance of repent-
ance, it deprived the country of his services, and he was hurried
out of the world when least prepared to meet the ordeal of a fu-
ture state. They, therefore, preferred severe punishments, and,
except in the case of murder, and some crimes which appeared
highly injurious to the community, it was deemed unnecessary to
sacrifice the life of an offender.
In military as well as civil cases, minor offences were gener-
ally punished with the stick; a mode of chastisement still greatly
in vogue among the modern inhabitants of the valley of the Nile,
and held in such esteem by them, that convinced of (or perhaps
by) its efliicacy, they relate " its descent from heaven as a bless-
ing to mankind."
If an Egyptian of the present day has a government debt or
tax to pay, he stoutly persists in his inability to obtain the money,
till he has withstood a certain number of blows, and considers
himself compelled to produce it; and the ancient inhabitants, if
not under the rule of their native princes, at least in the time of
the Roman emperors, gloried equally in the obstinacy they
evinced, and the difficulty the governors of the country experi-
enced in extorting from them what they were bound to pay;
whence Ammianus Marcellinus tells us, " an Egyptian blushes if
he can not show numerous marks on his body that evince his en-
deavors to evade the duties."
The bastinado was inflicted on both sexes, as with the Jews.
Men and boys were laid prostrate on the ground, and frequently
held by the hands and feet while the chastisement was adminis-
PUNISHMENTS. 237
tcred ; but women, as they sat, received the stripes on their back,
which was also inflicted by the hand of a man. Nor was it un-
usual for the superintendents to stimulate laborers to their work
by the persuasive powers of the stick, whether engaged in the
field or in handicraft employments; and boys were sometimes
beaten without the ceremony of prostration, the hands being tied
behind their back while the punishment was applied.
The character of some of the Egyptian laws was quite con-
sonant with the notions of a primitive age. The punishment was
directed more particularly against the offending member; and
adulterators of money, falsifiers of weights and measures, forgers
of seals or signatures, and scribes who altered any signed docu-
ment by erasures or additions, without the authority of the parties,
were condemned to lose both their hands.
But their laws do not seem to have sanctioned the gibbet, or
the exposure of the body of an offender; for the conduct of
Rhampsinitus, in the case of the robbery of his treasure, is men-
tioned by Herodotus as a singular mode of discovering an ac-
complice, and not as an ordinary punishment; if, indeed, the
whole story be not the invention of a Greek cicerone.
Thefts, breach of trust, and petty frauds were punished with
the bastinado; but robbery and house-breaking were sometimes
considered capital crimes, and deserving of death; as is evident
from the conduct of the thief when caught by the trap in the
treasury of Rhampsinitus, and from what Diodorus states respect-
ing Actisanes.
This monarch, instead of putting robbers to death, instituted
a novel mode of punishing them, by cutting off their noses and
banishing them to the confines of the desert, where a town was
built, called Rhinocolura, from the peculiar nature of their pun-
ishment; and thus, by removing the bad, and preventing their
corrupting the good, he benefited society, without depriving the
criminals of life ; at the same time that he punished them severely
238 DOMESTIC LIFE.
for their crimes, by obliging them to live by their labors, and de-
rive a precarious sustenance from quails, or whatever they could
catch, in that barren region. Commutation of punishment was
the foundation of this part of the convict system of Egypt, and
Rhinocolura was their Norfolk Island, where a sea of sand sepa-
rated the worst felons from those guilty of smaller crimes; who
were transported to the mines in the desert, and condemned to
work for various terms, according to their offence.
The Eg3'ptians had a singular custom respecting theft and
burglary. Those who followed the -profession of thief gave in
their names to the chief of the robbers; and agreed that he
should be informed of every thing they might thenceforward
steal, the moment it was in their possession. In consequence of
this the owner of the lost goods always applied by letter to the
chief for their recovery; and having stated their quality and quan-
tity, the day and hour when they were stolen, and other requisite
particulars, the goods were identified, and, on payment of one
quarter of their value, they were restored to the applicant in the
same state as when taken from his house.
For being fully persuaded of the impracticability of putting
an entire check to robbery, either by the dread of punishment,
or by any method that could be adopted by the most vigilant
police, they considered it more for the advantage of the com-
munity that a certain sacrifice should be made in order to secure
the restitution of the remainder, than that the law, by taking on
itself to protect the citizen, and discover the offender, should be
the indirect cause of greater loss.
And that the Egyptians, like the Indians, and we may say the
modern inhabitants of the Nile, were very expert in the art of
stealing, we have abundant testimony from ancient authors.
It may be asked, what redress could be obtained, if goods
were stolen by thieves who failed to enter their names on the
books of the chief; but it is evident that there could be few of
LAWS RESPECTING DEBT. 239
those private peculators, since by tlieir interfering with the in-
terests of all the -profession^ the detection of such egotistical per-
sons would have been certain ; and thus all others were effectually
prevented from robbing, save those of the privileged class.
The salary of the chief was not merely derived from his own
demands upon the goods stolen, or from any voluntary contribu-
tion of the robbers themselves, but was probably a fixed remuner-
ation granted by the government, as one of the chiefs of the
police; nor is it to be supposed that he was any other than a
respectable citizen, and a man of integrity and honor. The same
may be said of the modern '•'• shekh of the thieves," at Cairo, where
this very ancient office is still retained.
The great confidence reposed in the public weighers ren-
dered it necessary to enact suitable laws in order to bind them
to their duty; and considering how much public property was at
their mercy, and how easily bribes might be taken from a dis-
honest tradesman, the Egyptians inflicted a severe punishment
as well on the weighers as on the shopkeepers, who were found
to have false weights and measures, or to have defrauded the
customer in any other way; and these, as well as the scribes
who kept false accounts, were punished (as before stated) with
the loss of both their hands; on the principle, says Diodorus,
that the offending member should suffer; while the culprit was
severely punished, that others might be deterred from the com-
mission of a similar offence.
As in other countries, their laws respecting debt and usury
underwent some changes, according as society advanced, and as
pecuniary transactions became more complicated.
Bocchoris (who reigned in Egypt about the year 800 B. C,
and who, from his learning, obtained the surname of Wise),
finding that in cases of debt many causes of dispute had arisen,
and instances of great oppression were of frequent occurrence,
enacted, that no agreement should be binding unless it were
240 DOMESTIC LIFE.
acknowledged by a written contract; and if any one took oath
that the money had not been lent him, that no debt should be
recognized, and the claims of the suing party should imm.ediately
cease. This was done, that great regard might always be had
for the name and nature of an oath, at the same time that, by
substituting the unquestionable proof of a written document, the
necessity of having frequent recourse to an oath was avoided^
and its sanctity was not diminished by constant repetition.
Usury was in all cases condemned by the Egyptian legisla-
ture ; and when money was borrowed, even with a written agree-
ment, it was forbidden to allow the interest to increase to more
than double the original sum. Nor could the creditors seize the
debtor's person: their claims and right were confined to the
goods in his possession, and such as were really his own; which
were comprehended under the produce of his labor, or what he
had received from another individual to whom they lawfully
belonged. For the person of every citizen was looked upon as
the property of the state, and might be required for some public
service, connected either with war or peace; and, independent of
the injustice of subjecting any one to the momentary caprice of
his creditor, the safety of the country might be endangered
through the avarice of a few interested individuals.
This law, which was borrowed by Solon from the Egyptian
code, existed also at Athens; and was, as Diodorus observes,
much more consistent with justice and common sense than that
which allowed the creditor to seize the person, while it forbade
him to take the plows and other implements of industry. For
if, continues the historian, it is unjust thus to deprive men of the
means of obtaining subsistence, and of providing for their families,
how much more unreasonable must it be to imprison those by
whom the implements were used !
To prevent the accumulation of debt, and to protect the
interests of the creditor, another remarkable law was enacted by
LAWS RESPECTING DEBT. 24I
Asychis, which, while it shows how greatly they endeavored to
check the increasing evil, proves the high respect paid by the
Egyptians to the memory of their parents, and to the sanctity of
their religious ceremonies. By this it was pronounced illegal for
any one to borrow money without giving in pledge the body of
his father, or the tomb of his ancestors; and, if he failed to re-
deem so sacred a deposit, he was considered infamous; and, at
his death, the celebration of the accustomed funeral obsequies
was denied him, and he could not enjoy the right of burial either
in that tomb or in any other place of sepulture; nor could he
inter his children, or any of his family, as long as the debt was
unpaid, the creditor being put in actual possession of the family
tomb.
In the large cities of Egypt, a fondness for display, and the
usual allurements of luxury, were rapidly introduced; and con-
siderable sums were expended in furnishing houses, and in many
artificial caprices. Rich jewels and costly works of art were in
great request, as well among the inhabitants of the provincial
capitals, as at Thebes and Memphis; they delighted in splendid
equipages, elegant and commodious boats, numerous attendants,
horses, dogs, and other requisites for the chase; and, besides,
their houses, their villas and their gardens, were laid out with
no ordinary expense. But while the funds arising from extensive
farms, and the abundant produce of a fertile soil, enabled the
rich to indulge extravagant habits, many of the less wealthy
envied the enjoyment of those luxuries which fortune had denied
to them; and, prompted by vanity, and a silly desire of imita-
tion, so common in civilized communities, they pursued a career
which speedily led to the accumulation of debt, and demanded
the interference of the legislature; and it is probable that a law,
so severe as this must have appeared to the Egyptians, was only
adopted as a measure of absolute necessity, in order to put a
check to the increasing evil.
16
24iJ DOMESTIC LIFE.
The necessary expenses of the Egyptians were remarkably
small, less, indeed, than of any people ; and the food of the
poorer classes was of the cheapest and most simple kind. Owing
to the warmth of the climate, they required few clothes, and
young children were in the habit of going without shoes, and
with little or no covering to their bodies. It was, therefore,
luxury, and the increasing wants of an artificial kind, which
corrupted the manners of the Egyptians, and rendered such a
law necessary for their restraint; and we may conclude that it
was mainly directed against those who contracted debts for the
gratification of pleasure, or with the premeditated intent of
defrauding an unsuspecting creditor
In the mode of executing deeds, conveyances, and other
civil contracts, the Egyptians were peculiarly circumstantial and
minute; and the great number of witnesses is a singular feature
in those documents. In the time of the Ptolemies, sales of
property commenced with a preamble, containing the date of the
king in whose reign they were executed; the name of the pres-
ident of the court, and of the clerk by whom they were written,
being also specified. The body of the contract then followed.
It stated the name of the individual who sold the land, the
description of his person, an account of his parentage, profession,
and place of abode, the extent and nature of the land, its situa-
tion and boundaries, and concluded with the name of the pur-
chaser, whose parentage and description were also added, and
the sum for which it was bought. The seller then vouched for
his undisturbed possession of it; and, becoming security against
any attempt to dispute his title, the name of the other party was
inserted as having accepted it, and acknowledged the purchase.
The names of witnesses were then affixed; and, the president of
the court having added his signature, the deed was valid. Some-
times the seller formally recognized the sale in the following
manner :
CONTRACTS. 243
"All these things have I sold thee: they are thine, I have
received their price from thee, and will make no demand upon
thee for them from this day; and if any person disturb thee in
the possession of them, I will withstand the attempt ; and, if I do
not otherwise repel it, I will use compulsory means, or, I
will indemnify thee."
But, in order to give a more accurate notion of the form of
these contracts, we shall introduce a copy of the whole of one of
them, as given by Dr. Young, and refer the reader to others oc-
curring in the same work. " Translation of the enchorial papy-
rus of Paris, containing the original deed relating to the mum-
mies:— ' This writing dated in the year ^6, Athyr 20, in the reign
of our sovereigns Ptolemy and Cleopatra his sister, the children
of Ptolemy and Cleopatra the divine, the gods Illustrious: and
the priest of Alexander, and of the Saviour gods, of the Brother
gods, of the Beneficent gods, of the Father-loving gods, of the
Illustrious gods, of the Paternal god, and of the Mother-loving
gods, being (as by law appointed) : and the prize-bearer of Bere-
nice the Beneficent, and the basket-bearer of Arsinoe the Brother-
loving, and the priestess of Arsinoe the Father-loving, being as
appointed in the metropolis (of Alexandria) ; and in (Ptolemais)
the royal city of the Thebaid? the guardian priest for the year?
of Ptolemy Soter, and the priest of king Ptolemy the Father-
loving, and the priest of Ptolemy the Brother-loving, and the
priest of Ptolemy the Beneficent, and the priest of Ptolemy
the Mother-loving; and the priestess of queen Cleopatra, and
the priestess of the princess Cleopatra, and the priestess of
Cleopatra, the (queen) mother, deceased, the Illustrious; and
the basket -bearer of Arsinoe the Brother-loving (being as ap-
pointed): declares: The Dresser? in the temple of the Goddess,
Onnophris, the son of Horus, and of Senpoeris, daughter of
Spotus? ("aged about forty, lively,'') tall ("of a sallow com-
plexion, hollow-eyed, and bald"); in the temple of the god-
244 DOMESTIC LIFE.
dess to (Horus) his brother? the son of Horus and of Sen-
poeris, has sold, for a price in money, half of one-third of
the collections for the dead " priests of Osiris?" lying in
Thynabunum ... in the Libyan suburbs of Thebes, in the
Memnonia . . . likewise half of one-third of the liturgies: their
names being, Muthes, the son of Spotus, with his children and
his household; Chapocrates, the son of Nechthmonthes, with his
children and his household; Arsiesis, the son of Nechthmonthes,
with his children and his household; Petemestus, the son of
Nechthmonthes; Arsiesis, the son of Zminis, with his children
and his household ; Osor oeris, the son of Horus, with his children
and his household ; Spotus, the son of Chapochonsis, surnamed ?
Zoglyphus (the sculptor), with his children and his household ;
while there belonged also to Asos, the son of Horus and of Sen-
poeris, daughter of Spotus? in the same manner one-half of a
third of the collections for the dead, and of the fruits and so forth
. he sold it on the 20th of Athyr, in the reign of the King
ever-living, to (complete) the third part : likewise the half of one-
third of the collections relating to Peteutemis, with his household,
and . . . likewise the half of one-third? of the collections
and fruits for Petechonsis, the bearer of milk, and of the . . .
place on the Asian side, called Phrecages, and . . . the
dead bodies in it: there having belonged to Asos, the son of
Horus, one-half of the same: he has sold to him in the month
of . . . the half of one-third of the collections for the priests
of Osiris? lying in Thynabunum, with their children and their
households: likewise the half of one-third of the collections for
Peteutemis, and also for Petechonsis, the bearer of milk, in the
place Phrecages on the Asian side : I have received for them their
price in silver . . . and gold; and I make no further de-
mand on thee for them from the present day . . . before the
authorities . . . (and if any one shall disturb thee in the
possession of them, I will resist him, and, if I do not succeed, I
CONTRACTS. 245
will indemnify thee?) . . . Executed and confirmed. Writ-
ten by Horus, the son of Phabis, clerk to the chief priests of
Amonrasonther, and of the contemplar? Gods, of the Beneficent
gods, of the Father-loving gods, of the Paternal god, and of the
Mother-loving gods. Amen.
" ' Names of the witnesses present:
Erieus, the son of Phanres Erieus.
Peteartres, the son of Peteutemis.
Petearpocrates, the son of Horus.
Snachomneus, the son of Peteuris.
Snachomes, the son of Psenchonsis.
ToTOES, the son of PI) ibis.
PoRTis, the son of Appollonius,
Zminis, the son of Petemestus.
Peteutemis, the son of Arsiesis.
Amonorytius, the sou of Pacemis.
Horus, the son of Chimnaraus.
Abmenis (rather Arbais), tlie son of Zthenaetis.
Maesis, tlio son of Mirsis.
Antimachus, the son of Antigenes.
Petophois, the son of Pliibis.
Panas, the son of Petosiris.' "
In this, as in many other documents, the testimony required
is very remarkable, sixteen v^^itnesses being thought necessary
for the sale of a moiety of the sums collected on account of a few
tombs, and lor services performed to the dead, the total value of
which was only 400 pieces of brass ; and the name of each person
is introduced, in the true Oriental style, with that of his father.
Nor is it unreasonable to suppose that the same precautions and
minute formulas were observed in similar transactions during the
reigns of the Pharaonic kings, however great may have been the
change introduced by the Ptolemies and Romans into the laws
and local government of Egypt.
The Egyptians paid great attention to health, and "so
wisely," says Herodotus, "was medicine managed by them, thai
no doctor was permitted to practice any but his own peculiar
branch. Some were oculists, who only studied diseases of the
246 DOMESTIC LIFE.
eye; others attended solely to complaints of the head; others to
those of the teeth; some again confined themselves to complaints
of the intestines; and others to secret and internal maladies; ac-
coucheurs being usually, if not always, women." And it is a
singular fact, that their dentists adopted a method, not very long
practiced in Europe, of stopping teeth with gold, proofs of which
have been obtained from some mummies of Thebes.
They received certain salaries from the public treasury; and
after they had studied those precepts which had been laid down
from the experience of their predecessors, they were permitted to
practice; and, in order to prevent dangerous experiments being
made upon patients, they might be punished if their treatment
was contrary to the established system; and the death of a per-
son entrusted to their care, under such circumstances, was ad-
judged to them as a capital offence.
If, however, every remedy had been administered according
to the sanitary law, they were absolved from blame; and if the
patient was not better, the physician was allowed to alter the
treatment after the third day, or even before, if he took upon
himself the responsibility.
Though paid by Government as a body, it was not illegal to
receive fees for their advice and attendance; and demands could
be made in every instance except on a foreign journey, and on
military service ; when patients were visited free of expense.
The principal mode adopted by the Egyptians for preventing
illness v/as attention to regimen and diet; " being persuaded that
the majority of diseases proceed from indigestion and excess of
eating;" and they had frequent recourse to abstinence, emetics,
slight doses of medicine, and other simple means of relieving the
system, which some persons were in the habit of repeating every
two or three days.
" Those who lived in the com country," as Herodotus terms
it, were particular for their attention to health. " During three
WREATH OF OAK. [Life Saving )
~>47>
248 DOMESTIC LIFE.
successive days, every month, they submitted to a regular course
of treatment; from the conviction that illness was wont to pro-
ceed from some irregularity in diet;" and if preventives were
ineffectual they had recourse to suitable remedies, adopting a
mode of treatment very similar to that mentioned by Diodorus.
The employment of numerous drugs in Egypt has been men-
tioned by sacred and profane writers; and the medicinal proper-
ties of many herbs which grow in the deserts, particularly
between the Nile and Red Sea, are still known to the Arabs;
though their application has been but imperfectly recorded and
preserved.
"O virgin, daughter of Egypt," says Jeremiah, "in vain
shalt thou use many medicines, for thou shalt not be cured;" and
Homer, in the Odyssey, describes the man}^ valuable medicines
given by Polydamna, the wife of Thonis, to Helen while in
Egypt, " a country whose fertile soil produces an infinity of drugs,
some salutary and some pernicious; where each physician pos-
sesses knowledge above all other men."
Pliny makes frequent mention of the productions of that
country, and their use in medicine; he also notices the physicians
of Egypt ; and as if their number were indicative of the many
maladies to which the inhabitants were subject, he observes, that
it was a countr}^ productive of numerous diseases. In this, how-
ever, he does not agree with Herodotus, who affirms that, " after
the Libyans, there are no people so healthy as the Egyptians,
which may be attributed to the invariable nature of the seasons
in their country."
Pliny even says that the Egyptians examined the bodies after
death, to ascertain the nature of the diseases of which they had
died; and we can readily believe that a people so far advanced
in civilization and the principles of medicine as to assign to each
physician his peculiar branch, would have resorted to this effec-
tual method of acquiring knowledge and experience.
SUPERSTITION. 249
It is evident that the medical science of the Egyptians was
sought and appreciated even in foreign countries; and we learn
from Herodotus, that Cyrus and Darius both sent to Egypt for
inedical men. In later times, too, they continued to be cele-
brated for their skill; Ammianus says it was enough for a doc-
tor to say he had studied in Egypt to recommend him ; and Pliny
mentions medical men going from Egypt to Rome. But though
their physicians are often noticed by ancient writers, the only in-
dication of medical attendance appears to be in the paintings of
Beni Hassan ; and even there it is uncertain whether a doctor, or
a barber, be represented.
Their doctors probably felt the pulse; as Plutarch shows
they did at Rome, from this saying of Tiberius, " a man after he
has passed his thirtieth year, who -puts forth his hand to a physi-
cian, is ridiculous;" whence our proverb of " a fool or a physician
after forty."
Diodorus tells us, that dreams were regarded in Egypt with
religious reverence, and the prayers of the devout were often re-
warded by the gods, with an indication of the remedy their
sufferings required; and magic, charms, and various supernatural
agencies, were often resorted to by the credulous; who "sought
to the idols, and to the charmers, and to them that had familiar
spirits, and to the wizards."
Origen also says, that when an}^ part of the body was afflicted
with disease, they invoked the demon to whom it was supposed
to belong, in order to obtain a cure.
In cases of great moment oracles were consulted; and a
Greek papyrus found in Egypt mentions divination " through a
boy with a lamp, a bowl, and a pit;" which resembles the pre-
tended power of the modern magicians of Egypt. The same also
notices the mode of discovering theft, and obtaining any wish ;
and though it is supposed to be of the 2d century, the practices it
alludes to are doubtless from an old Egyptian source; and other
250 DOMESTIC LIFE.
similar papyri contain recipes for obtaining good fortune and vari-
ous benefits, or for causing misfortunes to an enemy.
Some suppose the Egyptians had even recourse to. animal
magnetism, and that dreams indicating cures were the result of
this influence; and (though the subjects erroneously supposed to
represent it apply to a very diflerent act) it is not impossible that
they may have discovered the mode of exercising this art, and
that it may have been connected with the strange scenes recorded
at the initiation into the mysteries. If really known, such a
power would scarcely have been neglected; and it would have
been easy to obtain thereby an ascendency over the minds of a
superstitious people.
Indeed, the readiness of man at all times to astonish on the
one hand, and to court the marvelous on the other, is abundantly
proved by present and past experience. That the nervous system
may be worked upon by it to such a degree that a state either
of extreme irritability, or of sleep and coma, may be induced, in.
the latter case paralyzing the senses so as to become deadened to
pain, is certain ; and a highly sensitive temperament may exhibit
phenomena beyond the reach of explanation ; but it requires very
little experience to know that v/e are wonderfully affected by far
more ordinary causes; for the nerves may be acted upon to such
an extent by having as we commonly term it " our teeth set
on edge," that the mere filing a saw would suffice to drive
any one mad, if unable to escape from its unceasing discord.
What is this but an effect upon the nerves ? and what more
could be desired to prove the power of any agency.'' And the
world would owe a debt of gratitude to the professors of ani-
mal magnetism, if, instead of making it, as some do, a mere ex-
hibition to display a power, and astonish the beholders, they would
continue the efforts already begun, for discovering all the bene-
ficial uses to which it is capable of being applied.
We might then rejoice that, as astrology led to the more
CURE OF DISEASES. 25!
useful knowledge of astronomy, this influence enabled us to com-
prehend our nervous system, on which so many conditions of
health depend, and with which we are so imperfectly acquainted.
The cure of diseases was also attributed by the Egyptians
to Exvotos offered in the temples. They consisted of various
kinds. Some persons promised a certain sum for the maintenance
of the sacred animals; or whatever might propitiate the deity;
and after the cure had been effected, they frequently suspended a
model of the restored part in the temple; and ears, eyes, dis-
torted arms, and other members, were dedicated as memorials of
their gratitude and superstition.
Sometimes travelers, who happened to pass by a temple, in-
scribed a votive sentence on the walls, to indicate their respect
for the deity, and solicit his protection during their journey; the
complete formula of which contained the adoration of the writer,
with the assurance that he had been mindful of his wife, his fam-
ily, and friends ; and the reader of the inscription was sometimes
included in a share of the blessings it solicited. The date of the
king's reign and the day of the month were also added, with the
profession and parentage of the writer. The complete formula
of one adoration was as follows:
" The adoration of Caius Capitolinus, son of Flavius Julius,
of the fifth troop of Theban horse, to the goddess Isis, with ten
thousand names. And I have been mindful of (or have made an
adoration for) all those who love me, and my consort, and chil-
dren, and all my household, and for him who reads this. In the
year 12 of the emperor Tiberius Caesar, the 15 of Pauni."
The Egyptians, according to Pliny, claimed the honor of
having invented the art of curing diseases. Indeed, the study of
medicine and surgery appears to have commenced at a very early
period in Egypt, since Athothes, the second king of the country,
is stated to have written upon the subject of anatomy; and the
schools of Alexandria continued till a late period to enjoy the
252
DOMESTIC LIFE.
reputation, and display the skill, they had inherited from their
predecessors. Hermes was said to have written six books on
medicine, the first of which related to anatomy ; and the various
recipes, known to have been beneficial, were recorded, with their
peculiar cases, in the memoirs of physic inscribed among the
laws deposited in the principal temples.
<^ARDEN^, J^TC.
The monumental records and various works of art, and, above
all, the writings, of the Greeks and Romans, have made us ac-
quainted with their customs and their very thoughts ; and though
the literature of the Egyptians is almost unknown, their monu-
ments, especially the paintings in the tombs, have afforded us an
insight into their mode of life scarcely to be obtained from those
of any other people. The influence that Egypt had in early times
on Greece gives to every inquiry respecting it an additional
interest; and the frequent mention of the Egyptians in the Bible
connects them with the Hebrew Records, of which many satis-
factory illustrations occur in the sculptures of Pharaonic times.
Their great antiquity also enables us to understand the condition
of the world long before the era of written history; all existing'
monuments left by other people are comparatively modern; and
the paintings in Egypt are the earliest descriptive illustrations of
the manners and customs of any nation.
It is from these that we are enabled to form an opinion of
the character of the Egyptians. They have been pronounced a
serious, gloomy people, saddened by the habit of abtruse specu-
lation; but how far this conclusion agrees with fact will be
seen in the sequel. They were, no doubt, less lively than the
Greeks; but if a comparatively late writer, Ammianus Marcel-
253
254 DOMESTIC LIFE.
linus, may have remarked a " rather sad " expression, after they
had been for ages under successive foreign yokes, this can scarcely
be admitted as a testimony of their character in the early times
of their prosperity; and though a sadness of expression might be
observed in the present oppressed population, they can not be
considered a grave or melanchol}^ people. Much, indeed, may
be learned from the character of the modern Egyptians ; and not-
withstanding the infusion of foreign blood, particularly of the
Arab invaders, every one must perceive the strong resemblance
they bear to their ancient predecessors. It is a common error to
suppose that the conquest of a country gives an entirely new-
character to the inhabitants. The immigration of a whole nation
taking possession of a thinly-peopled country, will have this
effect, when the original inhabitants are nearly all driven out by
the new-comers; but immigration has not always, and conquest
never has, for its object the destruction or expulsion of the native
population; they are found useful to the victors, and as necessary
for them as the cattle or the productions of the soil. Invaders
are always numerically inferior to the conquered nation — even to
the male population; and, when the women are added to the
number, the majority is greatly in favor of the original race,
and they must exercise immense influence on the character of
the rising generation. The customs, too, of the old inhabitants
are very readily adopted by the new-comers, especially when
they are found to suit the climate and the peculiarities of the
country they have been formed in ; and the habits of a small mass
of settlers living in contact with them fade away more and more
with each successive generation. So it has been in Egypt; and,
as usual, the conquv ^ed people bear the stamp of the ancient in-
habitants rather than that of the Arab conquerors.
Of the various instil, 'tions of the ancient Egyptians, none are
more interesting than those '"^hich relate to their social life; and
when we consider the conditio/ of other countries in the early
CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 255
ages when they flourished, from the loth to the 20th century
before our era, we may look with respect on the advancement
they had then made in civilization, and acknowledge the benefits
they conferred upon mankind during their career. For like other
people, they have had their part in the great scheme of the world's
development, and their share of usefulness in the destined pro-
gress of the human race; for countries, like individuals, have cer-
tain qualities given them, which, ditfering from those of their pre-
decessors and contemporaries are intended in due season to per
form their requisite duties. The interest felt in the Egyptians is
from their having led the way, or having been the first people we
know of who made any great progress, in the arts and manners
of civilization; which, for the period when they lived, was very
creditable, and far beyond that of other kingdoms of the world.
Nor can we fail to 1 "mark the difference between them and their
Asiatic rivals, the Assyi.ans, who, even at a much later period,
had the great defects of Asiatic cruelty — flaying alive, impaling,
and torturing their prisoners, as the Persians, Turks, and other
Orientals have done to the present century, the reproach of
which can not be extended to the ancient Egyptians. Being the
dominant race of that age, they necessarily had an influence on
others with whom they came in contact ; and it is by these means
that civilization is advanced through its various stages ; each peo-
ple striving to improve on the lessons derived from a neighbor
whose institutions they appreciate, or consider beneficial to them-
selves. It was thus that the active mind of the talented Greeks
sought and improved on the lessons derived from other countries,
especially from Egypt; and though the latter, at the late period
of the 7th century B. C, had lost its greatness and the prestige
of superiorit}^ among the nations of the world, it was still the
seat of learning and the resort of studious philosophers; and the
abuses consequent on the fall of an empire had not yet brought
about the demoralization of after times.
256 DOMESTIC LIFE.
The early part of Egyptian monumental history is coeval with
the arrivals of Abraham and of Joseph, and the Exodus of the
Israelites ; and we know from the Bible what was the state of the
world at that time. But then, and apparently long before, the
habits of social life in Egypt were already what we find them to
have been during the most glorious period of their career; and
as the people had already laid aside their arms, and military men
only carried them when on service, some notion may be had of
the very remote date of Egyptian civilization. In the treatment
of women they seem to have been very far advanced beyond
other wealthy communities of the same era, having usages very
similar to those of the modern world; and such was the respect
shown to women that precedence was given to them over men,
and the wives and daughters of kings succeeded to the throne
like the male branches of the royal family Nor was this privi-
lege rescinded, even though it had more than once entailed upon
them the trouble of a contested succession; foreign kings often
having claimed a right to the throne through marriage with an
Eg3^ptian princess. It was not a mere influence that they pos-
sessed, which women often acquire in the most arbitrary Eastern
communities; nor a political importance accorded to a particular
individual, like that of the Sultana Valideh, the Queen Mother,
at Constantinople; it was a right acknowledged by law, both in
private and public life. They knew that unless women were
treated with respect, and made to exercise an influence over
society, the standard of public opinion would soon be lowered,
and the manners and morals of men would suffer ; and in acknowl-
edging this, they pointed out to women the very responsible
duties they had to perform to the riommunity.
From their private life great insight is obtained into their
character and customs; and their household arrangements, the
style of their dwellings, their amusements and their occupations,
explain their habits; as their institutions, mode of government,
CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 257
arts and military knowledge illustrate their history, and their
relative positions among the nations of antiquity. Jn their form
and arrangement, the houses were made to suit the climate,
modified according to their advancement in civilization; and we
are often enabled to trace in their abodes some of the primitive
habits of a people, long after they have been settled in towns,
and have adopted the manners of wealthy communities; as the
tent may still be traced in the houses of the Turks, and the small
original wooden chamber in the mansions and temples of ancient
Greece.
As in all warm climates, the poorer classes of Egyptians lived
much in the open air; and the houses of the rich were constructed
to be cool throughout the summer; currents of refreshing air
being made to circulate freely through them by the judicious
arrangement of the passages and courts. CorHdors, supported
on columns, gave access to the different apartments through a
succession of shady avenues and areas, with one side open to the
air, as in cloisters; and even small detached houses had an open
court in the centre, planted as a garden with palms and other
trees. Mulkufs^ or wooden wind-sails, were also fixed over the
terraces of the upper story, facing the prevalent and cool N. W.
wind, which was conducted down their sloping boards into the
interior of the house. They were exactly similar to those in the
modern houses of Cairo; and some few were double, facing in
opposite directions.
The houses were built of crude brick, stuccoed and painted,
with all the combinations of bright color in which the Egyptians
delighted; and a highly decorated mansion had numerous courts,
and architectural details derived from the temples. Over the
door was sometimes a sentence, as "the good house;" or the name
of a king, under whom the owner probably held some office ; many
other symbols of good omen were also put up, as at the entrances
of modern Egyptian houses; and a visit to some temple gave as
17
258 DOMESTIC LIFE.
good a claim to a record as the pilgrimage to Mecca, at the
present day. Poor people were satisfied with very simple tene-
ments; their wants being easily supplied, both as to lodging and
food; and their house consisted of four walls, with a flat roof of
palm-branches laid across a split date-tree as a beam, and cov-
ered with mats plastered over with a thick coating of mud. It
liad one door and a few small windows closed by wooden shut-
ters. As it scarcely ever rained, the mud roof was not washed
into the sitting room; and this cottage rather answered as a shel-
ter from the sun, and as a closet for their goods, than for the or-
dinary purpose of a house in other countries. Indeed at night
the owners slept on the roof, during the greater part of the year;
and as most of their work was done out of doors, they might
easily be persuaded that a house was far less necessary for them
than a tomb. To convince the rich of this ultra-philosophical
sentiment was not so easy; at least the practice differed from the
theory; and though it was promulgated among all the Egyptians,
it did not prevent the priests and other grandees from living in
very luxurious abodes, or enjoying the good things of this world ;
and a display of wealth was found to be useful in maintaining
their power, and in securing the obedience of a credulous people.
The worldly possessions of the priests were therefore very exten-
sive, and if they imposed on themselves occasional habits of abste-
miousness, avoided certain kinds of unwholesome food, and per-
formed many mysterious observances, they were amply repaid by
the improvement of their health, and by the influence they
thereby acquired. Superior intelligence enabled them to put
their own construction on regulations emanating from their sacred
body, with the convenient persuasion that what suited them did
not suit others ; and the profane vulgar were expected to do, not
as the priests did, but as they taught them to do.
In their plans the houses of towns, like the villas in the
country, varied according to the caprice of the builders. The
CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 259
ground-plan, in some of the former, consisted of a number of
chambers on three sides of a court, which was often planted with
trees. Others consisted of two rows of rooms on either side of
a long passage, with an entrance-court from the street ; and others
were laid out in chambers round a central area, similar to the
Roman Impluvium^ and paved with stone, or containing a few
trees, a tank or a fountain in its centre. Sometimes, though
rarely, a flight of steps led to the front door from the street.
Houses of small size were often connected together and formed
the continuous sides of streets; and a court-yard was common to
several dwellings. Others of a humbler kind consisted merely
of rooms opening on a narrow passage, or directly on the street.
These had only a basement story, or ground-floor; and few houses
exceeded two stories above it. They mostly consisted of one
upper floor; and though Diodorus speaks of the lofty houses in
Thebes four and five stories high, the paintings show that few had
three, and the largest seldom four, including, as he does, the base-
ment-story. Even the greater portion of the house was confined
to a first floor, with an additional story in one part, on which was
a terrace covered by an awning, or a light roof supported on col-
umns. This served for the ladies of the family to sit at work in
during the day, and here the master of the house often slept at
night during the summer, or took his siesta in the afternoon.
Some had a tower which rose even above the terrace.
The first-floor was what the Italians call the '-'• piano nobile ;''''
the ground rooms being chiefly used for stores, or as offices, of
which one was set apart for the porter, and another for visitors
coming on business. Sometimes besides the parlor were receiv-
ing apartments on the basement-story, but guests were generally
entertained on the first-floor; and on this were the sleeping- rooms
also, except where the house was of two or three stories. The
houses of wealthy citizens often covered a considerable space, and
either stood directly upon the street, or a short way back, within
26o DOMESTIC LIFE.
an open court; and some large mansions were detached, and had
several entrances on two or three sides. Before the door was a
porch supported on two columns, decked with banners or ribbons,
and larger porticoes had a double row of columns, with statues
between them.
In the distribution of the apartments numerous and different
modes were adopted, according to circumstances; in general,
however, the large mansions seem to have consisted of a court
and several corridors, with rooms leading from them, not unlike
many of those now built in Oriental and tropical countries. The
houses in most of the Egyptian towns are quite destroyed, leav-
ing few traces of their plans, or even of their sites; but sufficient
remains of some at Thebes, at Tel el Amarna, and other places,
to enable us, with the help of the sculptures, to ascertain their
form and appearance.
Granaries were also laid out in a very regular manner, and
' varied of course in plan as much as the houses, to which there is
reason to believe they were frequently attached, even in the
towns; and they were sometimes only separated from the house
by an avenue of trees.
Some small houses consisted merely of a court, and three or
four store-rooms on the ground-floor, with a single chamber
above, to which a flight of steps led from the court; but they
were probably only met with in the country, and resembled some
still found in the fellah villages of modern Egypt. Very similar
to these was the model of a house now in the British Museum,
which solely consisted of a court -yard and three small store-rooms
on the ground-floor, with a staircase leading to a room belonging
to the storekeeper, which was furnished with a narrow window
or aperture opposite the door, rather intended for the purposes of
ventilation than to admit the light. In the court a woman was
represented making bread, as is sometimes done at the present
day in Egypt, in the open air; and the store-rooms were full of
grain.
CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 261
Other small houses in towns consisted of two or three stories
above the ground-floor. They had no court, and stood close to-
gether, covering a small space, and high in proportion to their
base, like many of those at Karnak. The lower part had merely
the door of entrance and some store-rooms, over which were a
first and second floor, each with three windows on the front and
side, and above these an attic without windows, and a staircase
leading to a terrace on the flat roof. The floors were laid on
rafters, the end of which projected slightly from the walls like
dentils; and the courses of brick were in waving or concave lines,
as in the walls of an enclosure at Da3^r el Medeeneh in Thebes.
The windows of the first-floor had a sort of mullion dividing
them into two lights each, with a transom above; and the upper
windows were filled with trellis-work, or cross bars of wood, as
in many Turkish harems. A model of a house of this kind is
also in the British Museum. But the generality of Egyptian
houses were far less regular in their plan and elevation; and the
usual disregard for symmetry is generally observable in the houses
even of towns.
The doors, both of the entrances and of the inner apartments,
were frequently stained to imitate foreign and rare woods. Th.ey
were either of one or two valves, turning on pins of metal, and
were secured within by a bar or bolts. Some of these bronze
pins have been discovered in the tombs of Thebes. They were
fastened to the wood with nails of the same metal, whose round
heads served also as an ornament, and the upper one had a pro-
jection at the back, in order to prevent the door striking against
the wall. We also find in the stone lintels and floor, behind the
thresholds of the tombs and temples, the holes in which they
turned, as well as those of the bolts and bars, and the recess for
receiving the opened valves. The folding doors had bolts in the
centre, sometimes above as well as below; a bar was placed
across from one wall to the other; and in many instances wooden
262 DOMESTIC LIFE.
locks secured them by passing over the centre, at the junction of
the two folds. For greater security they were occasionally sealed
with a mass of clay, as is proved by some tombs found closed at
Thebes, by the sculptures, and in the account given by Herodo-
tus of Rhampsinitus' treasury.
Keys were made of bronze or iron, and consisted of a long
straight shank, about five inches in length, with three or more
projecting teeth; others had a nearer resemblance to the wards
of modern keys, with a short shank about an inch long; and some
resembled a common ring with the wards at its back. These are
probabl}^ of Roman date. The earliest mention of a key is in
Judges (iii. 23-25), when Ehud having gone " through the porch,
and shut the doors of the parlor upon him and locked them,"
Eglon's " servants took a key and opened them."
The doorways, like those in the temples, were often sur-
mounted by the Egyptian cornice; others were variously deco-
rated, and some, represented in the tombs, were surrounded with
a variety of ornaments, as usual richly painted. These last,
though sometimes found at Thebes, were more general about
Memphis and the Delta ; and two good instances of them are pre-
served at the British Museum, brought from a tomb near the
Pyramids.
Even at the early period when the Pyramids were built, the
doors were of one or two valves ; and both those of the rooms and
the entrance doors opened inwards, contrary to the custom of the
Greeks, who were consequentl}^ obliged to strike on the inside of the
street door before they opened it, in order to warn persons pass-
ing by; and the Romans were forbidden to make it open outward
without a special permission.
The floors were of stone, or a composition made of lime or
other materials; but in humbler abodes they were formed of
split date-tree beams, arranged close together or at intervals,
with planks or transverse layers of palm branches over them,
CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. 263
covered with mats and a coating of mud. Many roofs were
vaulted, and built like the rest of the house of crude brick; and
not only have arches been found of that material dating in the
1 6th century before our era, but vaulted granaries appear to be
represented of much earlier date. Bricks, indeed, led to the in-
vention of the arch ; the want of timber in Egypt having pointed
out the necessity of some substitute for it.
Wood was imported in great quantities; deal and cedar
were brought from Syria; and rare woods were part of the
tribute imposed on foreign nations conquered by the Pharaohs.
And so highly were these appreciated for ornamental purposes,
that painted imitations were made for poorer persons who could
not afford them; and the panels, windows, doors, boxes, and
various kinds of woodwork, were frequently of cheap deal or syca-
more, stained to resemble the rarest foreign woods And the
remnants of them found at Thebes show that these imitations
were clever substitutes for the reality. Even coffins were some-
times made of foreign wood; and many are found of cedar of
Lebanon. The value of foreign woods also suggested to the
Egyptians the process of veneering; and this was one of the arts
of their skillful cabinet makers.
The ceilings were of stucco, richly painted with various de-
vices, tasteful both in their form and the arrangement of the
colors; among the oldest of which is the Guilloche, often mis-
called the Tuscan or Greek border.
Both in the interior and exterior of their houses the walls
were sometimes portioned out into large panels of one uniform
color, flush with the surface, or recessed, not very unlike those at
Pompeii ; and they were red, yellow, or stained to resemble stone
or wood. It seems to have been the introduction of this mode of
ornament into Roman houses that excited the indignation of Vi-
truvius ; who says that in old times they used red paint sparingly,
like physic, though now whole walls are covered over with it.
264 DOMESTIC LIFE.
Figures were also introduced on the blank walls in the sit-
ting-rooms, or scenes from domestic life, surrounded by orna-
mental borders, and surmounted by deep cornices of flowers and
various devices richly painted ; and no people appear to have been
more fond of using flowers on every occasion. In their domestic
architecture they formed the chief ornament of the mouldings;
and every visitor received a bouquet of real flowers, as a token
of welcome on entering a house. It was the pipe and coffee of
the- modern Egyptians; and a guest at a party was not only
presented with a lotus, or some other flower, but had a chaplet
placed round his head, and another round his neck; which led
the Roman poet to remark the ' ' many chaplets on the foreheads "
of the Egyptians at their banquets. Everywhere flowers abounded ;
they were formed into wreaths and festoons, they decked the
stands that supported the vases in the convivial chamber, and
crowned the wine-bowl as well as the servants who bore the cup
from it to the assembled guests.
The villas of the Egyptians were of great extent, and con-
tained spacious gardens, watered by canals communicating with
the Nile. They had large tanks of water in different parts of
the garden, which served for ornament, as well as for irrigation,
when the Nile was low; and on these the master of the house
occasionally amused himself and his friends by an excursion in a
pleasure-boat towed by his servants. They also enjoyed the diver-
sion of angling and spearing fish in the ponds within their
grounds, and on these occasions they were generally accompanied
by a friend, or one or more members of their family. Particular
care was always bestowed upon the garden, and their great fond-
ness for flowers is shown by the number they always cultivated,
as well as by the women of the family or the attendants present-
ing bouquets to the master of the house and his friends when they
walked there.
The house itself was sometimes ornamented with propylae
PLANS OF VILLAS. 265
and obelisks, like the temples themselves ; it is even possible that
part of the building may have been consecrated to religious pur-
poses, as the chapels of other countries, since we find a priest
engaged in presenting offerings at the door of the inner chambers ;
and, indeed, were it not for the presence of the women, the form
of the garden, and the style of the porch, we should feel disposed
to consider it a temple rather than a place of abode. The en-
trances of large villas were generally through folding gates,
standing between lofty towers, as at the courts of temples, with a
small door at each side; and others had merely folding-gates,
with the jambs surmounted by a cornice. One general wall of
circuit extended round the premises, but the courts of the house,
the garden, the ofHces, and all the other parts of the villa had each
their separate enclosure. The walls were usually built of crude
brick, and, in damp places, or when within reach of the inunda-
tion, the lower part was strengthened by a basement of stone.
They were sometimes ornamented with panels and grooved lines,
generally stuccoed, and the summit was crowned either with
Egyptian battlements, the usual cornice, a row of spikes in
imitation of spear-hcclds, or with some fancy ornament.
The plans of the villas varied according to circumstances,
but their general arrangement is sufficiently explained by the
paintings. They were surrounded by a high wall, about the
middle of which was the main or front entrance, with one central
and two side gates, leading to an open walk shaded by rows of
trees. Here were spacious tanks of water, facing the doors of
the right and left wings of the house, between which an avenue
led from the main entrance to what may be called the centre
of the mansion. After passing the outer door of the right wing,
you entered an open court with trees, extending quite round a
nucleus of inner apartments, and having a back entrance commu-
nicating with the garden. On the right and left of this court
were six or more store-rooms, a small receiving or waiting room
266 DOMESTIC LIFE.
at two of the corners, and at the other end the staircases which
led to the upper stories. Both of the inner facades were furnished
with a corridor, supported on columns, with similar towers and
gateways. The interior of this wing consisted of twelve rooms,
two outer and one center court, communicating by folding gates ;
and on either side of this last was the main entrance to the rooms
on the ground-floor, and to the staircases leading to the upper
story. At the back were three long rooms, and a gateway open-
ing on the garden, which, besides flowers, contained a variety of
trees, a summer-house, and a large tank of water.
The arrangement of the left wing was different. The front
gate led to an open court, extending the whole breadth of the
facade of the building, and backed by the wall of the inner part.
Central and lateral doors thence communicated with another
court, surrounded on three sides by a set of rooms, and behind it
was a corridor, upon which several other chambers opened.
This wing had no back entrance, and standing isolated, the
outer court extended entirely around it ; and a succession of door-
ways communicated from the court with different sections of the
centre of the house, where the rooms, disposed like those already
described, around passages and corridors, served partly as sitting
apartments, and partly as store-rooms.
The stables for the horses and the coach-houses for the trav-
eling chariots and carts, were in the centre, or inner part^of the
building ; but the farm-yard where the cattle were kept stood at
some distance from the house, and corresponded to the depart-
ment known by the Romans under the name of rustica. Though
enclosed separately, it was within the general wall of circuit,
which surrounded the land attached to the villa; and a canal,
bringing water from the river, skirted it, and extended along the
back of the grounds. It consisted of two parts; the sheds for
housing the cattle, which stood at the upper end, and the yard,
where rows of rings were fixed, in order to tie them while feed-
IRRIGATION. 267
ing in the day-time; and men always attended, and frequently
fed them with the hand.
The granaries were also apart from the house, and were
enclosed within a separate wall ; and some of the rooms in which
they housed the grain appear to have had vaulted roofs. These
were filled through an aperture near the top, to which the men
ascended by steps, and the grain when wanted was taken out
from a door at the base.
The superintendence of the house and grounds was intrusted
to stewards, who regulated the tillage of the land, received what-
ever was derived from the sale of the produce, overlooked the
returns of the quantity of cattle or stock upon the estate, settled
all the accounts, and condemned the delinquent peasants to the
bastinado, or any punishment they might deserve. To one were
intrusted the affairs of the house, answering to " the ruler," "over-
seer," or "steward of Joseph's house;" others " superintended the
granaries," the vineyard, or the culture of the fields; and the ex-
tent of their duties, or the number of those employed, depended
on the quantity of land, or the will of its owner.
The mode of laying out their gardens was as varied as that
of the houses; but in all cases they appear to have taken par-
ticular care to command a plentiful supply of water, by means of
reservoirs and canals. Indeed, in no country is artificial irriga-
tion more required than in the valley of the Nile; and, from the
circumstance of the water of the inundation not being admitted
into the gardens, they depend throughout the year on the supply
obtained from wells and tanks, or a neighboring canal.
The inode of irrigation adopted by the ancient Egyptians
was exceedingly simple, being merely the shadoofs or pole and
bucket of the present day ; and, in many instances, men were em-
ployed to carry the water in pails, suspended by a wooden yoke
they bore upon their shoulders. The same yoke was employed
^or carrying other things, as boxes, baskets containing game and
268 DOMESTIC LIFE.
poultry, or whatever was taken to market ; and every trade seems
to have used it for this purpose, from the potter and the brick-
maker, to the carpenter and the shipwright.
Part of the garden was laid out in walks shaded with trees,
usually planted in rows, and surrounded, at the base of the stem,
with a circular ridge of earth, which, being lower at the centre
than at the circumference, retained the water, and directed it
more immediately towards the roots. It is difficult to say if trees
were trimmed into any particular shape, or if their formal appear-
ance in the sculpture is merely owing to a conventional mode of
representing them; but, since the pomegranate, and some other
fruit trees, are drawn with spreading and irregular branches, it
is possible that sycamores, and others, which presented large
masses of foliage, were really trained in that formal manner,
though, from the hieroglyphic signifying " tree " having the same
shape, we may conclude it was only a general character for all
trees.
Some, as the pomegranates, date-trees, and </(9w-palms, are
easily recognized in the sculptures, but the rest are doubtful, as
are the flowering plants, with the exception of the lotus and a
few others.
To the garden department belonged the care of the bees,
which were kept in hives very like our own. In Egypt they re-
quired great attention; and so few are its plants at the present
day, that the owners of hives often take the bees in boats to
various spots upon the Nile, in quest of flowers. They are a
smaller kind than our own; and though found wild in the coun-
try, they are far less numerous than wasps, hornets, and ichneu-
mons. The wild bees live mostly under stones, or in clefts of the
rock, as in many other countries; and the expression of Moses,
as of the Psalmist, " honey out of the rock," shows that in
Palestine their habits were the same. Honey was thought of
great importance in Egypt, both for household purposes, and for
GARDENS. 269
an offering to the gods; that of Benha (thence surnamed El
assal)^ or Athribis, in the Delta, retained its reputation to a late
time; and a jar of honey from that place was one of the four
presents sent by John Mekaukes, the governor of Egypt, to Mo-
hammed.
Large gardens were usually divided into different parts; the
principal sections being appropriated to the date and sycamore
trees, and to the vineyard. The former may be called the or-
chard. The flower and kitchen gardens also occupied a consider-
able space, laid out in beds; and dwarf trees, herbs, and flowers,
were grown in red earthen pots, exactly like our own, arranged
in long rows by the walks and borders.
Besides the orchard and gardens, some of the large villas
had a park or paradise, with its fish-ponds and preserves for game,
as well as poultry-yards for keeping hens and geese, stalls for fat-
tening cattle, wild goats, gazelles, and other animals originally
from the desert, whose meat was reckoned among the dainties of
the table. ,
It was in these extensive preserves that the rich amused
themselves with the chase ; and they also enclosed a considerable
space in the desert itself with net-fences, into which the animals
were driven, and shot with arrows, or hunted with dogs.
Gardens are frequently represented in the tombs of Thebes
and other parts of Egypt, many of which are remarkable for their
extent. The one here introduced is shown to have been sur-
rounded by an embattled wall, with a canal of water passing in
front of it, connected with the river. Between the canal and the
wall, and parallel to them both, was a shady avenue of various
trees; and about the centre was the entrance, through a lofty
door, whose lintel and jambs were decorated with hieroglyphic
inscriptions, containing the name of the owner of the grounds,
who in this instance was the king himself. In the gateway were
rooms for the porter, and other persons employed about the gar-
270 DOMESTIC LIFE.
den, and, probably, the receiving room for visitors, whose abrupt
admission might be unwelcome ; and at the back a gate opened
into the vineyard. The vines were trained on a trellis-work, sup-
ported by transverse rafters resting on pillars; and a wall, extend-
ing round it, separated this part from the rest of the garden. At
the upper end were suits of rooms on three different stories, look-
ing upon green trees, and affording a pleasant retreat in the heat
of summer. On the outside of the vineyard wall were placed
rows of palms, which occurred again with the dom and other
trees, along the whole length of the exterior wall; four tanks of
water, bordered by a grass plot, where geese were kept, and the
delicate flower of the lotus was encouraged to grow, served for
the irrigation of the grounds; and small kiosks or summer-houses,
shaded with trees, stood near the water, and overlooked beds of
flowers. The spaces containing the tanks, and the adjoining por-
tions of the garden, were each enclosed by their respective walls,
and a small subdivision on either side, between the large and
small tanks, seems to have been reserved for the growth of par-
ticular trees, which either required peculiar care, or bore a fruit
of superior quality.
72.
272 DOMESTIC LIFE.
annual produce of the gold and silver mines (which Diodorus, on
the authority of Hecataeus, says, was recorded in the tomb of
Osymandyas at Thebes, apparently a king of the 19th dynasty) is
stated to have been 3,200 myriads, or 32 millions of viince — a
weight of that country, called by the Egyptians mn or mna^
60 of which were equal to one talent. The whole sum amounted
to 665 millions of our money; but it was evidently exaggerated.
The position of the silver mines is unknown; but the gold
mines of Allaga, and other quartz "diggings," have been discov-
ered, as well as those of copper, lead, iron and emeralds, all of
which are in the desert near the Red Sea ; and the sulphur, which
abounds in the same districts, was not neglected by the ancient
Egyptians.
The abundance of gold and silver in Egypt and other ancient
countries, and the sums reported to have been spent, accord well
with the reputed productiveness of the mines in those days; and,
as the subject has become one of peculiar interest, it may be well
to inquire respecting the quantity and the use of the precious
metals in ancient times. They were then mostly confined to the
treasures of princes, and of some rich individuals; the proportion
employed for commercial purposes was small, copper Sufficing
for most purchases in the home market; and nearly all the gold
and silver money (as yet uncoined) was in the hands of the wealthy
few. The manufacture of jewelry, and other ornamental objects
took up a small portion of the great mass; but it required the
wealth and privilege of royalty to indulge in a grand display
of gold and silver vases, or similar objects of size and value.
The mines of those days, from which was derived the wealth
of Egypt, Lydia, Persia, and other countries, afforded a large
supply of the precious metals; and if most of them are now
exhausted or barely retain evidences of the treasures the)' once
gave forth, there can be no doubt of their former productiveness ;
and it is reasonable to suppose that gold and silver abounded in
GOLD AND SILVER.
273
early times in those parts of the world which were first inhabited,
as they did in countries more recently peopled. They may never
have afforded at any period the immense riches of a California
or an Australia, yet there is evidence of their having been suffi-
ciently distributed over various parts of the old world.
For though Herodotus (iii., 106) says that the extremities
of the earth possess the greatest treasures ; these extremities may
approach or become the centre, i. e.^ of civilization, when they
arrive at that eminence which all great countries in their turn
seem to have a chance of reaching; and Britain, the country of
the greatly coveted tin, once looked upon as separated from the
rest of mankind, is now one of the commercial centres of the
world. The day, too, has come when Australia and California
are rivals for a similar distinction; and England, the rendez-
vous of America in her contests with Europe, has jdelded its
turn to younger competitors.
The greatest quantity of gold and silver in early times was
derived from the East ; and Asia and Egypt possessed abundance
of those metals. The trade of Colchis, and the treasures of the
Arimaspes and Massagetae, coming from the Ural (or from the
Altai) mountains, supplied much gold at a very early period,
and Indian commerce sent a large supply to western Asia.
Spain, the Isle of Thasos, and other places, were resorted to
by the Phcenicians, particularly for silver; and Spain, for its
mines, became the " El Dorado" of those adventurous traders.
The mines of the Eastern desert, the tributes from Ethiopia
and Central Africa, as well as from Asia, enriched Egypt with
gold and silver; but it was long before Greece (where in heroic
times the precious metals were scarcely known) obtained a mod-
erate supply of silver from her own mines ; and gold only became
abundant there after the Persian war.
Thrace and Macedonia produced gold, as well as other coun-
tries, but confined it to their own use, as Ireland employed the
18
2 74 DOMESTIC LIFE.
produce of its mines; and as early Italy did, when its various
small states were still free from the Roman yoke ; and though the
localities from which silver was obtained in more ancient times
are less known, it is certain that it was used at a very remote
period; and (as before stated) it was commonly employed in
Abraham's time for mercantile transactions.
Gold is mentioned on the Egyptian monuments of the 4th
dynasty, and silver was probably of the same early time ; but gold
was evidently known in Egypt before silver, which is consistent
with reason, gold being more easily obtained than silver, and fre-
quently near the surface or in streams.
The relative value and quantity of the precious metals in the
earliest times, in Egypt and Western Asia, are not known; and
even if a greater amount of gold were found mentioned in a
tribute, this could be no proof of the silver being more rare, as
it might merely be intended to show the richness of the gifts. In
the tribute brought to Thothmes III. by the Southern Ethiopians
and three Asiatic people, the former present scarcely any silver,
but great quantities of gold in rings, ingots, and dust. The Asi-
atic people of Fount bring two baskets of gold rings, and one of
gold dust in bags, a much smaller amount of gold than the Ethi-
opians, and no silver; those of Kufa, or Kaf, more silver than
gold, and a considerable quantity of both made into vases of
handsome and varied shapes; and the Rot-n-n (apparently living
on the Euphrates) present rather more gold than silver, a large
basket of gold and a smaller one of silver rings, two small silver
and several large gold vases, which are of the most elegant shape,
as well as colored glass or porcelain cups, and much incense and
bitumen. The great Asiatic tribute to the same king at Karnak,
speaks in one place of 100 ingots (or pounds weight?) of gold
and silver, and afterwards of 401 of silver; but the imperfect
preservation of that record prevents our ascertaining how much
gold was brought, or the relative proportions of the two metals.
WORTH OF GOLD. 275
M. Leon Faucher, indeed, suggested that the value of silver
in some countries originally equaled, if it did not exceed, that of
gold . . . and the laws of Menes state that gold was worth two
and a half times more than silver. . . . Everywhere, except in
India, between the fifth and sixth century B. C, the relative value
of gold and silver was 6 or 8 to i , as it was in China and Japan
at the end of the last century. In Greece it was, according to
Herodotus, as 13 to i; afterwards, in Plato's and Xenophon's
time, and more than 100 years after the death of Alexander, as
10 to I, owing to the quantity of gold brought in through the
Persian war; when the value of both fell so much, that in the
time of Demosthenes it was five times less than at the death of
Solon.
Though it may not be possible to arrive at any satisfactory
conclusion respecting the quantity of gold and silver taken from
the mines, employed in objects of art and luxury, or in circula-
tion as money in Egypt and other countries, we shall introduce
a few facts derived from the accounts of ancient authors, relating
to the amount of wealth amassed, and the purposes to which
those precious metals were applied. We shall also show some
of the fluctuations that have taken place in the supply of them at
various periods ; and shall endeavor to establish a comparison be-
tween the quantity said to have been in use in ancient and modern
times.
When we read of the enormous wealth amassed by the
Egyptian and Asiatic kings, or the plunder by Alexander and
the Romans, we wonder how so much could have been obtained ;
for, even allowing for considerable exaggeration in the accounts
of early times, there is no reason to disbelieve the private for-
tunes of individuals at Rome, and the sums squandered by them,
or even the amount of some of the tributes levied in the East.
Of ancient cities, Babylon is particularly cited by Herodotus and
others for its immense wealth. Diodorus (ii. 9) mentions a golden
276 DOMESTIC LIFE.
statue of Jupiter at Babylon 40 feet high, weighing i ,000 Baby-
lonian talents; another of Rhea, of equal weight, having two
lions on its knees, and near it silver serpents of 300 talents each;
a standing statue of Juno weighing 800 talents, holding a snake,
and a sceptre set with gems; as well as a golden table of 500
talents weight, on which were two cups weighing 300 talents, and
two censers each of 300 talents weight, with three golden bowls,
one of which, belonging to Jupiter, weighed 1,200 talents, the
others each 600; making a total of at least 6,900 talents, reck-
oned equal to $55,000,000. And the golden image of Nebu-
chadnezzar, 60 cubits, or 90 feet high, at the same ratio would
weigh 2,250 talents, or $17,934,820.
David, who had not the Indian and Arabian trade afterwards
obtained by Solomon, left for the building of the temple 100,000
talents of gold and 1,000,000 of silver; and the sum given by him
of his "own proper good," "over and above all prepared for the
holy house," was "3,000 talents of gold " and " 7,000 of refined
silver;" besides the chief men's contributions of 500 talents and
10,000 drachms of gold, 10,000 talents of silver, and an abund-
ance of brass, iron, and precious stones.
The annual tribute of Solomon was 666 talents of gold, be-
sides that brought by the merchants, and the present from the
Queen of Sheba of 120 talents; and the quantity of gold and
silver used in the temple and his house was extraordinary. Mr.
Jacob, in his valuable work on the precious metals, has noticed
many of these immense sums, collected in old times. Among
them are the tribute of Darius, amounting to 9,880 talents of sil-
ver and 4,680 of gold, making a total of 14,560, estimated at
about $37,250,000; the sums taken by Xerxes to Greece; the
wealth of Croesus ; the riches of Pytheus, king of a small territory
in Phrygia, possessing gold and silver mines, who entertained the
army of Xerxes, and gave him 2,000 talents of silver and 4,093,-
000 staters of gold (equal to 23,850,000 dollars of our money);
TREASURES. 277
the treasures acquired by Alexander, in Susa and Persia, exclu-
sive of that found in the Persian camp and in Babylon, said to
have amounted to 40,000 or 50,000 talents; the treasure of Perse-
polis rated at 120,000 talents; that of Pasagarda at 6,000; and
the 180,000 talents collected at the capture of Ecbatana; besides
6,000 which Darius had with him, and were taken by his mur-
derers. " Ptolemy Philadelphus is stated by Appian to have pos-
sessed treasure to the enormous amount of 740,000 talents;"
either " 890 million dollars, or at least a quarter of that sum;"
and fortunes of private individuals at Rome show the enormous
wealth they possessed. " Crassus had in lands $8,072,915, be-
sides as much more in money, furniture, and slaves; Seneca,
$12,109,375; Pallas, the freedman of Claudius, an equal sum;
Lentulus, the augur, $16,145,805; Csec. CI. Isidorus, though he
had lost a great part of his fortune in the civil war, left by his
will 4,116 slaves, 3,600 yoke of oxen, 257,000 other cattle, and
in ready money $2,421,875. Augustus received by the testa-
ments of his friends $161,458,330. Tiberius left at his death
$108,984,375, which Caligula lavished away in less than one
year; and Vespasian, at his succession, said that to support the
state he required quadri^'enties millies^ or $1,614,083,330. The
debts of Milo amounted to $2,825,520. J. Caesar, before he held
any office, owed 1,300 talents, $1,279,375; and when he set out
for Spain after his praetorship, he is reported to have said, that
' Bis millies et quingenties sibi deesse, ut nihil haberet,' or ' that
he was $10,091,145 worse than nothing.' When he first entered
Rome, in the beginning of the civil war, he took out of the treas-
ury $5,479,895, and brought into it at the end of it $24,218,750;
he purchased the friendship of Curio, at the commencement of
the civil war, by a bribe of $2,421,856, and that of the consul,
L. Paulus, by 1,500 talents, about $i,39755oo; Apicius wasted
on luxurious living $2,421,875; Caligula laid out on a supper
$403,625; and the ordinary expense of Lucullus for a supper in
2^8 DOMESTIC LIFE.
the Hall of Apollo was 50,000 drachms, or $8,070. The house
of Marius, bought of Cornelia for $12,105, ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Lucullus
for $80,760; the burning of his villa was a loss to M. Scaurusof
$4,036,455; and Nero's golden house must have cost an im-
mense sum, since Otho laid out in furnishing a part of it $2,017,-
225." But though Rome was greatly enriched by conquest, she
never obtained possession of the chief wealth of Asia; and the
largest quantit}'^ of the precious metals was always excluded from
the calculations of ancient writers.
The whole revenue of the Roman Empire under Augustus is
"supposed to have been equal to 200 millions of our money;"
and at the time of his death (A.D. 14) the gold and silver in cir-
culation throughout the empire is supposed to have amounted to
$1,790,000,000; which at a reduction of i grain in 360 every
year for wear, would have been reduced by the year A.D 482 to
$435,165,495; and when the mines of Hungary and Germany
began to be worked, during the seventh and ninth centuries, the
entire amount of coined money was not more than about 42 at
the former, and 165 or 170 million dollars at the latter, period; so
that if no other supply had been obtained, the quantity then cir-
culating would long since have been exhausted.
" The loss by wear on silver " is shown by Mr, Jacob " to be
four times that of gold;" that on our money is estimated at more
than one part in a hundred annually; and " the smaller the pieces,
the greater loss do they suffer by abrasion." " The maximum
of durability of gold coins seems to be fixed at 22 parts, in 24,
of pure gold with the appropriate alloys. When the fineness
ascends or descends from that point, the consumption by abrasion
is increased."
It is from its ductility that gold wears so much less than sil-
ver; and many ancient gold coins (as those of Alexander and
others), though evidently worn by use, nearly retain their true
weight, from the surface being partly transferred into the adjacent
hollows, and not entirely rubbed off as in silver.
TOTAL VALUE OF GOLD. 279
The quantity of the precious metals, formerly used for the
purposes of luxury, greatly diminished after the decline of the
Roman empire, and in the middle ages they were sparingly em-
ployed except for coinage; ornamental work in gold and silver,
mostly executed by first-rate artists, being confined to men of
rank, till the opening of new mines added to the supply; which
was afterwards increased by the abundant treasures of America ;
and the quantity applied to ornamental purposes then began to
vie with that of olden times.
M. Leon Faucher even calculates the annual abstraction of
the precious metals from circulation by use for luxury, disasters
at sea, and export, at 25 million dollars, in Europe and the United
States
The silver from the American mines exported to Europe in
100 years, to 1630, gave an addition to the currency of 5 million
dollars annually, besides that used for other purposes, or re-ex-
ported; and from 1630 to 1830 from y^/^ to 10 millions annually;
an increase in the quantity used for currency having taken place,
as well as in that exported to India, and employed for purposes
of luxury.
Humboldt states the whole quantity of gold from the Ameri-
can mines, up to 1803, to be 162 millions of pounds in weight,
and of silver 7,178 millions, or 44 of silver to i of gold.
Again, the total value of gold produced during three cen-
turies to 1848, including that from Russia, has been estimated at
$2,825,000,000; and the total annual quantity of gold, before the
discovery of the Californian fields, has been reckoned at about
$50,000,000. That from Cahfornia and Australia already amounts
yearly to $170,000,000 (or 3 2-5 times as much as previously
obtained), and is still increasing; but though far beyond the sup-
ply afforded by the discovery of America, the demand made upon
it by the modern industry of man, together with the effect of
rapid communication, and of the extension of trade, as well as by
28o
DOMESTIC LIFE.
the great deficiency of gold in the world, will prevent its action
being felt in the same way as when the American supply was first
obtained ; and still less will be the effect now, than it would have
been in ancient times, if so large and sudden a discovery had then
been made. For, as Chevalier says, "Vast as is the whole amount
of gold in the world, it sinks into significance when contrasted
with the aggregate product of other branches of human industry.
If they increase as fast as the gold, little or no alteration will take
place in its value; which depends on the relation between it and
the annual production of other wealth."
According to another calculation, all the gold now in the
w^orld is supposed to be equal to about $3,410,000,000 ; but
the whole amount of either of the two precious metals in old times
is not easily ascertained, nor can any definite comparison be es-
tablished between their former and present value. And still less
in Egypt, than in Greece and Rome, no standard of calculation
being obtainable from the prices of commodities there, or from
any other means of determining the value of gold and silver.
p^^ggTii^ ^TSJ^Pif^^.
The immense number and variety of statues, lamps, urns,
articles of domestic use, in metal or earthenware, etc., dis-
covered at Herculaneum and Pompeii, have rendered the
Museum at Naples an inexhaustible treasury of information
relative to the private life of the ancients. To give an adequate
description of the richness and variety of its contents would far
exceed the whole extent of this work, much more the small
space which it can have; but that space can not be better occu-
pied than in describing some few articles which possess an
interest from the ingenuity of their construction, the beauty of
their workmanship, or their power to illustrate ancient usages
or ancient authors.
Writing implements are among the most important of the
latter class, on account of the constant mention of them, as
well as of the influence which the comparative ease or difficulty
of producing copies of writing is always found to exert over
society. On this head there is no want of information. The
implements used are frequently mentioned, especially in familiar
writings, as the letters of Cicero, and their forms have been
tolerably ascertained from various fragments of ancient paintings.
It is hardly necessary to state that for manuscripts of any
length, and such as were meant to be preserved, parchment or
vellum, and a vegetable tissue manufactured from the rush papy-
281
282 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
rus^ were in use. The stalk of this plant consists of a number of
thin concentric coats, which, being carefully detached, were pasted
crossways one over the other, like the warp and woof in woven
manufactures, so that the fibres ran longitudinally in each direc-
tion, and opposed in each an equal resistance to violence. The
surface was then polished with a shell, or some hard smooth sub-
stance. The ink used was a simple black liquid, containing no
mordant to give it durability, so that the writing was easily
effaced by the application of a sponge. The length of the Greek
papyri is said to vary from eight to twelve inches; the Latin
often reach sixteen; the writing is in columns, placed at right
ano^les to the leno^th of the roll.
To each of them is appended a sort of ticket, which served
as a title. Hence the end of the roll, or volume, was called
frons^ a term of frequent recurrence in Ovid and Martial,
and not always rightly understood. Hence, also, when we meet
with the expression, gemina frons^ we must understand that the
volume had a ticket at each end. These books were also
composed of two tables or pages, and served for memoran-
da, letters, and other writings, not intended to be pre-
served. They were composed of leaves of wood or metal coated
over with wax, upon which the ancients wrote with a stylus^ or
iron pen, or point rather, for it was a solid sharp-pointed instru-
ment, some 6 to 8 inches in length, like a lady's stiletto upon a
large scale. In the middle of each leaf there appears to have
been a button, called umbilictis^ intended to prevent the pages
touching when closed, and obliterating the letters traced on the
yielding wax.
The tablets here represented would be called twofold, as
consisting only of two leaves ; in the following cut may be seen
another sort, consisting of several leaves, united at the back with
hinges or rings. In Latin they were called tahulce^ or tabellcSy
and the epithets, duplices, triplices, quintuplices, served to mark
the number of the leaves.
WRITING MATERIALS.
283
Beside them stands a double inkstand, intended probably to
contain both black and red ink. The former was made either of
lampblack or some other sort of charcoal, or from the cuttlefish,
and was called atramentum. As it contained no mordant, and
was readily obliterated by moisture, it could be used for writing
upon ivory tablets; and it has been conjectured that some sorts
of paper were covered with a wash, or varnish, to facilitate the
discharge of the old writing, and render the paper serviceable a
second time. Red ink was prepared from cinnabar. The reed,
cut to a point, which lies beside the inkstand, is the instrument
used in writing with
ink before the applica-
ion of quills. It was
called calamus. The
open papyrus explains
how manuscripts were tabula, calamus, and papyrus.
read, rolled up at each end, so as to show only the column of
writing upon which the student was intent. At the other side is
a purse, or bag, to hold the reed, penknife, and other writing in-
struments.
The next cut represents, besides a set of tablets bound up, a
single one hanging from a nail. Such, probably, were those sus-
pended at Epidaurus,
containing remedies
by which the sick had
been cured, by the
— perusal of which Hip-
T vBUL^, STYLUS, AND PAPYRUS. pocratcs Is Said to have
profited in the compilation of his medical works. It also con-
tains, besides a papyrus similar to those described, a hexagonal
inkstand, with a ring to pass the finger through, upon which
there lies an instrument resembling a reed, but the absence of the
knots, or joints, marks it to be a stylus. Another of these in-
struments leans against the open book.
284
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
TABULiE AND INK STAND.
These were made of every sort of material ; sometimes with
the precious metals, but usually of iron, and on occasion might
be turned into formidable weapons. It was with his stylus that
Caesar stabbed Casca in the arm, when attacked in the senate by
his murderers; and Caligula employed some person to put to
death a senator with the same instruments
In the reign of Claudius women and boys were searched to
ascertain whether there were styluses in their pen-cases. Stabbing
with the pen, there-
fore, is not merely a
metaphorical expres-
sion. Tablets such as
those here represent-
ed, were the day-
books, or account-books. When they were full, or when the
writing on them was no longer useful, the wax was smoothed,
and they were ready again for other service.
The cut above, besides an inkstand, represents an open book.
The thinness and yellowish color of the leaves, which are tied
together with ribbon, denotes that it was made of parchment or
vellum.
Below is a cylindrical box, called scrinium and capsa^ or
capsula^ in which the manuscripts were placed vertically, the
titles at the top. Catul-
lus excuses himself to
Manlius for not having
sent him the required
verses, because he had
with him only one box
of his books. It is evi-
dent that a great number of volumes might be comprised in
this way within a small space; and this may tend to explain the
smallness of the ancient libraries — at least of the rooms which
LIBRARIES AND MONET.
LITERATURE. 285
are considered to have been such. Beside the box are two
tablets, which, from the money-bag and coins scattered about,
had probably been used in reckoning accounts.
No perfect papyri, but only fragments, have been found at
Pompeii. At Herculaneum, up to the year 1825, 1,756 had been
obtained, besides many others destroyed by the workmen, who
imasfined them to be mere sticks of charcoal. Most of them were
found in a suburban villa, in a room of small dimensions, ranged
in presses round the sides of the room, in the centre of which
stood a sort of rectangular book-case.
Sir Humphry Davy, after investigating their chemical nature,
arrived at the conclusion that they had not been carbonized by
heat, but changed by the long action of air and moisture; and he
visited Naples in hopes of rendering the resources of chemistry
available towards deciphering these long-lost literary treasures.
His expectations, however, were not fully crowned with success,
although the partial efficacy of his methods was established ; and
he relinquished the pursuit at the end of six months, partly from
disappointment, partly from a belief that vexatious obstacles were
thrown in his way by the jealousy of the persons to whom the
task of unrolling had been intrusted. About five hundred vol-
umes have been well and neatly unrolled. It is rather remarkable
that, as far as we are acquainted, no manuscript of any known
standard work has been found, nor, indeed, any production of any
of the grreat luminaries of the ancient world.
The most celebrated person, of whom any work has been
found, is Epicurus, whose treatise, De Natura, has been success-
fully unrolled. This and a few other treatises have been published.
The library in which this was found appears to have been rich in
treatises on the Epicurean philosophy. The only Latin work
which it contained was a poem, attributed to Rabirius, on the
war of Csesar and Antony.
A curious literary monument has been found in the shape
286 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
of a calendar. It is cut on a square block of marble, upon each
side of which three months are registered in perpendicular col-
umns, each headed by the proper sign of the zodiac. The infor-
mation given may be classed under three heads, astronomical,
agricultural, and religious. The first begins with the name of
the month; then follows the number of days; then the nones,
which in eight months of the year fall on the fifth day, and were
thence called quintanae — in the others on the seventh, and were,
therefore, called septimanae. The ides are not mentioned, because
seven days always elapsed between them and the nones. The
number of hours in the day and night is also given, the integral
part being given by the usual numerals, the fractional by an S for
semissis, the half, and by small horizontal lines for the quarters.
Lastly, the sign of the zodiac in which the sun is to be found is
named, and the days of the equinoxes and of the summer solstice
are determined; for the winter solstice we read, Hiemis mitium^
the beginning of winter. Next the calendar proceeds to the agri-
cultural portion, in which the farmer is reminded of the principal
operations which are to be done within the month. It concludes
with the religious part, in which, besides indicating the god under
whose guardianship the month is placed, it notes the religious
festivals which fall within it, and warns the cultivator against
neglecting the worship of those deities upon whose favor and
protection the success of his labors is supposed mainly to depend.
No articles of ancient manufacture are more common than
lamps. They are found in ever}- variety of form and size, in
clay and in metal, from the cheapest to the most costly descrip-
tion. A large and handsome gold lamp found at Pompeii in 1863
may be seen in the Pompeian room at the museum in Naples.
We have the testimony of the celebrated antiquary, Winkleman,
to the interest of this subject. " I place among the most curious
utensils found at Herculaneum, the lamps, in which the ancients
sought to display elegance and even magnificence. Lamps of
CURIOUS LAMPS.
287
every sort will be found in the museum at Portici, botli in clay
and bronze, but especially the latter; and as the ornaments of the
ancients have generally some reference to some particular things,
we often meet with rather remarkable subjects. A considerable
number of these articles will be found in the British Museum,
but they are chiefly of the commoner sort. All the works,
however, descriptive of Herculaneum
and Pompeii, present us with specimens
of the richer and more remarkable class
which attract admiration both by the
beaut}^ of the workmanship and the
whimsical variety of their designs. We
may enumerate a few which occur in a
work now before us, 'Antiquites d'Her-
culanum,' in which we find a Silenus,
with the usual
peculiarities of
figure ascribed
' to the jolly god
rather e x a g-
gerated, and an
owl sitting on
GOLD LAMP. (Found at Pompeii.) u- T-ieoH V-)p.
tween two huge horns, which support stands for lamps. Another
represents a flower-stalk growing out of a circular plinth,
with snail-shells hanging from it by small chains, which held
the oil and wick; the trunk of a tree, with lamps suspended
from the branches; another, a naked boy, beautifully wrought,
with a lamp hanging from one hand, and an instrument for
trimming it from the other, the lamp itself representing a
theatrical mask. Beside him is a twisted column surmounted
by the head of a Faun or Bacchanal, which has a lid in
its crown, and seems intended as a reservoir of oil. The boy
288 DOMESTIC UTENSILS. /
and pillar are both placed on a square plateau raised upon lions'
claws. But beautiful as these lamps are, the light which they
gave must have been weak and unsteady, and little superior to
that of the old-fashioned common lamps, with which they are
identical in principle. The wick was merely a few twisted
threads drawn through a hole in the upper surface of the oil ves-
sel, and there was no glass to steady the light and prevent its
varying with every breeze that blew. .
"Still, though the Romans had not advanced so far in art as
to apply glass chimneys and hollow circular wicks to their lamps,
the}' had experienced the inconvenience of going home at night
through a city poorly paved, watched and lighted, and accord-
ingly soon invented lanterns to meet the want. These, we learn
from Martial, who has several epigrams upon this subject, were
made of horn or bladder: no mention, we beHeve, occurs of glass
being thus employed. The rich were preceded by a slave bear-
ing their lantern. This Cicero mentions as being the habit of
Catiline upon his midnight expeditions; and when M. Antony
was accused of a disgraceful intrigue, his lantern-bearer was tor-
tured to extort a confession whither he had conducted his mas-
ter. One of these machines, of considerable ingenuity and
beauty of workmanship, was found in Herculaneum, and another
almost exactly the same, at Pompeii a few years after. In form
it is cylindrical, with a hemispherical top, and it is made of sheet-
copper, except the two main pieces, which are cast. The bottom
consists of a flat, circular copper plate, supported by three balls,
and turned up all around the rim, from which rise the rectangular
supports, which support the upper part of the frame. The top
and bottom were further connected by the interior uprights, be-
tween which the laminae of horn or glass were placed, and secured
at the top and bottom by the doublings of the copper. Horn
was the most common substance used to transmit the light, but
bladder and other membranes were also employed. In the centre
THE CANDELABRUM.
289
of the lantern is seen the small lamp. The cover is hemispherical,
and lifts up and down: it is pierced with holes for the admission
of air, and has besides the characters NBVRTI-CATIS pricked
upon it. These have been interpreted, Tiburti Cati Sum, or Ti-
burti Cati S. (ervus), indicating, the one that it belonged to Catus,
or that it was to be carried by his slave."
One of the most elegant articles of furniture in ancient use
was the candelabrum, by which we mean those tall and slender
stands which ser-
ved to support a
lamp, but were
independent of,
and unconnected with,
it. These, in their
original and simple
form, were mere reeds
or straight sticks, fixed
upon a foot by peas-
ants to raise their light
to a convenient height ;
at least such a theory
of their origin is agree-
able to what we are
told of the rustic man- candelabra, or lamp stands.
ners of the early Romans, and it is in some degree countenanced
by the fashion in which many of the ancient candelabra are
made. Sometimes the stem is represented as throwing out buds ;
sometimes it is a stick, the side branches of which have been
roughly lopped, leaving projections where they grew; some-
times it is in the likeness of a reed or cane, the stalk being
divided into joints. Most of those which have been found in
the buried cities are of bronze, some few of iron. In their
general plan and appearance there is a great resemblance, though
19
290
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
the details of the ornaments admit of infinite variety. All stand
on three feet, usually griffins' or lions' claws, which support a
light shaft, plain or fluted according to the fancy of the maker.
The whole supports either a plinth large enough for a lamp to
stand on, or a socket to receive a wax candle, which the Romans
used sometimes instead of oil in lighting their rooms. Some of
them have a sliding shaft, like that of a music stand, by which
the light might be raised or lowered at pleasure.
One of those elegant table lamps, by the praise of which
the present discussion was introduced, is represented in the ac-
companying plate. In-
cluding the stand it is
three feet high. On a
rectangular plinth rises
a rectangular pillar,
crowned by a capri-
cious capital. On the
front of the pillar is a
mask of a Bacchante,
with fine features and
long flowing hair; and
on the opposite side,
the head of a bull, with
the Greek word Bu-
cranion. From the
CANDELABRA, OR LAMP STANDS. CXtrCmC polutS of thc
abacus, four ornamental branches, beautifully chased, project ; the
lamps which now hang from them, though ancient, also, are not
those which belong to the stand, and were not found with it.
They are nearly alike in figure, but differ in size. Three of them,
are ornamented with various animals, the fourth is plain. One
of them has each of its ends wrought into the form of a shell.
Above are two eagles in high relief, with the thunderbolt of Jup-
CANDELABRA.
291
iter in their talons. Another has two bulls' heads, a third two
elephants' heads projecting from the sides. The latter is sus-
pended by two dolphins, instead of the chains generally in use,
whose tails are united, and attached to a small ball and ring. The
pillar is not placed in the center, but at one end of the plinth,
which is the case in almost every lamp of this description yet
found. The space thus obtained may have served as a stand for
the oil vase used in trimming the lamps. The plinth is beautifully
damasked, or inlaid, in imitation of a vine, the leaves of which are
of silver, the stem and fruit of bright brass. On one side is an
altar with wood and fire upon it ; on the other a Bacchus, naked,
with his thick hair plaited and bound with ivy. He rides a tiger,
and has his left hand in the attitude of holding reins, which time
probably has destroyed ; with the right he raises a drinking-horn.
The workmanship of this lamp is exquisitely delicate in all its
parts.
Before we quit this subject we have still one candelabrum to
notice, which for simplicity of design and delicacy of execution
is hardly to be surpassed by any in the Neapolitan collection.
The stem is formed of a liliaceous plant, divided into two
branches, each of which supports a flat disc, which may represent
the flower, upon which a lamp was placed. At the base is a
mass of bronze which gives stability to the whole, upon which a
Silenus is seated, earnestly engaged in trying to pour wine from a
skin which he holds in his left hand into a cup in his right. In
this figure all the distinctive marks of the companion and tutor
of Bacchus are expressed with great skill; the pointed ears, the
goat's tail, the shaggy skin, the flat nose, and the ample rotundity
of body, leave no doubt on our minds as to the person intended
to be represented. The head, especially, is admirable, both in re-
spect of workmanship and expression.
Among-st Greek domestic utensils we also count articles made
of basket-work, which frequently occur in antique pictures. The
292 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
kalathos, the basket for keeping wool (used for weaving and em-
broidering), and also flowers and fruit, is frequently met with in
vase paintings illustrating the life of Greek women. As early as
Homer's time baskets, probably round or oval, were used at
meals, to keep bread and pastry in. They had a low rim and
handles. The kaneon was also used at offerings, where it is filled
with pomegranates, holly boughs and ribbons. At the Panathenaia
noble Athenian maidens carried such baskets, filled with holy
cakes, incense, and knives on their heads. These graceful figures
were a favorite subject of antique sculpture. Both Polyklete and
Skopas had done a celebrated kanephore — the former in bronze,
the latter in marble. There was also a flat basket, chiefly
used for carr3ing fish, similar to that used at the present day
by fishermen -in the south. Other baskets used by peasants ap-
pear frequently in antique pictures, in the original carried by a
peasant on a stick over his shoulder, together with another basket
of the same pear-like shape, taken from a bas-relief represent-
ing a vintage, in which the former appears filled with grapes,
while the latter is being filled with must by a boy. This proves,
at the same time, the knowledge amongst the Greeks of the art
of making the basket-work dense enough to hold fluids. The
same fact is shown by a passage in Homer, in which Polyphemos
lets the milk coagulate to cheese in baskets, which cheese was
afterwards placed on a hurdle through which the whey trickled
slowly. Of plaited rushes, or twigs, consisted also a peculiar
kind of net, a specimen of which is seen on the reverse of a medal
coined under the Emperor Macrinus, as the emblem of the mar-
atime city of Byzantium.
To light and heat the room, in Homer's time, fire-baskets,
or fire-basins were used, standing on high poles, and fed with dry
logs of wood or splinters. The cinders were, at intervals, re-
moved by serving-maids, and the flames replenished. Such fire-
baskets on poles are still used by night-travelers in Southern
OIL-LAMPS.
293
Russia, and at nightly ceremonies in India. The use of pine-
torches is of equal antiquity. They consisted of long, thin sticks
of pine-wood, tied together with bark, rushes or papyrus. The
bark of the vine was also used for torches, called lophis. The
golden statues on pedestals, in the hall of Alkinoos,
undoubtedly held such torches in their hands. In
vase paintings we also see a different form of the
torch, carried chiefly by Demeter and Perseph-
one, which consists of two pieces of wood fastened
crosswise to a staff. An imitation of this wooden
torch was undoubtedly the torch-case made of clay
or metal in the shape of a salpinx. Its surface
was either smooth or formed in imitation of the
bundles of sticks and the bark of the wooden
torch, the inside being filled with resinous sub-
stances.
The date of oil-lamps in Greece can
not be stated with accuracy; they were
known at the time of Aristophanes. They
were made of terra-cotta or metal, and their construction re-
sembles those
used by the
Romans. They
are mostly
closed semi-
globes with two
openings, one,
in the centre,
to pour the oil
in, the other in the nose-shaped prolongation destined to receive
the wick. Amongst the small numbers of Greek lamps preserved
to us we have chosen a few of the most graceful specimens, one
of them showing the ordinary form of the lamp. Some are made
ANCIKNT LAMPS.;
294 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
of clay, the latter being painted in various colors. The Athe-
nians also used lanterns made of transparent horn, and lit up
with oil-lamps. They were carried at night in the streets like
the torches. Sparks, carefully preserved under the ashes, served
both Greeks and Romans to light the fire. The ancients had,
however, a lighting apparatus consisting of two pieces ot
wood, of which the one was driven into the other, like a gim-
let, the friction effecting a flame. According to Theophrast,
the wood of nut or chestnut trees was generally used for the
purpose.
The street running from the Temple of Fortune to the
Forum, called the Street of the Forum, in Pompeii, and forming
a continuation of that of Mercury, has furnished an unusually
rich harvest of various utensils. A long list of these is given by
Sir W. Gell, according to which there were found no less than
two hundred and fifty small bottles of inferior glass, with nu-
merous other articles of the same material, which it would be
tedious to particularize.
A marble statue of a laughing faun, two bronze figures of
Mercury, the one three inches and the other four inches high,
and a statue of a female nine inches high, were also found, to-
gether with many bronze lamps and stands. We ma}^ add vases,
basins with handles, paterae, bells, elastic springs, hinges, buckles
for harness, a lock, an inkstand, and a strigil; gold ear-rings and
a silver spoon ; an oval cauldron, a saucepan, a mould for pastry,
and a weight of alabaster used in spinning, with its ivory axis re-
maining. The catalogue finishes with a leaden weight, forty-
nine lamps of common clay ornamented with masks and animals,
forty-five lamps for two wicks, three boxes with a slit to keep
money in, in one of which were found thirteen coins of Titus,
Vespasian, and Domitian. Among the most curious things dis-
covered, were seven glazed plates found packed in straw. There
were also seventeen unvarnished vases of terra-cotta and seven
THE STEELYARD.
295
clay dishes, and a large pestle and mortar. The scales and steel-
yard which we have given are said to have been found at the
same time. On the beam of the steelyard are Roman numerals
from X. to XXXX. ; a V was placed for division between each
X.; smaller divisions are also marked. The inscription is
IMP. VESP. AVG. IIX.
T. IMP. AVG. F. VI. C.
EXACTA. IN. CAPITO.
which is translated thus: " In the eighth consulate of Vespasian
Emperor Augustus, and in the sixth of Titus, Emperor and son
of Augustus. Proved in the Capitol.'' This shows the great
care taken to enforce a strict uniformity in the
^ weights and measures used throughout the em-
pire; the date corresponds with the year 77 of
our era, only two years previous to the great
eruption. The steelyard found was also furnished
with chains and hooks, and with numbers up to
XXX. Another pair of scales had two cups,
with a weight on the side opposite to the material
weighed, to mark more accurately the fractional
weight; this weight was called by the ancients
ligula, and examen.
Gell tells us that the skeleton of a Pompeian was found here,
" who apparently, for the sake of sixty coins, a small plate and a
saucepan of silver, had remained in his house till the street was
already half filled with volcanic matter." He was found as if in
the act of escaping from his window. Two others were found
in the same street.
The shops in the street on the' north side of the Temple of
Augustus most probably supplied those who feasted with dain-
ties; and it has been called the Street of Dried Fruits, from the
quantity of raisins, figs, plums, and chestnuts, fruit of several sorts
preserved in vases of glass, hempseed, and lentils. It is now,
296
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
however, more generally known as the Street of the Augustals.
Scales, money, moulds for pastry and bread, were discovered in
the shops; and a bronze statue of Fame, small, and delicately
executed, having golden bracelets round the arms.
In the northern entrance to the building the name CELSVM
was written on a pilaster; near it was found in a box a gold
ring with an engraved stone set in it, forty-one silver, and a
thousand and thirty-six brass coins.
The next group of vessels, though nearly destitute of orna-
ment, and probably of a very ordinary class, will serve to give
us some idea of the cooking vessels of the Romans. One of the
most celebrated vases in the Neapolitan collection was found with
a bronze simpulum in it; and upon the vase itself there was a
sacrificial painting, representing a priest in the act of pouring out
a libation from a vase with the simpulum.
Pottery in ancient times was usually much more ornamental
than at present, although it was often the case that their ornaments
were rather an inconvenience, and would simply encumber the ves-
sels; in our practical age more importance is placed in the con-
venience and utility than in beauty. Ev'en their common ves-
sels are not without a certain degree of elegance, both in form
and workmanship.
Great numbers of clay
vases have been found, of
which the following is a
very beautiful specimen.
The lip and base have
the favorite ovolo mould-
ing ; the body has two
rows of fluting separated
by a transverse band,
charged with leaves, and with a swan in the centre. The neck
of the vase is painted, and I he same subject is given on each
VEssKLS. {From Pompeii
DRINKING VESSELS.
297
side. It represents a chariot, drawn by four animals at lull gallop,
which appear to be intermediate between tigers and panthers.
A winged genius directs them with his left hand, while with his
right he goads them with a javelin.
Another winged figure preceding the quadriga, with a thyrsus
in his left hand, is in the act of seizing the bridle of one of the ani-
mals. The whole is painted in white on a black ground, except
some few of the details, which are yellow, and the car and mantle
of the genius, which are red. The handles represent knotted
cords, or flexible branches interlaced, which terminate in the
heads of animals. This vase is much cracked, probably in con-
sequence of the violence of the fire.
Some drinking vessels of peculiar con-
struction have been found, which merit a
particular description. These were in the
shape of a horn, the primitive drinking-
vessel, and had commonly a hole at the
point, to be closed with the finger, until the
drinker, raising it above his mouth, suftered
the liquor to flow in a stream from the
orifice.
This method of drinking, which is still
practiced in some parts of the Mediter-
I ranean, must require great skill in order to
hit the mark exactly. Sometimes the hole
at the tip was closed, and one or two handles fitted to the side,
and then the base formed the mouth ; and sometimes the whim-
sical fancy of the potter fashioned it into the head of a pig, a
stag, or any other animal. One in the Neapolitan Museum
has the head of an eagle with the ears of a man.
These vases are usuall3^of clay, but cheap as is the material,
it is evident by their good workmanship that they were not
made by the lowest artists.
DRINKING VESSEL.
298 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
The learned seem to have been generally mistaken on the
subject of glass- making among the ancients, who appear to have
been far more skillful than had been imagined. The vast col-
lection of bottles, vases, glasses, and other utensils, discovered
at Pompeii, is sufficient to show that the ancients were well ac-
quainted with the art of glass-blowing.
There is no doubt but that the Romans possessed glass in
sufficient plenty to apply it to purposes of household ornament.
The raw material appears from Pliny's account to have under-
gone two fusions; the first converted it into a rough mass called
ammonitrum, which was melted again and became pure glass.
We are also told of a dark-colored glass resembling obsidian^
plentiful enough to be cast into solid statues.
Pliny mentions having seen images of Augustus cast in this
substance. It probably was some coarse kind of glass resembling
the ammonitrum, or such as that in which the scoriae of our iron
furnaces abound. Glass was worked either by blowing it with a
pipe, as is now practiced, by turning in a lathe, by engraving and
carving it, or, as we have noticed, by casting it in a mould.
The ancients had certainly acquired great skill in the manu-
facture, as appears both from the accounts which have been pre-
served by ancient authors, and by the specimens which still exist
— among which we may notice, as pre-eminently beautiful, that
torment of antiquaries, the Portland vase, preserved in the Brit-
ish Museum. We have already adverted to another vase of the
same kind, and of almost equal beauty, found in one of the tombs
near the Gate of Herculaneum.
A remarkable story is told by Dion Cassius, of a man who,
in the time of the Emperor Tiberius, brought a glass cup into
the imperial presence and dashed it on the ground. To the
wonder of the spectators, the vessel bent under the blow without
breaking, and the ingenious artist immediately hammered out the
bruise, and restored it whole and sound to its original form;
COLORED GLASS. 299.
in return for which display of his skill, Tiberius, it is said^
ordered him to be immediately put to death.
The story is a strange one, yet it is confirmed by Pliny, who-
both mentions the discovery itself, and gives a clue to the motives
which may have urged the emperor to a cruelty apparently so-
unprovoked. He speaks of an artificer who had invented a
method of making flexible glass, and adds that Tiberius ban-
ished him, lest this new fashion should injure the workers in
metal, of whose trade the manufacture of gold, silver, and other
drinking-cups, and furniture for the table, formed an extensive
and important branch.
The Romans were also well acquainted with the art of col-
oring glass, as appears, among other proofs, from the glass
mosaics, of which mention has been made. Pliny speaks of a
blood-red sort, called hsematinum, from blood, of white glass,
blue glass, etc. The most valuable sort, however, was the color-
less crystal glass, for two cups of which, with handles on each
side, Nero gave 6,000 sesterces, about $240.
Under this head we may speak of the vases called murrhinay
since one theory respecting them is, that they were made of
variegated glass. Their nature, however, is doubtful; not so,
their value. Pliny speaks of 70 talents being given for one hold-
ing three sextarii, about four and a half pints. Titus Petronius on
his death-bed defrauded the avarice of Nero, who had compelled
him, by a common piece of tyranny, to appoint the crown his
heir by breaking a murrhine trulla, or flat bowl, worth 300 tal-
ents. Nero himself, as became a prince, outdid all by giving 100
talents for a single capis, or drinking-cup, " a memorable circum-
stance, that an emperor, and father of his country, should have
drunk at so dear a rate." Pliny's description of this substance
runs thus :
"It is to be noticed that we have these rich cassidoin vessels
(called in Latin murrhina) from the East, and that from places
300 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
Otherwise not greatly renowned, but most within the kingdom of
Parthia; howbeit the principal come from Carmania. The stone
whereof these vessels are made is thought to be a certain humor,
thickened as it were in the earth by heat. In no place are these
stones found larger than small tablements of pillars or the like,
and seldom were they so thick as to serve for such a drinking-
cup as I have spoken of already. Resplendent are they in some
sort, but it may rather be termed a gloss than a radiant and trans-
parent clearness; but that which maketh them so much esteemed
is the variet}' of colors, for in these stones a man shall perceive
certain veins or spots, which, as they be turned about, resemble
divers colors, inclining partly to purple and partly to white: he
shall see them also of a third color composed of them both, re-
sembling the flame of fire. Thus they pass from -one to another
as a man holdeth them, insomuch as their purple seemeth near
akin to white, and their milky white to bear as much on the pur-
ple. Some esteem those cassidoin or murrhine stones, the richest,
which present as it were certain reverberations of certain colors
meeting altogether about their edges and extremities, such as we
observe in rainbows; others are delighted with certain fatty spots
appearing in them; and no account is made of them which show
either pale or transparent in any part of them, for these he reck-
oned great faults and blemishes; in like manner if there be seen
in the cassidoin any spots like corns of salts or warts, for then
are they considered apt to split. Finally, the cassidoin stones
are commended in some sort also for the smell that they do
yield."
On these words of Pliny a great dispute has arisen. Some
think that onyx is the material described, a conjecture founded on
the variety of colors which that stone presents. To. this it is ob-
jected, that onyx and murrha, onyx vases and murrhine vases
are alike mentioned by Latin writers, and never with any hint
as to their identity; nay, there is a passage in which Heliogabalus
GI.ASS. 301
is said to have onyx and murrhine vases in constant use.
Otiiers, as we have said, think that they were variegated glass;
others that they were the true Chinese porcelain, a conjecture in
some degree strengthened by a line of Propertius :
"Murrheaq. iu Parthis pocula cocta focis."
At the same time this quotation is not so conclusive as it might
have been, since Pliny speaks of murrha as " hardened in the
earth by heat," and the poet may only have meant the same
thing, though the expression in that case would be somewhat
strained. To us, Pliny's description appears to clearly point to
some opaline substance; the precious opal has never in modern
times been found in masses approaching to the size necessary to
make vessels such as we have spoken of. The question is not
likely to be settled, and it is not improbable that the material of
these murrhine vases is entirely unknown to us, as the quarries of
many marbles used by the ancients have hitherto eluded our re-
search, and the marbles themselves are only known by their
recurrence among ancient buildings.
We may here notice one or two facts connected with
glass, which show that the ancients were on the verge of making
one or two very important discoveries in physical science. They
were acquainted with the power of transparent spherical bodies
to produce heat by the transmission of light, though not with
the manner in which that heat was generated by the concentra-
tion of the solar rays. Pliny mentions the fact that hollow glass
balls filled with water would, when held opposite to the sun, grow
hot enough to burn any cloth they touched; but the turn of his
expression evidently leads to the conclusion that he believed the
heat to become accumulated in the glass itself, not merely to be
transmitted through it. Seneca speaks of similar glass balls,
which magnified minute objects to the view. Nay, he had nearly
stumbled on a more remarkable discovery, the composition of
light, for he mentions the possibility of producing an artificial
302
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
rainbow by the use of an angular glass rod. At a far earlier pe
riod Aristophanes speaks of "a transparent substance used to
light fires with," usually translated glass. The passage is curi-
ous, as it shows a perfect acquaintance with the use of the burn-
ing glass.
With the laws of reflection the ancients, as we know from
the performances ascribed to Archimedes, were well acquainted.
It is singular that being in possession of such remarkable facts
connected with
refraction, they
should never
have proceeded
t o investigate
the laws b }'
which it is gov-
erned.
The first ob-
ject figured /z,
in the annexed
block, is a glass
funnel, z ?i fundi-
bulum; g^ is
•described as a wine-strainer, but the method of its use is not
altogether clear. The bottom is slightly concave, and pierced
-with holes. It is supposed to have been used as a sort of tap,
the larger part being placed within the barrel, and the wine
-drawn off through the neck or spout, which is broken. Fig. n^
is a wine-taster, something on the principle of a siphon. It is
hollow, and the air being exhausted by the mouth at the small
«nd, the liquid to be tasted was drawn up into the cavity.
a and ^, wine-jars; c, two small wine-jars in a glass casket;
</, e, /"and q^ goblets or drinking-glasses of toned and beautiful
<:olored glass ; i and m^ glass dishes, the first with a saucer.
GLASS TKSSELS ((?/ Pompeii).
GLASS VESSELS. 303
Another sort of glass strainer, of which there are several in
the Neapolitan Museum, is made of bronze, pierced in elegant
and intricate patterns as seen on page 84. The Romans used
strainers tilled with snow to cool their wines, and such may have
been the destination of the one here represented. These were
called cola vinaria^ or nivaria. The poor used a linen cloth
for the same purpose.
With respect to the details of dress, the excavations, whether
at Pompeii or Herculaneum, enable us to clear up no difficulties,
and to add little to that which is already known on this subject.
Still a short notice of the principal articles of dress, and ex-
planation of their Latin names, may be expedient for the full un- .
-derstanding of some parts of our subject. The male costume
will detain us a very short time.
The proper Roman dress, for it would be tiresome and un-
profitable to enter upon the variety of garments introduced in
later times from foreign nations, consisted merely of the toga and
tunica, the latter being itself an innovation on the simple and
hardy habit of ancient times. It was a woolen vest, for it was
late before the use of linen was introduced, reaching to the knees,
and at first made without sleeves, which were considered effemi-
nate; but, as luxury crept in, not only were sleeves used, but the
number of tunics was increased to three or four. The toga was
an ample semi-circular garment, also without sleeves. It is de-
scribed as having an opening large enough to admit the head and
the right arm and shoulder, which were left exposed, having a
sort of lappet, or flap (lacinia), which was brought under the
right arm and thrown over the left shoulder, forming the sinus^
or bosom, the deep folds of which served as a sort of pocket.
This is the common description, which, we confess, conveys no
very clear notion of the construction or appearance of the dress.
The left arm was entirely covered, or if exposed, it was by
gathering up the lower edge of the ample g^rment^^^^^^^^^^^^
"^^ OP Tro!*^^^
;UHI7BRSlTyi
304
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
The female dress consisted of one or more tunics, with an
upper garment, called stola^ which superseded the toga, origi-
nally worn by women as well as men. The stola is said to have
been a more ample and ornamented sort of tunic. The tunic
worn by women does not seem to have diftered from that worn
by men, except that it reached to the feet. Above the stola,
women wore a mantle called palla or pallium. This is said to
have been thrown across the shoulders, the right end being
gathered up and thrown over the left shoulder, leaving nothing
but the rio^ht hand visible.
Some minute speculations relative to one article in female
dress have been based on a statue from Herculaneum, in which
a Neapolitan antiquary thinks that he has discovered the nature
and construction of that compound garment called the tunico-
pallium, in which the appearance and uses of the tunic and mantle
were united. It is the statue of a woman employed in buckling
her dress over the right shoulder, having already fastened it on
.the left, in such a manner as to leave the arm bare.
Numerous articles of female ornament have been found, of
which we have collected a few into one block. They are drawn
of the same size as the originals. The lower corners of the cut
represent ear-rings, seen in front and sideways. It is a portion
of a plain gold spheroid, very thick, with a metal hook at the
back to pass through the ear. The next is of simpler construc-
tion, having pearl pendants. Both these patterns seem to have
ARTICLES OF JEWELRY.
305
been very common. The upper right-hand corner of the cut
represents a breast-
pin, attached to a
BacchanaHan tigure,
with a patera in one
hand and a glass in
the other. He is
provided with bat's
wings, and two belts,
or bands of grapes,
pass across his body.
The bat's wings sym-
bolize the drowsiness
consequent upon hard
drinking. There are
also represented gold
rings with serpent's
heads, the eyes of
which are inlaid with
beautiful stones and
diamonds ; also brace-
lets of this pattern
were very common.
A beautiful
necklace was
gold
also
found, of which a cut is represented in the above plate. It was
very elaborate and exquisite. Ornamental safety-pins were also
found, as shown in following cuts. Lockets were also found,
indicating religious subjects of later date.
Small toilet-boxes, made of wood or ivory, were also nu-
merous; and, like the vases, of many different forms; and some,
which contained" cosmetics of divers kinds, served to deck the
dressing table, or a lady's boudoir. They were carved in
20
306 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
various ways, and loaded with ornamental devices in relief;
sometimes representing the favorite lotus flower, with its buds
and stalks, a goose, gazelle, fox, or other animal. Many were
of considerable length, terminating in a hollow shell, not unlike
a spoon in shape and depth, covered with a lid turning on a pin;
and to this, which may properly be styled the box, the remain-
ing part was merely an accessory, intended for ornament, or
serving as a handle.
They were generally of sycamore wood, sometimes of
tamarisk, or of acacia; and occasionally ivor}^, and inlaid work,
were substituted for wood. To many, a handle of less dis-
proportionate length was attached, representing the usual lotus
flower, a figure, a Typhonian monster, an animal, a bird, a fish,
or a reptile; and the box itself, whether covered with a lid or
open, was in character with the remaining part. Some shallow
ones were probably intended to contain small portions of oint-
TOILET-BOXES, ETC.
307
ment, taken from a large vase at the time it was wanted, or for
other purposes connected with the toilet, where greater depth
was not required; and in many instances they rather resembled
spoons than boxes.
Many were made in the form of a royal oval, with and with-
out a handle; and the body of a wooden fish was scooped out,
and closed with a cover imitating the scales, to deceive the eye
by the appearance of a solid mass. Sometimes a goose was rep-
resented, ready for table, or swimming on the water, and pluming
itself; the head being the handle of a box formed of its hol-
low body; some consisted of an open part or cup, attached to a
covered box; others of different shapes offered the usual variety
of fancy devices, and some were without covers, which may come
under the denomination of saucers. Others bore the precise form
and character of a box, being deeper and more capacious; and
these were probably used for holding trinkets, or occasionally as
repositories for the small pots of ointment, or scented oils, and
bottles containing the collyrium, which women applied to their
eyes.
Some were divided into separate compartments, covered by
a common lid, either sliding in a groove, or turning on a pin at
3o8 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
one end; and many of still larger dimensions sufficed to contain
a mirror, combs, and, perhaps, even some articles of dress.
These boxes were frequently of costly materials, veneered
w^ith rare woods, or made of ebony, inlaid with ivory, painted
with various devices, or stained to imitate materials of a valuable
nature; and the mode of fastening the lid, and the curious substi-
tute for a hinge given to some of them, show the former was en-
tirely removed, and that the box remained open, while used.
Knobs of ebony, or other hard wood, were ver}'^ common.
They were covered with great care, and inlaid with ivory and
silver.
Some boxes were made with a pointed summit, divided into
two parts, one of which alone opened, turning on small pivots at
the base, and the two ends of the box resembled in form the gable
ends, as the top, the shelving roof, of a house. The sides were,
as usual, secured by glue and nails, generally of wood, and dove-
tailed, a method of joining adopted in Egypt at the most remote
period; but the description of these belongs more properly to
cabinet work, as those employed for holding the combs, and simi-
lar objects, to the toilet.
Some vases have been found in boxes, made of wicker-work,
closed with stoppers of wood, reed, or other materials, supposed
to belong either to a lady's toilet or to a medical man; one of
which, now in the Berlin Museum, has been already noticed.
Ji^URNITUF(E.
In the furniture of the houses the Egyptians displayed con-
siderable taste; and there, as elsewhere, they studiously avoided
too much regularity, justly considering that its monotonous effect
fatigued the eye. They preferred variety both in the arrange-
ment of the rooms and in the character of their furniture, and
neither the windows, doors, nor wings of the house, exactly cor-
responded with each other. An Egyptian would, therefore, have
been more pleased with the form of our Elizabethan, than of the
box-shaped rooms of later times.
In their mode of sitting on chairs they resembled the modern
Europeans rather than Asiatics, neither using, like the latter, soft
divans^ nor sitting cross-legged on carpets. Nor did they recline
at meals, as the Romans, on a triclinmm, though couches and
ottomans formed part of the furniture of an Egyptian. When
Joseph entertained his brethren, he ordered them to sit according
to their ages. Eg3^ptians sometimes sat cross-legged on the
ground, on mats and carpets, or knelt on one or both knees ; these
were rather the customs for certain occasions, and of the poorer
classes. To sit on their heels was also customary as a token of
respect in the presence of a superior, as in modern Egypt; and
when a priest bore a shrine before the deity he assumed this posi-
tion of humility; a still greater respect being shown by prostra-
tion, or by kneeling and kissing the ground. But the house of a
wealthy person was always furnished with chairs and couches.
309
3IO DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
Stools and low seats were also used, the seat being only from 8
to 14 inches high, and of wood, or interlaced with thongs; these,
however, may be considered equivalent to our rush-bottomed
chairs, and probably belonged to persons of humbler means.
They varied in their quality, and some were inlaid with ivory
and various woods.
Those most common in the houses of the rich were the single
and double chair (answering to the Greek thronos and diphros\
the latter sometimes kept as a family seat, and occupied by the
master and mistress of the house, or a married couple. It was
not, however, always reserved exclusively for them, nor did they
invariably occupy the same seat; they sometimes sat like their
guests on separate chairs, and a diphros was occasionally offered
to visitors, both men and women.
Many of the fauteuils were of the most elegant form. They
were made of ebony and other rare woods, inlaid with ivory, and
very similar to some now used in Europe. The legs were mostly
in imitation of those of an animal; and lions' heads, or the entire
body, formed the arms of large fauteuils, as in the throne of
Solomon (i Kings, x. 19). Some, again, had folding legs, like
our camp-stools; the seat was often slightly concave; and those
in the royal palace were ornamented with the figures of captives,
or emblems of dominion over Egypt and other countries. The
back was light and strong, and consisted of a single set of upright
and ^ross bars, or of a frame receding gradually and terminating
at its summit in a graceful curve, supported from without by per-
pendicular bars; and over this was thrown a handsome pillow of
colored cotton, painted leather, or gold and silver tissue, like the
beds at the feast of Ahasuerus, mentioned in Esther, or like the
feathered cushions covered with stuffs and embroidered with silk
and threads of gold in the palace of Scaurus.
Seats on the principle of our camp-stools seem to have been
much in vogue. They were furnished with a cushion, or were
CHAIRS AND STOOLS. 3II
covered with the skin of a leopard, or some other animal, which
was removed when the seat was folded up; and it was not un-
usual to make even head-stools, or wooden pillows on the same
principle. They were also adorned in various ways, bound with
metal plates, and inlaid with ivory, or foreign woods; and the
wood of common chairs was often painted to resemble that of a
rarer and more valuable kind.
The seats of chairs were frequently of leather, painted with
flowers and fancy devices; of interlaced work made of string or
thongs, carefully and neatly arranged, which, like our Indian cane
chairs, were particularly adapted for a hot climate; but over this
they occasionally placed a leather cushion, painted in the manner
already mentioned.
The forms of the chairs varied very much; the larger ones
generally had light backs, and some few had arms They were
mostly about the height of those now used in Europe, the seat
nearly in a line with the bend of the knee; but some were very
low, and others offered that variety of position which we seek in
the kangaroo chairs of our own drawing-room. The ordinary
fashion of the legs was in imitation of those of sorne wild animal,
as the lion or the goat, but more usually the former, the foot
raised and supported on a short pin; and, what is remarkable, the
skill of their cabinet-makers, even before the time of Joseph, had
already done away with the necessity of uniting the legs with
bars. Stools, however, and more rarely chairs, were occasion-
ally made with these strengthening members, as is still the
case in our own country; but the drawing-room fauteuil and
couch were not disfigured by so unseemly and so unskillful a
support.
The stools used in the saloon were of the same style and
elegance as the chairs, frequently differing from them only in the
absence of a back; and those of more delicate workmanship
were made of ebony, and inlaid, as already stated, with ivory or
312 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
rare woods. Some of an ordinary kind had solid sides, and were
generally very low; and others, with three legs, belonged to per-
sons of inferior rank.
The ottomans were simple square sofas, without backs, raised
from the ground nearly to the same level as the chairs. The
upper part was of leather, or a cotton stuff, richly colored, like
the cushions of the fauteuils; the base was of wood painted with
various devices; and those in the royal palace were ornamented
with the figures of captives, the conquest of whose country was
designated by their having this humiliating position. The same
idea gave them a place on the soles of sandals, on the footstools
of a royal throne, and on the walls of the palace at Medeenet
Ilaboo, in Thebes, where their heads support some of the orna-
mental details of the building.
Footstools also constituted part of the furniture of the sitting-
room; they were made with solid or open sides, covered at the
top with leather or interlaced work, and varied in height accord-
ing to circumstances, some being of the usual size now adopted
by us, others of inconsiderable thickness, and rather resembling a
small rug. Carpets, indeed, were a very early invention, and
they are often represented sitting upon them, as well as on mats,
which are cortimonly used in their sitting-rooms, as at the present
day, and remnants of them have been found in the Theban
tombs.
Their couches evinced no less taste than the fauteuils. They
were of wood, with one end raised, and receding in a graceful
curve; and the feet, as in many of the chairs, already described,
were fashioned to resemble those of some wild animal.
Egyptian tables were round, square, or oblong; the former
were generally used during their repasts, and consisted of a cir-
cular fiat summit, supported like the monopodiii?n of the Romans,
on a single shaft, or leg, in the centre, or by the figure of a man,
intended to represent a captive. Large tables had usually three
BED-ROOM FURNITURE.
3^3
or four legs, but some were made with solid sides; and though
generally of wood, many were of metal or stone; and they va-
ried in size, according to the purposes for which they were in-
tended.
Of the furniture of their bed-rooms we know little or noth-
ing; but that they universally employed the wooden pillow above
alluded to is evident, though Porphyry would lead us to sup-
pose its use was confined to the priests, when, in noticing their
mode of life, he mentions a half cylinder of well polished wood
^'sufficing to support their head," as an instance of their simplicity
and self denial. For the rich they were made of Oriental ala-
baster, with an elegant grooved or fluted shaft, ornamented with
hieroglyphics, carved In intaglio, of sycamore, tamarisk, and
other woods of the country; the poor classes being contented
with a cheaper sort, of pottery or stone. Porphyry mentions a
kind of wicker bedstead of -palm branches^ hence called hais^
evidently the species of framework called haffass^ still employed
by the modern Egyptians as a support to the divans of sitting
rooms, and to their beds. Wooden, and perhaps also bronze,
bedsteads (like the iron one of Og, King of Bashan), were used
by the wealthier classes of the ancient Egyptians; and it is at
least probable that the couches they slept upon were as elegant
as those on which their bodies reposed after death; and the more
so, as these last, in their general style, are very similar to the
furniture of the sitting-room.
The oldest specimen of a bedstead is that mentioned by Ho-
mer as joined together by Odysseus in his own house. He had
cut off the stem of an olive-tree a few feet from the ground, and
joined to it the boards of the bed, so that the trunk supported
the bed at the head. It therefore was immovable. The antique
bed must be considered as the prolongation of the diphros. The
cross-legged diphros prolonged became the folding bed ; that with
perpendicular legs the couch. The former could easily be moved
314 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
and replaced; they are perhaps identical with the beds frequently
mentioned in the "Odyssey," which were put into the outer hall
for guests. One of them is shown as the notorious bed of Prok-
rustes in a picture on a vase. The diphros corresponds to the
couch resting on four legs, at first without head and foot-board,
which were afterwards added at both ends. By the further ad-
dition of a back on one of the long sides, it became what we now
call a chaise longue or sofa. This sleeping kline was no doubt
essentially the same as that used at meals. The materials were,
besides the ordinary woods, maple or box, either massive or ve-
neered. The legs and backs, and other parts not covered by the
bed clothes, were carefully worked. Sometimes the legs are
neatly carved or turned, sometimes the ♦frames are inlaid with
gold, silver, and ivory, as is testified in the "Odyssey," and else-
where.
The bedding mentioned in Homer did not consist of sumpt-
uous bolsters and cushions, as in later times. It consisted, even
amongst the richer classes, first of all of the blankets of a long-
haired woolen material, or perhaps a kind of mattress. Hides,
as spread by the poor on the hard floor, were sometimes put un-
der the blankets, and other additional blankets, so as to soften
the couch. The whole was covered with linen sheets. The
light blankets served to cover the sleeper, who sometimes used
his own dress for this purpose; sometimes they consisted of woolen
blankets woven for the purpose. After Homer's time, when
Asiatic luxury had been introduced into Greece, a mattress was
placed immediately on the bed-straps. It was stuffed with
plucked wool or feathers, and covered with some linen or woolen
material. Pillows, like the mattresses stuffed with wool or
feathers, were added to complete the bedding, at least in more
luxurious times. (The cut on page 78 gives a good idea of the
looks of an ancient Roman and Grecian bed.) Of a similar kind
were the klinai placed in the sitting-rooms, lying on which, in a
TABLES, ETC. 315
half-reclining position, people used to read, write and take their
meals. They were covered with soil blankets of gorgeous colors,
while one or more cushions served to support the body in its half-
sitting position, or to prop the left arm.
Tables were used by the ancients chiefly at meals, not for
reading and writing. The antique tables, either square with four
legs, or circular or oval with three connected legs, afterwards
with one leg, resemble our modern ones, but for their being lower.
Mostly their slabs did not reach higher than the kline; higher
tables would have been inconvenient for the reclining person. In
Homeric and even in later times, a small table stood before each
thronos. The use of separate dishes for each guest is compar-
atively new. Originally the meats were brought in on large
platters, divided by the steward, and each portion put on the bare
table. In want of knives and forks the fingers were used. The
pastry was put in baskets by the tables. Whether the Homeric
tables were as low as the later ones, when lying instead of sitting
had become the custom, we must leave undecided, in want of
sculptural evidence. The legs of the tables were carefully fin-
ished, particularly those of the tripods, which frequently imitated
the legs of animals, or at least had claws at their ends. The Ibur-
legged tables were more simple in design. The material was
wood, particularly maple; later on, bronze, precious metals, and
ivory were introduced.
For the keeping of articles of dress, valuable utensils, orna-
ments, bottles of ointment, and documents, larger or smaller
drawers and boxes were used. Chests of drawers and upright
cupboards with doors seem to have been unknown in earlier
times; only in few monuments of later date (for instance in the
wall-painting of a shoemaker's workshop at Herculaneum) we
see somethins: resemblins: our wardrobe. The wardrobes men-
tioned by Homer doubtless resembled our old-fashioned trunks.
The surfaces showed ornaments of various kinds, either cut from
^iC) •# DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
the wood in relief or inlaid with precious metal and ivor}'. Some
smaller boxes with inlaid figures or painted arabesques are shown
from pictures on vases. The ornamentation with polished nails
seem to have been very much in favor — a fashion re- introduced
in modern times. The most celebrated example of such orna-
mentation was the box of Kypselos, in the opisthodomos of the
temple of Hera at 01}Tnpia. It dates probably from the time
when the counting by Olympiads was introduced, and served,
according to Botticher, for the keeping of votive tapestry and the
like. According to Pausanias, it was made of cedar-wood,
and elliptic in shape. It was adorned with mythological repre-
sentations, partly carved in wood, partly inlaid with gold and
ivory, encircling the whole box in five stripes, one over the
other.
Locks, keys and bolts, known at an early period for the
closing of doors, were later applied to boxes, as is sufficiently
proved by the still-existing small keys fastened to tinger-rings,
which, although all of Roman make, were most likely not
unknown to the Greeks. For doors these would have been too
small.
The furniture of Greek houses was simple, but full of artistic
beauty. This was particularly displayed in vessels for the keep-
ing of both dry and fluid stores, as were found in temples, dwell-
ings and even graves. Only the last-mentioned have been pre-
served to us. Earthen vessels are the most numerous. The in-
vention of the potter's wheel is of great antiquity, and was
ascribed by the Greeks in different places to different mythical
persons. The Corinthians named Hyperbion as its inventor. In
the Kerameikos, the potters' quarter of Athens, Keramos, the
son of Dionysos and Ariadne, was worshiped as such. The name
of the locality itself was derived from this "heros eponymos."
Next to Corinth and Athens (which latter became celebrated for
earthen manufactures, owing to the excellent clay of the promon-
3l8 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
tory of Kolias), ^gina, Lakedsemon, Aulis, Tenedos, Samos and
Knidos were famous for their earthenware. In these places the
manufacture of painted earthenware was concentrated ; thence they
■were exported to the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black
Sea for the markets of the adjoining countries. Owing to the
beautiful custom of the ancients of leaving in the graves of the
dead the utensils of their daily life, a great many beautiful vessels
have been preserved which otherwise would have shared the de-
struction of the dwellings with much less fragile implements.
Prom the pictures on these vases we derive, moreover, valuable
information as to the public and private habits of the Greeks.
The greatest number of graves in their original condition, and
iilled with vessels, are found in Italy.
Good, particularly red, clay was in demand for superior
goods, and of this the promontory of Koliac, near Athens, fur-
nished an unlimited supply. The potter's wheel was in use at a
very early period. On it were formed both large and small ves-
sels, with' the difference, however, that of the former the foot,
neck, and handles were formed separately, and afterwards at-
tached, as was also the case in small vessels with widely curved
handles.
In order to intensify the red color the vessel was frequently
.glazed and afterwards dried and burnt on the oven. The outlines
of the figures to be painted on the vase were either cut into the
red clay and filled up with a brilliant black varnish, or the sur-
face itself was covered with the black varnish up to the con-
tours, in which case these stood out in the natural red color of
the clav.
The first mentioned process was the older of the two, and
greater antiquity is, therefore, to be assigned to vessels with black
figures on a red ground. In both kinds of paintings draperies or
the muscles of nude figures were further indicated by the incision
of additional lines of the color of the surface into the figures.
POTTERY. 3I()
Other colors, like dark red, violet, or white, which on close in-
vestigation have been recognized as dissolvable, were put on after
the second burning of the vessel.
About the historic development of pottery we know nothing
beyond what may be guessed from the ditferences of style. As
we said before, figures of a black or dark-brown color painted
on the natural pale red or yellowish color of the clay indicate
greater antiquity. The black figures were occasionally painted
over in white or violet. These vessels are mostly small and some-
■what compressed in form; they are surrounded with parallel
stripes of pictures of animals, plants, fabulous beings, or ara-
besques. The drawings show an antiquated stiff type, similar to
those on the vessels recently discovered at Nineveh and Babylon,
whence the influence of Oriental on Greek art may be inferred.
This archaic style, like the strictly hieratic style in sculpture, was
retained together with a freer treatment at a more advanced
period. As a first step of development we notice the combination
of animals and arabesques, at first with half human, half animal
figures, soon followed by compositions belonging mostly to a cer-
tain limited circle of myths. The treatment of figures shows
rigidity in the calm, and violence in the active, positions. The
Doric forms of letters and words on many vases of this style,
whether found in Greece or Italy, no less than the uniformity of
their technique^ indicate one place of manufacture, most likely the
Doric Corinth, celebrated for her potteries; on the other hand,
the inscriptions in Ionian characters and written in the Ionian dia-
lect on vessels prove their origin in the manufactures of the Ionian
Euboea and her colonies. The pictures on these vases, also
painted in stripes, extend the mythological subject-matter beyond
the Trojan cycle to the oldest epical myths, each story being rep-
resented in its consecutive phases.
The latter vases form the transition to the second period.
The shapes now become more varied, graceful, and slender. The
520 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
figures are painted in black, and covered with a brilliant varnish;
the technique of the painting, however, does not differ from that
of the first period. The outlines have been neatly incised and
covered up with black paint; the details also of draperies and
single parts of the body are done by incision, and sometimes
painted over in white or dark red. The principle seems to be
that of polychrome painting, also applied in sculpture. Single
parts of the armor, embroideries, and patterns of dresses, hair,
and beards of men, the manes of animals, etc., are indicated by
means of dark red lines. This variety of color was required par-
ticularly for the draperies, which are stiff and clumsily attached
to the body. The same stiffness is shown in the treatment of
faces and other nude parts of the body, as also in the rendering
of movements. The faces are always in profile, the nose and chin
pointed and protruding, and the lips of the compressed mouth in-
dicated only by a line. Shoulders, hips, thighs, and calves bulge
out, the body being singularly pinched. The grouping is equally
imperfect. The single figures of compositions are loosely con-
nected by the general idea of the story. They have, as it were,
a narrative character; an attempt at truth to nature is, however,
undeniable.
The subjects are taken partly from the twelve- gods cycle
(like the frequently-occurring birth of Athene, Dionysian proces-
sions, etc.), or from Trojan and Theban myths; partly also from
daily life, such as chases, wrestlings, sacrifices, symposia and the
like. To this class belong most of those large Panathenaic prize-
vases, which are of such importance for our knowledge of gym-
nastic competitions.
In our third class the figures appear in the natural color of
the surface, which itself has been painted black. The character
of the figures in consequence appears gay and livel}'. Both styles
seem at one time to have existed together, for we find them used
severally on two sides of one and the same vessel, till at last the
DRAWINGS ON VASES.
321
painting of black figures was disused entirely. The drawings
now become more individual, and are fi-eed fi-om the fetters of
conventional tradition — a proof of the free development of both
political and artistic feelings, even among the lower classes of arti-
ficers. The specimens of the third class show the different stages
of this process of liberation. At first the figures are somewhat
hard, and the drapery, although following the lines of the body
more freely than pre-
viously, shows still tra
ces of archaic severity
of treatment; the details,
indicated by black lines,
are still carefully worked
out. For smaller folds
and muscles, a darker
shade of the red color
is used; wreaths and
flowers appear dark ;
red white is used only
in few cases — for in-
stance, for the hair of an
old man. The composi-
tion shows greater con-
centration and symme-
try in the grouping,
according to the condi-
tions of the space at
disposal. The figures
show a solemn dignity, with signs, however, of an attempted freer
treatment.
Kramer justly calls this period that of the " severe style,"
and compares it with the well-known ^'^ginetic " style in sculp-
ture. The further development of the " severe style " is what
21
322
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
Kramer calls the "beautiful style," in which grace and beauty of
motion and drapery, verging on the soft, have taken the place of
severe dignity. In high art this transition might be compared to
that from Perugino's school to that of Raphael, or, if we may be-
lieve the ancient writers, from the school of Polygnotos to that of
Zeuxis and Parrhasios.
The form of the vessels themselves next calls for our atten-
tion. The vases, two-handled amphorai and krateres, found most
frequently during this period, are slender and graceful. Together
with them we meet with beautifully modeled drinking-horns, and
heads or whole figures, used to put vessels upon. The variety
of forms, and the largeness of some vessels, overloaded as they
were with figures, soon led to want of care in the composition.
The moderation characteristic of the "beautiful style" was soon
relinquished for exaggerated ornamentation, combined with a
preference for representing sumptuous dresses and the immoderate
use of white, yellow, and other colors. This led gradually to the
decadence of pottery.
In some Etruscan cities earthenware was manufactured by
local artists working after Greek patterns. The figures are dis-
tinguished from genuine Greek work by the contours being incised
very deeply and filled up with red color. The clay also is coarser.
The compositions show an admixture of local myths and usages,
not to mention Etruscan inscriptions.
Ya?e^.
Painted vases may be considered as the most curious, the
most graceful, and the most instructive remains that have comfc
down to us from ancient times. The beauty of the forms, the
fineness of the material, the perfection of the varnish, the variety
of the subjects, and their interest in an historical point of view
give painted vases a ver}' important place among the productions
of the arts of the ancients. Painted vases have been collected
with great eagerness ever since they have been known, and the
most remarkable have been engraved by celebrated artists, and
explained by profound archaeologists. Modern art and archaeol-
ogy have obtained from them beautiful models and important
information. They were known for the first time in the seven-
teenth century.
Painted vases were, to a considerable extent, objects ot
traffic and of export from one country to another. They may
be generally traced to Athens as the original place of exporta-
tion. Corinth also exported vases, for the products of Corinthian
potters have been found in Sicily and Italy, and there can be no
doubt that Corinth had established an active trade in works of
art with the Greek colonies all over the Mediterranean. Athen-
ian vases were carried by the Phoenicians, the commercial
traders of the ancient world, as objects of traffic to the remotest
parts of the then known world. In the Periplus of Scylax, the
323
324
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
PhcEnicians are mentioned as exchanging the pottery of Athens
for the ivory of Africa. They were, in fact, the ornamental
china of the ancient world.
Etruscan. — The potter's art was introduced into Etniria by
Demaratus of Corinth, who, flying from that city, took up his
abode at Tarquinii, the
modern Corneto, where
vases in the most ar-
chaic style, resembling
those of Corinth, or
those called Doric,
have been found.
Vases, the Etruscan
origin of which can not
be disputed, have been
found at Volterra, Tar-
quinii (Corneto), Pe-
rugia, Orvieto,Viterbo,
Aquapendente, and
other towns of ancient
Etruria. The clay of which they are made is of a pale or
reddish yellow, the varnish is dull, the workmanship rather rude,
the ornaments are devoid of taste and elegance, and the style of
the figures possesses all those characteristics already assigned to
that of the Etruscans. The figures are drawn in black on the
natural color of the clay; sometimes a little red is introduced on
the black ground of the drapery. It is by the subject chiefly
that the Etruscan vases are distinguished from the Greek vases.
On the former, the figures are in the costume peculiar to ancient
Italy; the men and the heroes are represented with their beards
and hair very thick; the gods and genii have large wings; mon-
strous combinations not capable of explanation by Hellenic myths;
we may also observe divinities, religious customs, attributes,
ETRUSCAN VASE.
GREEK VASES.
325
manners, arms, and symbols, different from those of Greece.
Etruscan deities, such as Charun with his mace, denote their
Etruscan origin ; the subjects of the vases are, however, generally
derived from Greek mythology, treated in a manner consonant to
the Etruscan taste, and to their local religion, while their drawing
is of the coarsest kind. If an inscription in Etruscan characters,
traced invariably from right to left, accompanies the painting,
certainty with regard to their origin may be considered as com-
plete. It is true that the greater number
of the letters of the ancient Greek alpha-
bet are of the same form as those of the
Etruscan alphabet; but there are in the
latter some particular charac-
ters which will prevent any
confusion. The names of the
personages on the vases are
spelt differently from those
on the Greek, as Ainas for
Ajax, Atreste for Adrastus, Akle for Achilles, Alcsti for Alces-
tis, etc. We must also observe, that Etruscan painted vases are
very rare, and are but few in number, compared with those for
which we are indebted to the arts of Greece.
Greek. — The paste of these vases is tender, easily scratched
or cut with a knife, remarkably fine and homogeneous, but of loose
texture. When broken, it exhibits a dull opaque color, more or
less yellow, red or grey. It is composed of 'silica, alumina, car-
bonate of lime, magnesia and oxide of iron. The color depends
on the proportions in which these elements are mixed; the paler
parts containing more lime, the red more iron. The exterior
coating is composed of a particular kind of clay, which seems to
be a kind of yellow or red ochre, reduced to a very fine paste,
mixed with some glutinous or oily substance, and laid on with a
brush ; great difference is observable in the pastes of vases com-
326 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
ing from widely separated localities, owing either to their compo-
sition or baking. The paste of the early vases of Athens and
Melos is of a very pale red; that of vases of the Doric or
Corinthian style is of a pale lemon color. At the best period of
the art, the paste is of a warm orange red; but Lucanian and
Apulian vases are of a paler tone. The Etruscan painted vases
of all ages are of a pale red tone, with a much greater proportion
of white, which appears to be owing to the greater proportion of
chalk used in preparing the paste.
The earliest vases were made with the hand, while those of
a later period were made with the wheel; the wheel, however,
is a very early invention. Among the Egyptians and Greeks it
was a low, circular table, turned with the foot. Representations
of a potter turning the wheel with his foot, occur on painted
vases of an early date. With this simple wheel the Greeks
effected wonders, producing shapes still unrivalled in beauty.
After the vases had been made on the wheel, Dr. Birch
writes, they were duly dried in the sun, and then painted;
for it is evident that they could not have been painted while wet.
The simplest and probably the most common, process was to
color the entire vase black. The under part of the foot was left
plain. When a pattern was added, the outline, faintly traced
with a round point on the moist clay, was carefully followed by
the painter. It was necessary for the artist to follow his sketch
with great rapidity, since the clay rapidly absorbed the coloring
matter, and the outline was required to be bold and continuous,
each time that it was joined detracting from its merit. A finely-
ground slip was next laid upon a brush, and the figures and orna-
ments were painted in. The whole was then covered with a very
fine siliceous glaze, probably formed of soda and well-levigated
sand. The vase was next sent to the furnace, and carefully
baked. It was then returned to the workshop, where a workman
or painter scratched in all the details with a pointed tool. The
GREEK VASES. 327
faces of female figures were colored white, with a thick coat of
lime or chalk, and the eyes red. Parts of the drapery, the crests
of helmets, and the antyges^ or borders of shields, were colored
with a crimson coat, consisting of an oxide of iron and lime, like
a body color.
In the second style of vases the figures are painted in a dark
brown or black, of an unequal tone, on yellow ground, formed of a
siliceous coating over the pale red clay of the vase. An improve-
ment upon this style was the changing of the color of the figures
by painting, or stopping out, all the ground of the vase in black,
thus leaving the figures of the natural red of the clay, and the
marking of the muscles and finer portions, as an outline, of bright
brown. After the paint had dried, the slip, or the siliceous glaze,
was laid over the vase, except the under part of the foot and the
inside. The colors used were few and simple, and were evidently
ground excessively fine, and made into a kind of slip. Of these
colors the black was the most important and the most extensively
used. Great difference has always existed as to the nature of
this color. Vauquelin takes it to be a carbonaceous matter, such
as plumbagine or black lead. The Due de Luynes asserts it to
be an oxide of iron. Of opaque colors, the most important and
extensively used is the white, said by Brongniart to be a carbon-
ate of lime or fine clay. Red and yellow are sparingly used.
Blue and green are rarely found, and only on vases of the latest
styles. The liquid employed for mixing the colors is supposed to
have been water.
The glaze with which these vases were covered is described
by M. Brongniart as lustrous (lustre)^ and onl}^ one kind was
used, the recipe for making which is now lost. It appears to have
been composed of one of the principal alkalies, either potash or
soda. The vases of Nola and Vulci are remarkable for the
beauty and brilliancy of their glaze.
According to d'Hancarville the vases were baked in a naked
328
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
furnace. Representations of ancient furnaces occur on painted
vases. The furnaces were of simple construction, in shape like
tall ovens, fed by fires from beneath, into which the vases were
placed with a long shovel resembling the baker's peel.
The colors being laid on in a different manner in the earlier
and later vases has caused them to be distinguished into two
VASE REPRESENTING A MARRIAGE. (Found at Pompeil.)
general classes. In the earlier the ground is yellow or red, and
the figures are traced on it in black, so as to form kinds of
silhouettes. These are called the black or archaic vases; they
are generally in an ancient style; their subjects belong to the
most ancient mythological traditions, and their inscriptions to
the most ancient forms of the Greek alphabet, written from right
GREEK VASES. , 329
to left, or in boustrophedon. The draperies, the accessories, the
harness of the horses, and the wheels of the chariots, are touched
with white. At a later period, the whole vase was painted black,
with the exception of the figures, which were then of the color
of the clay of the vase; the contours of the figures, the hair,
drapery, etc., being previously traced in black. There are then
two general classes of Greek vases, distinguished by the figures,
which are black or yellow. They are in general remarkable for
the beauty and elegance of their forms. There is a great variety
in their sizes; some being several feet high, and broad in propor-
tion; others being not higher than an inch. The subject is
on one side of the vase; sometimes it occupies the entire
circumference, but more generally it is on one side alone, and
then there is on the reverse some insignificant subject, generally
two or three old men leaning on a stick, instructing a young
man, or presenting him with some instrument or utensil; a bac-
chanalian scene is sometimes represented on the reverse. Some
vases have been found with two subjects on the sides of the vase.
On some of the finest vases, the subject goes round the entire
circumference of the vase. On the foot, neck and other parts
are the usual Greek ornaments, the Vitruvian scroll, the Me-
ander, Palmetto, the honeysuckle. A garland sometimes adorns
the neck, or, in its stead, a woman's head issuing from a flower.
These ornaments are in general treated with the greatest taste and
elegance. Besides the obvious difterence in the style of the vases,
there is a remarkable difference in the execution of the paint-
ings They are not all of the highest merit, but the boldness of
the outlines is generally remarkable on them. They could be
executed only with the greatest rapidity, the clay absorbing the
colors very quickl}^, so that if a line was interrupted the joining
would be perceptible. Some thought that the figures were exe-
cuted by the means of patterns cut out, which being laid on the
vase, preserved on the black ground the principal masses in yel-
330 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
low, which were finished afterwards with a brush. But this-
opinion of Sir WiUiam Hamilton has been abandoned by himself,
particularly since the traces of a point have been recognized,
with which the artist had at first sketched on the soft clay the
principal outlines, which he afterwards finished with a brush dipped
in the black pigment, without, however, strictly following the
lines traced by the point. The traces of the point are rarely ob-
served ; all depended on the skill and talent of the artists. They
must have been very numerous, as these vases are found in such
numbers, and the greater number may be considered as models
for the excellence of their design and the taste of their composi-
tion. Not unfrequently, the artists by whom the designs have
been painted, have placed their names on them; the principal
names known are those of Clitias, Doris who painted the cele-
brated Francois vase, Asteas, and Epictetos. Clitias is the most
ancient; his designs evince the infancy of art, those of the other
artists display greater progress in the art; the name can be rec-
ognized from the word -painted^ which follows it immediately.
Some vases have the potter's name inscribed on them.
One of the earliest makers was Taleides. Nearly fifty names
of potters have been found, but they only occur on choice speci-
mens of art. On many vases the name of the artist appears
along with that of the potter, which much enhances the value of
the vase. On the celebrated Francois vase appear the name of
the artist Clitias, and the name of the potter Ergotimos. Some
potters, such as Amasis and Euphronius, painted as well as made
vases. Other inscriptions are sometimes found on vases which
enhance their value greatly. They are generally the names of
gods, heroes, and other mythological personages, which are rep-
resented in the paintings.
These inscriptions are of great interest for two reasons : in
the first place, from the form of the letters and the order accord-
ing to which they are traced, the greater or lesser antiquit}' of
INSCRIPTIONS ON VASES. 33 1
the vase can be recognized, these inscriptions necessarily follow-
ing all the changes of the Greek alphabet ; care must be taken to
examine whether the inscription goes from right to left, whether
the long vowels, the double letters are replaced by the silent
vowels, or single letters; these are in general signs of relative an-
tiquity which prove that of the vase itself; secondly, because the
names invariably explain the subject of the painting, and even in-
dicate by a name hitherto unknown, either some personage who
sometimes bore another name, or a person whose real name was
unknown, in fine, some mythic being of whom ancient writers
give us no information.
The information derived from vases is of great importance
for the study of Greek mythology viewed in- its different epochs,
and for the interpretation and understanding of ancient tragic or
lyric poets. Moral or historical inscriptions, in prose and in verse,
have also been found on vases. The letters of these inscriptions
are capital or cursive; they are very delicately traced, and often
require a great deal of attention to perceive. They are traced
in black or white with a brush, sometimes they are incised with
a very sharp point.
On some which had been gifts to some " beautiful youths,"
we find the inscription, "the handsome boy," and also the form,
"the handsome Onetorides," "the handsome Stroibos." One
youth is called "the most handsome Hippocritus." The names
of females, whether brides, beauties, or hetairae, are found ac-
companied with the expression, "the lovely CEnanthe," "the fair
Rodon." On others, salutatory expressions are sometimes found,
such as " Hail to thee;" " Happy as possible."
The subjects represented on painted vases, although of infinite
variety, may be reduced to three classes, which include them all :
I. Mythological subjects; 2. Heroic subjects; 3. Historical sub-
jects. The Mythological subjects relate to the history of all the
gods, and their adventures in human form are reproduced on them
332 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
in a thousand shapes. It requires a deep and intimate knowledge
of Greek mythology, in order to explain the different subjects.
One of the oldest and most popular subjects in Greece was the
Gigantomachia, which is found represented as a whole upon many
vases, while others contain individual incidents from it.
Among the Olympic deities represented, Zeus takes a prom-
inent part. The father of the gods, the great thunderer, seldom
appears alone, but is chiefly seen in scenes from the Heracleid and
the Trojan war. On the black vases, and on those of the finest
style with red figures, his amorous adventures are also frequently
depicted. The goddess Hera rarely appears.
Athene, the great female deity of the Ionic race, plays an
important part in many scenes. As Pallas Athene she frequently
appears ; generally on foot, but sometimes in her quadriga.
Poseidon, the sea god, appears as a subordinate in many scenes,
and as a protagonist in others. Apollo, Artemis, Hephsestos,
Ares, Aphrodite, and Hermes, frequently appear in various
scenes in the vases. The greater part of the paintings of the
vases are relative to Dionysus, his festivals and mysteries. On
them we see depicted his birth, childhood, education, all his ex-
ploits, his banquets, and his games; his habitual companions, his
religious ceremonies, the lampadephori brandishing the long
torches, the dendrophori raising branches of trees, adorned with
garlands and tablets; the initiated preparing for the mysteries;
lastly, the ceremonies peculiar to those great institutions, and the
circumstances relative to their dogmas and their aim. The in-
ferior deities also appear on the vases.
The Historical subjects begin with the war of Troy. Paint-
ers, as well as poets, found in this event a vast field to exercise
their talents and their imagination. The principal actors in this
memorable drama appear on the vases. The principal scenes of
the Trojan war are depicted; but we must remark, that the his-
torical subjects do not extend to a later period than that of the
Heracleidae.
HISTORICAL SUBJECTS ON VASES. 333
Among the incidents represented are the opening scenes of
the IHad, the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles, Briseis led
away by the heralds, Paris and Helen, the death of Patroclus, the
grief of Achilles, the arming of Achilles, the death of Hector,
Priam entreating for the corpse of Hector, the terrible scene of
VASE REPRESENTING TROJAN WAR. (Found at Pompeii.)
the last night of Troy. Many subjects from the Odyssey also
occur. Incidents from the Greek drama are of common occur-
rence, such as the death of Agamemnon, Orestes and Pylades
meeting Electra, the death of Clytemnestra, the Furies pursuing
Orestes.
We may consider, as belonging to the class of historical
vases, those with paintings relative to public and private customs;
those representing garnes, repasts, scenic representations of com-
bats af animals, hunting and funeral subjects.
334 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
Millingen remarks that the subjects of the paintings vary ac-
cording to the period and the places in which they have been
executed; on the most ancient vases Dionysaic scenes are fre-
•quently seen. As, originally, the greater number were destined
to contain wine, they were adorned with analogous subjects.
VA8E {Found at Pompeii )
Those of the beautiful period of the art, especially of the manu-
facture of Nola, a town in which Greek institutions were observed
with extreme care, present the ancient traditions of mythological
episodes in all their purity. Those of a later period represent
subjects taken from the tragic writers. Lastly, on those of the
decline, we see depicted the new ceremonies and superstitions
which were mingled with the ancient and simple religion of the
Greek. Painted vases are, therefore, of the greatest interest for
the study of the manners and customs of ancient Greece, and of
those which the Romans adopted from her in imitation.
USES OF VASES. 335
As to the uses of these vases, there have been a variety of
opinions ; but a careful examination of a great number of vases
would lead us to suppose that many were, doubtless, articles of
household furniture, for use and adornment, such as the larger
vases, destined, by their size, weight, and form, to remain in the
same place, while others, of diifferent sizes and shapes, were made
to hold wine and other liquids, unguents, and perfumes. It is
evident that they were more for ornament than use, and that they
were considered as objects of art, for the paintings seem to have
been executed by the best artists of the period. They were
chiefly employed for entertainments, and the banquets of the
wealthy. They are seen in use in scenes painted on the vases
themselves. Many, especially those of the later style, were solely
used for decorative purposes, as is evident from the fact of one
side only being executed with care, while the other has been
neglected, both in the drawing and in the subject. Those with
Panathenaic subjects were probably given full of oil, as prizes at
the national games. These were called Athla. Certain vases
bearing the inscription, " From Athens," or " Prize from Athens,"
seem to have been given to the victors in the pentathlon, or courses
of athletic exercises in the Panathensea. Others may have been
given at the palsestric festivals, or as nuptial presents, or as
pledges of love and friendship; and these are marked by some
appropriate inscription.
We find that they were also used in the ceremonies of the
Mysteries, for we see their forms represented on the vases them-
selves : Bacchus frequently holds a cantharus. Satyrs carry a diota.
A few seem to have been expressly for sepulchral purposes. Some
have supposed that these vases were intended to hold the ashes
of the dead ; but this could not have been their use, for they are
only found in tombs in which the bodies have been buried with-
out being burnt. The piety of the relations adorned the tomb of
the deceased with those vases, together with his armor and
33^
DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
jewelry, which they had prized most in Hfe, which were associ-
ated with their habits, or recalled circumstances the memory of
which they cherished.
We could not but feel astonished at the perfect preservation
of such fragile objects, did we not know that they were found in
tombs. Those in which they are found, are placed near the walls,
but outside the town, at a slight depth, except those of Nola,
where the eruptions of Vesuvius have considerably raised the
soil since the period when the tombs were made, so that some of
the tombs of Nola are about
twenty-one feet under ground.
In Greece, the graves are
generally small, being de-
signed for single corpses,
which accounts for the com-
paratively small size of the
vases discovered in that coun-
try. At Athens the earlier
graves are sunk deepest in
the soil, and those at Corinth,
especially such as contain
the early Corinthian vases,
are found by boring to a
depth of several feet beneath
the surface.
The early tombs of Civita
Vecchia, and Caere, or Cer-
vetri, in Italy, are tunneled
in the earth; and those at
Vulci, and in the Etruscan
territory, from which the finest and largest vases have been
extracted, are chambers hewn in the rocks. In southern Italy,
especially in Campania, the common tombs are constructed of
A GKEEK SACRIFICE.
VASES FOUND IN TOMBS.
337
rude stones or tiles, and are exactly of sufficient size to contain
a corpse and five or six vases; a small one is placed near the
head, and the others between the legs of the body, or they are
ranged on each side, frequently on the left side alone.
The number and beauty of the vases vary, probably, accord-
ing to the rank and fortune of the owner of the tomb. The
tombs of the first class are larger, and have been built with large
cut stones, and rarely connected with cement ; the walls inside are
coated with stucco, and adorned with paintings; these tombs re-
semble a small chamber; the corpse is laid out in the middle, the
vases are placed round it, frequently some others are hung up to
the walls on nails of bronze. The number of vases is always
greater in these tombs; they are also of a more elegant form.
Several other articles are sometimes found in the tombs,
such as gold and silver fibulae, swords, spears, armor, and several
ornaments. The objects buried with the
corpse generally bespeak the tastes and ;■
occupation of the deceased. Warriors are
found with their armor, women with or-
naments for the toilet, priests with their
sacerdotal ornaments, as in the tomb at
Cervetri. When the vases are taken out
of the excavations, they are covered with
a coating of whitish earth, something like
tartar, and of a calcareous nature ; it dis-
appears on the application of aqua fortis.
This operation ought to be done with
great caution; for though the aqua fortis
does not injure the black varnish, it might destroy some of the
other colors.
Some of these vases are as well preserved as if they had just
been issued from the hands of the potter; others have been greatly
injured by the earthy salts with which they have come in contact ;
22
338 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
many are found broken — these have been put together and re-
stored with great skill. But this work of restoration, especially
if the artist adds any details which are not visible on the original,
might alter or metamorphose a subject, and the archaeologist
ought to set little value on these modern additions, in the study
of a painted vase.
Several collections have been formed of these vases. The
British Museum contains the finest collections, purchased by gov-
ernment from Sir William Hamilton and others. The Museum
at Naples, and the Gregorian Museum in the Vatican, also con-
tain many beautiful specimens from Magna Graecia and Etruria.
The British Museum has about 2,600 vases of all kinds. The
Museum at Naples contains about 2,100, and the Gregorian
Museum at Rome about 1,000. Several amateurs have also
formed collections in England, France, and Italy. We may men-
tion those of Roger, Hope, Sir Harry Englefield, in England ;
those of the Due de Blacas, the Comte Pourtales, in France; and
that of the Marquis Campana, in Rome. The total number of
vases in public and private collections probably amounts to 15,000
of all kinds. Some of these collections have been published, such
as the first collection of Sir William Hamilton, explained by
d'Hancarville; the second by Tischbein. Several works have
also been published, giving detailed accounts of painted vases in
ofeneral.
We have mentioned before the luxurious custom, common
amongst the Romans after the conquest of Greece and Asia, of
having their utensils of the table, and even of the kitchen, made
of solid silver. Valuable plate was of common occurrence in
the houses of the rich. According to Pliny, common soldiers
had the handles of their swords and their belts studded with sil-
ver; the baths of women were covered with the same valuable
material, which was even used for the common implements of
kitchen and scullery. Large manufactories of silver utensils were
SILVER VESSELS.
-7 Tr\
started, in which each part of the work was assigned to a special
artificer; here the orders of the silver-merchants were executed.
Amongst the special workmen of these manufactories were
the modelers, founders, turners or polishers, chiselers, the
workmen who attached the bas-reliefs to the surface of the ves-
sel, and the gilders. Many valuable vessels have been recov-
ered in the present century; others (for instance, several hundred
FOUND AT HILDESHEIM.
silver vessels found near the old Falerii) have tracelessly disap-
peared. Amongst the discoveries which happily have escaped
the hands of the melter, we mention the treasure of more than
one hundred silver vessels, weighing together about 50 pounds,
found by Berney in Normandy (1830). According to their in-
scriptions, these vessels belonged to the treasury of a temple of
Mercury ; they are at present in the late imperial library at Paris.
In the south of Russia the excavations carried on in 1831, 1862,
340 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
and 1863, amongst the graves of the kings of the Bosphoric em-
pire, have yielded an astonishing numT^er of gold and silver ves-
sels and ornaments belonging to the third century of our era.
At Pompeii fourteen silver vases were discovered in 1835; at
Caere (1836) a number of silver vases (now in the Museo Grego-
FOUND AT HiLDESHEiM. {Of the first century)
riano) were found in a grave. One of the most interesting dis-
coveries was made near Hildesheim, 7th October, 1868, consist-
ing of seventy-four eating and drinking vessels, mostly well pre-
served ; not to speak of numerous fragments which seem to prove
that only part of the original treasure has been recovered; the
weight of all the vessels (now in the Antiquarium of the Royal
Museum, Berhn) amounts to 107.144 lbs., some over 53 tons, of
silver. The style and technical finish of the vases prove them
to have been manufactured in Rome ; the form of the letters of"
DECORATED VASES.
341
the inscriptions found on twenty-four vessels indicates the first
half of the first century after Christ. The surfaces of many of
them are covered with alto-relievos of beaten silver — a circum-
stance which traces back their origin to imperial times, dis-
tinguishing them, at the same time, from the bas-relief orna-
mentations of the acme of
Greek art. The gilding
of the draperies and weap-
ons, and the silver color
of the naked parts, in imi-
tation, as it were, of the
gold-and-ivory statues of
Greek art, also indicate
Roman workmanship. The
annexed cuts show some
VASE OF THK ^UiHT CENTUKY ^^ ^hc fiuCSt piCCCS of thiS
treasure. The composition
of the figures on the surface of the vase in cut on page 340 shows
true artistic genius; naked
children are balancing them-
selves on water-plants grow-
ing in winding curves from
a pair of griffins ; some of the
children attack crabs and eels
with harpoons, while others
drag the killed animals from
the water. The graceful
groups on the drinking-vessels in the above cuts are mostly
taken from the Bacchic cycle of myths.
Besides vessels of precious metals and stones, those of glass
Avere in favorite use among the Romans. The manufactory of
glass, originating in Sidon, had reached its climax of perfection,
both with regard to color and form, in Alexandria about the
VASE OF THE FIRST CENTURY.
342 DOMESTIC UTENSILS.
time of the Ptolemies. Many of these Alexandrine glasses have
been preserved to us, and their beauty fully explains their supe-
riority in the opinion of the ancients to those manufactured in
Itah\ Here also, after the discovery of excellent sand at Cumae
and Linternum, glass works had been established. Most of our
museums possess some specimens of antique glass manufacture,
in the shape of balsam or medicine bottles of w^hite or colored
glass. We also possess goblets and drinking-bottles of various
shapes and sizes, made of white or common green glass; they
generally taper toward the bottom, and frequently show grooves
or raised points on their outer surfaces, so as to prevent the glass
from slipping from the hand; urns, oinochoai, and dishes of
various sizes made of glass, are of frequent occurrence. Some
of these are dark blue or green, others party-colored with stripes
winding round them in zigzag or in spiral lines, reminding one
of mosaic patterns. Pieces of glittering glass, being most likely
fragments of so-called allassontes versicolores (not to be mistaken
for originall}' white glass which has been discolored by exposure
to the weather), are not unfrequently found. We propose to
name in the following pages a few of the more important speci-
mens of antique glass-fabrication. One of the first amongst
these is the vessel known as the Barberini or Portland Vase,
which was found in the sixteenth century in the sarcophagus of
the so-called tomb of Severus Alexander and of his mother Julia
Mammaea. It was kept in the Barberini Palace for several
centuries, till it was purchased b}^ the Duke of Portland, after
whose death it was placed in the British Museum. After having
been broken by the hand of a barbarian, it has fortunately been
restored satisfactorily. Many reproductions of this vase in china
and terra-cotta have made it known in wide circles. The mytho-
logical bas-reliefs have not as yet been sufficiently explained.
Similar sflass vases with bas-relief ornamentation occur occasion-
ally either whole or in fragments.
j;f[ff.<)yfij;j^T-
Many arts and inventions were in common use in Egypt for
centuries before they are generally supposed to have been known ;
and we are now and then as much surprised to find that certain
things were old 3,000 years ago, as the Egyptians would be if they
could hear us talk of them as late discoveries. One of them is
the use of glass, with which they were acquainted at least as
early as the reign of the first Osirtasen, more than 3,800 years
ago; and the process of glass-blowing is represented during his
reign, in the paintings of Beni Hassan, in the same manner as it
is on later monuments, in different parts of Egypt, to the time
of the Persian conquest.
The form of the bottle and the use of the blow-pipe are un-
equivocally indicated in those subjects; and the green hue of the
fused material, taken from the fire at the point of the pipe, suffi-
ciently proves the intention of the artist. But, even if we had
not this evidence of the use of glass, it would be shown by those
well-known images of glazed pottery, which were common at the
same period; the vitrified substance that covers them being of the
same quality as glass, and containing the same ingredients fused
in the same manner. And besides the many glass ornaments
known to be of an earlier period is a bead, found at Thebes,
bearing the name of a Pharaoh who lived about 1450 B. C, the
specific gravity of which, 25° 23', is precisely the same as of
crown glass, now manufactured in England.
343
344 EMPLOYMENT.
Glass bottles are even met with on monuments of the 4th
dynasty, dating long before the Osirtasens, or more than 4,000
years ago; the transparent substance shows the red wine they
contained; and this kind of bottle is represented in the same
manner among the offerings to the gods, and at the fetes of indi-
viduals, wherever wine was introduced, from the earliest to the
latest times. Bottles, and other objects of glass, are commonly
found in the tombs; and though they have no kings' names or
dates inscribed upon them (glass being seldom used for such a
purpose), no doubt exists of their great antiquity; and we may
consider it a fortunate chance that has preserved one bead with
the name of a sovereign of the i8th dynasty. Nor is it necessary
to point out how illogical is the inference that, because other
kinds of glass have not been found bearing a king's name,
they were not made in Egypt, at, or even before, the same early
period.
Pliny ascribes the discovery of glass to some Phoenician
sailors accidently lighting a fire on the sea-shore; but if an effect
of chance, the secret is more likely to have been arrived at in
Egypt, where natron (or subcarbonate of soda) abounded, than
by the sea side; and if the Phoenicians really were the first to
discover it on the Syrian coast, this would prove their migration
from the Persian Gulf to have happened at a very remote period.
Glass was certainly one of the great exports of the Phoenicians;
who traded in beads, bottles, and other objects of that material,
as well as various manufactures, made either in their own or in
other countries; but Egypt was always famed for its manufacture;
a peculiar kind of earth was found near Alexandria, without
which, Strabo says, "it was impossible to make certain kinds
of glass of many colors, and of a brilliant quality," and some
vases, presented by an Egyptian priest to the Emperor Hadrian,
were considered so curious and valuable that they were only used
on grand occasions.
COLORED GLASS VESSELS. 345
Glass bottles, of various colors, were eagerly bought from
Egypt, and exported into other countries; and the manufacture as
well as the patterns of many of those found in Greece, Etruria,
and Rome, show that they were of Egyptian work ; and though
imitated in Italy and Greece, the original art was borrowed from
the workmen of the Nile.
Such, too, was their skill in making glass, and in the mode of
staining it of various hues, that they counterfeited with success
the emerald, the amethyst, and other precious stones; and even
arrived at an excellence in the art of introducing numerous
colors into the same vase, to which our European workmen, in
spite of their improvements in many branches of this manufac-
ture, are still unable to attain. A few years ago the glass- makers
of Venice made several attempts to imitate the variety of colors
found in antique cups; but as the component parts were of dif-
ferent densities, they did not all cool, or set, at the same rapidity,
and the vase was unsound. And it is only by making an inner
foundation of one color, to which those of the outer surface are
afterwards added, that they have been able to produce their
many-colored vases; some of which were sent to the Great Exhi-
bition of 1 85 1.
Not so the Egyptians, who combined all the colors they re-
quired in the same cup, without the interior lining: those which
had it being of inferior and cheaper quality. They had even the
secret of introducing gold between two surfaces of glass; and in
their bottles, a gold band alternates within a set of blue, green,
and other colors. Another curious process was also common in
Egypt in early times, more than 3,000 years ago, which has only
just been attempted at Venice ; whereby the pattern on the surface
was made to pass in right lines directly through the substance;
so that if any number of horizontal sections were made through
it, each one would have the same device on its upper and under
surface. It is in fact a Mosaic in glass ; made by fusing together
34^
EMPLOYMENT.
as many delicate rods of an opaque glass of the color required for
the picture, in the same manner as the woods in Tunbridge-ware
are glued together, to torm a larger and coarser paitern. The
skill required in this exquisite work is not only shown by the art
itself, but the fineness of the design ; for some of the feathers of
AHCIENT GLASS VESSEI^.
birds, and other details, are only to be made out with a lens;
which means of magnifying was evidently used in Egypt, when
this Mosaic glass was manufactured. Indeed, the discovery of a
lens of crystal by Mr. Layard, at-Nimroud, satisfactorily proves
its use at an early period in Assyria ; and we may conclude
that it was neither a recent discovery there, nor confined to
that country.
Winkleman is of opinion that " the ancients carried the art
IMITATION JEWELS. 347
of glass-making to a higher degree of perfection than ourselves,
though it may appear a paradox to those who have not seen their
works in this material;" and we may even add that they used it
for more purposes, excepting of course windows, the inconvenience
of which in the hot sun of Egypt would have been unbearable,
or even in Italy, and only one
pane of glass has been found
at Pompeii, in a place not
exposed to the outer light.
That the Egyptians, more
than 3,000 years ago, were
well acquainted not only with
the manufacture of common
glass, for beads and bottles of
ordinary quality, but with
- ^ . . . . , GLASS BROACHES.
the art of staining it with
divers colors, is sufficiently proved by the fragments found
in the tombs of Thebes; and so skillful were they in this compli-
cated process, that they imitated the most fanciful devices, and
succeeded in counterfeiting the rich hues, and brilliancy, of
precious stones. The green emerald, the purple amethyst, and
other expensive gems, were successfully imitated; a necklace of
false stones could be purchased at an Egyptian jeweler's, to please
the wearer, or deceive a stranger, by the appearance of reality;
and some mock pearls (found lately at Thebes) have been so
well counterfeited, that even now it is difficult with a strong lens
to detect the imposition.
Pliny says the emerald was more easily counterfeited than
any other gem, and considers the art of imitating precious stones
a far more lucrative piece of deceit than any devised by the inge-
nuity of man; Egypt was, as usual, the country most noted for
this manufacture; and we can readily believe that in Pliny's time
they succeeded so completely in the imitation as to render it dif-
ficult to distinofuish false from real stones.
348
EMPLOYMENT.
Many, in the form of beads, have been met with in different
parts of Egypt, particularly at Thebes ; and so far did the Egyp
tians carry this spirit of imitation, that even small figures, scara-
bsei, and objects made of ordinary porcelain, were counterfeited,
being composed of still cheaper materials. A figure, which
was entirely of earthenware, with a glazed exterior, underwent a
somewhat more complicated process than when cut out of stone,
and simply covered with a vitrified coating; this last could, there-
fore, be sold at a low price; it offered all the brilliancy of the
former, and its weight alone betrayed its inferiority; by which
means, whatever was novel, or pleasing from its external appear-
IMITATION OF REAL STONES.
ance, was placed within reach of all classes, or, at least, the
possessor had the satisfaction of seeming to partake in each fash-
ionable novelty.
Such inventions, and successful endeavors to imitate costly
ornaments by humbler materials, not only show the progress of
art among the Eg3'ptians, but strongly argue the great advance-
ment they had made in the customs of civilized life; since it is
certain, that until society has arrived at a high degree of luxury
and refinement, artificial wants of this nature are not created, and
the poorer classes do not yet feel the desire of imitating the rich,
in the adoption of objects dependent on taste or accidental caprice.
Glass bugles and beads were much used by the Egyptians
for necklaces, and for a sort of network, with which they covered
POTTERS. 349
the wrappers and cartonage of mummies. They were arranged
so as to lorm, by their varied hues, numerous devices or figures,
in the manner of our bead purses; and women sometimes amused
themselves by stringing them for ornamental purposes, as at the
present day.
A far more numerous class were the potters; and all the
processes of mixing the clay, and of turning, baking and polish-
ing the vases are represented in the tombs of Thebes and Beni
Hassan, of which we have already spoken.
They frequently kneaded the clay with their feet, and after
it had been properly worked up, they formed it into a mass of
convenient size with the hand, and placed it on the wheel, which
was of very simple construction, and generally turned with the
hand. The various forms of the vases were made out by the
linger during the revolution; the handles, if they had any, were
afterwards affixed to them; and the devices and other orna-
mental parts were traced with a wooden or metal instrument,
previous to their being baked. They were then suffered to dry,
and for this purpose were placed on planks of wood; they were
afterwards arranged with great care in trays, and carried, by
means of the usual yoke, borne on men's shoulders, to the oven.
The Egyptians displayed much taste in their gold, silver,
porcelain, and glass vases, but when made of earthenware, for
ordinary purposes, they were frequently devoid of elegance, and
scarcely superior to those of England before the taste of Wedge-
wood substituted the graceful forms of Greek models, for some
of the unseemly productions of our old potteries. Though the
clay of Upper Egypt was particularly suited to porous bottles, it
could be obtained of a sufficiently fine quality for the manufac-
ture of vases like those of Greece and Italy ; in Eg3'pt, too, good
taste did not extend to all classes, as in Greece; and vases used
tor fetching water from a well, or from the Nile, were of a very
ordinary kind, far inferior to those carried by the Athenian wo-
men to the fountain of Kallirhoe.
350
EMPLOYMENT.
The Greeks, it is true, were indebted to Egypt for much
useful knowledge, and for many early hints in art, but they
speedily surpassed their instructors; and in nothing, perhaps,
is this more strikingly manifested than in the productions of the
potter. Samples of the more common are seen below.
Carpenters and cabinet-makers were a very numerous class
of workmen; and their occupations form one of the most im-
portant subjects in the paintings which represent the Egyptian
trades.
For ornamental purposes, and sometimes even for coffins,
doors and boxes, foreign woods were employed; deal and cedar
were imported from Syria; and part of the contributions, exacted
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN POTTERY.
from the conquered tribes of Ethiopia, and Asia, consisted in
ebony and other rare woods, which were annually brought by
the chiefs, deputed to present their country's tribute to the
Egyptian Pharaohs.
Boxes, chairs, tables, sofas, and other pieces of furniture
were frequently made of ebony, inlaid with ivory, sycamore and
acacia,were veneered with thin layers, or ornamented with carved
devices of rare wood, applied or let into them; and a fondness for
this display suggested to the Egyptians the art of painting com-
mon boards, to imitate foreign varieties, so generally adopted in
other countries at the present day.
The colors were usually applied on a thin coating of stucco,
laid smoothly upon the previously prepared wood, and the vari-
ous knots and grains painted upon this ground indicated the
quality of the wood they intended to counterfeit.
carpenter's tools. 351
The usual tools of the carpenter were the ax, adze, hand-
saw, chisels of various kinds (which were struck with a wooden
mallet), the drill, and two sorts of planes (one resembling a
chisel, the other apparently of stone, acting as a rasp on the sur-
face of the wood, which was afterwards polished by a smooth
body, probably also of stone ; and these, with the ruler, plummet,
and right angle, a leather bag containing nails, the hone, and the
horn of oil, constituted the principal, and perhaps the only, im-
plements he used.
Many adzes, saws and chisels, have been found at Thebes.
The blades are all of bronze, the handles of the acacia or the
tamarisk; and the general mode of fastening the blade to the
handle appears to have been by thongs of hide. It is probable
that some of those discovered in the tombs are only models, or
unfinished specimens, and it may have been thought sufficient to
show their external appearance, without the necessity of nailing
them, beneath the thongs, for those they worked with were
bound in the same manner, though we believe them to have been
also secured with nails. Some, however, evidently belonged to
the individuals in whose tombs they were buried, and appear to
have been used; and the chisels often bear signs of having been
beaten with the mallet.
The drill is frequently represented in the sculptures. Like
all the other tools, it was of the earliest date, and precisely sim-
ilar to that of modern Egypt, even to the nut of the dom in
which it turned, and the form of its bow with a leathern thong.
The chisel was employed for the same purposes, and in the
same manner, as at the present day, and was struck with a
wooden mallet, sometimes flat at the two ends, sometimes ot
circular or oval form; several of which last have been found at
Thebes, and are in European museums. The handles of the
chisel were of acacia, tamarisk, or other compact wood, the
blades of bronze, and the form ot the points varied in breadth,
according to the work for which they were intended.
352 EMPLOYMENT.
The hatchet was principally used by boat-builders, and those
who made large pieces of frame-work; and trees were felled
with the same instrument.
With the carpenters may be mentioned the wheelwrights,
the makers of coffins, and the coopers, and this sub-division of
one class of artisans shows that they had systematically adopted
the partition of labor.
The makers of chariots and traveling carriages were of the
same class; but both carpenters and workers of leather were
employed in their manufacture; and chariots either passed
through the hands of both, or, which is more probable, chariot
makers constituted a distinct trade.
The tanning and preparation of leather was also a branch
of art in which the Egyptians evinced considerable skill; the
leather cutters constituted one of the principal sub-divisions of
the fourth-class, and a district of the city was exclusively appro-
priated to them, in the Libyan part of Thebes, where they were
known as " the leather-cutters of the Memnonia."
Many of the occupations of their trade are portrayed on the
painted walls of the tombs at Thebes. They made shoes, san-
dals, the coverings and seats of chairs or sofas, bow-cases, and
most of the ornamental furniture of the chariot; harps were also
adorned with colored leather, and shields and numerous other
things were covered with skin prepared in various ways. They
also make skins for carrying water, wine, and other liquids,
coated within with a resinous substance, as is still the custom in
Egypt.
The stores of an Egyptian town were probably similar to
those of Cairo and other Eastern cities, which consist of a square
room, open in front, with falling or sliding shutters to close it at
night, and the goods, ranged on shelves or suspended against the
walls, are exposed to the view of those who pass. In front is
generally a raised seat, where the owner of the shop and his
PROFESSIONS. 353
customers sit during the long process of concluding a bargain
previous to the sale and purchase of the smallest article, and here
an idle lounger frequently passes whole hours, less intent on
benefiting the merchant than in amusing himself with the busy
scene of the passing crowd.
It is probable that, as at the present day, they ate in the
open front of their shops, exposed to the view of every one who
passed, and to this custom Herodotus may allude, when he says,
"the Egyptians eat in the street."
There is no direct evidence that the ancient Egyptians
affixed the name and trade of the owner of the shop, though the
presence of hieroglyphics, denoting this last, together with the
emblem which indicated it, may seem to argue in favor of the
question; and the absence of many individuals' names in the
sculpture is readily accounted for by the fact that these scenes
refer to the occupation of the whole trade, and not to any partic-
ular person.
The high estimation in which the priestly and military pro-
fessions were held in Egypt placed them far above the rest of the
community; but the other classes had also their degrees of con-
sequence, and individuals enjoyed a position and importance in
proportion to their respectability, their talents, or their wealth.
According to Herodotus, the whole Egyptian community was
divided into seven tribes, one of which was the sacerdotal, an-
other of the soldiers, and the remaining five of the herdsmen,
swineherds, merchants, interpreters, and boatmen. Diodorus
states that, like the Athenians, they were distributed into three
classes — the priests, the peasants, or husbandmen, from whom
the soldiers were levied, and the artisans, who were employed in
handicraft and other similar occupations, and in .common offices
among the people — but in another place he extends the number
to five, and reckons the pastors, husbandmen, and artificers
independent of the soldiers and priests. Strabo limits them to
23
354 EMPLOYMENT.
three, the military, husbandmen, and priests; and Plato divides
them into six bodies, the priests, artificers, shepherds, huntsmen,
husbandmen, and soldiers; each peculiar art or occupation he
observes being confined to a certain sub-division of the caste,
and every one being engaged in his own branch without inter-
fering with the occupation of another. Hence it appears that
the first class consisted of the priests, the second of the soldiers,
the third of the husbandmen, gardeners, huntsmen, boatmen of
the Nile, and others; the fourth of artificers, tradesmen and
merchants, carpenters, boat-builders, masons, and probably pot-
ters, public weighers, and notaries; and in the fifth may be
reckoned pastors, poulterers, fowlers, fishermen, laborers, and,
generally speaking, the common people. Many of these were
again sub-divided, as the artificers and tradesmen, according to
their peculiar trade or occupation; and as the pastors, into ox-
herds, shepherds, goatherds, and swineherds, which last were,
according to Herodotus, the lowest grade, not only of the class,
but of the whole community, since no one would either marr}'
their daughters or establish any family connection with them.
So degrading was the occupation of tending swine, that they
were looked upon as impure, and were even forbidden to enter a
temple without previously undergoing a purification; and the
prejudices of the Indians against this class of persons almost
justify our belief in the statement of the historian.
Without stopping to inquire into the relative rank of the
diflferent sub-divisions of the third class, the importance of agri-
culture in a country like Egypt, where the richness and produc-
tiveness of the soil have always been proverbial, suffices to claim
the first place for the husbandmen.
The abundant supply of grain and other produce gave to
Egypt advantages which no other country possessed. Not only
was her dense population supplied with a profusion of the neces-
saries of life, but the sale of the surplus conferred considerable
HUSBANDRY. 355
benefits on the peasant in addition to the profits which thence
accrued to the state, for Egypt was a granary, where, from the
earliest times, all people felt sure of finding a plenteous store ot
corn, and some idea may be formed of the immense quantity
produced there from the circumstance of " seven plenteous
years " affording, from the superabundance of the crops, a suf-
ficiency of corn to supply the whole population during seven
years of dearth, as well as " all countries " which sent to Egypt
" to buy " it, when Pharaoh, by the advice of Joseph, laid up
the annual surplus for that purpose.
The right of exportation, and the sale of superfluous pro-
duce to foreigners, belonged exclusively to the government, as is
distinctly shown by the sale of corn to the Israelites from the
royal stores, and the collection having been made by Pharaoh
only; and it is probable that even the rich landowners were in
the habit of selling to government whatever quantity remained
on hand at the approach of each successive harvest, while the
agricultural laborers, from their frugal mode of living, required
very little wheat and barley, and were generally contented, as at
the present day, with bread made of the Door a flour; children
and even grown persons, according to Diodorus, often living on
roots and esculent herbs, as the papyrus, lotus, and others, either
raw, toasted, or boiled.
The government did not interfere directly with the peasants
respecting the nature of the produce they intended to cultivate;
and the vexations of later times were unknown under the Pha-
raohs. They were thought to have the best opportunities of
obtaining, from actual observation, an accurate knowledge on all
subjects connected with husbandry, and, as Diodorus observes,
" being from their infancy brought up to agricultural pursuits,
they far excelled the husbandmen of other countries, and had
become acquainted with the capabilities of the land, the mode
of irrigation, the exact season for sowing and reaping, as well as
^ OT THE -^
fTJNIVBRSITTl
356 EMPLOYMENT.
all the most useful secrets connected with the harvest, which
they had derived from their ancestors, and had improved by
their own experience." " They rented," says the same historian,
" the arable lands belonging to the kings, the priests, and the
military class, for a small sum, and employed their whole time
in the tillage of their farms," and the laborers who cultivated
/and for the rich peasant, or other landed proprietors, were super-
intended by the steward or owner of the estate, who had author-
ity over them, and the power of condemning delinquents to the
bastinado. This is shown by the paintings of the tombs, which
frequently represent a person of consequence inspecting the till-
age of the field, either seated in a chariot, walking,, or leaning
on his staff, accompanied by a favorite dog.
Their mode of irrigation was the same in the field of the
peasant as in the garden of the villa ; and the principal difference
in the mode of tilling the former consisted in the use of the plow.
The usual contrivance for raising water from the Nile for
watering the crops was the shadoofs or pole and bucket, so com-
mon still in Egypt, and even the water-wheel appears to have
been employed in more recent times.
The sculptures of the tombs frequently represent canals con-
veying the water of the inundation into the fields, and the pro-
prietor of the estate is seen, as described by Virgil, plying in a
light painted skiff or papyrus punt, and superintending the main-
tenance of the dykes, or other important matters connected with
the land. Boats carry the grain to the granary, or remove the
flocks from the lowlands; as the water subsides the husbandman
plows the soft earth with a pair of oxen, and the same subjects
introduce the offering of first-fruits of the gods in acknowl-
edgment of the benefits conferred by "a favorable Nile." The
main canal was usually carried to the upper or southern side
of the land, and small branches, leading from it at intervals,
traversed the fields in straight or curving lines, according to the
nature or elevation of the soil.
RISE OF THE NILE. 357
Guards were placed to watch the dykes which protected the
lowlands, and the utmost care was taken to prevent any sudden
influx of water which might endanger the produce still growing
there, the cattle, or the villages. And of such importance was
the preservation of the dykes that a strong guard of cavalry and
infantry was always in attendance for their protection; certain
officers of responsibility were appointed to superintend them,
being furnished with large sums of money for their maintenance
and repairs, and in the time of Romans any person found de-
stroying a dyke was condemned to hard labor in the public
works or in the mines, or was branded and transported to the
Oasis. According to Strabo, the system was so admirably man-
aged, " that art contrived sometimes to supply what nature de-
nied, and, by means of canals and embankments, there was
little difterence in the quantity of land irrigated, whether the
inundation was deficient or abundant." "If," continues the geog-
rapher, " it rose only to the height of eight cubits, the usual
idea was that a famine would ensue, fourteen being required for
a plentiful harvest ; but when Petronius was praefect of Egypt
twelve cubits gave the same abundance, nor did they suffer from
want even at eight;" and it may be supposed that long experi-
ence had taught the ancient Egyptians to obtain similar results
from the same means, which, neglected at a subsequent period,
were revived, rather than, as Strabo thinks, first introduced, by
the Romans.
In some parts of Egypt the villages were liable to be over-
flowed when the Nile rose to more than an ordinary height, by
which the lives and property of the inhabitants were endangered,
and when their crude brick houses had been long exposed to the
damp the foundations gave way, and the fallen walls, saturated
with water, were once more mixed with the mud from which
they had been extracted. On these occasions the blessings of
the Nile entailed heavy losses on the inhabitants, for, according
35^ EMPLOYMENT.
to Pliny, " if the rise of water exceeded sixteen cubits famine
was the result, as when it only reached the height of twelve.'"
In another place he says, " a proper inundation is of sixteen
cubits * * * * in twelve cubits the country suffers from
famine, and feels a deficiency even in thirteen; fourteen cause
joy, fifteen security, sixteen delight; the greatest rise of the
river to this period being of eighteen cubits, in the reign of
Claudius; the least during the Pharsalic war."
The land being cleared of the water, and presenting in
some places a surface of liquid mud, in others nearly dried by
the sun and the strong northwest winds (that continue at inter-
vals to the end of Autumn and commencement of Winter), the
husbandman prepared the ground to receive the seed, which was
either done by the plow and hoe, or by more simple means, ac-
cording to the nature of the soil, the quality of the produce they
intended to cultivate, or the time the land had remained under
water.
When the levels were low and the water had continued
long upon the land they often dispensed with the plow, and, like
their successors, broke up the ground with hoes, or simply
dragged the moist mud with bushes after the seed had been
thrown upon the surface, and then merely drove a number of
cattle, asses, pigs, sheep, or goats into the field to tread in the
grain. " In no country," says Herodotus, "do they gather their
seed with so little labor. They are not obliged to trace deep
furrows with the plow and break the clods, nor to partition out
their fields into numerous forms as other people do, but when
the river of itself overflows the land, and the water retires again,
they sow their fields, driving the pigs over them to tread in the
seed, and this being done every one patiently awaits the har-
vest." On other occasions they used to plow, but were con-
tented, as we are told by Diodorus and Columella, with " tracing
slight furrows with light plows on the surface of the land," and
AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS. 359
others followed with wooden hoes to break the clods of the rich
and tenacious soil.
The modern Egyptians sometimes substitute for the hoe a
machine called khonfud^ "hedgehog," which consists of a cyl-
inder studded with projecting iron pins, to break the clods after
the land has been plowed, but this is only used when great care
is required in the tillage of the land, and they frequently dispense
with the hoe, contenting themselves, also, with the same slight
furrows as their predecessors, which do not exceed the depth of
a few inches, measuring from the lowest part to the summit of
the ridge. It is difficult to say if the modern Egyptians derived
the hint of the " hedgehog" " from their predecessors, but it is a
curious fact that a clod-crushing machine, not very unlike that
of Egypt, has only lately been invented in England, which was
shown at the Great Exhibition.
The ancient plow was entirely of wood, and of as simple a
form as that of modern Egypt. It consisted of a share, two
handles, and the pole or beam, which last was inserted into the
lower end of the stilt, or the base of the handles, and was
strengthened by a rope connecting it with the heel. It had no
coulter, nor were wheels applied to any Egyptian plow, but it is
probable that the point was shod with a metal sock, either of
bronze or iron. It was drawn by two oxen, and the plowman
guided and drove them with a long goad, without the assistance
of reins, which are used by modern Egyptians. He was some-
times accompanied by another man, who drove the animals,
while he managed the two handles of the plow, and sometimes
the whip was substituted for the more usual goad.
Cows were occasionally put to the plow, and it may not
have been unknown to them that the cow plows quicker than
the ox.
The mode of yoking the beasts was exceedingly simple.
Across the extremity of the pole, a wooden yoke or cross-bar,
360 EMPLOYMENT.
about fifty-five inches, or five feet, in length was fastened by a
strap lashed backwards and forwards over a prominence project-
ing from the centre of the yoke, which corresponded to a similar
peg, or knob, at the end of the pole, and, occasionally, in addi-
tion to these, was a ring passing over them as in some Greek
chariots. At either end of the yoke was a flat or slightly concave
projection, of semi-circular form, which rested on a pad placed
upon the withers of the animal, and through a hole on either
side of it passed a thong for suspending the shoulder-pieces
which formed the collar. These were two wooden bars, forked
at about half their length, padded so as to protect the shoulder
from friction, and connected at the lower end by a strong broad
band passing under the throat.
Sometimes the draught, instead of being from, the withers,
was from the head, the yoke being tied to the base of the horns,
and in religious ceremonies oxen frequently drew the bier, or the
sacred shrine, by a rope fastened to the upper part of the horns,
without either yoke or pole.
From a passage in Deuteronomy, " Thou shalt not plow
with an ox and an ass together," it might be inferred that the
custom of yoking two different animals to the plow was common
in Egypt; but it was evidently not so, and the Hebrew lawgiver
had probably in view a practice adopted by some of the people
of Syria, whose country the Israelites were about to occupy.
The hoe was of wood, like the fork, and many other imple-
ments of husbandry, and in form was not unlike the letter A,
with one limb shorter than the other, and curving inwards.
The longer limb, or handle, was of uniform thickness, round and
smooth, sometimes with a knob at the end, and the lower ex-
tremity of the blade was of increased breadth, and either ter-
minated in a sharp point, or was rounded at the end. The blade
was frequently inserted into the handle, and they were bound
together, about the centre, with twisted rope. Being the most
AGRICULTURE. 36 1
common tool, answering for hoe, spade, and pick, it is frequently
represented in the sculptures, and several, which were found in
the tombs of Thebes, are preserved in the museums of Europe.
The hoe in hieroglyphics stands for the letter M, though
' the name of this instrument was in Egyptian, as in Arabic, Tore.
It forms the commencement of the word Mai^ " beloved^'' and
enters into numerous other combinations.
There are no instances of hoes with metal blades, except of
very late time, nor is there any proof of the plowshare having
been sheathed with metal.
The ax had a metal blade, either bronze or iron, and the
peasants are sometimes represented felling trees with this imple-
ment, while others are employed in hoeing the field preparatory
to its being sown — confirming what we have observed, .that the
ancient, as well as the modern, Egyptians frequently dispensed
with the use of the plow.
The admission of swine into the fields, mentioned by Herod-
otus, should rather have been before than after they had sown
the land, since their habits would do little good to the farmer,
and other animals would answer as well for " treading in the
grain;" but they may have been used before for clearing the
fields of the roots and weeds encouraged by the inundation; and
this seems to be confirmed by the herd of pigs with water plants
represented in the tombs.
They sometimes used a top dressing of nitrous soil, which
was spread over the surface; a custom continued to the present
day; but this was confined to certain crops, and principally to
those reared late in the year, the fertilizing properties of the
alluvial deposit answering all the purposes of the richest manure.
Besides the admixture of nitrous earth the Egyptians made
use of other kinds of dressing, and sought for different produc-
tions the soils best suited to them. They even took advantage
of the edge of the desert for growing the vine and some other
362 EMPLOYMENT.
plants, which, being composed 01 clay and sand, was peculiarly
adapted to such as required a light soil, and the cultivation of
this additional tract, which only stood in need of proper irriga-
tion to become highly productive, had the advantage of increas-
ing considerably the extent of the arable land of Egypt. In many
places we still find evidence of its having been tilled by the
ancient inhabitants, even to the late time of the Roman empire;
and in some parts of the Fyoom the vestiges of beds and chan-
nels for irrigation, as well as the roots of vines, are found in sites
lying far above the level of the rest of the country.
The occupation of the husbandman depended much on the
produce he had determined on rearing. Those who solely culti-
vated corn had little more to do than to await the time of har-
vest, but many crops required constant attention, and some stood
in need of frequent artificial irrigation.
^PAKIJMQ, pYEIJ^q A]ND pAIJNTINQ.
The fame of an actor has been justly said to be of all fame
the most perishable, because he leaves no memorial of his powers,
except in the fading memories of the generation which has beheld
him. An analogous proposition might be made with respect to
the mechanical arts: of all sorts of knowledge they are the most
perishable, because the knowledge of them can not be transmitted
by mere description. Let any great convulsion of nature put an
end to their practice for a generation or two, and though the
scientific part of them may be preserved in books, the skill in
manipulation, acquired by a long series of improvements, is lost.
If the United States be destined to relapse into such a state of
barbarism as Italy passed through in the period which divides
ancient and modern history, its inhabitants a thousand years
hence will know little more of the manual process of printing,
dyeing, and the other arts which minister to our da^ly comfort, in
spite of all the books which have been and shall be written, than
we know of the manual processes of ancient Italy. We reckon,
therefore, among the most interesting discoveries of Pompeii,
those which relate to the manner of conducting handicrafts, of
which it IS not too much to say that we know nothing except
through this medium. It is to be regretted, that as far as bur
information goes, there are but two trades on which any liorht has
yet been thrown, those, namely, of the baker and the dyer. We
shall devote this chapter to collecting what is known upon these
subjects, and probably also speak some on painting.
363
364 EMPLOYMENT.
Several bakers' shops have been found, all in a tolerable
state of preservation. The mills, the oven, the kneading-troughs,
the vessels for containing flour, water, leaven, have all been
discovered, and seem to leave nothing wanting to our knowledge;
in some of the vessels the very flour remained, still capable of
being identifled, though reduced almost to a cinder. But in the
centre some lumps of whitish matter resembling chalk remained,
which, when wetted and placed on a red-hot iron, gave out the
peculiar color which flour thus treated emits. Even the very
bread, in a perfect though carbonized form, has in some instances
been found in the oven. One of these bakers' shops was attached
to the House of Sallust, another to the House of Pansa : probably
they were worth a handsome rent. A third, which we select for
description, for one will serve perfectly as a type for the whole,
seems to have belonged to a man of higher class, a sort of
capitalist; for, instead of renting a mere dependency of another
man's house, he lived in a tolerably good house of his own, of
which the baker}^ forms a part. It stands next to the House of
Sallust, on the south side, being divided from it only b}* a narrow
street. Its front is in the main street or Via Consularis, leading
from the gate of Herculaneum to the Forum. Entering by a
small vestibule, the visitor finds himself in a tetrastyle atrium (a
thing not common at Pompeii), of ample dimensions, considering
the character of the house, being about thirty-six feet by thirty.
The pillars which supported the ceiling are square and solid, and
their size, combined with indications observed in a fragment of
the entablature, led Mazois to suppose that, instead of a roof,
the}^ had been surmounted by a terrace. The impluvium is
marble. At the end of the atrium is what would be called a
tablinum in the house of a man of family, through which we
enter the bake-house, which is at the back of the house, and opens
into the smaller street, which, diverging from the main street at
the fountain by Pansa 's house, runs up straight to the city walls.
iiiii 'm
366 EMPLOYMENT.
The atrium is surrounded by different apartments, offering abund-
ant accommodation, but such as we need not stop to describe.
The work-room is about thirty-three feet long by twenty-six.
The centre is occupied by four stone mills, exactly like those
found in the other two stores, for all the bakers ground their own
flour. To give more room they are placed diagonally, so as to
form, not a square, but a lozenge. Mazois was present at the
excavation of this house, and saw the mills at the moment of
their discovery, when the iron-work, though entirely rust-eaten,
was yet perfect enough to explain satisfactorily the method of
construction. This will be best understood from the following
representation, one half of which is an elevation, the other half a
section. The cut on page 365 gives some idea of them.
The base is a cylindrical stone, about five feet in diameter
and two feet high. Upon this, forming part of the same block,
or else firmly fixed into it, is a conical projection about two feet
high, the sides slightly curving inwards. Upon this there rests
another block, externally resembling a dice-box, internally an
hour-glass, being shaped into two hollow cones with their vertices
towards each other, the lower one fitting the conical surface on
which it rests, though not with any degree of accuracy. To
diminish friction, however, a strong iron pivot was inserted in the
top of the solid cone, and a corresponding socket let into the
narrow part of the hour-glass. Four holes were cut through the
stone parallel to this pivot. The narrow part was hooped on the
outside with iron, into which wooden bars were inserted, by
means of which the upper stone was turned upon its pivot, by the
labor of men or asses. The upper hollow cone served as a
hopper, and was filled with corn, which fell by degrees through
the four holes upon the solid cone, and was reduced to powder
by friction between the two rough surfaces. Of course it worked
its way to the bottom by degrees, and fell out on the cylindrical
base, round which a channel was cut to facilitate the collection.
FLOUR MILLS. 367
These machines are about six feet high in the whole, made of a
rough gray volcanic stone, full of large crystals of leucite. Thus
rude, in a period of high refinement and luxury, was one of the
commonest and most necessary machines — thus careless were the
Romans of the amount of labor wasted in preparing an article of
daily and universal consumption. This, probably, arose in chief
from the employment of slaves, the hardness of whose task was
little cared for; while the profit and encouragement to enterprise
on the part of the professional baker was proportionately dimin-
ished, since every family of wealth probably prepared its bread
at home. But the same inattention to the useful arts runs
through everything that they did. Their skill in working metals
was equal to ours ; nothing can be more beautiful than the execu-
tion of tripods, lamps, and vases, nothing coarser than their locks ;
while at the same time the door-handles, bolts, etc., which were
seen, are often exquisitely wrought. To what cause can this
sluggishness be referred.'^ At present we see that a material
improvement in any article, though so trifling as a corkscrew or
pencil-case, is pretty sure to make the fortune of some man,
though unfortunately that man is very often not the inventor.
Had the encouragement to industry been the same, the result
would have been the same. Articles of luxury were in high
request, and of them the supply was first-rate. But the demands
of a luxurious nobility would never have repaid any man for
devoting his attention to the improvement of mills or perfecting
smith's work, and there was little general commerce to set inge-
nuity at work. Italy imported largely both agricultural produce
and manufactures in the shape of tribute from a conquered
world, and probably exported part of her peculiar productions;
but we are not aware that there is any ground for supposing that
she manufactured goods for exportation to any extent.
Originally mills were turned by hand, (many establishments
may still be seen in the streets of Naples for grinding corn by
368 EMPLOYMENT,
means of a hand-mill, turned by a man. Such flour-shops have
always a picture of the Madonna inside,) and this severe labor
seems, in all half-savage times, to have been conducted by women.
It was so in Eg3'pt; it was so in Greece in the time of Homer,
who employs fifty females in the house of Alcinous upon this
service. It was so in Palestine in the time of the Evangelists,
and in England in the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. We
find a passage of St. Matthew thus rendered by Wiclifte: "Two
W3'mmen schulen (shall) be grinding in one querne," or hand-
mill; and Harrison the historian, two centuries later, says that
his wife ground her malt at home upon her quern. Among the
Romans poor freemen used sometimes to hire themselves out to
the service of the mill when all other resources failed; and
Plautus is said to have done so, being reduced to the extreme of
poverty, and to have composed his comedies while thus employed.
This labor, however, fell chiefly upon slaves, and is represented
as being the severest drudgery which they had to undergo.
Those who had been guilty of any oflfense were sent to the mill
as a punishment, and sometimes forced to work in chains.
Asses, however, were used by those who could afford it.
That useful animal seems to have been employed in the
establishment we are describing, for the fragment of a jaw-bone,
with several teeth in it, was found in a room which seems to
have been the stable; and the floor about the mill is paved with
rough pieces of stone, while in the rest of the rooms it is made
of stucco or compost. The use of water-mills, however, was not
unknown to the Romans. Vitruvius describes their construction
in terms not inapplicable to the mechanism of a common mill of
the present day, and other ancient authors refer to them. " Set
not your hands to the mill, O women that turn the millstone!
sleep sound though the cock''s crow announce the dawn, for
Ceres has charged the nymphs with the labors which employed
your arms. These, dashing from the summit of a wheel, make
BREAD-BAKING.
369
its axle revolve, which, by the help of moving radii, sets in
action the weight of four hollow mills. We taste anew the life
of the first men, since we have learnt to enjoy, without fatigue,
the produce of Ceres."
In the centre of the pier, at the back, is the aperture to the
cistern by which the water used in making bread was supplied.
On each side are vessels to hold the water. On the pier above
is a painting, divided horizontally into two compartments. The
figures in the upper ones are said to represent the worship of the
goddess Fornax, the goddess of the oven, which seems to have
been deitied solely for the advantages which it possessed over the
old method of baking on the hearth. Below, two guardian ser-
pents roll towards an altar crowned with a fruit very much like
a pine-apple; while above, two little birds are in chase of large
flies. These birds, thus placed in a symbolical picture, may be
considered, in perfect accordance with the spirit of ancient mythol-
ogy, as emblems of the genii of the place, employed in driving
those troublesome insects from the bread.
The oven is on the left. It is made with considerable atten-
tion to economy of heat. The real oven is enclosed in a sort of
ante-oven, which had an aperture in the top for the smoke to
escape. The hole in the side is for the introduction of dough,
which was prepared in the adjoining room, and deposited
through that hole upon the shovel with which the man in front
placed it in the oven. The bread, when baked, was conveyed to
cool in a room the other side of the oven, by a similar aperture.
Beneath the oven is an ash-pit. To the right is a large room
which is conjectured to have been a stable. The jaw-bone above
mentioned and some other fragments of a skeleton were found in
it. There is a reservoir for water at the further end, which
passes through the wall, and is common both to this room and
the next, so that it could be filled without going into the stable.
The further room is fitted up with stone basins, which seem to
24
370 EMPLOYMENT,
have been the kneading-troughs. It contains also a narrow and
inconvenient staircase.
Though corn-bread formed the principal article of nourish-
ment among the Italians, the use of bread itself was not of early
date. For a long: time the Romans used their corn sodden into
pap, and there were no bakers in Rome antecedent to the war
against Perseus, king of Macedonia, about B. C. 580. Before
this every house made its own bread, and this was the task of
the women, except in great houses, where there were men-cooks.
And even after the invention of bread it was long before the use
of mills was known, but the grain was bruised in mortars.
Hence the names -pistor and -pistrinufn^ a baker and baker's shop,
which are derived from -pinsere^ to pound. The oven also was
of late introduction, as we have hinted in speaking of the goddess
Fornax, nor did it ever come into exclusive use. We hear of
bread baked under the ashes ; baked in the bread-pan, which was
probably of the nature of a Dutch oven; and other sorts, named
either from the nature of their preparation or the purpose to
which they were to be applied. The finest sort was called
siligineus^ and was prepared from the best, and whitest sort of
wheaten flour. A bushel of the best wheat of Campania, which
was of the first quality, containing sixteen sextarii, yielded
four sextarii of siligo, here seemingly used for the finest flour;
half a bushel oi Jios^ bolted flour; four sextarii of cibarium^
seconds ; and four sextarii of bran ; thus giving an excess of four
sextarii. Their loaves appear to have been very often baked in
moulds, several of which have been found ; these may possibly be
artoptse, and the loaves thus baked, artopticii. Several of these
loaves have been found entire. They are flat, and about eight
inches in diameter. One in the Neapolitan Museum has a stamp
on the top: —
SILIGO . CRANII
E . CICER
DYEING.
371
;"(iiii((ii.wiii(/i(i„i,i/),jiii[(fim((i(((ii
BREAD DISCOVERED IN i-uMiii-II.
This has been interpreted to mean that cicer (vetch) was mixed
with the tiour. We know from Pliny that the Romans used
several sorts of grain. The cut below gives an idea of their form.
In front of the house, one on each side the doorway, there
are two shops. Neither of these has any communication with
the house; it is
inferred, there-
fore, that they
were let out to
others, like the
shops belonging
to more distin-
guished persons.
This supposition
is the more prob-
able because none
of the bakeries found have shops attached to them, and there is
a painting in the grand work on Herculaneum, Le Pitture d'Er-
colano, which represents a bread-seller established in the Forum,
with his goods on a little table in the open air.
There is only one trade, so far as we are aware, with
respect to the practices of w:hich any knowledge has been
gained from the excavations at Pompeii — that of fulling and
scouring cloth. This art, owing to the difference of ancient and
modern habits, was of much greater importance formerly than
it now is. Wool was almost the only material used for dresses
in the earlier times of Rome, silk being unknown till a late
period, and linen garments being very little used. Woolen
dresses, however, especially in the hot climate of Italy, must
often have required a thorough purification, and on the manner in
which this was done of course their beauty very much depended
And since the toga, the chief article of Roman costume, was
woven in one piece, and was of course expensive, to make it iook
372 EMPLOYMENT.
and wear as well as possible was very necessary to persons of
small fortune. The method pursued has been described by
Pliny and others, and is well illustrated in some paintings found
upon the wall of a building, which evidently was a fullonica^ or
scouring-house. The building in question is entered from the
Street of Mercury, and is situated in the same island as the
House of the 'Tragic Poet.
The first operation was that of washing, which was done
with water mixed with some detergent clay, or fuller's earth;
soap does not appear to have been used. This was done in vats,
where the clothes were trodden and well worked by the feet of
the scourer. The painting on the walls of the Fullonica repre-
sents four persons thus employed. Their dress is tucked up,
leaving their legs bare; it consists of two tunics, the under one
being yellow and the upper green. Three of them seem to have
done their work, and to be wringing the articles on which they
have been employed; the other, his hands resting on the wall on
each side, is jumping, and busily working about the contents
of his vat. When dry, the cloth was brushed and carded, to
raise the nap — at first with metal cards, afterwards with thistles.
A plant called teazle is now largely cultivated in England for
the same purpose. The cloth was then fumigated with sulphur,
and bleached in the sun by throwing water repeatedly upon it
while spread out on gratings. In the painting the workman is
represented as brushing or carding a tunic suspended over a
rope. Another man carries a frame and pot, meant probably for
fumigation and bleaching; the pot containing live coals and sul-
phur, and being placed under the frame, so that the cloths spread'
upon the latter would be fully exposed to the action of the pent-
up vapor. The person who carries these things wears something
on his head, which is said to be an olive garland. If so, that,
and the owl sitting upon the frame, probably indicate that the
establishment was under the patronage of Minerva, the tutelary
SCOURING AND DYEING. 373
goddess of the loom. Another is a female examining the work
which a young girl has done upon a piece of yellow cloth. A
golden net upon her head, and a necklace and bracelets, denote
a person of higher rank than one of the mere workpeople of the
establishment; it probably is either the mistress herself, or a
customer inquiring into the quality of the work which has been
done for her.
These pictures, with others illustrative of the various pro-
cesses of the art, were found upon a pier in the peristyle of the
FuUonica. Among them we may mention one that represents a
press, similar in construction to those now in use, except that
there is an unusual distance between the threads of the screw.
The ancients, therefore, were acquainted with the practical ap-
plication of this mechanical power. In another is to be seen a
youth delivering some pieces of cloth to a female, to whom, per-
haps, the task of ticketing, and preserving distinct the different
property of different persons, was allotted. It is rather a curi-
ous proof of the importance attached to this trade, that the due
regulation of it was a subject thought not unworthy of legisla-
tive enactments. B. C. 354, the censors laid down rules for
regulating the manner of washing dresses, and we learn from the
digests of the Roman law that scourers were compelled to use
the greatest care not to lose or to confound property. Another
female, seated on a stool, seems occupied in cleaning one of the
cards. Both of the figures last described wear green tunics; the
first of them has a yellow under-tunic, the latter a white one.
The resemblance in colors between these dresses and those of
the male fullers above described may perhaps warrant a conject-
ure that there was some kind of livery or described dress belong-
ing to the establishment, or else the contents of the painter's
color-box must have been very limited.
The whole pier on which these paintings were found has
been removed to the museum at Naples. In the peristyle was a
374 EMPLOYMENT.
large earthenware jar, which had been broken across the middle
and the pieces then sewed carefully and laboriously together
with wire. The value of these vessels, therefore, can not have
been very small, though they were made of the most common
clay. At the eastern end of the peristyle there was a pretty
fountain, with a jet d'eau. The western end is occupied by four
large vats in masonry, lined with stucco, about seven feet deep,
which seem to have received the water in succession, one from
another.
Dyeing and painting in ancient times was rather more perfect
than at present, at least the colors were stronger and more dur-
able. The Egyptians had the most durable colors. The Henna
is a plant which is abundant in Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine,
and was used by the ancients, as it is by the moderns, for dyeing.
The leaves were dried and pulverized, and then made into a
paste. It is a powerful astringent dye, and is applied to desiccate
and dye the palms of the hands and soles of the feet and nails of
both, and gives a sort of dun or rust color to animal tissues, which
is very permanent.
It is stated that when sal-ammoniac and lime were put upon
the colored parts they changed to a dark greenish-blue color, and
passed on to black, probably from the sal-ammoniac containing
iron which would give this result.
The Tyrian ladies dyed rings and stars upon their persons.
Men gave a black dye to the hair of their heads and beards. The
dyeing of the nails with henna is a very ancient custom. Some
of the old Egyptian mummies are so dyed. It is supposed that
the Jewish women also followed this custom. Reference is made
to it in Deuteronomy, where the newly-married wife is desired to
stain her nails. Also, in the Song of Solomon, Camphire^ in the
authorized version, is said to mean henna, which has finely-scented
flowers growing in bunches, and the leaves of the plant are used
by women to impart a reddish stain to their nails.
COLORING SUBSTANCES. 375
Speaking of the Arabian women at the present day, Dr.
Thomson, in " The Land and the Book," says: " They paint their
cheeks, putting tahl around their eyes, arching their eyebrows
with the same, and stain their hands and feet with henna thus to
deck themselves, and should an unmarried woman do so, an im-
pression is conveyed highly injurious to the girl's character."
Galls are named among the substances known to the
ancients, but we can not find whether they were used as a dyeing
agent. Wilkinson says that tanning was in Egypt a subdivision
of dyeing, and it is mentioned that copperas with galls dyed
leather black; and there can be little doubt that galls were used
for a similar purpose in ordinary dyeing. The Myrohollans and
several sorts of barks and pods of the A cacia nilotica were also
used for tanning, from their astringent properties, and may have
been similarly used for dyeing.
These are a few of the principal coloring matters used by
dyers in ancient times. There is a little confusion with respect
to some of the salts mentioned as having been used by them, es-
pecially the alkaline salts — a circumstance, however, not to be
wondered at. In more modern times there is a similar confusion
on this same head.
When nitre, for instance, is burned with carbonaceous mat-
ter, the product is carbonate of potash. The ashes left by burn-
ing wood contain the same salt. The ashes left by burning
sea-weed produce carbonate of soda. When nitre is burned with
sulphur, the product is sulphate of potash, etc. These have all
been called generically, even in modern times, nitre, having each
a certain prefix well understood by the adept, or chemist, of the
day.
We think it probable that all these processes for making the
different salts were practiced- in ancient times, but now having
only the generic name nitre given us by historians, we can not
understand exactly when nitre is mentioned which of the nitres is
meant.
37^ EMPLOYMENT.
When Solomon speaks of the action of vinegar upon nitre,
the chemist understands that the salt referred to is a carbonate,
but when the nature of the action or application is not given, we
have no idea what particular salt is meant. There is no doubt,
however, that the ancients were well acquainted with the alkaline
salts of potash and soda, and applied them in the arts. The
metallic salts of iron, copper, and alumina were well known, and
their application to dyeing was generally the same as at the pres-
ent day. That they were used both as mordants and alterants
is evident from several references.
A very suggestive statement is made by Pliny about the
ancient Egyptians. "They began," says he, "by painting or
drawing on white cloths with certain drugs, which in themselves
possessed no color, but had the property of attracting or absorb-
ing coloring matter, after which these cloths were immersed in a
heated dyeing liquor; and although they were colorless before,
and although this dyeing liquor was of one equable and uniform
color, yet when taken out of it soon afterwards, the cloth was
found to be wonderfully tinged of ditferent colors, according to
the peculiar nature of the several drugs which had been applied
to their respective parts, and these colors could not be afterwards
discharged by washing."
Herodotus states that certain people who lived near the Cas-
pian Sea could, b}' means of leaves of trees which they bruised
and steeped in water, form on cloth the figures of animals, flow-
ers, etc., which were as lasting as the cloth itself. This state-
ment is more suggestive than instructive.
Persia was much famed for dyeing at a very early period,
and dyeing is still held in great esteem in that country. Persian
dyers have chosen Christ as their patron; and Bischoff says that
they at present call a dye-house Christ's workshop, from a tradi-
tion they have that He was of that profession. They have a
legend, probably founded upon what Pliny tells of the Egyptian
MINERAL USED FOR DYEING.
377
dyers, "that Christ being put apprentice to a dyer, His master
desired Him to dye some pieces of cloth of different colors; He
put them all into a boiler, and when the dyer took them out he
was terribly frightened on finding that each had its proper color.''
This or a similar legend occurs. in the apocryphal book en-
titled " The First Gospel of the Infancy of Jesus Christ." The
following is the passage :
" On a certain day also, when the Lord Jesus was playing with the boys, and run-
ning about. He passed by a dyer's shop whose name was Salem, and there were in his
shop many pieces of cloth belonging to the people of that city, which they designed to
dye of several colors. Then the Lord Jesus, going into the dyer's shop, took all the
clothb and threw them into the furnace. When Salem came home and saw the cloth
spoiled, he began to make a great noise and to chide the Lord Jesus, saying: "What
hast Thou done unto me, O thou son of Mary ? Thou hast injured both me and my
neighbors; they all desired their cloths of a proper color, but Tbou hast come and
spoiled them all." The Lord Jesus replied: " I will change the color of every cloth
to what color thou desirest,"aDd then He presently began to take the cloths out of the fur-
nace; and they were all dyed of those same colors which the dyer desired. And when
the Jews saw this surprising miracle they praised God."
Tin. — We have no positive evidence as to whether the
ancients used oxide, or the salts of tin, in their dyeing operations.
A modern dyer could hardly produce permanent tints with
some of the dye drugs named without tin salts. We know that
the ancients used the oxides of tin for glazing pottery and paint-
ing; they may therefore have used salts of tin in their dyeing
operations. However, they had another salt — sulphate of alum-
ina— which produces similar results, although the moderns in
most cases prefer tin, as it makes a more brilliant and permanent
tint.
Alum. — This is what is termed a double salt, and is com-
posed of sulphate of alumina and sulphate of potash. The
process of manufacturing it in this country is by subjecting clay
slate containing iron pyrites to a calcination, when the sulphur
with the iron is oxidized, becoming sulphuric acid, which, com-
bining with the alumina of the clay, and also with the iron,
becomes sulphate of alumina and iron; to this is added a salt of
37^ EMPLOYMENT.
potash, which, combining with the sulphate of alumina, forms the
double salt alum. Soda or ammonia may be substituted for
potash with similar results; the alum is crystallized from the
solution. That the ancients were acquainted with this double
salt has been disputed, but we think there can be no doubt of its
existence and use at a very early period. A very pure alum is
produced in volcanic districts by the action of sulphurous acid
and oxygen on felspathic rocks, and used b}- the ancients for
different purposes. Pliny mentions Almnine^ which he describes
as white, and used for whitening wool, also for dyeing wool of
bright colors. Occasionally he confounds this salt with a mixture
of sulphate of alumina and iron, which, in all probability, was
alum containing iron, the process of separation not being perfect ;
and he mentions that this kind of alumen blackens on the appli-
cation of nut-galls, showing that iron was in it. Pliny says of
alumen, that it is "understood to be a sort of brine which exudes
from the earth; of this, too, there are several kinds. In Cyprus
there is a white alumen, and another kind of a darker color; the
uses of these are very dissimilar, the white liquid alumen being
employed for dyeing a whole bright color, and the darker, on the
other hand, for giving wool a tawny or sombre tint." This is
very characteristic of a pure aluminous mordant, and of one
containing iron. He also mentions that this dark alumen was
used for purifying gold. He must be referring here to its
quality of giving gold a rich color. The liquid of this iron
alumen, if put upon light-colored gold, and heated over a fire,
gives it a very rich tint; a process practiced still for the same
purpose. So far, however, as the application to dyeing is con-
cerned, it is unnecessary to prove that the ancients used our
double salt alum. Probably the alumen referred to by Pliny, as
exuding from the earth, was sulphate of alumina, without potash
or soda, a salt not easily crystallized, but as effective, in many
cases more effective, in the operations of dyeing, as alum, which
COST OF DYEING. 379
is attested by the preference given to this salt over alum for
many purposes at the present day. Pliny says that alumen was
a product of Spain, Egypt, Armenia, Macedonia, Pontus, Africa,
and the Islands of Sardinia, Melos, Lipara, and Strangyle, and
that the most esteemed is that of Egypt. And Herodotus men-
tions that King Amasis of Egypt sent the people of Delphi a
thousand talents of this substance, as his contribution toward the
rebuilding of their temple. Notwithstanding considerable con-
fusion in Pliny's account of this substance, our belief is, that it
refers to different salts of alumina, and whether or not they were
all used in the processes of dyeing, they were used for manufac-
turing purposes, and thus gives us some insight to the advanced
state of the arts in those times.
Respecting the cost and durability ol the Tyrian purple, it
is related that Alexander the Great found in the treasury of the
Persian monarch 5,000 quintals of Hermione purple of great
beauty, and 180 years old, and that it was worth $125 of our
money per pound weight. The price of dyeing a pound of wool
in the time of Augustus is given by Pliny, and this price is equal
to about $160 of our money. It is probable that his remarks
refer to some particular tint or quality of color easily distin-
guished, although not at all clearly defined by Pliny. He men-
tions a sort of purple, or hyacinth, which was worth, in the time
of Julius Caesar, 100 denarii (about $15 of our money) per
pound.
Since, according to our modern researches into this dye, one
fish, the common Purpura lapillus^ produces only about one
drop of the liquor, then it would take about 10,000 fish to dye i
lb. of wool, so that $160 is not extravagant.
Spinning and weaving in ancient times were principally per-
formed by women; indeed, the words ivoof^ weaving^ and tveh
are allied to the word wife. However, in ancient Egypt and in
India men also wrought at the loom. Probably nothing could
380 EMPLOYMENT.
be simpler or ruder than the looms used by ancient weavers.
Were we to compare these with the looms and other weaving
apparatus of the present day, and reason therefrom that as the
loom so must have been the cloth produced thereon, we would
make a very great mistake. There are few arts which illus-
trate with equal force our argument in favor of the perfection
of ancient art so well as this of weaving. It would appear that
our advancement is not so much in the direction of quality as
in that of quantity. There are few things we can do which
were not done by the ancients equally perfect. Rude as were
their looms in ancient Egypt, they produced the far-famed linen
so often mentioned in Scripture and the writings of other nations.
In order to show that this is not to be regarded as a merely
comparative term applicable to a former age, we will here quote
from G. Wilkinson respecting some mummy-cloths examined by
the late Mr. Thomson, of Clithero: — "My .first impression on
seeing these cloths was, that the first kinds were muslins, and of
Indian manufacture; but this suspicion of their being cotton was
soon removed by the microscope. Some were thin and trans-
parent, and of delicate texture, and the finest had 140 threads
to the inch in the warp." Some cloth Mr. Wilkinson found in
Thebes had 152 threads to the inch in the warp, but this is
coarse when compared with a piece of linen cloth found in Mem-
phis, which had 540 threads to the inch of the warp. How fine
must these threads have been! In quoting this extract from
Wilkinson to an old weaver, he flatly said it was impossible, as
no reed could be made so fine. However, there would be more
threads than one in the split, and by adopting this we can make
cloth in our day having between 400 and 500 in the inch. How-
ever, the ancient cloths are much finer in the warp than woof,
probably from want of appliance for driving the threads of the
weft close enough, as they do not appear to have lays as we
have for this purpose. Pliny refers to the remains of a linen
CLOTH MANUFACTURE. 38 1
corselet, presented by Amasis, king of Egypt, to the Rhodians,
each thread of which was composed of 365 fibres: "Herodotus
mentions this corselet, and another presented by Amasis to the
Lacedaemonians, which had been carried off by the Samians.
It was of linen, ornamented with numerous figures of animals
worked in gold and cotton. Each thread of the corselet was
worthy of admiration, for though very fine, every one was com-
posed of 360 other threads all distinct." No doubt this kind of
thread was symbolical. It was probably something of this sort
that Moses refers to when he mentions the material of which the
corselet or girdle of the high priest was made — the fine twined
linen. Jewish women are represented in the Old Testament as
being expert in the art of spinning.
Ancient Babylon was also celebrated for her cloth manufac-
ture and embroidery work, and to be the possessor of one of
these costly garments was no ordinary ambition. It is not to be
wondered at that when Achan saw amongst the spoils of Jericho
a goodly Babylonish garment he " coveted it and took it." The
figure represented on the ancient seal of Urukh has, says Raw-
linson, fringed garments delicately striped, indicating an ad-
vanced condition of this kind of manufacture five or six centuries
before Joshua. It may be mentioned, however, that such manu-
factures were in ancient times, especially in Egypt, national.
Time was of little importance, labor was plentiful, and no crafts-
man was allowed to scheme, or plan, or introduce any change,
but was expected to aim at the perfection of the operation he
was engaged in, and this led to perfection every branch. Every
trade had its own quarters in the city or nation, and the locality
was named after the trade, such as goldsmiths' quarters, weavers'
quarters, etc. This same rule seems to have been practised by
the Hebrews after their settlement in Palestine, for we find such
names in Scripture as the Valley of Craftsmen. We also find
that certain trades continued in families; passages such as the
382 , EMPLOYMENT.
following are frequent — " The father of those who were crafts-
men," and " The father of Mereshah, a city, and of the house of
those who wrought fine hnen;" and again, " The men of Cho-
zeba, and Joash, and Saraph, who had the dominion of Moab
and Jashubalahem, these were potters, and those that dwelt
among plants and hedges, and did the king's work." In ancient
Egypt every son was obliged to follow the same trade as his
father. Thus caste was formed. Whether this same was
carried out in Babylon, Persia, and Greece, we do not know;
but certainly, in these nations there were in all cases officers
directing the operations, and overseers, to whom these again
were responsible, so that every manufacturing art was carried
on under strict surveillance, and to the highest state of perfec-
tion. As the possession of artistic work was an object of ambi-
tion amongst the wealthy or favored portion of the community,
it led to emulation among the workers. Professor Rawlinson, in
his " Five Ancient Monarchies," speaks of the Persians emulat-
ing with each other in the show they could make of their riches
and variety of artistic products. This emulation led both to
private and public exhibitions. One of those exhibitions, which
lasted over a period of six months, is referred to in the Old
Testament; so when we opened our Great Exhibition in 1876
we were onl}' resuscitating a system common in ancient times,
the event recorded in the Book of Esther having happened at
least 2,200 years before:
" In those days, whea the King Ahasuerus sat on the throne of his kingdom,
which WHS in Shushan the palace, in the third year of his reign, he made a feast unto
all his princes and his servants; the power of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes
of the provinces, bein^ before him: when he showed the riches of his glorious kingdom,
and the honor of his excellent majesty, many days, even an hundred and fourscore days,
And when these days were expired, the king made a feast unto all the people that were
present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and unto small, seven days, in the court
of the garden of the king's palace ; where were white green and blue hangings, fastened
with cords of fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble; the beds were
of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white, and black marble.
And they gave them drink in vessels of gold (the vessels being diverse one from
another), and royal wine in abundance, according to the state of the king."
PERSIAN COSTUMES. 383
This must have been a magnificent exhibition. The number
attending this feast is not ascertainable; but, if the princes and
nobles of the provinces (the provinces were 127 in number), and
all the officers and great men of Persia and Media, and the
servants of the palace, great and small, were there, it must have
formed an immense company. Now, as every one drank out of
a golden cup of a different pattern, we obtain an idea of profusion
in art of which we can form but a very limited conception. This
fact indicates that variety of pattern was an object sought after
— a fashion fostering and favoring the development of art and
design, and worthy of being emulated in the present day.
Speaking of the Persians , Professor Rawlinson says that the
richer classes seem to have followed the court in their practices.
In their costume they wore long purple or flowered robes, with
loose-hanging sleeves, flowered tunics reaching to the knee, also
sleeved, embroidered trowsers, tiaras, and shoes of a more elegant
shape than the ordinary Persian. Under their trowsers they
wore drawers, and under their tunics shirts, and under their shoes
stockings or socks. In their houses their couches were spread
with gorgeous coverlets, and their floors with rich carpets —
habits that must have necessitated an immense labor and skill,
and indicate great knowledge in the manufacture of textile
fabrics.
Among the great historic nations of antiquity, the chief
consumption of copper and tin was in the manufacture of bronze ;
and the quantities of these metals necessary for the purpose must
have been very great, for bronze seems to have been the principal
metallic substance of which articles both of utility and art were
formed. Wilkinson, Layard, and others, found bronze articles
in abundance amongst the debris of all the ancient civilizations to
which their researches extend, proving that the manufacture of
this alloy was widely known at a very early period; and strange
to say, when we consider the applications of some of the tools
384 EMPLOYMENT.
found, we are forced to the conclusion that the bronze of which
they were made must originally have been in certain important
particulars superior to any which we can produce at the present
day. In these researches were found carpenters' and masons'
tools, such as saws, chisels, hammers, etc., and also knives, dag-
gers, swords, and other instruments which require both a fine
hard edge a^id elasticity. Were we to make such tools now, they
would be useless for the purpose to which the ancients applied
them. Wilkinson says: "No one who has tried to perforate or
cut a block of Egyptian granite will scruple to acknowledge that
our best steel tools are turned in a very short time, and require
to be re-tempered; and the labor experienced by the French
engineers who removed the obelisk of Luxor from Thebes, in
cutting a space less than two feet deep along the face of its par-
tially decomposed pedestal, suffices to show that, even with our
excellent modern implements, we find considerable difficulty in
doing what to the Egyptians would have been one of the least
arduous tasks."
But Wilkinson believes that bronze chisels were used for
cutting granite, as he found one at Thebes, of which he says, "Its
point is instanth' turned by striking it against the very stone it
was used to cut; and yet, when found, the summit was turned
over by blows it had received from the mallet, while the point
was intact, as if it had recently left the hands of the smith who
made it."
"Another remarkable feature in their bronze," sa3's the same
author, " is the resistance it offers to the effects of the atmos-
phere— some continuing smooth and bright though buried for
ages, and since exposed to the damp European climate. They
had also the secret of covering the surface with a rich patina of
dark or light green, or other color, by applying acids to it."
e
&=
386 V . TROY.
heroes. It was the ultimate standard of appeal on all matters
of religious doctrine and early history. It was learned by the
boys at school. It was the study of men in their riper years,
and even in the time of Socrates there were Athenian gentle-
men who could repeat both the Iliad and Odyssey by heart. In
whatever part of the ancient world a Greek settled he carried
with him a love for the great poet, just as much as the Christian
family takes the Bible to its new frontier home. No work of
profane literature has exercised so wide and long-continued an
influence.
The site of Troy is upon a plateau on the eastern shore of
the ^gean Sea, about 4 miles from the coast and 4^ miles
southeast from the port of Sigeum. The plateau lies on an
average about 80 feet above the plain, and descending very ab-
ruptly on the north side. Its northwestern corner is formed
by a hill about 26 feet higher still, which is about 705 feet in
breadth and 984 in length, and from its imposing situation and
natural fortifications this hill of Hissarlik seems specially suited
to be the Acropolis of the town.
Like the other great Oriental capitals of the Old World, the
present condition of Troy is that of a mound, such as those in
the plain of the Tigris and Euphrates, offering for ages the invi-
tation to research, which has only been accepted and rewarded
in our own day. The resemblance is so striking as to raise a
strong presumption that, as the mounds of Nimrud and Hillah
have been found to contain the palaces of the Assyrian and Baby-
lonian kings, so we may accept the ruins found in the mound of
Hissarlik as those of the capital of that primeval empire in Asia
Minor.
As the mounds opened by Layard and his fellow laborers
contained only the " royal quarters," which towered above the
rude buildings of cities, the magnitude of which is attested by
abundant proofs, so it is reasonable to believe that the ruins at
RUINS AT HISSARLIK. 387
Hissarlik are those of the royal quarter, the only really -perma-
nent part of the city built on the hill capping the lower plateau
which lifted the huts of the common people above the marshes
and inundations of the Scamander and the Simois. In both
cases the fragile dwellings of the multitude have perished, and
the pottery and other remains, which were left in the surface of
the plateau of Ilium, would naturally be cleared away by the
succeeding settlers. Homer's poetical exaggeration exalted the
mean dwellings that clustered about the acropolis into the " well-
built city " with her " wide streets.''
The erroneous theory which assigns Troy to the heights of
Bunarbashi could, in fact, never have gained ground, had its
advocates employed the few hours which they spent on the
heights, and in Bunarbashi itself, in making small holes, with the
aid of even a single workman. No one can conceive how it is
possible that the solution of the great problem, " ubi Troja fuit "
— which is surely one of the greatest interest to the whole civil-
ized world — should have been treated so superficially that, after
a few hours' visit to the Plain of Troy, men have sat down at
home and written voluminous works to defend a theory, the
worthlessness of which they would have perceived had they but
made excavations for a single hour.
The view from the hill of Hissarlik is extremely magnifi-
cent. Before it lies the glorious Plain of Troy, which is covered
with grass and yellow buttercups; on the north northwest, at
about an hour's distance, it is bounded by the Hellespont. The
peninsula of Gallipoli here runs out to a point, upon which stands
a lighthouse. To the left of it is the island of Imbros, above
which rises Mount Ida of the island of Samothrace, at present
covered with snow; a little more to the west, on the Macedo-
nian peninsula, lies the celebrated Mount Athos, or Monte Santo,
with its monasteries, at the northwestern side of which there are
still to be seen traces of that great canal, which, according to
3SC5 TROY.
Herodotus (vii. 22, 23), was made by Xerxes, in order to avoid
sailing round the stormy Cape Athos.
Returning to tiie Plain of Troy we see to the right of it,
upon a spur of the promontory of Rhceteum, the sepulchral
mound of Ajax, at the foot of the opposite Cape of Sigeum that
of Patroclus, and upon a spur of the same cape the sepulchre of
Achilles ; to the left of the latter, on the promontory itself, is the
Village of Yenishehr. The Plain, which is about two hours*
journey in breadth, is thence bounded on the west by the shores
of the yEgean, which are, on an average, about 131 feet high,
and upon which we see first the sepulchral mound of Festus, the
confidential friend of Caracalla, whom the Emperor (according
to Herodian IV.) caused to be poisoned on his visit to Ilium,
that he might be able to imitate the funeral rites which Achilles
celebrated in honor of his friend Patroclus, as described by
Homer. Then upon the same coast there is another sepulchral
mound, called Udjek- 7'epe^ rather more than 78^ feet in height,
which most archaeologists consider to be that of the old man
^syetes, from which Polites, trusting to the swiftness of his feet,
watched to see when the Greek army would set forth from the
ships.
"Swift Iris stood amidst them, and the voice
Assuming of Polites, Priam's son.
The Trojan scout, who, trusting to his speed,
Was posted on the summit of the mound
Of ancient ^syetes, there to watch
Till from their ships the Grecian troops should march — "
Between the last-named mounds we see projecting above the
high shores of the ^gean Sea the island of Tenedos, to which
the crafty Greeks withdrew their fleet when they pretended to
abandon the siege. To the south we see the Plain of Troy,
extending again to a distance of two hours, as far as the heights
of Bunarbashi, above which rises majestically the snow-capped
Gargarus of Mt. Ida, from which Jupiter witnessed the battles
between the Trojans and the Greeks.
SETTLEMENT OF TROY.
389
One of the greatest difficulties has been to make the enor-
mous accumulation of debris at Troy agree with chronology ; and
in this Dr. Schliemann only partially succeeded. According to
Herodotus (vii. 43): " Xerxes in his march through the Troad,
before invading Greece (B. C. 480) arrived at the Scamander and
^vent up to Priam's Pergamus, as he wished to see that citadel;
and, after having seen it, and inquired into its past fortunes, he
sacrificed 1,000 oxen to the Ilian Athena, and the Magi poured
libati6ns to the manes of the heroes."
This passage tacitly implies that at that time a Greek colony
had long since held possession of the town, and according to
Strabo's testimony (XIII. i. 42), such a colony built Ilium during
the dominion of the Lydians. Now, as the commencement ot
the Lydian dominion dates from the year 797 B. C, and as the
Ilians seem to have been completely established there long before
the arrival of Xerxes in 480 -B. C, we may fairly assume that
their first settlement in Troy took place about 700 B. C. Now,
there are found no inscriptions later than those belonging to the
second century after Christ, and no coins of later date than Con-
stantine II., but very many belonging to Constantine the Great,
who, as is well known, intended to build Constantinople on that
site, but it remained an uninhabited place till about the end of the
reign of Constans II., that is till about A. D. 361. Since the ac-
cumulation of debris during this long period of 1061 years
amounts only to six and one-half feet, whereas we have still to
dig to a depth of forty feet, and in places to forty-six and one-
390
TROY.
half below this, before reaching the native soil, how many years
did it require to form a layer of forty to forty-six and one-half
feet? The formation of the uppermost one, the Greek layer of
six and one-half feet required 1061. The time required to cover
the foundations of Troy to a depth of forty-six and one-half feet
of debris must have been very long. The first layer of from
thirteen to twenty feet on this hill of Hissarlik belonged to the
Aryan race, of whom very little can be said. The second layer
was formed by the Trojans of Homer, and are supposed, by Dr.
Schliemann and others to have flourished here about 1400 years
before Christ. We have only the general supposition of antiquity
that the Trojan war occurred about B. C. i2od, and Homer's
statement that Dardanus, the first Trojan King, founded Darda-
nia, which town Virgil and Euripides consider identical with
Ilium, and that after him it was governed by his son Erichthonius,
and then by his grandson Tros, by his great-grandson Ilus, and
then by his son Laomedon, and by his grandson Priam. Even if
we allow every one of these six kings a long reign of thirty-three
years, we nevertheless scarcely carry the foundation of the town
beyond 1400 B. C, that is 700 years before the Greek colony.
During Dr. Schliemann 's three-year excavations in the depths
of Troy, he has had daily and hourly opportunities of convincing
himself that, from the standard of our own or of the ancient Greek
mode of life, we can form no idea of the life and doings of the
four nations which successively inhabited this hill before the time
of the Greek settlement. They must have had a terrible time of
it, otherwise we should not find the walls of one house upon the
ruined remains of another, in continuous but irregular succes-
sion; and it is just because we can form no idea of the way in
which these nations lived and what calamities they had to endure,
that it is impossible to calculate the duration of their existence,
even approximately, from the thickness of their ruins. It is ex-
tremely remarkable, but perfectly intelligible from the continual
FIRST SETTLERS.
391
calamities which befel the town, that the civiHzation of all the
four nations constantly declined; the terra-cottas, which show con-
tinuous decadence^ leave no doubt of this.
The first settlement on this hill of Hissarlik seems to have
been of the longest duration, for its ruins cover the rock to a
height of from thirteen to twenty feet. Its houses and walls of
fortification were built of stones, large and small, joined with
earth, and manifold remains of these may be seen in the excava-
tions. It was supposed that these settlers were identical with the
Trojans of whom Homer sang, which is not the case.
All that can be said of the first settlers is that they be-
longed to the Aryan race, as is sufficiently proved by the Aryan
religious symbols met with in the strata of their ruins, both upon
the pieces of pottery and upon the small curious terra-cottas
with a hole in the centre, which have the form of the crater of a
volcano or of a carrousel^ i. 6., a top.
The excavations made have sufficiently proved that the sec-
ond nation which built a town on this hill, upon the debris of the
first settlers (which is from 13 to 20 feet deep), are the Trojans
of whom Homer sings. ' Their debris lies from 23 to 33 feet
below the surface. This Trojan stratum, which, without excep-
tion, bears marks of great heat, consists mainly of red ashes of
wood, which rise from 5 to 10 feet above the Great Tower of
Ilium, the double Scaean Gate, and the great enclosing Wall, the
construction of which Homer ascribes to Poseidon and Apollo,
and they show that the town was destroyed by a fearful confla-
gration. How great the heat must have been is clear also from
the large slabs of stone upon the road leading from the double
Scaean Gate down to the Plain ; for when the road was laid open
all the slabs appeared as uninjured as if they had been put down
quite recently; but after they had been exposed to the air for a
few days, the slabs of the upper part of the road, to the extent
of some 10 feet, which had been exposed to the heat, began to
392
TROY.
crumble away, and they have now almost disappeared, while
those of the lower portion of the road, which had not been
touched by the fire, have remained uninjured, and seem to be
indestructible. A further proof of the terrible catastrophe is
furnished by a stratum of scoriae of melted lead and copper,
from one fifth to one and one fifth of an inch thick, which ex-
tends nearly through the whole hill at a depth of from 28 to
29^ feet. That Troy was destroyed by enemies after a bloody
war is further attested by the many human bones which were
found in these heaps of debris^ and above all the skeletons with
helmets, found in the depths of the Temple of Athena, for, as we
know from Homer, all corpses were burned and the ashes were
preserved in urns. Of such urns were found an immense num-
ber in all the pre-Hellenic strata on the hill. Lastly, the Treas-
ure, which some member of the royal family had probably
endeavored to save during the destruction of the city, but was
forced to abandon, leaves no doubt that the city was destroyed
by the hands of enemies. This Treasure was found on the
large enclosing wall by the side of the royal palace, at a depth
of 275^ feet, and covered with red Trojan ashes from 5 to 6^
feet in depth, above which was a post-Trojan wall of fortification
19^ feet high.
As Homer is so well informed about the topography and
the climatic conditions of the Troad, there can surely be no
doubt that he had himself visited Troy. But, as he was there
long after its destruction, and its site had moreover been buried
deep in the debris of the ruined town, and had for centuries been
built over by a new town, Homer could neither have seen the
Great Tower of Ilium nor the Scaean Gate, nor the great enclos-
ing Wall, nor the palace of Priam; for, as every visitor to the
Troad may convince himself by the excavations, the ruins and
red ashes of Troy alone — forming a layer of from five to ten
feet thick — covered all these remains of immortal fame, and this
SC^AN GATE. 393
accumulation of debris must have been much more considerable
at the time of Homer's visit. Homer made no excavations so
as to bring those remains to light, but he knew of them from
tradition; for the tragic fate of Troy had for centuries been in
the mouths of all minstrels, and the interest attached to it was
so great that tradition itself gave the exact- truth in many
details.
" Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell,
Muses — for ye are Goddesses, and ye
Were present and know all things; we ourselves
But hear from Humor's voice, and nothing know —
Who were the chiefs and mighty lords of Greece."
Such, for instance, is the memory of the Scsean Gate in the
Great Tower of Ilium, and the constant use of the name Scaean
Gate in the plural, because it had to be described as double, and
in fact it has been proved to be a double gate. According to
the lines of the Ilaid, it now seems extremely probable that, at
the time of Homer's visit, the King of Troy declared that his
race was descended in a direct line from ^neas.
" But o'er the Trojans shall ^neas reign.
And his sons' sons, through ages yet unborn."
Now, as Homer never saw Ilium's Great Tower, nor the
Scsean Gate, and could not imagine that these buildings lay
buried deep beneath his feet, and as he probably imagined Troy
to have been very large — according to the then existing poetical
legends — and perhaps wished to describe it as still larger, we can
not be surprised that he makes Hector descend from the palace
in the Pergamus and hurry through the town m order to arrive
at the Sc3ean Gate; whereas that gate and Ilium's Great Tower,
in which it stands, are in reality directly in front of the royal
house. That this house is really the king's palace seems evident
from its size, from the thickness of its stone walls, in contrast to
those of the other houses of the town, which are built almost
exclusively of unburned bricks, and from its imposing situation
394
TROY.
upon an artificial hill directly in front of or beside the Scsean
Gate, the Great Tower, and the great surrounding Wall. This
is confirmed by the many splendid objects found in its ruins,
especially the enormous royally ornamented vase with the pic-
ture of the owl-headed goddess Athena, the tutelary divinity of
Ilium; and lastly, above all other things, the rich Treasure found
close by it. It can not, of course, be proved that the name of
this king, the owner of this Treasure, was
really Priam ; but he is so called by Homer
and in all the traditions. All that can be
proved is, that the palace of the owner of
this Treasure, this last Trojan king, per-
ished in the great catastrophe, which de-
stroyed the Scsean Gate, the great sur-
rounding Wall, and the Great Tower, and
which desolated the whole city. It can be
proved, by the enormous quantities of red
and yellow calcined Trojan ruins, from five
to ten feet in height, which covered and enveloped these edifices,
and by the many
post-Trojan build-
ings, which were
again erected up-
on these calcined
heaps of ruins,
that neither the palace of the owner of the Treasure, nor the
Scsean Gate, nor the great surrounding Wall, nor Ilium's Great
Tower, were ever again brought to light. A city, whose king
possessed such a Treasure, was immensely wealthy, considering
the circumstances of these times; and because Troy was rich it
was powerful, had many subjects, and obtained auxiliaries from
all quarters.
; This Treasure of the supposed mythical king Priam, of the
CALL OF MENELAUS.
395
mythical heroic age, is, at all events, a discovery which stands
alone in archaeology, revealing great wealth, great civilization
and great taste for art, in an age preceding the discovery of
bronze, when weapons and implements of pure copper were
employed contemporaneously with enormous quantities of stone
weapons and implements. This Treasure further leaves no doubt
that Homer must have actually seen gold and silver articles,
such as he continually describes; it is, in every respect, of ines-
timable value to science, and will for centuries remain the object
of careful investigation.
While the Trojan war was the last it was also the greatest
of all the achievements of the heroic age, and was immortalized
by the genius of Homer. Paris, son of Priam, king of Ilium or
Troy, abused the hospitality of Menelaus, king of Sparta, by car-
rying off his wife Helen, the most beautiful woman of the age.
All the Grecian princes looked upon the outrage as committed
upon themselves. Responding to the call of Menelaus, they as-
semble in arms, elect his brother Agamemnon, king of Mycenae,
leader of the expedition, and sail across the ^gean in nearly
1,200 ships to recover the faithless fair one. Some, however, ex-
celled Agamemnon in fame. Among them Achilles stands pre-
eminent in strength, beauty and value, while Ulysses surpasses
all the rest in the mental qualities of counsel, subtility and elo-
quence. Thus, by the opposite endowments, these two heroes
form the centre of the group.
Among the Trojans, Hector, one of the sons of Priam, is
most distinguished for heroic qualities, and forms a striking con-
trast to his handsome, but effeminate brother, Paris. It is said
that even the gods took part in the contest, encouraging their
favorite heroes, and sometimes fighting by their side or in their
stead. It was not until the tenth year that Troy yielded to the
inevitable fate. It was delivered over to the sword and its glory
sank in ashes.
396
TROY.
The houses of Troy were all very high, and had several
stories, as is obvious from the thickness of the walls, the con-
struction and colossal heaps of dehris. The city was immensely
rich, and as it was wealthy, so was it powerful and its buildings
large. The ruins are found in a badly decayed state, because of
the great fires that occurred there, and the neighboring towns
GOl-DKN CUPS OP PRIAM.
were largely built with stone from the ruins of Tro}'^; Archaeanax
is said to have built a long wall around Sigeum with its stones.
A portion of a large building was laid bare, the walls of
which are 6i<^ feet thick, and consist for the most part of hewn
blocks of limestone joined with clay. None of the stones seem
to be more than i foot 9 inches long, and they are so skillfully
put together, that the walls form a smooth surface. This house
is built upon a layer of yellow alid brown ashes and ruins, at a
depth of 20 feet, and the portion of the walls preserved reaches
up to within 10 feet below the surface of the hill. In the house,
as far as has been excavated, only one vase, with two breasts in
front and one breast at the side, has been found.
This is the first house that Dr. Schliemann excavated, which
is quite evident by what he writes about it: " It is with a feeling
of great interest that, from this great platform, that is, at a per-
pendicular height of from thirty-three to forty-two feet, I see this
HOUSES AT TROY. 397
very ancient building (which may have been erected looo years
before Christ) standing as it were in mid air."
A room was excavated which is ten feet high and eleven and
one-fourth wide; it was at one time much higher; its length has
not been ascertained.
One of the compartments of the uppermost houses, below
the Temple of Athena and belonging to the pre-Hellenic period,
appears to have been used as a wine-merchant's cellar or as a
magazine, for in it there are nine enormous earthen jars of vari-
ous forms, about five and three-fourths feet high and four and
three-fourths feet across, their mouths being from twenty-nine and
one-half to thirty-five and one-fourth inches broad. Each of
these earthen jars has four handles, three and three-fourths inches
broad, and the clay of which they are made has the enormous
thickness of two and one-fourth inches.
A house of eight rooms was also brought to light at a depth
of twenty-six feet. It stands upon the great Tower, directly be-
low the Greek Temple of Athena. Its walls consist of small
stones cemented with earth, and they appear to belong to differ-
ent epochs; for, while some of them rest directly upon the stones
of the Tower, others were not built till the Tower was covered
with eight inches, and in several cases even with three and one-
fourth feet, of debris. These walls also show differences in thick-
ness; one of them is four and one-half feet, others are only
twenty-five and one-half inches, and others again not more than
nineteen and two-thirds inches thick. Several of these walls are
ten feet high, and on some of them may be seen large remnants
of the coatings of clay, painted yellow or white. Black marks,
the result of fire, upon the lower portion of the walls of the other
rooms which have been excavated, leave no doubt that their
floors were of wood, and were destroyed by fire. In one room
there is a wall in the form of a semicircle, which has been burnt
as black as coal. All the rooms as yet laid open, and not resting
398 TROY.
directly upon the Tower, have been excavated down to the same
level; and, without exception, the debris below them consists of
red or yellow ashes and burnt ruins. Above these, even in the
rooms themselves, were found nothing but either red or yellow
wood'ashes, mixed with bricks that had been dried in the sun
and subsequently burnt by the conflagration, or black debris^ the
remains of furniture, mixed with masses of small shells : in proof
of this there are the many remains which are still hanging
on the walls.
A very large ancient building was found standing upon the
wall or buttress. At this place the wall appears to be about
seventy-nine feet wide, or thick. The site of this building, upon
an elevation, together with its solid structure, leave no doubt that
it was the grandest building in Troy; nay, that it must have been
the Palace of Priam. This edifice, now first laid open from be-
neath the ashes which covered it in the burning of the city, was
found by Dr. Schliemann in the very state to which, in Homer,
Agamemiion threatens to reduce it: "The house of Priam black-
ened with firey
Upon this house, by the side of the double gate, upon
Ilium ^s Great Tower, at the edge of the v/estern slope of the
Acropolis, sat Priam, the seven elders of the city, and Helen;
and this is the scene of the most splendid passage in the Iliad:
"Attending there on aged Priam, sat
The Elders of the city;
. . All these were gathered at the Scsean Gates.
so on Ilion's Tower
Sat the sage chiefs and counselors of Troy.
Helen they saw, as to the Tower she came."
From this spot the company surveyed the whole plain, and
saw at the foot of the Acropolis the Trojan and the Achaean
armies face to face, about to settle their agreement to let the war
be decided by a single combat between Paris and Menelaus.
"Upon Scamander^ 8 flowery mead they stood
Unnumbered as the vernal leaves and flowers."
OBJECTS FOUND IN HOUSES.
399
The description which Homer gives of the Tower of Ilium,
and the incidents connected with it, corresponds so closely to the
tower which Dr. Schliemann found that it leaves no doubt that
the two are identical.
WONDERFUL VASES OF TERKA-OOTTA. {From the Palace of Priam, at 24:}^ feet.)
" Now, with regard to the objects found in these houses, I
must first of all mention having discovered, at a depth of twenty-
six feet, in the Palace of Priam, a splendid and brilliant brown
vase, twenty-four and one-fourth inches high, with a figure of
the tutelar goddess of Troy, that is, with her owPs head,
400
TROY.
two breasts, a splendid necklace, indicated by an engraved pattern,
a very broad and beautifully engraved girdle, and other very
FROM PALACE OP PRIAM.
artistic decorations; there are no arms, nor are there any indica-
tions of them. Unfortunately this exquisite vase has suffered from
SILVER VASES.
401
the weight of stones which lay upon it. No. 4 resembles an owl's
beak, and especially as this is seen between the ear-shaped orna-
ments, it was doubtless intended to represent the image of the
owl with upraised wings on each side of the vases, which image
received a noble appearance from the splendid lid with a coronet.
I give a drawing of the largest vase of this type, which was
found a few days ago in the royal palace at a depth of from
twenty-eight to twenty-nine and one-half feet; on the top of it I
have placed the bell-shaped lid with a coronet, which was dis-
covered close by and appears to have belonged to it.
" I also found in the Treasure three great silver vases, the
largest of which is above eight .and one-fourth inches high and
nearly eight inches in diameter, and has a handle live and one-
half inches in length and three and one-half in breadth. (No.
23.) The second vase is 6.9 inches high and nearly six inches in;
diameter; another silver vase is welded to the upper part of it
(No. 22), of which, however, only portions have been preserved.
No. 19 is a splendid Terra-cotta vase from the Palace of
Priam. It is the largest vase of the t3^pe frequent in the ruins,
with two small handles. and two great upright wings. The cover
was found near it.
" On the south side of the hill, where, on account of the
slight natural slope, I had to make my great trench with an incli-
nation of fourteen degrees, I discovered, at a distance of 197 feet
from the declivity, a Tower, forty feet thick, which I have un-
covered on the north and south sides along the whole breadth of
26
402 TROY.
my trench, and have convinced myself that it is built on the rock
at a depth of forty-six and a half feet. ♦
"The Tower is at present only twenty feet high, but the
nature of its surface, and the masses of stones lying on both sides,
seem to prove that it was at one time much higher. For the pres-
ervation of what remains we have only to thank the ruins of
Troy, which entirely covered the Tower as it now stands. It is
probable that after the destruction of Troy much more of it re-
mained standing, and that the part which rose above the ruins
of the town was destroyed by the successors of the Trojans,
who possessed neither walls nor fortifications. The western part
of the Tower, so far as it is yet uncovered, is only from 121 to
124 feet distant from the steep western slope of the hill; and,
considering the enormous accumulation of debris^ I believe thai"
the Tower once stood on the western edge of the Acropolis,
where its situation would be most interesting and imposing, for
its top would have commanded, not only a view of the whole Plain
of Troy, but of the sea with the Islands of Tenedos, Imbros and
Samothrace. There is not a more sublime situation in the area
of Troy than this, and I therefore presurne that it is the ' Great
Tower of Ilium ' which Andromache ascended because ' she
'had heard that the Trojans were hard pressed and that the
power of the Achaians was great.'
/ " ' But to the height of Ilion'3 topmost tower
Andromache is gone; since tidings came
The Trojan force was overmatched, and great
The Grecian strength.'
" After having been buried for thirty-one centuries, and
after successive nations have built their houses and palaces high
above its summit during thousands of years, this Tower has now
again been brought to light, and commands a view, if not of the
whole Plain, at least of the northern part and of the Hellespont.
May this sacred and sublime monument of Greek heroism for-
TAKING OUT THE TREASURE. 403
ever attract the eyes of those who sail through the Hellespont!
May it become a place to which the inquiring youth of all future
generations shall make pilgrimage to fan their enthusiasms for
knowledge, and above all for the noble language and literature
of Greece!
" Directly by the side of the Palace of King Priam I came
upon a large copper article of the most remarkable form, which
attracted my attention all the more as I thought I saw gold
behind it. On the top of this copper article lay a stratum of red
and calcined ruins, from four and three-quarters to five and one-
quarter feet thick, as hard as stone, and above this again lay a
wall of fortification (six feet broad and twenty feet high) which
was built of large stones and earth, and must have belonged
to an early date after the destruction of Troy. In order to
withdraw the Treasure from the greed of my workmen, and
to save it for archaeology, I had to be most expeditious, and
although it was not yet time for breakfast, I immediately had
breakfast called. While the men were eating and resting I
cut out the Treasure with a large knife, which it was impos-
sible to do without the very greatest exertion and the most
fearful risk of my life, for the great fortification wall, be-
neath which I had to dig, threatened every moment to fall
down upon me. But the sight of so many objects, every one of
which is of inestimable value to archaeology, made me foolhardy,
and I never thought of any danger. It would, however, have
been impossible for me to have removed the Treasure without
the help of my dear wife, who stood by me ready to pack the
things which I cut out in her shawl and to carry them away.
" The first thing I found was a large copper shield, in the
form of an oval salver, in the middle of which is a knob or boss
encircled by a small furrow. It is a little less than twenty inches
in length, is quite flat, and surrounded by a rim one and one-half
inches high; the boss is two and one-third inches high and
404
TROY.
four and one-third inches in diameter; the furrow encircling it
is seven inches in diameter and two-fifths of an inch deep.
This round shield of copper (or bronze?) with its central boss,
TREASUHE8 OF PRIAM.
and the furrow and rim so suitable for holding together a cover-
ing of ox-hides, reminds one irresistibly of the seven-fold shicild
of Ajax {^Iliad vii. 219-223):
SHIELD OF THE TREASURE. 405
" ' Ajax approached ; before him, as a tower,
His mighty shield he bore, seven-fold, brass-bound,
The work of Tychius, best artificer
That wrought in leather; he in Hyia dwelt.
Of seven-fold hides the ponderous shield was wrought
Of lusty bulls; the eighth was glittering brass.'
" It is equally striking to compare the shield of the Treas-
ure with the description of Sarpedon's shield, with its round
plate of hammered copper (or bronze), and its covering of ox-
hides, fastened to the inner edge of the rim by gold wires or
rivets {Iliad \\\. 294-297):
"'His shield's broad orb before his breast he bore.
Well wrought, of beaten brass, which the armorer's hand
Had beaten out, and lined with stout bull's hide
With golden rods, continuous, all around.'
" The second object which I got out was a copper caldron with
two horizontal handles. It is sixteen and one-half inches in
diameter and five and one-half inches high; the bottom is flat,
and is nearly eight inches in diartieter. In the Iliad this vessel is
used almost always as a caldron, and is often given as a prize at
games; in the Odyssey it is always used for washing the hands
or feet. This one shows the marks of a fearful conflagration,
and near the left handle are seen two fragments of copper
weapons (a lance and a battle-ax) firmly molten on. (See No.
25-)
" The third object was a copper plate two- fifths of an inch
thick, six and one-third inches broad, and seventeen and one-third
inches long; it has a rim about one-twelfth of an inch high; at
one end of it there are two immovable wheels with an axle-tree.
This plate is very much bent in two places, but I believe that
these curvatures have been produced by the heat to which the
article was exposed in the conflagration; a silver vase four and
three-fourths inches high and broad has been fused to it ; I suppose,
however, that this also happened by accident in the heat of the
fire. (See No. 14.)
^i^ OF THlf"^.
^ oar
4o6
TROY.
" This remarkable object lay at the top of the whole mass,
and I suppose it to have formed a hasp to the lid of the wooden
chest in which the Treasure was packed. The fourth article I
brought out was a copper vase five and one-half inches high and
four and one-third inches in diameter. Thereupon followed a
globular bottle of the purest gold, weighing 6,220
grains, or above one pound troy ; it is nearly six
inches high and five and one-half inches in diam-
eter, and has the commencement of a zigzag
decoration on the neck, which,
however, is not continued all
round. Then came a cup, like-
wise of the purest gold, weighing
seven and one-fourth oz. troy; it
is three and one-half inches high
and three inches broad. (See
Nos. 4 and 12.)
" Next came another cup of purest gold, weighing about
one pound and six oz. troy; it is three and one-half inches high,
CONTENTS OF THE TREASURE.
407
seven and one-fourth inches long, and seven and one-fifth
inches broad; it is in the form of a ship, with two large
handles; on one side there is a mouth one and one-fifth inches
broad, for drinking out of, and another at the other side two and
three-fourths inches broad. Prof. Stephanos Kumanudes, of
Athens, remarks, the person who presented the filled cup may
have first drank from the small mouth as a mark of respect, to
let the guest drink from the larger mouth. (See No. 10.)
FOUND IN THE PALACE OF PRIAM.
" The Treasure further contained a small cup of gold weigh-
ing two and one-fourth oz. troy; also six pieces of the purest
silver in the form of large knife blades; they have all been
wrought with a hammer.
" I also found in the Treasure three great silver vases, the
408 TROY.
largest of which is above eight and one-fourth inches high and
nearly eight inches in diameter, and has a handle five and one-
half inches in length and three and one-half in breadth; I found
besides a number of silver goblets and cups. Upon and beside
the gold and silver articles I found thirteen copper lances; also
fourteen copper weapons, which are frequently met with here,
and seven large double-edged copper daggers.
" As I found all these articles together, forming a
rectangular mass , or packed into one another, it seems
to be certain that they were placed on the city wall in
a wooden chest, such as those mentioned by Homer as
being in the Palace of King Priam. This appears to
be the more certain, as close by the side of these arti-
cles I found a copper key above four inches long, the
head of which (about two inches long and broad)
greatly resembles a large safe-key of a bank. Curi-
ously enough this key has had a wooden handle.
" That the Treasure was packed together at terri-
ble risk of life, and in the greatest anxiety, is proved
among other things also by the contents of a large
silver vase, at the bottom of which I found two gold
diadems, a fillet and four beautiful ear-rings of most
exquisite workmanship; upon these lay fifty-six gold
ear-rings of exceedingly curious form, and 8,750 small gold
rings, perforated prisms and dice, gold buttons and similar jewels ;
then followed six gold bracelets, and, on the top of all, the two
small gold goblets. Some of these are mentioned by Homer :
" 'Far off were flung tl>e adorDments of her head ;
The net, the fillet, and the woven band,
The nuptial-veil by golden Venus given.'
" The one diadem consists of a gold fillet, twenty-one and
two-thirds inches long and nearly half an inch broad, from which
there hang on either side seven little chains to cover the
EAR-RINGS AND CHAINS.
409
temples, each of which has eleven square leaves
with a groove; these chains are joined to one
another by four little cross chains, at the end of
which hangs a glittering golden idol of the tutelar
goddess of Troy, nearly an inch long.
The entire length of each of these
chains, with the idols, amounts to ten
and one-quarter inches. Almost all
these idols have something of the
human form, but the owl's head with
the two large eyes can not be mis-
taken; their breadth at the lower
end is about nine-tenths of an inch.
Between these orna-
•ments for the tem-
ples there are forty-
seven little pendant chains adorned
with square leaves ; at the end of
each little chain is an idol of the
tutelar goddess of Ilium, about
three-quarters of an inch long;
the length of these little chains
with the idols is not quite four
inches. The fillet is above
eighteen inches long and two-
fifths of an inch broad, and has
three perforations at each end.
Eight quadruple rows of dots divide it into nine
compartments, in each
of which there are two
large dots, and an unin-
terrupted row of dots
adorns the whole edge.
(See Fig. I.) Of the
four ear-rings only two
4IO
TROY.
are exactly alike; from the upper part, which is ahuost in the
shape of a basket, and is ornamented with two rows of decora-
tions in the form of beads, there hang six small chains on which
are three Httle cylinders; attached to the end of the chains are
small idols of the tutelar goddess of Troy. The length of each
ear-ring is three and one-half inches. The upper part of the
other two ear-rings is larger and thicker, but likewise almost in
the shape of a basket ; from it are suspended five little chains en-
tirely covered with small round leaves, on which are likewise
fastened small but more imposing idols of the Ilian tutelar divin-
ity; the length of one of these pendants is three and one-half
inches, that of the other a little over three inches. (See Fig.
17.)
" Homer, in the Iliad, sings of ' beautifully twined tassels of
solid gold ' which adorned Athene;
" ' All around
A hundred tassels hung, rare works of art,
All gold, each one a hundred oxen's price.'
" Again, when Hera adorns herself to captivate Jove, her
zone is fringed with a hundred tassels, and her ear-rings are
described in terms corresponding exactly to the triple leaves
above described:
" ' Her zone, from which a hundred tassels hung,
She girt above her ; and, in three briglit drops,
Her glittering gems suspended from her ears.
And all around her grace and beauty shone.'
" Of the six gold bracelets two are quite simple, and closed^
but consist of an ornamented band one-twenty-fifth of an inch
thick and one-fourth of an inch broad. The other three are
double, and the ends are turned round and furnished with a head.
The princess who wore these bracelets must have had unusually
small hands, for they are so small that a girl of ten would have
difficulty in putting them on.
" The fifty-six other gold ear-rings are of various sizes, and
GOLD BUTTONS, STUDS, ETC.
411
three of them appear to have also been used b}' the princesses
of the royal family as finger-rings. Also gold buttons were
found, or studs, one-sixth of an inch high, in the cavity of which
is a ring above one-tenth of an inch broad for sewing them on;
gold double buttons, exactly like our
shirt studs, three-tenths of an inch
long, which, however, are not sol-
dered, but simply stuck together, for
from the cavity of the button there
projects a tube, nearly one-fourth of
an inch long, and from the other a
pin of the same length, and the pin
is merely stuck into the tube to form
a double stud. (See Fig. No. 16.)
These double buttons or studs can
only have been used, probably, as
•^ * •'six golden bracelets welded to-
ornament upon leather articles, for gether by the conflagration.
instance upon the handle-straps of swords, shields, or knives.
I found in the vase also two gold cylinders above one-tenth of
an inch long; also a small peg above four-
fifths of an inch in length, and from six
one-hundreths to eight one-hundreths of
an inch thick; it has at one end a per-
forated hole for hanging it up, and on the
other side six encircling incisions, which
give the article the appearance of a screw ;
it is only by means of a magnifying glass
that it is found not to be really a screw.
I also found in the same vase two pieces of gold, one of which
is one-seventh of an inch, the other above two inches long; each
of them has twenty-one perforations.
" The persons who endeavored to save the Treasure had for-
tunately the presence of mind to stand the silver vase, containing
412
TROY.
the valuable articles described above, upright in the chest, so
that not so much as a bead could fall out, and everything has
been preserved uninjured.
" M. Landerer, of Athens, a chemist well known through
his discoveries and writings, who has most carefully examined
all the copper articles of the Treasure, and analyzed the frag-
ments, finds that all of them consist of pure copper without any
admixture of tin or zinc, and that, in order to make them more
durable, they have been wrought with the hammer.
" As I hoped to find other treasures here, and also wished
to bring to light the wall surrounding Troy, the erection of
which Homer ascribes to Poseidon and Apollo, as far as the
Scaean Gate, I have entirely cut away the upper wall, which
rested partly upon the gate, to an extent of fifty-six feet. Vis-
itors to the Troad can, however, still see part of it in the
northwest earth-wall opposite the Scaean Gate. I have also
broken down the enormous block of earth which separated my
western and northwestern cutting from the Great Tower. The
result of this new excavation is very important to archaeology,
for I have been able to uncover several walls, and also a room
of the Royal Palace, twenty feet in length and breadth, upon
which no buildings of a later period rest.
" Of the objects discovered there I have only to mention an
excellently engraved inscription found upon a square piece of red
slate, which has two holes not bored through it and an encircling
incision, but neither can my learned friend Emile Burnouf nor
I tell in what language the inscription is written. Further, there
SILVER GOBLET AND VASES. 413
were some interesting terra-cottas, among which is a vessel,
quite the form of a modern cask, and with a tube in the centre
for pouring in and drawing off the Hquid. There were also
found upon the walls of Troy, one and three-fourths feet below
the place where the Treasure was discovered, three silver dishes,
two of which were broken to pieces in digging down the debris^
the}^ can, however, be repaired, as I have all the pieces. These
dishes seem to have belonged to the Treasure, and the fact of
the latter having otherwise escaped our pickaxes is due to the
above mentioned large copper vessels which projected, so that I
could cut everything out of the hard debris with a knife.
" I found, further, a silver goblet above three and one-third
inches high, the mouth of which is nearly four inches in diame-
ter; also a silver flat cup or dish five and one-half inches in
diameter, and two beautiful small silver vases of most exquisite
workmanship. The larger one, which has two rings on either
side for hanging up by strings, is nearly eight inches high with
its hat-shaped lid, and three and one-half inches in diameter
across the bulge. The smaller silver vase, with a ring on either
side for suspension by a string, is about six and three-fourths
inches high, with its lid, and above three inches broad.
"I now perceive that the cutting which I made in April was
exactly at the proper point, and that if I had only continued it I
should in a few weeks have uncovered the most remarkable
buildings in Troy, namely, the Palace of King Priam, the Scaean
Gate, the Great Surrounding Wall, and the Great Tower of
Ilium; whereas, in consequence of abandoning this cutting, I had
to make colossal excavations from east to west and from north to
south through the entire hill in order to find those most interest-
ing buildings.
" In the upper strata of the north western and western exca-
vations we came upon another great quantity of heads of beauti-
ful terra-cotta figures of the best Hellenic period, and at a depth
414
TROY.
of twenty-three feet upon some idols, as well as the upper por-
tion of a vase with the owPs face and a lid in the form of a
helmet. Lids of this kind, upon the edge of which female hair
is indicated by incisions, are frequently found in all the strata
between thirteen and thirty-three feet deep, and as they belong
to vases with owls' faces, the number of lids gives us an idea of
the number of the vases with the figure of the owl-headed
Athene, which existed here in Troy.
" Homer rarely mentions temples, and, although he speaks of
the Temple of Athene, yet, considering the smallness of the city,
it is very doubtful whether it actually existed. It is probable
that the tutelar goddess at that time possessed only the sacrificial
altar which I discovered, and the crescent form of which greatly
resembles the upper portion of the ivory idol found in the lowest
strata as well as the one end of the six talents contained among
the Treasure.
" Valuable stones, such as those large flags which cover the
road leading from the Scsean Gate to the Plain, as well as the
stones of the enclosing wall and of the Great Tower, have been
left untouched, and not a single stone of the Scsean Gate is
wanting. Nay, with the exception of the houses which I myself
destroyed, it would be quite possible to uncover the ' carcasses '
of all the houses, as in the case of Pompeii. , The houses must
have been very high, and a great deal of wood must have been
used in their construction, for otherwise the conflagration could
not have produced such an enormous quantity of ashes and rub-
bish.
" Upon and beside the gold and silver articles, I found thir-
teen copper lances, from nearly seven to above twelve and one-
half inches in length, and from above one and one-half to two
and one-third inches broad at the broadest point; at the lower
end of each is a hole, in which, in most cases, the naif or peg
which fastened the lance to the wooden handle is still sticking.
WEAPONS OF TROY.
415
The pin-hole is clearly visible in a lance-head which the conflagra-
tion has welded to a battle-ax. The Trojan lances were there-
fore quite different from those of the Greeks and Romans.
" I also found fourteen of those copper weapons, which are
irequently met with here, but which have never been discovered
4i6
TROY.
elsewhere ; at one end they are pointed but blunt, and at the other
they end in a broad edge. I formerly considered them to be a
species of lance, but now, after mature consideration, I am con-
vinced that they could have been used only as battle-axes. They
are from above six to above twelve inches in length, from nearly
one-half to above three-fourths of an inch thick, and from above
one to nearly three inches broad; the largest of them weighs
about three pounds avoirdupois.
" There were also seven
large double-edged copper
daggers, with a handle from
about two to two and three-
fourths inches long, the end
of which is bent round at a
right angle. These handles
must at one time have been
encased in wood, for if the
cases had been made of
bone they would still have
been wholly or partially pre-
served. The pointed handle
was inserted into a piece of wood, so that the end projected
about half an inch beyond it, and this end was simply bent
round. The largest of these daggers is ten and two-thirds inches
in length and above two inches broad at the broadest part; a
second dagger, which is above one and three-fourths inches broad,
has the point broken off, and is now less than nine inches long,,
but appears to have been eleven inches; a third dagger is eight
and two-thirds inches long, and measures above one and one-
fourth inches at the broadest point.
" On the north side of the hill I have now also uncovered
several house-walls at a depth of forty-two and one-half feet,
and also the beginning of a remarkable wall of fortification, the
TERRA COTTA JUGS. 417
continuation of which may be seen in the labyrinth of the house-
walls in the depths of the Temple of Athene. On the north
side, above the primary soil, I have also brought to light a por-
tion of the pavement already mentioned, composed of small,
round, white sea-pebbles, below which are the calcined ruins of
a building which formerly stood there.
'' Among some very remarkable terra-cottas discovered
since my last report I must mention two jugs found on the
north side, at a depth of from twenty-three to twenty-six feet,
each of which has two upright necks standing side by side, but
their handles are united. One of them has also beside the
mouths two small elevations, which may probably indicate eyes.
Of a third jug of this kind I only found the upper portion. I
must also mention an exceedingly curious cup, discovered at a
depth of thirteen feet, which consists of a tube resting upon three
feet and ending in one large and two small goblets; the larger
goblet is connected with the opposite side of the tube by a
handle. At the same depth I met with a large vase, from
which projects a separate small vase; it is ornamented with
incisions, and has three feet and two very pretty handles and
rings for hanging it up. I found likewise, at the depth of thir-
teen feet, a vase with two female breasts, two large handles and
engravings resembling letters. Among other extremely curious
terra-cottas I must also mention three pots with three rows of
perforations; they have the usual handle on one side and three
feet on the other; also three large vases with perforations right
round, on all sides, from the bottom to the top; their use is a
riddle to me ; can they have served as bee-hives .'' ' Also a vessel
in the form of a pig, with four feet, which are, however, shorter
than the belly, so that the vessel can not stand upon them; the
neck of the vessel, which is attached to the back of the pig, is
connected with the hinder part by a handle. I further found a
pot in the form of a basket with a handle crossing the mouth,
27
4i8
TROY.
and a tube in the bulge for drawing off the liquid. Also two
terra- cotta funnels, at a depth of ten feet, with a letter which I
have repeatedly met with on some of the terra-cottas. <^At a
depth of five feet I found one of those round twice-perforated
terra-cottas with a stamp, in which there are Egyptian hiero-
glyphics; also a dozen of the same articles in the stamps of
which are a crowned head, a bird, a dog's head, a flying man or
an eagle and a stag. At a depth of sixteen and one-half feet I
found the handle of a cup with the beautifully modeled head of
a bull.
" Neither can I prove that the terra-cottas here frequently
met with, in the form of horses' heads, represent the mother of
Hera, Cybele or Rhea, but it is very likely, for, as it is well
known, in Phrygia she was represented with a horse's head.
Terra-cotta idols of the Ilian Athene are rarely met with, but
we daily find marble idols of this goddess, most of which have
almost a human form. We also frequently come upon oblong
flat pieces of rough marble upon which the owl's face of the
goddess is more or less deeply engraved. It is often so finely
scratched that the aid of a magnifying glass is required to con-
vince one that it actually exists; we found several such pieces
of marble where the owl's head was painted in a black color.
Since I have come to the conclusion that they are idols of the
tutelar divinity of Troy I have carefully collected them.
" In excavating the ground upon which m}'^ wooden house
had stood we found, at a depth of from nine to nineteen inches,
eighteen copper and two sil-
ver medals; one of the latter
is of Marcus Aurelius. The
other is a tetra-drachm of the
island of Tenedos ; on the ob-
verse, to the right, is the head
of Jupiter, to the left that of
Juno, both having one neck in common, like the heads of Janus.
CONDITION OF THE ROADS. 419
The head of Jupiter is crowned with laurels, that of Juno has a
wreath or crown. Upon the reverse of the coin there is a laurel
wreath round the edge, and in the centre a large double ax,
above which stands the word Teneelion, below and to the right
of the handle of the double ax there is a winged Eros, who is
holding up an object which it is difficult to distinguish, to the left
is a bunch of grapes and a monogram, which looks like the
letter A.
" Of the copper coins five are of Alexandria Troas, two of
Ophrynium, one of Tenedos, two of Abydos, and one of Dar-
dania.
" When I uncovered the road paved with large flags of
stone, which leads from the Scsean Gate to the Plain, the stones
looked as new as if they had just been hewn. But since then,
under the influence of the burning sun, the flags of the upper
portion of the road, which have specially suffered from the con-
flagration that destroyed the city, are rapidly crumbling away,
and will probably have quite disappeared in a few years. How-
ever, the flags of stone on the northwestern half of the road,
which have been less exposed to the heat, may still last many
centuries.
" In this day, closing the excavations at Ilium forever, I can
not but fervently thank God for His great mercy, in that, not-
withstanding the terrible danger to which we have been exposed
owing to the continual hurricanes, during the last three years'
gigantic excavations, no misfortune has happened, no one has
been killed, and no one has been seriously hurt.
"In my last report I did not state the exact number of springs
in front of the Ilium. I have now visited all the springs myself,
and measured their distance from my excavations, and I can give
the following account of them. The first spring, which is situ-
ated directly below the ruins of the ancient town-wall, is exactly
399 yai"ds from my excavations; its water has a temperature of
420 TROY.
6o.8*^ Fahrenheit. It is enclosed to a height of six and-one-half
feet by a wall of large stones joined with cement, nine and one-
quarter feet in breadth, and in front of it there are two stone
troughs for watering cattle. The second spring, which is like-
wise still below the ruins of the ancient town-wall, is exactly 793
yards distant from my excavations. It has a similar enclosure of
large stones, seven feet high and five feet broad, and has the same
temperature. But it is out of repair, and the water no longer
runs through the stone pipe in the enclosure, but along the ground
before it reaches the pipe. The double spring spoken of in my
last report is exactly 1,033 yards from my excavations. It con-
sists of two distinct springs, which run out through two stone
pipes lying beside each other in the enclosure composed of large
stones joined with earth, which rises to a height of seven feet
and is twenty-three feet broad; its temperature is 62.6*^ Fahren-
heit. In front of these two springs there are six stone troughs,
which are placed in such a manner that the superfluous water
always runs from the first trough through all the others. It is ex-
tremely probable that these are the two springs mentioned by
Homer, beside which Hector was killed.
" 'They (Hector and Achilles) in flight and pursuit,
They by the watch-tower, and beneath the wall
Where stood the wind-beat fig-tree, raced amain
Along the public road, until they reached
The fairly-flowing founts, whence issued forth,
From double source, Scamander's eddying streams.
One with hot current flows, and from beneath,
As from a furnace, clouds of steam arise;
'Mid Summer's heat the other rises cold
As hail, or snow, or water crystallized ;
Beside the fountains stood the washing-troughs
Of well-wrought stone, where erst the wives of Troy
And daughters fair their choicest garments washed,
In peaceful times, ere came the sons of Greece.'
"In this new excavation I find four earthen pipes, from eighteen
and three-quarters to twenty-two and one-quarter inches long, and
LACK OF INSCRIPTIONS. 42!
from six and one-half to eleven and three-quarters inches thick,
laid together for conducting water, which was brought from a
distance of about seven miles from the upper Thymbrius. This
river is now called the Kemar, from the Greek word kamara
(vault), because an aqueduct of the Roman period crosses its
lower course by a large arch. This aqueduct formerly supplied
Ilium with drinking water from the upper portion of the river.
But the Pergamus required special aqueducts, for it lies higher
than the city.
" Unfortunately upon none of the articles of the Treasure of
Priam are there found any in-
scriptions or any religious symbols
except 100 idols of the Homeric
' owl-faced goddess Athene.'
(Thea glaukopis Athene) which
glitter upon the two diadems and
the four ear-rings. These are, however, an undeniable proof that
the Treasure belongs to the city and to the age of which Homer
sings."
The question asked is: Has Schliemann found any inscrip-
tions which throw the certain light of written testimony on the
language, the history and social condition, the religion, science
and literature of the old inhabitants of the hill, whose records
form as yet no part of ancient history? Upon this point very
little satisfaction can be given, yet the people of ancient Troy
did have a written language. At a depth of twenty-six feet, in
the royal palace, a vase with an inscription was found. One of
the letters resembles the Greek P. This same letter occurs on
a seal found at a depth of twenty-three feet; two other letters
of this inscription occurred on one other terra-cotta, likewise
found at a depth of twenty -three feet.
To Dr. Martin Haug belongs the honor of first deciphering
the Trojan inscriptions on the above-mentioned vase. He, not
422
TROY.
without much research, interpreted it as a dedication "To the
divine Sigo," a deity whose name was found in Sigeum. The
transmutation, however, seemed forced; and, while Haug was
right in his method, his results were pronounced at best,
"Fragments of broken words and thoughts,
Yet glimpses of the true."
Prof T. Gomperz, of Vienna, after making one correction in
Haug's reading, still found it unsatisfactory, till the thought struck
him of reading it from right to left round the vase, instead of
from left to right, when the confused syllables flashed, as by sud-
den crystallization, into the pure Greek, and read : " To the
divine Prince."
Another inscription was found which Prof. Max Muller read
as the very name of Ilion. Others were found which are not as
yet interpreted.
mm?^i^ i^m pm^w-
Far away from the highways of modern commerce and the
tracks of ordinary travel lay a city buried in the sandy earth
of a half-desert Turkish province, with no trace of its place of
sepulture. Vague tradition said it was hidden somewhere near
the river Tigris ; but for a long series of ages its existence in the
world was a mere name — a word. That name suggested the idea
of an ancient capital of fabulous splendor and magnitude ; a con-
gregation of palaces and temples, encompassed by vast walls and
ramparts — of ''the rejoicing city that dwelt carelessly; that
said in her heart, I am, and there is none beside me," and which
was to become " a desolation and dry like a wilderness."
More than two thousand years had it lain in its unknown
grave, when a French savant and a wandering scholar sought the
seat of the once powerful empire, and searching till they found the
dead city, threw off its shroud of sand and ruin, and revealed
once more to an astonished and curious world the temples, the
palaces, and the idols; the representations of war and the chase,
of the cruelties and luxuries of the ancient Assyrians. The Nin-
eveh of Scripture, the Nineveh of the oldest historians ; the Nin-
eveh— twin sister of Babylon — glorying in pomp and power, all
traces of which were believed to be gone; the Nineveh in which
the captive tribes of Israel had labored and wept, and against
which the words of prophecy had gone forth, was, after a sleep of
424 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
twenty centuries, again brought to light. The proofs of ancient
splendor were again beheld by living eyes, and by the skill of
draftsmen and the pen of antiquarian travelers made known and
preserved to the world.
In the history of Jonah's visit, Nineveh is twice described as
"that great city," and again as an "exceedingly great city of
three days' journey."
The measurement assigned to Nineveh by the sacred writer
applies, without doubt, to its circuit, and gives a circumference
of about sixty miles.
None of the historical books of the Old Testament give any
details respecting Nineveh. The prophets, however, make fre-
quent incidental allusion to its magnificence, to the " fenced place,"
the "stronghold," the "valiant men and chariots," the "silver
and gold," the "pleasant furniture," "carved Hntels and cedar
work." Zephaniah, who wrote about twenty-four years before
the fall of Nineveh, says of it:
"This is the rejoicing city that dwelt carelessly;
That said in her heart, ' I am, and there is none beside me.' ''
The ruins of Nineveh were virtually unknown to the ancient
classical writers, though we gather from all of them that it was
one of the oldest, most powerful and most splendid cities in the
world; that it perished utterly many hundred years before the
Christian Era; and that after its fall Babylon became the capital
of the Assyrian empire, which finally grew still greater and
mightier. On examining their details, we find names confounded,
incidents transposed, and chronology by turns confused, extended
or inverted. Difficulties of another and more peculiar kind beset
this path of inquiry, of which it will suffice to instance one illus-
tration— proper names, those fixed points in history around which
the achievements or sufferings of its heroes cluster, are constantly
shifting in the Assyrian nomenclature; both men and gods being
designated, not by a word composed of certain fixed sounds or
EXPLORATIONS OF NIEBUHR AND RICH. 425
signs, but by all the various expressions equivalent to it in mean-
ing, whether consisting of a s3'nonym or a phrase. Hence we
find that the names furnished by classic authors generally have
little or no analogy with the Assyrian, as the Greeks generally
construed the proper names of other countries according to the
genius of their own language, and not unfrequently translated the
original name into it. Herodotus, however, though he mentions
but one Assyrian king, gives his true name, Sennacherib.
The immense mounds of brick and rubbish which marked
the presumed sites of Babylon and Nineveh had been used as
quarries by the inhabitants of the surrounding country, from
time immemorial, without disclosing to other eyes than those of
the wild occupier of the soil the monuments they must have
served to support or cover. Though carefully explored by Nie-
buhr and Claudius James Rich, no other traces of buildings than
a few portions of walls, of which they could not understand the
plan, had been presented ; if, however, the investigations of these
travelers produced few immediate results, the first-named cer-
tainly has the merit of being the first to break the ground, and
by his intelligence, to have awakened the enterprise of others.
Rich, who was the East India Company's resident at Baghdad,
employed his leisure in the investigation of the antiquities of
Assyria. He gave his first attention to Babylon, on which he
wrote a paper, originally published in Germany — his countrymen
apparently taking less interest in such matters than did the schol-
ars of Vienna. In a note to a second memoir on Babylon, printed
in London in 1818, we find Nineveh thus alluded to by Rich. He
says: "Opposite the town of Mosul is an enclosure of rectangular
form, corresponding with the cardinal points of the compass; the
eastern and western sides being the longest, the latter facing the
river. The area, which is now cultivated, and offers no vestiges
of building, is too small to have contained a town larger than
Mosul, but it may be supposed to answer to the palace of Nin-
426 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
eveh. The boundary, which may be perfectly traced all round,
now looks like an embankment of earth or rubbish, of small ele-
vation; and has attached to it, and in its line, at several places,.
mounds of greater size and solidity. The first of these forms the
southwest angle, and on it is built the village of Nebbi Younis,
the prophet's tomb (described and delineated by Niebuhr as Nur-
ica), where they show the tomb of the prophet Jonah, much re-
vered by the Mohammedans. The next, and largest of all, is
the one which may be supposed to be the monument of Ninus.
It is situated near the centre of the western face of the enclosure^
and is joined like the others by the boundary wall ; — the natives
call it Kouyunjik Tepe. Its form is that of a truncated pyramid,
with regular steep sides and a flat top ; it is composed, as I ascer-
tained from some excavations, of stones and earth, the latter pre-
dominating sufficiently to admit of the summit being cultivated
by the inhabitants of the village of Kouyunjik, which is built on
it at the northeast extremity. The only means I had, at the
time I visited it, of ascertaining its dimensions, was by a cord
which I procured from Mosul. This gave 178 feet for the
greatest height, 1,850 feet for the length of the summit east and
west, and 1,147 ^^^ ^^^ breadth north and south.
This mound has revealed the grandest and most stupendous
remains of ancient Neneveh. Within the boundaries of ancient
walls there are many mounds and elevations. All of them are
artificial and are caused by the remains of the ancient structures.
Mound Nimroud is about four miles in circumference at its base,
on the top of which is a great pyramid mound 777 feet in cir-
cumference and 1445^ ^^^^ high.
M. Botta distinctly traced the walls of an enclosure forming
nearly a perfect square, two sides of which are 5,750 feet, the
other 5,400, or rather more than a mile each way, all the four
angles being right angles, which face the cardinal points. M.
Botta commenced researches in the mound of Kouyunjik in
128 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
1842, and, meeting with little success, he abandoned his excava-
tions in the following year.
Layard, in 1846, opened some trenches in the southern face
of the mound, but, at that time, without any important results.
At a subsequent period he made some inquiries respecting the
bas-relief described by Rich, and the spot where it was discov-
ered having been pointed out to him in the northern group of
ruins, he opened trenches, but, not finding any traces of sculp-
tures, discontinued his op>erations.
Upon completing his labors at Nimroud, in 1847, Layard
determined on making some farther researches at Kouyunjik.
He commenced at the southwestern corner, and not only dis-
covered the remains of a palace, which had been destroyed by
fire, but, within the short space of a month, had explored nine
of its chambers. All the chambers were long and narrow, and
the walls lined with bas-reliefs of larger size than most of those
he had found at Nimroud. The slabs were not divided by bands
of inscription, but were covered with figures scattered promiscu-
ously over the entire surface, all the details being carefully and
delicately executed. The winged human-headed bulls at the
entrances resembled those found at Khorsabad and Persepolis in
the forms of the head-dress, and feathered cap; and the costumes
of the figures in general were also like those found at Khorsabad.
The period of the palace was conjectured to be between those of
Khorsabad and Nimroud. After Mr. Layard had left Mosul,
Mr. Ross continued the excavations, and discovered several ad-
ditional bas-reliefs — an entrance, which had been formed of four
sphinxes, and a very large square slab, which he conjectured to
be a dais or altar, like that found at Nimroud.
Here he found a chamber lined with sculptured slabs,
divided, like those of Khorsabad and Nimroud, by bands of
inscription. He also found, at the foot of the mound, a monu-
ment about three feet high, and rounded at the top, containing a
EXCAVATIONS AT KOUYUNJIK PALACE. 429
figure with a long cuneiform inscription, and above it various
sacred emblems. When discovered it was supported by brick-
work, and near it was a sarcophagus in baked clay.
On the departure of Mr. Ross from Mosul the excavations
were placed under the charge of Mr. Rassam, the English consul,
with power to employ a small body of men, so as not to entirely
abandon possession of the spot.
Layard says: "During a short period several discoveries of
the greatest interest and importance were made, both at Kou-
yunjik and Nimroud. I will first describe the results of the
excavations in the ruins opposite Mosul.
"Shortly before my departure for Europe, in 1848, the fore-
part of a human-headed bull of colossal dimensions had been
uncovered on the east side of the Kouyunjik Palace. This
sculpture then appeared to form one side of an entrace or door-
way. The excavations had, however, been abandoned before
any attempt could be made to ascertain the fact. On my return
a tunnel, nearly 100 feet in length, was opened at right angles
to the winged bull, but without coming upon any other remains
but a pavement of square limestone slabs, which continued as far
as the excavation was carried.
" On uncovering the bull, which was still partly buried in the
rubbish, it was found that adjoining it were other sculptures, and
that it formed part of an exterior facade. The upper half of
the slab had been destroyed; upon the lower was part of the
figure of the Assyrian Hercules strangling the lion, similar to
that discovered between the bulls in the propyla^a of Khorsabad,
and now in the Louvre. The hinder part of the lion was still
preserved. The legs, feet, and drapery of the god were in the
boldest relief, and designed with great truth and vigor. Beyond
this figure, in the same line, was a second bull. Then came a
wide portal, guarded by a pair of winged bulls twenty feet long,
and probably, when entire, more than twenty feet high, and two
430
NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
gigantic winged figures in low relief. Flanking them were two
smaller figures, one above the other. Beyond this entrance the
facade was continued by a group similar to that on the opposite
side by a smaller entrance into the palace and by a wall of sculp-
tured slabs ; then all traces of building and sculpture ceased near
the edge of a water-worn ravine.
" Thus, part of the facade of the southeast side of the palace,
forming apparently the grand entrance to the edifice, had been
discovered. Ten colossal bulls, with six human figures of
gigantic proportions, altogether i8o feet in length, were here
grouped together. Although the bas-reliefs to the right of the
entrance had apparently been purposely destroyed with a sharp
instrument, enough remained to allow me to trace their subject.
They had represented the conquest of a district, probably part
of Babylonia, watered by a broad river and wooded with palms,
spearmen on foot in combat with Assyrian horsemen, castles
besieged, long lines of prisoners, and beasts of burden carrying
away the spoil. Amongst various animals brought as tribute to
the conquerors could be distinguished a lion led b}'^ a chain.
There were no remains whatever of the superstructure which
once rose above the colossi, guarding this magnificent entrance.
" Although the upper part of the winged bulls was de-
stroyed, fortunately the lower part, and, consequently, the
inscriptions, had been more or less preserved. To this fact we
owe the recovery of some of the most precious records of the
ancient world.
" On the two great bulls forming the center entrance was one
continuous inscription, injured in parts, but still so far preserved
as to be legible almost throughout. It contained 152 lines. On
the four bulls of the facade were two inscriptions, one inscrip-
tion being carried over each pair, and the two being precisely of
the same import. These two different inscriptions complete the
annals of six years of the reign of Sennacherib, and contain
Sennacherib's conquests. 431
numerous particulars connected with the religion of the Assy-
rians, their gods, their temples, and the erection of their palaces.
We gather from them that, in the third year of his reign, Sen-
nacherib turned his arms against Merodach-Baladan, king of
Babylon, whom he entirely defeated, capturing his cities and a
large amount of spoil. The fourth year appears to have been
chiefly taken up with expeditions against the inhabitants of the
mountainous regions to the north and east of Assyria. In the
fifth he crossed the Euphrates into Syria, the inhabitants of
which country are called by their familiar Biblical name of Hit-
tites. He first took possession of Phoenicia, which was aban-
doned by its King Luliya (the Eululaeus of the Greeks). He
then restored to his throne Padiya, or Padi, king of Ekron, and
3. tributary of Assyria, who had been deposed by his subjects
and given over to Hezekiah, king of Jerusalem, The king of
Ethiopia and Egypt sent a powerful army to the assistance of the
people of Ekron, but it was entirely defeated by Sennacherib,
vv^ho afterwards marched against Hezekiah, probably to punish
him for having imprisoned Padiya. The inscriptions record
this expedition, according to the translation of the late Dr.
Hincks, in the following term: — ' Hezekiah, king of Judah, who
Tiad not submitted to my authority, forty-six of his principal
■cities, and fortresses and villages depending upon them, of which
I took no account, I captured and carried away their spoil. I
skid 2ip (?) himself within Jerusalem, his capital city. The
fortified towns, and the rest of his towns, which I spoiled, I
severed from his countr}', and gave to the kings of Ascalon,
Ekron, and Gaza, so as to make his country small. In addition
to the former tribute imposed upon their countries, I added a
tribute, the nature of which I fixed.' The next passage is some-
Avhat illegible, but the substance of it appears to be, that he
took from Hezekiah the treasure he had collected in Jerusa-
lem, thirty talents of gold and eight hundred talents of silver,
^V OP THB ^^
432 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
the treasures of his palace, besides his sons and his daughters,
and his male and female servants or slaves, and brought them all
to Nineveh. This city itself, however, he does not pretend to
have taken
" The translation of this passage by Sir H. Rawlinson varies
in some particulars from that given in the text. It is as follows:
' Because Hezekiah, king of Judah, would not submit to my yoke
I came up against him, and by force of arms, and by the might
of my power I took forty -six of his fenced cities; and of the
smaller towns which were scattered about I took and plundered
a countless number. And from these places I captured and
carried off, as spoil, 200,150 people, old and young, male and
female, together with horses and mares, asses and camels, oxen
and sheep, a countless multitude. And Hezekiah himself I shut
up in Jerusalem, his capital city, like a bird in a cage, building
towers around the city to hem him in, and raising banks of earth
against the gates, so as to prevent escape. * * * * Then
upon this Hezekiah there fell the fear of the power of my arms,
and he sent out to me the chiefs and the elders of Jerusalem
with thirty talents of gold and eight hundred talents of silver,
and divers treasures, a rich and immense booty. * * * *
All these things were brought to me at Nineveh, the seat of my
government, Hezekiah having sent them by way of tribute, and
as a token of his submission to my power.'
" There can be no doubt that the campaign against the
cities of Palestine, recorded in the inscriptions of Sennacherib in
this palace, is that described in the Old Testament; and it is of
great interest, therefore, to compare the two accounts, which
will be found to agree in the principal incidents mentioned to
a very remarkable extent. In the Second Book of Kings it
is said — ' Now, in the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah did
Sennacherib, king of Assyria, come up against all the fenced
cities of Judah, and took them. And Hezekiah, king of Judah,
HIGHLY-FINISHED SCULPTURES. 433
sent to the king of Assyria, to Lachish, saying, I have offended;
return from me; that which thou puttest on me will I bear.
And the king of Assyria appointed unto Hezekiah three hun-
dred talents of silver and thirty talents of gold. And Hezekiah
gave him all the silver that was found in the house of the
Lord and in the treasures of the king's house. At that time did
Hezekiah cut off \the gold fro7ri\ the doors of the temple of the
Lord, and \^from'\ the pillars which Hezekiah, king of Judah,
had overlaid, and gave it to the king of Ass3^ria.' "
When Mr. Layard revisited Kouyunjik in 1849, there were
no vestiges of the sculptured walls discovered two years previ-
ously. The more recent trenches, however, dug under the super-
intendence of Mr. Ross, were still open; and the workmen em-
ployed by direction of the British Museum had run tunnels
along the walls within the mound, to save the trouble of clearing
away the soil, which had accumulated to a depth of thirty feet
above the ruins. Under the direction of Layard, the excavations
were resumed with great spirit, and before the lapse of many
weeks, several chambers had been entered, and numerous bas-
reliefs discovered. One hall, 124 feet by 90 feet, appears, says
Layard, " to have formed a center, around which the principal
chambers in this part of the palace were grouped. Its walls had
been completely covered with the most elaborate and highly-fin-
ished sculptures. Unfortunately, all the bas-reliefs, as well as the
gigantic monsters at the entrances, had suffered more or less
from the fire which had destroyed the edifice; but enough of
them still remained to show the subject, and even to enable him,
in many places, to restore it entirely."
Continuing his discoveries in the mound, Layard " opened
no less than seventy-one halls and chambers, also passages, whose
walls, almost without an exception, had been paneled with slabs
of sculptured alabaster, recording the wars, the triilmphs, and
the great deeds of the Assyrian king. By a rough calculation,
28
434 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
EXPLANATION OP CUT.
1. J Figures from the portal of the palace of Sennacherib, having the forms of
2. \ winged bulls with human heads, bearing crowns.
3. King Sennacherib on his throne. A sculpture found at Nimroud, dating from
the 7th century Before Christ.
4. A king on the hunt.
5. The storming of a fortress. In the foreground are two warriors clad in armor.
helmeted and heavily armed with swords and spears.
[ Vases of glass and alabaster engraved with the word Sargon. From Nimroud.
8. Vessel of glazed earthenware — , found at Babel.
9. Bronze drinking cup ornamented with the head of an animal.
10. L;imp of earthenware.
11. Stuff woven in patterns of Assyrian style. From relief at Nimroud.
12. Table formed of fragments of sculptures found at Nimroud.
13.1
14. > Swords.
15- J
16. Bent sword.
17. Double edged ax.
18. Spear.
19. Quiver filled with arrows and elaborately sculptured
20. Bow.
21.1 '
22. J- Daggers and knife in one case.
23. J
24. Helmet.
25. Round shield such as was borne by foot soldiers.
26. Breastplate of a knight of high degree.
27. Parasol found at Nimroud. (Now in British Museum.)
28. Ear-ring of gold.
29.^
80. I
)■ Bracelets of gold.
32
„ , [ Diadems,
34. )
35. Wall painting representing lions.
about 9,88o feet, or nearly two miles of bas-reliefs, with twenty-
seven portals formed by colossal winged bulls and lion sphinxes,
were uncovered in that part alone of the building explored during
his researches. The cut on page 435 shows some of them.
:J
DISCOVERED IN THE PALACE.
436 NINEVEH AND BABYLON,
The greatest length of the excavations was about 720 feet, the
greatest breadth about 600 feet. The pavement of the cham-
bers was from twenty to thirty-five feet below the surface of the
mound. The measurements merely include that part of the
palace actually excavated."
Most of the sculptures discovered in this hall and group of
chambers have been deposited in the British Museum.
For the more recent collection of sculptures which have been
brought to light, we are indebted to Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, a
native of Mosul, and a friend and colleague of Layard; and to
Mr. William Kennet Loftus, the agent of the Assyrian excava-
tion fund. In 1852, Mr. Rassam was appointed by the Trustees
of the British Museum to take charge of the excavations at Nin-
eveh. For more than a year his researches were nearly fruitless,
when, at length, just as his appointment was about to terminate,
he turned again to a previously-abandoned trench in the north side
of the mound, and was almost immediatel}^ rewarded by the dis-
covery of numerous chambers and passages, covered with a vari-
ety of bas-reliefs in an excellent state of preservation, having suf-
fered less injury from fire than those of the other palaces. In one
room was a lion hunt, in a continuous series of twenty-three slabs,
with but one interval. The other slabs represented exteriors of
palaces, gardens, battles, sieges, processions, etc., the whole form-
ing the decorations of what must hav^e been a splendid palace.
Subsequently, in 1854, at the instance of Sir Henry Rawlin-
son, Mr. Loftus and his coadjutor, Mr. Boutcher, transferred their
operations from South Babylonia to Nineveh. At first Mr.
Loftus' excavations were unsuccessful, but about the beginning
of August he discovered the remains of a building on a level
twenty feet lower than the palace that Mr. Rassam was exploring,
and which proved to be a lower terrace of the same building,
even more highly elaborated and in better preservation than those
previously discovered in the ruins. At the entrance of an ascend-
NORTH PALACE, KOUYUNJIK. 437
ing passage there was also found a "mass of solid masonry — appar-
ently the pier of an arch — the springing of which is formed by
projecting horizontal layers of limestone."
Mr. Loftus, in his Report of the 9th of October, observes:
" The excavations carried on at the western angle of the North
Palace, Kouyunjik, continue to reveal many interesting and im-
portant facts, and to determine several points which were preyi-
ously doubtful.
" I. The existence of an outer basement wall of roughly
cut stone blocks, supporting a mud wall, upon which white plaster
still remains, and from which painted bricks have fallen. 2. At
the corner of the palace, and at a considerable distance from the
principal chambers, is an entrance hall, with column bases, pre-
cisely as we see them represented in the sculptures. 3. Above
this entrance hall and its adjoining chambers, there was formerly
another story, the first upper rooms yet discovered in Ass3Tia.
This, with its sculptured slabs, has fallen into the rooms below.
4. The various sculptures here disinterred are the works of four,
if not five, different artists, whose styles are distinctly visible. It
is evident that this portion of the edifice has been willfully de-
stroyed, the woodwork burned, and the slabs broken to pieces.
The faces of all the principal figures are slightly injured by blows
of the ax."
This highly interesting series of bas-reliefs, which has now
been placed in a lower chamber in the British Museum, conse-
quently represents the siege and capture of Lachish, as described
in the Second Book of Kings, and in the inscriptions on the human-
headed bulls. Sennacherib himself is seen seated on his throne,
and receiving the submission of the inhabitants of the city, whilst
he had sent his generals to demand the tribute of payment from
Hezekiah. The defenders of the castle walls and the prisoners
tortured and crouching at the conqueror's feet are Jews, and the
sculptor has evidently endeavored to indicate the peculiar physi-
ognomy of the race, and the dress of the people.
438 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
The value of this discovery can scarcely be overrated.
' Whilst we have thus the representations of an event recorded in
the Old Testament, of which consequently these bas-reliefs furnish
a most interesting and important illustration, the}' serve to a cer-
tain extent to test the accuracy of the interpretation of the cunei-
form inscriptions, and to remove any doubt that might still exist
as to the identification of the King who built the palace on- the
mound of Kouyunjik with the Sennacherib of Scripture. Had
these bas-reliefs been the only remains dug up from the ruins of
Nineveh, the labor of the explorer would have been amply re-
warded, and the sum expended by the nation on the excavations
more than justified. The}' furnish, together with the inscriptions
which they illustrate, and which are also now deposited in the na-
tional collection, the most valuable cotemporary historical record
possessed by any museum in the world. They may be said to be
the actual manuscript, caused to be written or carved by the prin-
cipal actor in the events which it relates. Who would have be-
lieved it probable or possible, before these discoveries were made,
that beneath the heap of earth and rubbish which marked the
site of Nineveh, there would be found the history of the wars
between Hezekiah and Sennacherib, written at the very time
when they took place by Sennacherib himself and confirming even
in minute details the Biblical record.'^ He who would have ven-
tured to predict such a discovery would have been treated as a
dreamer or an impostor. Had it been known that such a monu-
ment really existed, what sum would have been considered too
great for the precious record.'*
A few remarks are necessary on the architecture and archi-
tectural decorations, external and internal of the Assyrian pal-
aces. The inscriptions on their walls, especially on those of
Kouyunjik and Khorsabad, appear to contain important and even
minute details not only as to their general plan and mode of
construction, but even as to the materials employed for their differ-
TEMPLE OF SOLOMON. 439
ent parts, and for the objects of sculpture and ornaments placed
in them. (Capt. Jones calculated that the mound of Kouyunjik con-
tains 14,500,000 tons of earth, and that its construction would
have taken 10,000 men for twelve years.) This fact furnishes
another remarkable analogy between the records of the Jewish
and Assyrian kings. To the history of their monarchs and of
their nation, the Hebrew chroniclers have added a full account of
the building and ornaments of the temple and palaces of Solomon.
In both cases, from the use of technical words, we can scarcely
hope to understand, with any degree of certainty, all the details.
It is impossible to comprehend, by the help of the description
alone, the plan or appearance of the temple of Solomon. This
arises not only from our being unacquainted with the exact mean-
ing of various Hebrew architectural terms, but also from the dif-
ficulty experienced even in ordinary cases, of restoring from mere
description an edifice of any kind. In the Assyrian inscriptions
we labor, of course, under still greater disadvantages. The lan-
guage in which they were written is as yet but very imperfectly
known, and although we may be able to explain with some con-
fidence the general meaning of the historical paragraphs, yet
when we come to technical words relating to architecture, even
with a very intimate acquaintance with the Assyrian tongue, we
could scarcely hope to ascertain their precise signification. On
the other hand, the materials, and the general plan of the Assy-
rian palaces are still preserved, whilst of the great edifices of the
Jews, not a fragment of masonry, nor the smallest traces, are prob-
ably left to guide us. But, as Mr. Fergusson has shown, the archi-
tecture of the one people may be illustrated by that of the other.
With the help of the sacred books, and of the ruins of the palaces
of Nineveh, together with those of cotemporary and after remains,
as well as from customs still existing in the East, we may, to a
certain extent, ascertain the pr incipal architectural features of the
buildings of both nations.
440 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
Before suggesting a general restoration of the royal edifices
of Nineveh, we shall endeavor to point out the analogies which
appear to exist between their actual remains and what is re-
corded of the temple and palaces of Solomon. In the first place,
as Sennacherib in his inscriptions declares himself to have done,
the Jewish king sent the bearers of burdens and the hewers into
the mountains to bring great stones, costly stones, and hewed
stones, to la}^ the foundations, which were probably artificial
platforms, resembling the Assyrian mounds, though constructed
of more solid materials. We have the remains of such a terrace
or stage of stone masonry, perhaps built by King Solomon him-
self, at Baalbec. The enormous size of some of the hewn stones
in that structure, and of those still remaining in the quarries,
some of which are more than sixty feet long, has excited the
wonder of modern travelers. The dimensions of the temple of
Jerusalem, threescore cubits long, twenty broad, and thirty high,
were much smaller than those of the great edifices explored in
Assyria. Solomon's own palace, however, appears to have been
considerably larger, and to have more nearly approached in its
proportions those of the kings of Nineveh, for it was one hun-
dred cubits long, fifty broad and thirty high. " The porch
before the temple," twenty cubits by ten, may have been a
propylaeum, such as was discovered at Khorsabad in front of the
palace. The chambers, with the exception of the oracle, were
exceedingly small, the largest being only seven cubits broad,
" for without, in the wall of the house, he made numerous rests
round about, that the beams should not be fastened in the walls
of the house." The words in italics are inserted in our version
to make good the sense, and may consequently not convey the
exact meaning, which ma}' be, that these apartments were thus
narrow in order that the beams might be supported without the
use of pillars, a reason already suggested for the narrowness of
the greater number of chambers in the Assyrian palaces. These
THE ORACLE. 44 1
smaller rooms appear to have been built round a large central
hall called the oracle, the whole arrangement thus corresponding
with the courts, halls, and surrounding rooms at Nimroud, Khor-
sabad, and Kouyunjik. The oracle was twenty cubits square,
smaller tar in dimensions than the Nineveh halls; but it was
twenty cubits high — an important fact, illustrative of Assyrian
architecture, for as the building itself was thirty cubits in height
the oracle must not only have been much loftier than the adjoin-
ing chambers, but must have had an upper structure of ten
cubits. Within it were the two cherubim of olive wood ten
cubits high, with wings each five cubits long — "and he carved
all the house around with carved figures of cherubim and palm
trees, and open flowers, within and without.'' The cherubim
have been described by Biblical commentators as mythic figures,
uniting the human head with the body of a lion, or an ox, and
the wings of an eagle. If for the palm trees we substitute the
sacred trees of the Nineveh sculptures, and for the open flowers
the Assyrian tulip-shaped ornament — objects most probably very
nearly resembling each other — we find that the oracle of the
temple was almost identical, in the general tbrm of its ornaments,
with some of the chambers of Nimroud and Khorsabad. In the
Assyrian halls, too, the winged human-headed bulls were on the
side of the wall, and their wings, like those of the cherubim,
" touched one another in the midst of the house." The dimen-
sions of these figures were in some cases nearly the same in the
Jewish and Assyrian temples, namely, fifteen feet square. The
doors were also carved with cherubim and palm trees, and open
flowers; and thus, with the other parts of the building, corres-
ponded wich those of the Assyrian palaces. On the walls at
Nineveh the only addition appears to have been the introduction
of the human form and the image of the king, which were an
abomination to the Jews. The pomegranates and lilies of Solo-
mon's temple must have been nearly identical with the usual
442 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
Assyrian ornament, in which, and particularly at Khorsabad, the
promegranate frequently takes the place of the tulip and the cune.
But the description given by Josephus of the interior of one
of Solomon's houses still more completely corresponds with and
illustrates the chambers in the palaces of Nineveh. " Solomon
built some of these (houses) with stones of ten cubits, and wain-
scoted the walls with other stones that were sawed, and were of
great value, such as were dug out of the bowels of the earth, for
ornaments of temples," etc. The arrangement of the curious
workmanship of these stones was in three rows; but the fourth
was pre-eminent for the beauty of its sculpture, for on it were
represented trees and all sorts of plants, with the shadows caused
by their branches and the leaves that hung down from them.
These trees and plants covered the stone that was beneath them»
and their leaves were wrought so wonderfully thin and subtle
that they appeared almost in motion; but the rest of the wall,
up to the roof, was plastered over, and, as it were, wrought over
with various colors and pictures.
To complete the analogy between the two edifices, it would
appear that Solomon was seven years building his temple, and
Sennacherib about the same time in erecting his great palace at
Kouyunjik.
The ceiling, roof, and beams of the Jewish temple were of
cedar wood. The discoveries of the ruins at Nimroud show
that the same precious wood was used in Assyrian edifices; and
the king of Nineveh, as we learn from the inscriptions, sent men,
precisely as Solomon had done, to cut it in Mount Lebanon.
Fir was also employed in the Jewish buildings, and probably in
those of Assyria.
In order to understand the proposed restoration of the palace"
at Kouyunjik from the existing remains, the reader must refer to
the cut, on page 427, of the excavated ruins. It will be re-
membered that the building does not face the cardinal points of
DESCRIPTION OF THE PALACE. 443:
the compass. We will, however, assume, for convenience sake
that it stands due north and south. To the south, therefore, it.
immediately overlooked the Tigris; and on that side rose one of
the principal facades. The edifice must have stood on the very
edge of the platform, the foot of which was at that time washed
by the river, which had five massive staircases leading to the
river. Although from the fact of there having been a grand
entrance to the palace on the east side, it is highly probable that
some such approach once existed on the west side, yet no re-
mains whatever of it have been discovered. The northern
facade, like the southern, was formed by five pairs of human-
headed bulls, and numerous colossal figures, forming three dis-
tinct gateways.
The principal approach to the palace appears, however, to
have been on the eastern side, where the great bulls bearing the
annals of Sennacherib were discovered. In the cut we have
been able, by the assistance of Mr. Fergusson, to give a restora-
tion of this magnificent palace and entrances. Inclined ways, or
broad flights of steps, appear to have led up to it from the foot
of the platform, and the remains of them, consisting of huge
squared stones, are still in the ravines, which are but ancient
ascents, deepened by the winter rains of centuries. From this
grand entrance direct access could be had to all the principal
halls and chambers in the palace; that on the western face, as
appears from the ruins, only opened into a set of eight rooms
The chambers hitherto explored appear to have been
grouped round three great courts or halls. It must be borne
in mind, however, that the palace extends considerably to the
northeast of the grand entrance, and that there may have been
another hall, and similar dependent chambers in that part of the
edifice. Only a part of the palace has been hitherto excavated,
and we are not, consequent!}^, in possession of a perfect ground-
plan of it.
444 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
The general arrangement of the chambers at Kouyunjik is
similar to that at Khorsabad, though the extent of the building
is very much greater. The Khorsabad mound falls gradually to
the level of the plain, and there are the remains of a succession
of broad terraces or stages. Parts of the palace, such as the
propylaea, were actually beneath the platform, and stood at some
distance from it in the midst of the walled enclosure. At Kou-
yunjik, however, the whole of the royal edifice, with its de-
pendent buildings, appears to have stood on the summit of the
artificial mound, whose lofty perpendicular sides could only have
been accessible by steps, or inclined ways. No propylaea, or
other edifices connected with the palace, have as yet been dis-
covered below the platform.
The inscriptions, it is said, refer to four distinct parts of the
palace, three of which, inhabited by the women, seem subse-
quently to have been reduced to one. It is not clear whether
they were all on the ground-floor, or whether they formed differ-
ent stories. Mr. Fergusson, in his ingenious work on the restora-
tion of the palaces of Nineveh, in which he has, with great
learning and research, fully examined the subject of the architec-
ture of the Assyrians and ancient Persians, endeavors to divide
the Khorsabad palace, after the manner of modern Mussulman
houses, into the Salamlik or apartments of the men, and the
Harem, or those of the women. The division he suggests must,
of course, depend upon analogy and conjecture; but it may, we
think, be accepted as highly probable, until fuller and more
accurate translations of the inscriptions than can yet be made
may furnish us with some positive data on the subject. In the
ruins of Kouyunjik there is nothing, as far as we are aware, to
mark the distinction between the male and female apartments.
Of a temple no remains have as yet been found at Kouyunjik,
nor is there any high conical mound as at Nimroud and Khor-
sabad.
446 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
In all the Assyrian edifices hitherto explored we find the
same general plan. On the four sides of the great courts or halls
are two or three narrow parallel chambers opening one into the
other. Most of them have doorways at each end leading into
smaller rooms, which have no other outlet. It seems highly prob-
able that this uniform plan was adopted with reference to the pe-
-culiar architectural arrangements required by the building, and
we ao-ree with Mr. Fergusson in attributing it to the mode
resorted to for lighting the apartments.
Early excavators expressed a belief that the chambers
received light from the top. Although this may have been the
case in some instances, yet recent discoveries now prove that the
Assyrian palaces had more than one story. Such being the case,
it is evident that other means must have been adopted to admit
light to the inner rooms on the ground-floor. Mr. Fergusson's
suggestion, that the upper part of the halls and principal chambers
was formed by a row of pillars supporting the ceiling and admit-
ing a free circulation of light and air, appears to us to meet, to
a certain extent, the difficulty. It has, moreover, been borne out
by subsequent discoveries, and by the representation of a large
building, apparently a palace, on one side of the bas-reliefs from
Kouyunjik.
Although the larger halls may have been lighted in this
manner, yet the inner chambers must have remained in almost
entire darkness. And it is not improbable that such was the case,
to judge from modern Eastern houses, in which the rooms are
purposely kept dark to mitigate the great heat. The sculptures
and decorations in them could then only be properly seen by
torchlight. The great courts were probably open to the sky, like
the courts of the modern houses of Mosul, whose walls are also
adorned with sculptured alabaster. The roofs of the large halls
must have been supported by pillars of wood or brick work. It
may be conjectured that there were two or three stories of cham-
MODERN HOUSES OF PERSIA.
447
"Hers opening into them, either by columns or by windows. Such
appears to have been the case in Solomon's temple; for Josephus
tells us that the great inner sanctuary was surrounded by small
rooms, "over these rooms were other rooms, and others above
them, equal both in their measure and numbers, and these reached
to a height equal to the lovjer ^art of the house, for the upper
had no buildingfs about it." We have also a similar arrangfement
of chambers in the modern houses of Persia, in which a lofty cen-
tral hall, called the Iwan, of the entire height of the building,
has small rooms in two or three separate stories opening by win-
dows into it, whilst the inner chambers have no windows at all.
and only receive light through the door. Sometimes these side
chambers open into a center court, as we have suggested may
Viave been the case in the Nineveh palaces, and then a projecting
roof of woodwork protects the carved and painted walls from
injury by the weather. Curtains and awnings were no doubt
suspended above the windows and entrances in the Assyrian pal-
aces to ward off the rays of the sun.
Although the remains of pillars have hitherto been discov-
ered in the Assyrian ruins, we now think it highly probable, as
suggested by Mr. Fergusson, that they were used to support the
roof. The modern Yezidi house, in the Sinjar, is a good illustra-
tion not only of this mode of supporting the ceiling, but of the
manner in which light may have been admitted into the side
chambers. It is curious, however, that no stone pedestals, upon
which wooden columns may have rested, have been found in the
ruins ; nor have marks of them been found on the pavement. We
can scarcely account for the entire absence of all such traces.
However, unless some support of this kind were resorted to, it is
impossible that the larger halls at Kouyunjik could have been
covered in. The great hall, or house, as it is rendered in the Bible,
of the forest of Lebanon was thirty cubits high, upon four rows
of cedar pillars with cedar beams upon the pillars. The Assy-
i
UWIVT
448 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
rian kings, as we have seen, cut wood in the same forests as King
Solomon; and probably us^d it for the same purposes, namely,
for pillars, beams and ceilir ^s. The dimensions of this hall, 100
cubits (about 150 feet) by ,0 cubits (75 feet), very much resem-
ble those of the center hal s of the palaces of Nineveh. " The
porch of pillars" was fiiXy cubits in length; equal, therefore, to
the breadth of the hall, of which, we presume, it was a kind of
inclosed space at the upper end, whilst "the porch for the throne
where he might judge, e^ en the porch of judgment * * * *
covered with cedar wood rom one side of the floor to the other,"
was probably a raised pla.-e within it, corresponding with a sim-
ilar platform where the host and guests of honor are seated in a
modern Eastern house. Supposing the three parts of the building
to have been arranged as we have suggested, we should have an
exact counterpart of them in the hall of audience of the Persian
palaces. The upper part of the magnificent hall in which we
have frequently seen the governor of Isfahan, was divided from
the lower part by columns, and his throne was a raised place of
carved headwork adorned with rich stuffs, ivory, and other pre-
cious materials. Suppliants and attendants stood outside the line
of pillars, and the oflScers of the court within. Such also may
have been the interior arrangements of the great halls in the
Assyrian edifices.
We have already described the interior decorations of the
Assyrian palaces, and have little more to add upon the subject.
The walls of Kouyunjik were more elaborately decorated than
those of Nimroud and Khorsabad. Almost every chamber ex-
plored there, and they amounted to about seventy, was paneled
with alabaster slabs carved with numerous figures and with the
minuest details. Each room appears to have been dedicated to
some particular event, and in each, apparently, was the image of
the king himself. In fact, the walls recorded in sculpture what
the inscriptions did in writing — the great deeds of Sennacherib in
CHAMBERS IN THE PALACE. 449
peace as well as in war. It will be remarked that, whilst in other
Assyrian edifices the king is frequently represented taking an
active part in war, slaying his enemies, and fighting beneath a
besieged city, Sennacherib is never represented at Kouyunjik
otherwise than in an attitude of triumph, in his chariot or on his
throne, receiving the captives and the spoil. Nor is he ever
seen torturing his prisoners, or putting them to death with his
own hand.
There were chambers, however, in the palace of Sennacherib,
as well as in those at Nimroud and Khorsabad, whose walls were
simply coated with plaster, like the walls of Belshazzar's palace
at Babylon. Some were probably richly ornamented in color
with figures of men and animals, as well as with elegant designs ;
or others may have been paneled with cedar wainscoting, as the
chambers in the temple and palaces of Solomon, and in the royal
edifices of Babylon. Gilding, too, appears to have been exten-
sively used in decoration, and some of the great sphinxes may
have been overlaid with gold, like the cherubim in Solomon's tem-
ple. The cut on page 445 gives a beautiful representation of
the interioi of the palaces. It is taken from the halls of the
palace of Sennacherib.
At Kouyunjik, the pavement slabs were not inscribed as at
Nimroud; but those between the winged bulls, at some of the
entrances, were carved with an elaborate and very elegant pattern.
The doors were probably of wood, gilt, and adorned with pre-
cious materials, like the gates of the temple of Jerusalem, and
their hinges appear to have turned in stone sockets, some of
which were found in the ruins. To ward off the glare of an
Eastern sun, hangings or curtains, of gay colors and of rich mate-
rials, were probably suspended to the pillars supporting the ceil-
ing, or to wooden poles raised for the purpose, as in the palaces
of Babylon and Shushan.
Layard's researches have satisfied him that a very consider-
29
450 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
able period elapsed between the earliest and latest buildings dis-
covered among the mounds of Nimroud. We incline to this
opinion, but differ from the surmise that the ruins of Nimroud
and the site of Nineveh itself are identical. The dimensions of
Nineveh, as given by Diodorus Siculus, were 150 stadia on the
two longest sides of the quadrangle, and 90 on the opposite; the
square being 480 stadia, 60 miles) or, according to some, 74
miles. Layard thinks, that by taking the four great mounds of
Nimroud, Kouyunjik, Khorsabad and Karamles, as the corners
of a square, the four sides will correspond pretty accurately with
the 60 miles of the geographer, and the three days' journey of
the prophet Jonah.
The parallelogram, or line of boundary, being thus com-
pleted, we have now to ascertain how far it accords with the
localities of the researches; and we find that it not only compre-
hends the principal mounds which have already been examined,
but many others, in which ruins are either actuall}', or almost cer-
tainly, known to exist. Another important object of remark
connected with this subject, is the thickness of the wall surround-
ing the palace of Khorsabad, which Botta states to be fifteen
metres, i. e., forty-eight feet, nine inches, a very close approxima-
tion to the width of the wall of the city itself, which was " so
broad as that three chariots might be driven upon it abreast."
This is about half the thickness of the wall of Babylon, upon
which "six chariots could be driven together," and which Hero-
dotus tells were eighty-seven feet broad, or nearly double that of
Khorsabad. The extraordinary dimensions of the walls of cities
is supported by these remains at Khorsabad. The Median wall,
still existing, in part nearly entire, and which crosses obliquely the
plain of Mesopotamia from the Tigris to the banks of the
Euphrates, a distance of forty miles, is another example. The
great wall of China, also, of like antiquity, we are told, "traverses
high mountains, deep valleys, and, by means of arches, wide
THE WALLS. 45 I
rivers, extending from the province of Shen Si to Wanghay, or
tlie Yellow Sea, a distance of 1,500 miles. In some places, to
protect exposed passages, it is double and treble. The foundation
and corner stones are of granite, but the principal part is of blue
bricks, cemented with pure white mortar. At distances of about
200 paces are distributed square towers or strong bulwarks."
In less ancient times, the Roman walls in our own country supply
additional proof of the universality of this mode of enclosing a
district or guarding a boundary before society was established on
a firm basis. It may be objected against the foregoing specula-
tions on the boundary of Nineveh, that the river runs within the
walls instead of on the outside. In reply, we submit that when the
walls were destroyed, as described by the historian, the flooded
river would force for itself another channel, which in process of
time would become more and more devious from the obstructions
offered by the accumulated ruins, until it eventually took the
channel in which it now flows.
Babylon was the most beautiful and the richest city in the
world. Even to our age, it stands as a marvel. It was built
about 3,000 years ago, but did not reach the summit of its mag-
nificence until about 570 years Before Christ, when Nebuchad-
nezzar lavished almost an endless amount of wealth upon it.
Its magnitude was 480 furlongs, or sixty miles, in compass.
It was built in an exact square of fifteen miles on each side, and
was surrounded by a brick wall eighty-seven feet thick and
350 feet high, on which were 250 towers, or, according to some
writers, 316. The top of the wall was wide enough to allow six
chariots to drive abreast. The materials for building the wall
were dug from a vast ditch or moat, which was also walled up
with brickwork and then filled with water from the River
Euphrates. This moat was just outside of the walls, and sur-
rounded the city as another strong defence.
The city had 100 brass gates, one at the end of each of its
452 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
fifty streets. The streets were 150 feet wide and ran at right
angles through the city, thus forming 676 great squares. Her-
odotus says besides this there was 3'et another wall which ran
around within, not much inferior to the other, yet narrower, and
the city was divided into two equal parts by the River Euphrates,
over which was a bridge, and at each end of the bridge was a
palace. These palaces had communication with each other by a
subterranean passage.
To prevent the city from suffering from an overflow of the
river during the summer months, immense embankments were
raised on either side, with canals to turn the flood waters of the
Tigris. On the western side of the city an artificial lake was
excavated forty miles square, or 160 miles in circumference, and
dug out, according to Megasthenes, seventy-five feet deep, into
which the river was turned when any repairs were to be made,
or for a surplus of water, in case the river should be cut off"
from them.
Near to the old palace stood the Tower of Babel. This
prodigious pile consisted of eight towers, each seventy-five feet
high, rising one upon another, with an outside winding stair-
case to its summit, which, with its chapel on the top, reached a
height of 660 feet. On this summit is where the chapel of Belus
was erected, which contained probably the most expensive furni-
ture of any in the world. One golden image forty feet high was
valued at $17,500,000, and the whole of the sacred utensils were
reckoned to be worth $200,000,000. There are still other won-
derful things mentioned. One, the subterraneous banqueting
rooms, which were made under the River Euphrates and were
constructed entirely of brass ; and then, as one of the seven won-
ders of the world, were the famous hanging gardens; they were
400 feet square and were raised 350 feet high, one terrace above
the other, and were ascended by a staircase ten feet wide. The
terraces were supported by large vaultings resting upon curb-
GRANDEUR OF BABYLON.
453
shaped pillars and were hollow and tilled with earth, to allow
trees of the largest size to be planted, the whole being con-
structed of baked bricks and asphalt. The entire structure was
strengthened and bound together by a wall twenty-two feet in
thickness. The level of the terrace was covered with large
stones, over which was a bed of rushes, then a thick layer of
asphalt, next two courses of bricks likewise cemented with as-
phalt, and finally plates of lead to prevent leakage, the earth
being heaped on the platform and terrace and large trees
planted. The whole had the appearance from a distance of woods
overhanging mountains.
The great work is affirmed to have been effected by Neb-
uchadnezzar to gratify his wife, Anytis, daughter of Astyages,
who retained strong predilection for the hills and groves which
abounded in her native Media.
Babylon flourished for nearly 200 years in this scale of
grandeur, during which idolatry, pride, cruelty, and every abom-
ination prevailed among all ranks of the people, when God, by
His prophet, pronounced its utter ruin, which was accord-
ingly accomplished, commencing with Cyrus taking the city,
after a siege of two years, in the year 588 Before Christ, to
emancipate the Jews, as foretold by the prophets. By successive
overthrows this once " Glory of the Chaldees' Excellency," this
" Lady of Kingdoms," has become a " desolation " without an
inhabitant, and its temple a vast heap of rubbish.
The ancient Tower of Babel is now a mound of oblong
form, the total circumference of which is 2,286 feet. At the east-
ern side it is cloven by a deep furrow and is not more than fifty
or sixty feet high, but on the western side it rises in a conical
figure to the elevation of 198 feet, and on its summit is a solid
pile of brick thirty-seven feet in height and twenty-eight in
breadth, diminishing in thickness to the top, which is broken
and irregular and rent by large fissures extending through a
third of its height; it is perforated with small holes.
454 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
The fire-burnt bricks of which it is built have inscriptions
on them, and so excellent is the cement, which appears to be
lime mortar, that it is nearly impossible to extract one whole.
The other parts of the summit of this hill are occupied by im-
mense fragments of brickwork of no determinate figure, tumbled
together and converted into solid vitrified masses, as if they had
undergone the action of the fiercest fire, or had been blown up
by gunpowder, the layers of brick being perfectly discernible.
These ruins surely proclaim the divinity of the Scriptures. Lay-
ard says the discoveries amongst the ruins of ancient Babylon
were far less numerous and important than could have been antic-
ipated. No sculptures or inscribed slabs, the paneling of the
walls of palaces, appear to exist beneath them, as in those of
Nineveh. .Scarcely a detached figure in stone, or a solitary tab-
let, has been dug out of the vast heaps of rubbish. " Babylon is
fallen, is fallen; and all the graven images of her gods he hath
broken unto the ground." (Isaiah xxi. 9.)
The complete absence of such remains is to be explained by
the nature of the materials used in the erection of even the most
costly edifices of Babylon. In the vicinity there were no quar-
ries of alabaster, or of limestone, such as existed near Nineveh.
The city was built in the midst of an alluvial country, far re-
moved from the hills. The deposits of the mighty rivers which
have gradually formed the Mesopotamian plains consist of a rich
clay. Consequently stone for building purposes could only be
obtained from a distance. The black basalt, a favorite material
amongst the Babylonians for carving detached figures, and
for architectural ornaments, as appears from fragments found
amongst the ruins, came from the Kurdish Mountains, or from
the north of Mesopotamia.
The Babylonians were content to avail themselves of the
building materials which they found on the spot. With the tena-
cious mud of their alluvial plains, mixed with chopped straw,
BUILDING MATERIALS. 455
they made bricks, whilst bitumen and other substances collected
from the immediate neighborhood furnished them with an excel-
lent cement. A knowledge of the art of manufacturing glaze,
and colors, enabled them to cover their bricks with a rich
enamel, thereby rendering them equally ornamental for the
exterior and interior of their edifices. The walls of their
palaces and temples were also coated, as we learn from several
passages in the Bible, with mortar and plaster, which, judging
from their cement, must have been of very fine quality. The
fingers of a man's hand wrote the words of condemnation of
the Babylonian empire " upon the plaster of the king's palace."
Upon those walls were painted historical and religious subjects,
and various ornaments, and, according to Diodorus Siculus, the
bricks were enameled with the figures of men and animals.
Images of stone were no doubt introduced into the buildings.
We learn from the Bible that figures of the gods in this mate-
rial, as well as in metal, were kept in the Babylonian temples.
But such sculptures were not common, otherwise more remains
of them must have been discovered in the ruins. The great
inscription of Nebuchadnezzar, engraved on a black stone, and
divided into ten columns, in the museum formed by the East
India Company, appears to contain some interesting details as to
the mode of construction and architecture of the Babylonian
palaces and temples.
It may be conjectured that, in their general plan, the Baby-
lonian palaces and temples resembled those of Assyria. We
know that the arts, the religion, the customs, and the laws of the
two kindred people were nearly identical. They spoke, also, the
same language, and used, very nearly, the same written charac-
ters. One appears to have borrowed from the other; and, with-
out attempting to decide the question of the priority of the
independent existence as a nation and of the civilization of either
people, it can be admitted that . they had a certain extent of
456 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
common origin, and that they maintained for many centuries an
intimate connection. We find no remains of columns at Baby-
lon, as none have been found at Nineveh. If such architectural
ornaments were used, they must have been either of wood or of
brick.
Although the building materials used in the great edifices
of Babylon may seem extremely mean when compared with
those employed in the stupendous palace-temples of Egypt, and
even in the less massive edifices of Assyria, yet the Babylonians
appear to have raised, with them alone, structures which excited
the wonder and admiration of the most famous travelers of an-
tiquity. The profuse use of color, and the taste displayed in its
combination, and in the ornamental designs, together with the
solidity and vastness of the immense structure upon which the
buildings proudly stood, may have chiefly contributed to produce
this effect upon the minds of strangers. The palaces and tem-
ples, like those of Nineveh, were erected upon lofty platforms of
brickwork. The bricks, as in Assyria, were either simply baked
in the sun, or were burned in the kiln. The latter are of more
than one shape and quality. Some are square, others are oblong.
Those from the Birs Nimroud are generally of a dark red color,
while those from the Mujelibe are mostly of a light yellow. A
large number of them have inscriptions in a complex cuneiform
character peculiar to Babylon. These superscriptions have been
impressed upon them by a stamp, on which the whole inscription
was cut in relief Each character was not made singly, as on
the Assyrian bricks, and this is the distinction between them.
Almost all the bricks brought from the ruins of Babylon bear
the same inscription, with the exception of one or two unimport-
ant words, and record the building of the city by Nebuchadnez-
zar, the son of Nabubaluchun. We owe the interpretation of
these names to the late Dr. Hincks.
It may not be out of place to add a few remarks upon the
HISTORY OF BABYLON. 457
history of Babylon. The time of the foundation of this cele-
brated city is still a question which does not admit of a satisfac-
tory determination, and into which we will not enter. Some
believe it to have taken place at a comparatively recent date;
but if, as the Egyptian scholars assert, the name of Babylon is
found on monuments of the eighteenth Egyptian dynasty, we
have positive evidence of its existence at least in the fifteenth
century Before Christ. After the rise of the Assyrian empire,
it appears to have been sometimes under the direct rule of the
kings of Nineveh, and at other times to have been governed by
its own independent chiefs. Expeditions against Babylon are
recorded in the earliest inscriptions yet discovered in Assyria;
and as it has been seen, even in the time of Sennacherib and his
ii."<mediate predecessors, large armies were still frequently sent
against its rebellious inhabitants. The Babylonian kingdom
was, however, almost absorbed in that of Assyria, the dominant
power of the East. When this great empire began to decline
Babylon rose for the last time. Media and Persia were equally
ready to throw off the Assyrian yoke, and at length the allied
armies of Cyaxares and the father of Nebuchadnezzar captured
and destroyed the capital of the Eastern world.
Babylon now rapidly succeeded to that proud position so
long held by Nineveh. Under Nebuchadnezzar she acquired
the power forfeited by her rival. The bounds of the city were
extended ; buildings of extraordinary size and magnificence were
erected ; her victorious armies conquered Syria and Palestine, and
penetrated into Egypt. Her commerce, too, had now spread far
and wide, from the east to the west, and she became "a land of
traffic and a city of merchants."
But her greatness as an independent nation was short-lived.
The neighboring kingdoms of Media and Persia, united under
one monarch, had profited no less than Babylon, by the ruin of
the Assyrian empire, and were ready to dispute with her the do
458 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
minion of Asia. Scarcely half a century had elapsed from the
fall of Nineveh, when "Belshazzar, the king of the Chaldaeans,
was slain, and Darius, the Median, took the kingdom." From
that time Babylonia sank into a mere province of Persia. It still,
however, retained much of its former power and trade, and as we
learn from the inscriptions of Bisutun, as well as from ancient
authors, struggled more than once to regain its ancient independ-
ence.
After the defeat of Darius and the overthrow of the Persian
supremacy, Babylon opened its gates to Alexander, who deemed
the city not unworthy to become the capital of his mighty em-
pire. On his return from India, he wished to rebuild the temple
of Belus, which had fallen into ruins, and in that great work he
had intended to employ his army, now no longer needed for war.
The priests, however, who had appropriated the revenues of this
sacred shrine, and feared lest they would have again to apply them
to their rightful purposes, appear to have prevented him from car-
rying out his design.
This last blow to the prosperity and even existence of Baby-
lon was given by Seleucus when he laid the foundation of his new
capital on the banks of the Tigris (B. C. 322). Already Pa-
trocles, his general, had compelled a large number of the inhabi-
tants to abandon their homes, and to take refuge in the desert,
and in the province of Susiana. The city, exhausted by the
neighborhood of Seieucia, returned to its ancient solitude. Ac-
cording to some authors, neither the walls nor the temple of Belus
existed any longer, and only a few of the Chaldaians continued to
dwell around the ruins of their sacred edifices.
Still, however, a part of the population appear to have re-
turned to their former seats, for, in the early part of the second
century of the Christian era, we find the Parthian king, Evem-
erus, sending numerous families from Babylon into Media to be
sold as slaves, and burning many great and beautiful edifices still
standinjr in the citv.
HISTORY OF BABYLON.
459
In the time of Augustus, the city is said to have been en-
tirely deserted, except by a few Jews who still lingered amongst
the ruins. St. Cyril, of Alexandria, declares, that in his day,
about the beginning of the fifth century, in consequence of the
choking up of the great canals derived from the Euphrates, Bab-
3/lon had become a vast marsh; and fifty 3'ears later the river is
described as having changed its course, leaving only a small chan-
nel to mark its ancient bed. Then were verified the prophecies
of Isaiah and Jeremiah, that the mighty Babylon should be but
"pools of water," that the sea should come upon her, and that
she should be covered with the multitude of the waves thereof.
In the beginning of the seventh century, at the time of the
Arab invasion, the ancient cities of Babylonia were " a desola-
tion, a dry land and a wilderness." Amidst the heaps tnat
alone marked the site of Babylon there rose the small town of
Hillah.
Long before Babylon had overcome her rival Nineveh, she
was famous for the extent and importance of her commerce. No
position could have been more favorable than hers for carrying
on a trade with all the regions of the known world. She stood
upon a navigable stream that brought to her quays the produce of
the temperate highlands of Armenia, approached in one part of its
course within almost one hundred miles of the Mediterranean Sea,
and emptied its waters into a gulf* of the Indian Ocean. Parallel
with this great river was one scarcely inferior in size and import-
ance. The Tigris, too, came from the Armenian hills, flowed
through the fertile districts of Assyria, and carried the varied
produce to the Babylonian cities. Moderate skill and enterprise
could scarcely fail to make Babylon, not only the emporium of
the Eastern world, but the main link of commercial intercourse
between the East and the West.
The inhabitants did not neglect the advantages bestowed
upon them by nature. A system of navigable canals that may ex-
460 NINEVEH AND BABYLON.
cite the admiration of even the modern engineer, connected
together the Euphrates and Tigris, those great arteries of her
commerce.
The vast trade that rendered Babylon the gathering-place
of men from all parts of the known world, and supplied her with
luxuries from the remotest clime, had the effect of corrupting the
manners of her people, and producing that general profligacy and
those effiminate customs which mainly contributed to her fall.
The description given by Herodotus of the state of the popula-
tion of the city when under the dominion of the Persian kings, is
sufficient to explain the cause of her speedy decay and ultimate
ruin. The account of the Greek historian fully tallies with the
denunciation of the Hebrew prophets against the sin and wicked-
ness of Babylon. Her inhabitants had gradually lost their war-
like character. When the Persian broke into their city they
were reveling in debauchery and lust; and when the Macedonian
conqueror appeared at their gates, they received with indifference
the yoke of a new master.
Such were the causes of the fall of Babylon. Her career
was equally short and splendid; and although she has thus per-
ished from the face of the earth, her ruins are still classic, indeed
sacred, ground. The traveler visits, with no common emotion,
those shapeless heaps, the scene of so many great and solemn
events. In this plain, according to tradition, the primitive fami-
lies of our race first found a resting place. Here Nebuchadnez-
zar boasted of the glories of his city, and was punished for his
pride. To these deserted halls were brought the captives of Ju-
daia. In them Daniel, undazzled by the glories around him, re-
mained steadfast to his faith, rose to be a governor amongst his
rulers, and prophesied the downfall of the kingdom. There
was held Belshazzar's feast, and was seen the writing on the wall.
Between those crumbling mounds Cyrus entered the neglected
gates. Those massive ruins cover the spot where Alexander
died.
The city of Thebes is, perhaps, the most astonishing work
executed by the hand of man. Its ruins are the most unequiv-
ocal proof of the ancient civilization of Egypt, and of the high
degree of power which the Egyptians had reached by the extent
of their knowledge. Its origin is lost in the obscurity of time, it
being coeval with the nation which first took possession of Egypt ;
and it is sufficient to give a proper idea of its antiquity to say
that the building of Memphis was the first attempt made to
rival the prosperity of Thebes.
Its extent was immense; it filled the whole valley which was
permeated by the Nile. D'Anville and Denon state its circum-
ference to have been thirty-six miles; its diameter not less than
ten and a half The number of its inhabitants was in proportion
to these vast dimensions. Diodorus says, that the houses were
four and five stories high. Although Thebes had greatly fallen
off from its ancient splendor at the time of Cambyses, yet it was
the fury of this merciless conqueror that gave the last blow to its
grandeur. This prince pillaged the temples, carried away all
the ornaments of gold, silver, and ivory, which decorated its
magnificent buildings, and ruined both its temples and its build-
ings. Before this unfortunate epoch, no city in the world could
be compared with it in extent, splendor, and riches; and, according
to the expression of Diodorus, the sun had never seen so magnifi-
cent a city.
Previous to the establishment of the monarchical govern-
461
462 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
ment, Thebes was the residence of the principal college of the
priesthood, who ruled over the country. It is to this epoch that
all writers refer the elevation of its most ancient edifices. The
enumeration of them all would require more time than we
have.
Here was the temple, or palace of Karnac, of Luxor; the
Memnonium; and the Medineh-Tabou, or, as some other travel-
ers spell it, Medinet-habou.
The temple, or the palace of Karnac was, without doubt,
the most considerable monument of ancient Thebes. It was not
less than a mile and a half in c4rcumference, and enclosed about
ten acres. M. Denon employed nearly twenty minutes on horse-
back in going round it, at full gallop. The principal entrance of
the grand temple is on the northwest side, or that facing the
river. From a raised platform commences an avenue of Crio-
sphinxes leading to the front propyla, before which stood two
granite statues of a Pharaoh. One of these towers retains a
great part of its original height, but has lost its summit and cor-
nice. Passing through the pylon of these towers you arrive at
a large open court, or area, 275 feet by 329 feet, with a covered
corridor on either side, and a double line of columns down the
centre. Other propylaea terminate this area, with a small vesti-
bule before the pylon, and form the front of the grand hall of
assembly, the lintel stones of whose doorway were forty feet ten
inches in length. The grand hall, or hypostyle hall, measures
170 feet by 329 feet, supported by a central avenue of twelve
massive columns, 62 feet high (without the plinth or abacus), and
36 feet in circumference; besides 122 of smaller, or, rather less
gigantic dimensions, 42 feet 5 inches in height, and 28 feet in cir-
cumference, distributed in seven lines, on either side of the
former. It iiad in front two immense courts, adorned by ranges
of columns, some of which were sixty feet high, and others
eighty; and at their respective entrances there were two colossal
COLUMNS OF KARNAC.
{Over 4000 years old.)
46:?
464 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
Statues on the same scale. In the middle of the second court
there were lour obelisks of granite of a finished workmanship,
three of which are still standing. They stood before the sanctu-
ary, built all of granite, and covered with sculptures representing
symbolical attributes of the god to whom the temple was conse-
crated. This was the Maker of the universe, the Creator of all
things, the Zeus of the Greeks, the Jupiter of the Latins, but the
Ammon of the Egyptians. By the side of the sanctuary there
were smaller buildings, probably the apartments of those at-
tached to the service of the temple; and behind it other habita-
tions, adorned with columns and porticos, which led into another
immense court, having on each side closed passages, or corridors,
and at the top a covered portico, or gallery, supported by a great
number of columns and pilasters. In this way the sanctuary was
entirely surrounded by these vast and splendid buildings, and the
whole was enclosed b}' a wall, covered internally and externally
with symbols and hieroglyphics, which went round the magnificent
edifice.
Beyond this wall there were other buildings, and other
courts, filled with colossal statues of grey and white marble.
These buildings, or temples, communicated with each other by
means of galleries and passages, adorned with columns and
statues. The most striking circumstance, however, is, that
attached to this palace are the remains of a much more consid-
erable edifice, of higher antiquity, which had been introduced
into the general plan when this magnificent building was restored
by the Pharaoh Amenophis, the third king of the eighteenth
dynasty, nearly 4,000 years ago. This more ancient edifice, or
rather its ruins, are considered to be more than 4,000 3'ears old,
or 2,272 years Before Christ. A second wall enclosed the whole
mass of these immense and splendid buildings, the approach to
which was by means of avenues, having on their right and left
colossal figures of sphinxes. In one avenue they had the head
STUPENDOUS REMAINS. 465
of a bull; in another they were represented with a human head;
in a third with a ram's head. This last was a mile and a half in
length, began at the southern gate, and led to the temple of
Luxor.
Dr. Manning says: "We now enter the most stupendous
pile of remains (we can hardly call them ruins) in the world.
Every writer who has attempted to describe them avows his
inability to convey any adequate idea of their extent and gran-
deur. The long covered avenues of sphinxes, the sculptured
corridors, the columned aisles, the gates and obelisks, and colos-
sal statues, all silent in their desolation, fill the beholder with
awe." (See cut on page 463,)
There is no exaggeration in. Champollion's words: "The
imagination, which, in Europe, rises far above our porticos, sinks
abashed at the foot of the 140 columns of the hypostyle hall at
Karnac. The area of this hall is 70,629 feet; the central
columns are thirty-six feet in circumference and sixty-two feet
high, without reckoning the plinth and abacus. They are cov-
ered with paintings and sculptures, the colors of which are won-
derfully fresh and vivid. If, as seems probable, the great design
of Egyptian architecture was to impress man with a feeling of
his own littleness, to inspire a sense of overwhelming awe in the
presence of the Deity, and at the same time to show that the
monarch was a being of superhuman greatness, these edifices
were well adapted to accomplish their purpose. The Egyptian
beholder and worshiper was not to be attracted and charmed,
but overwhelmed. His own nothingness and the terribleness of
the power and the will of God was what he was to feel. But, if
the awfulness of Deity was thus inculcated, the divine power of
the Pharaoh was not less strikingly set forth. He is seen seated
amongst them, nourished from their breasts, folded in their arms,
admitted to familiar intercourse with them. He is represented
on the walls of the temple as of colossal stature, while the noblest
30
466 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
of his subjects are but pigmies in his presence; with one hand he
crushes hosts of his enemies, with the other he grasps that of his
patron deity.
" The Pharaoh was the earthly manifestation and avatar of
the unseen and mysterious power which oppressed the souls of
man with terror. 'I am Pharaoh,' ' By the life of Pharaoh,'
' Say unto Pharaoh whom art thou like in thy greatness.' These
familiar phrases of Scripture gain a new emphasis of meaning as
we remember them amongst these temple palaces."
Speaking of this magnificent temple, and of the avenue of
sphinxes we have just mentioned, Belzoni exclaims, that " on
approaching it the visitor is inspired with devotion and piety;
their enormous size strikes him with wonder and respect to the
gods to whom they were dedicated. The immense colossal
statues, which are seated at each side of the gate, seems guard-
ing the entrance to the holy ground; still farther on was the
majestic temple, dedicated to the great God of the creation."
And a little after, " I was lost," says he, " in a mass of colossal
objects, every one of which was more than sufficient of itself
alone to attract mv whole attention. I seemed alone in the
midst of all that is most sacred in the world; a forest of enor-
mous columns, adorned all round with beautiful figures and
various ornaments from top to bottom. The graceful shape of
the lotus, which forms their capitals, and is so well-proportioned
to the columns, that it gives to the view the most pleasing effect;
the gates, the walls, the pedestals, and the architraves also
adorned in every part with symbolical figures in basso relievo
and intaglio^ representing battles, processions, triumphs, feasts,
offerings, and sacrifices, all relating to the ancient history of the
country; the sanctuary, wholly formed of fine red granite, with
the various obelisks standing before it, proclaiming to the distant
passenger, 'Here is the seat of holiness;' the high portals, seen
at a distance from the openings of the vast labyrinth of edifices;
TEMPLE OF LUXOR. 467
the various groups of ruins of the other temples within sight;
these altogether had such an effect upon my soul as to separate
me, in imagination, from the rest of mortals, exalt me on high
over all, and cause me to forget entirely the trifles and follies of
life. I was happy for a whole day, which escaped like a flash of
liorhtninjy."
Such is the language of Belzoni in describing these majestic
ruins, and the effect they had upon him. Strong and enthusiastic
as his expressions may, perhaps, appear, they are perfectly similar,
Ave assure you, to those of other travelers, They all seem to have
lost the power of expressing their won. ?r and astonishment, am;
frequently borrow the words and phrases of foreign nations to de-
scribe their feelings at the sight of these venerable and gigantic
■efforts of the old Egyptians.
We have said that this avenue of sphinxes led to the temple
•of Luxor.
This second temple, though not equal to that of Karnac in
regard to its colossal proportions, was its equal in magnificence,
and much superior to it in beauty and style of execution.
At its entrance there still stand two obelisks loo feet hiofh,
and of one single block, covered with hieroglyphics executed in
a masterly style. It is at the feet of these obelisks that one may
judge of the high degree of perfection to which the Egyptians
had carried their knowledge in mechanics. We have seen
that it costs fortunes to move them from their place. They
"were followed by two colossal statues forty feet high. After
passing through three different large courts, filled with columns
of great dimensions, the traveler reached the sanctuary, sur-
rounded by spacious halls supported by columns, and exhibiting
the most beautiful mass of sculpture in the best style of execu-
tion.
" It is absolutely impossible," again exclaims Belzoni, " to
■imagine the scene displayed, without seeing it. The most sub-
468 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
lime ideas that can be formed from the most magnificent speci-
mens of our present architecture, would give a very incorrect
picture of these ruins. It appeared to me like entering a city of
giants, who, after a long conflict, were all destroyed, leaving ruins
of their various temples, as the only proofs of their former exist-
ence. The temple of Luxor," he adds, " presents to the trav-
eler at once one of the most splendid groups of Egyptian grandeur.
The extensive propylaeon, with the two obelisks, and colossal
statues in the front; the thick groups of enormous columns, the
variety of apartments, and the sanctuary it contains. The beauti-
ful ornaments which adorn every part of the walls and columns,
cause in the astonished traveler an oblivion of all that he has seen
before."
So far Belzoni: and in this he is borne out by Champollion,
who speaks of Thebes in terms of equal admiration. " All that
I had seen, all that I had admired on the left bank," says this
learned Frenchman, " appeared miserable in comparison with the
gigantic conceptions by which I was surrounded at Karnac. I
shall take care not to attempt to describe any thing; for either
my description would not express the thousandth part of what
ought to be said, or, if I drew a faint sketch, I should be taken
for an enthusiast, or, perhaps, for a madman. It will suflfice to
add, that no people, either ancient or modern, ever conceived the
art of architecture on so sublime and so grand a scale as the
ancient Egyptians."
The Great Pyramid, which is yet an enigma, stands for our
astonishment Herodotus tells us, when speaking of the Laby-
rinth of Egypt, that it had 3,000 chambers, half of them- above
and half below ground. He says, " The upper chambers I my-
self passed through and saw, and what I say concerning them is
from my own observation. Of the underground chambers I can
only speak from the report, for the keepers of the building could
not be got to show them, since they contained, as they said, the
CHAMBERS OF THE GREAT PYRAMID.
469
THE GREAT PYRAMID AND SPHINX.
sepulchres of the kings who built the labyrinth, and also those
of the sacred crocodiles;
thus it is from hearsay
only that I can speak of
the lower chambers.
The upper chambers,
however, I saw with
my own eyes, and found
them to excel all other
human productions. The
passage through the
houses, and the various
windings of the path across the courts, excited in me infinite
admiration, as I passed from the courts into the chambers, and
from chambers into colonnades, and from colonnades into fresh
houses, and again from these into courts unseen before. The
roof was throughout of stone like the walls, and the walls were
carved all over with figures. Every court was surrounded with
a colonnade, which was built of white stone exquisitely fitted
together. At the corner of the labyrinth stands a pyramid forty
fathoms high, with large figures engraved on it, which is entered
by a subterranean passage." No one who has read an account
of the Great Pyramid of Egypt, the building of Solomon's Tem-
ple, and of the ruins of ancient stone buildings still remaining,
will doubt the abihty of the ancients in the art of building with
stones. Baalbec has probably the largest stones ever used.
Baalbec is situated on a plain now called Bukaa, at the
northern end of a low range of black hills, about one mile from
the base of Anti-Lebanon.
It is unknown just how old it is, or by whom it was built.
Dr. Kitto, in his "History of the Bible," ascribes the building of
it to Solomon. But the present remains are mostly of a later
period, probably about 3,000 years old. Some of the material
470 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
and some of the original foundations were used again for the sec-
'^nd structures.
Baalbec has justly received a world-wide celebrity, owing
to the magnificence of its ruins, which have excited the wonder
and admiration of travelers who have enjoyed the privilege of
seeing them. Its temples are among the most magnificent of
Grecian architecture. The temples of Athens no doubt excel them
in taste and purity of style, but they are vastly inferior in dimen«
sions.
While the edifices of Thebes exceed them in magnitude, they
bear no comparison with the symmetry of the columns, with the
richness of the doorways, and the friezes, which abound at Baal-
bec. The foundations of the great temple are themselves en-
titled to rank with the pyramids among the wonders of the world,
being raised twenty feet above the level of the ground, and have
in them stones of one solid mass ninety feet long, eighteen feet
wide, and thirteen feet thick.
The main attractions, however, are the three temples or
main chambers. The first, which may be called the great tem-
ple, consists of a peristyle, of which only six columns remain, two
courts and a portico are standing on an artificial platform, nearly
thirty feet high, and having vaults underneath. Beneath the
whole platform is an immense court of two hundred feet across;
it is a hexagon or nearly round shape. It is accessible by a vaulted
passage, which leads to a triplet gateway, with deep mouldings,
which opens into the first court.
The great court is 440 feet long by 370 feet wide, and has
on each of its sides niches and columns, which, even in their
ruins, are magnificent.
The two sides exactly correspond with each other, but
the south is in better condition than the other. These niches
have columns in front of them in the st3de of the hexagon, with
chambers at the angles of the great court or square. The visitor
472 KARNAC AND BAALBEC.
north there are nine. The cut on page 473 gives somewhat of
an idea of this temple.
In 1759 an earthquake threw down three columns of the
great temple and nine of the peristyle of the Temple of the Sun.
It would appear as though nothing but an earthquake could
destroy these remains, and they even seem to withstand this with
wonderful resistance. At the western end is the cella^ or
innermost sacred part of the edifice, it is 160 feet by 85. A
modern wall was built across the vestibule and the only entrance
is through a low hole broken in the wall. Entering through this
aperture the spectator has before him the gem of the structure,
the great -portal. It was twenty-one feet high and forty-two feet
long and gorgeously ornamented. The sides are each of a single
stone, and the lintels are composed of three huge blocks. Borders
of fruit, flowers and leaves are profuse on the architrave, and on
the soffit of the door is the celebrated figure of the eagle with a
caduceus in his talons, and in his beak strings of long twisted
garlands, which are extended on each side and have the opposite
ends borne by flying genii.
In 1 75 1 the portal was perfect. When Wood sketched it,
but eight years afterwards, the shock of an earthquake rent the
wall and permitted the central stone to sink about two feet.
Yet, even in this state, it is one of the most striking and beauti-
ful gateways in the world. The first compartment measures
ninety-eight feet by sixty-seven, having fluted columns on each
side, and the sanctum, or place for the altar and statue, occupies
a space of twenty-nine feet deep at the western end and consid-
erably raised above the floor of the nave. Such were the ar-
rangements of this vast magnificent edifice.
It may be well to mention here another building although
not so old nor large, but we wish to speak of it because it is so
remarkable in withstanding time.
We are speaking of the Pantheon, the splendid building
474 PANTHEON AT ROME.
erected by M. Agrippa, the friend of Augustus, in immediate
connection with the Thermae, built and dedicated to Jupiter
Ultor by him. This building, which embodied, as it were, the
highest aspirations of Roman national pride and power, was com:
pleted, according to the original inscription preserved on it, B. C.
25, in which year Agrippa was consul for the third time. Accord-
ing to the statement of Pliny ("His. Nat.," 36, 24, i), which how-
ever,- has been disputed, it was originall}' dedicated to Jupiter
Ultor, whose statue, therefore, undoubtedly stood in the chief
niche opposite the entrance. The other six niches contained the
statues of as many gods; those of the chief deities of the Julian
family, Mars and Venus, and of the greatest son of that family,
the divine Caesar, being the only ones amongst the number of
which we have certain knowledge. Was it that the statues of
Mars and Venus showed the attributes of the other principal
gods, or that the statues of the latter stood in the small chapels
{cediculcE) between the niches, or that the unequaled enormous
cupola was supposed to represent heaven, that is, the house of all
the gods? Certain it is that, together with the old appellation
the new name of the Pantheon, i. e.^ temple of all the gods, was
soon applied to the building. The latter name has been unani-
mously adopted by posterity, and has even originated the Chris-
tian destination'of the edifice as church of all the martyrs (S.
Maria ad Martyres). Without entering into the consecutive
changes the building has undergone in the course of time, we
will now attempt a description of its principal features. The
temple consists of two parts, the round edifice and the portico.
The former was 132 feet in diameter, exclusive of the thickness of
the wall, which amounts to 19 feet. The wall is perfectly circu-
lar, and contains eight apertures, one of which serves as entrance,
while the others form, in a certain order, either semicircular or
quadrangular niches ; the former are covered by semi-cupolas, the
latter by barrel-vaults. Only the niche opposite the entrance is,
THE PANTHEON.
475
at the present time, uninterrupted, and open up to its full height,
thus corresponding with the formation of the entrance section; in
front of each of the others, two columns have been erected, the
beams of which close the opening of the semicircular vault. To
'^^ivt/yMf^'^ '
INSIDE VIEW OF THE PANTHEON.
this chief portion of the building is attached the splendid portico
which, in the manner of the above-mentioned temples, projects by
three columns, besides a massive wall-structure. The frontage
476
PANTHEON.
shows eight columns. As a rule, the whole space of the pronaos
was without columns ; contrary to the rule we here see it divided
into three naves by means of two pairs of columns. The center
nave, which was also the widest, led to the entrance-door, each
of the two others being terminated by an enormous niche. Not
to mention aesthetical considerations, these columns were required
as props of the roof covering the vast space (the portico is about
loo feet long).
The columns of the portico carried beams, on the frieze of
which the following inscription in large letters has been placed:
M-AGRIPPA-L-F-COS-TERTIUM-FECIT. Another inscrip-
tion below this one, in smaller characters, states the building to
have been restored by Septimius Severus and Caracalla. The
beams carry a large pediment, originally adorned with groups of
statues representing Jupiter's victories over the Gigantes. Be-
hind and above this gable rises a second one of the same propor-
tions, serving as an ornament of the projecting wall which con-
nects the round building with the portico. The roof of the
portico was supported by beams made of brass. According to
the drawing of Serlio, these beams were not massive, but con-
sisted of brass plates riveted together into square pipes — a prin-
ciple frequently applied by modern engineers on a larger scale in
building bridges, etc. Unfortunately, the material of the roof,
barring some of the large rivets, has been used by Pope Urban
VIII. for guns and various ornaments of doubtful taste in St.
Peter's Cathedral. The large columns carrying the ugly taber-
nacle on the grave of St. Peter are one of the results of this bar-
barous spoliation. The old door, also made of brass, which leads
from the portico into the interior has, on the contrary, been pre-
served. The outer appearance of the round building is simple
and dignified. It most likely was originally covered with stucco
and terra-cotta ornaments, of which, however, little remains at
present; but the simple bricks, particularly m the upper stripes,
THE PANTHEON.
477
THE PANTHEON AT ROME.
where the insertion of the vault becomes visible, look, perhaps,
quite as beautiful as the original coating. The whole cylinder of
masonry is divided into -.- - _
three stripes by means of
cornices, which break the
heaviness of the outline, the
divisions of the inner space
corresponding to those of
the outer surface. The
first of these stripes is
about forty feet high, and
rests on a base of Trav-
ertine freestone. It con-
sists of simple horizontal
slabs of stone, broken only
by doors which lead to
chambers built in the thickness of the wall between the niches.
It corresponds to the columns forming tl^e first story of the inte-
rior, the two cornices, in and outside, I eing on a level. The
second stripe, about thirty feet in height, answers to the second
story of the interior, where the semicircular arches of the niches
are situated. The horizontal stone layers outside are accordingly
broken by large double arches, destined to balance the vaults in
the interior. They alternate with smaller arches, thus forming a
decoration of the exterior at once dignified and in harmony with
the general design of the building. The two cornices in and out-
side are again on a level. The third stripe corresponds to the
cupola, the tension of which is equal to 140 feet. The outer
masonry reaches up to about a third of its height, from which
point the cupola proper begins to rise in seven mighty steps.
The height of the dome is equal to the diameter of the cy-
lindrical building, 132 feet, which adds to the sober and harmo-
nious impression of the whole building. The lower of the above-
478 PANTHEON AT ROME.
mentioned interior stories is adorned with columns and pilasters,
the latter of which enclosed the niches. Eight of these columns,
over thirty -two feet in height, are monoliths of giallo antico —
a yellow kind of marble beautifully veined, and belonging to the
most valuable materials used bv ancient architects. Six other
HALF-SECTION OF THE PANTHEON.
columns are made of a kind of marble known as pavonazzetto ,'
by an ingenious mode of coloring these columns are made to har-
monize with those consisting of the rarer material. Above the
first lies a second lower story, the architectural arrangements of
which may be recognized from Adler's ingenious attempt at re-
construction. Its original decoration consisted of tablets of col-
EGYPTIAN OBELISKS. . 479
ored marble, the effect being similar to that of a sequence of nar-
row pilasters. This original decoration has later been changed
for another. Above the chief cornice which crowns this story, and
at the same time terminates the circular walls, rises the cupola,
divided into five stripes, each of which contains twenty-five
" caskets" beautifully worked and in excellent perspective. In
the center at the top is an opening, forty feet in diameter, through
which the light enters the building. Near this opening a frag-
ment has been preserved of the bronze ornamentation which once
seems to have covered the whole cupola. Even without these
elegant decorations the building still excites the spectator's ad-
miration, as one of the masterpieces of Roman genius.
Obelisks were in Egypt commemorative pillars recording
the style and the title of the king who erected them, his piety,
and the proof he gave of it in dedicating those monoliths to the
deity whom he especially wished to honor. They are made of a
single block of stone, cut into a quadrilateral form, the width
diminishing gradually from the base to the top of the shafts
which terminates in a small pyramid (pyramidion). They were
placed on a plain square pedestal, but larger than the obelisk
itself Obelisks are of Egyptian origin. The Romans and the
moderns have imitated them, but they never equaled their models.
Egyptian obelisks are generally made of red granite of
Syene. There are some, however, of smaller dimensions made
of sandstone and basalt. They were generally placed in pairs at
the entrances of temples, on each side of the propyla. The shaft
was commonly ten diameters in height, and a fourth "narrower at
the top than at the base. Of the two which were before the
palace of Luxor at Thebes, one is seventy-two feet high, and six
feet, two inches wide at the base; the other is seventy-seven feet
high, and seven feet, eight inches wide. Each face is adorned
with hieroglyphical inscriptions in inta^lio^ and the summit is
terminated by a pyramid, the four sides of which represent relig-
480 OBELISKS.
ious scenes, also accompanied by inscriptions. The corners of
the obeHsks are sharp and well cut, but their faces are not per-
fectly plane, and their slight convexity is a proof of the attention
the Egyptians paid to the construction of their monuments. If
their faces were plane they would appear concave to the eye ; the
convexity compensates for this optical illusion. The hieroglyph-
ical inscriptions are in a perpendicular line, sometimes there is
but one in the middle of the breadth of the face, and often there
are three. The inscription was a commemoration by the king
who had the temple or palace built before which the obelisk was
placed. It contained a record stating the houses and titles which
the king who erected, enlarged, or gave rich presents to a tem-
ple, had received in return from the priesthood, and setting forth,
for instance, that Rameses was the lord of an obedient people,
and the beloved of Ammon. Such is the subject of the inscrip-
tion which is in the middle of each face of the obelisks; and
though the name of the same king and the same events are
repeated on the four sides, there exists in the four texts, when
compared, some difference, either in the invocation to the partic-
ular divinities or in the titles of the king. Every obelisk had, in
its original form, but a single inscription on each face, and of the
same period of the king who had erected it; but a king who
came after him, adding a court, a portico, or colonnade to the
temple or palace, had another inscription relative to his addition,
with his name engraved on the original obelisk-; thus, every
obelisk adorned with many inscriptions is of several periods.
The pyramidion which terminates them generall}^ represents in
its sculptures the king who erected the obelisk making different
offerings to the principal deity of the temple, and to other divin-
ities. Sometimes also the offering is of the obelisk itself The
short inscriptions of the pyramidion bear the oval of the king
and the name of the divinity. By these ovals can be known
the names of the kings who erected the obelisks still existing,
OBELISKS.
481
whether in Egypt or elsewhere. The largest obelisk known is
that of St. John Lateran, Rome. It was brought from Heliopo-
lis to Alexandria by the emperor Constantine, and was conveyed
OBELISK OF HELTOPOLis {Ovcr 4000 ycavs old).
The following is a translation of the hieroglyphic writing which is set Into it:
"TheHorus; the living from his birth; the king of Upper and Lower Egypt; Ra
Kheper Ka; Lord of the two diadems; Son of the sun; Osirtasen; the loved of the
God of Heliopolis from his birth; Ever-living; The golden Horus; the Good God; Ra
Kheper Ka to the first celebration of the panegyry. He (has) made (this obelisk) the
eternal generator."
to Rome by Constantius, who erected it in the Circus Maximus.
The height of the shaft is 105 feet, 7 inches. The sides are of
31
482 OBELISKS.
unequal breadth at the base, two measure nine feet, eight and
one-half inches, the other two only nine feet. It bears the name
of Thohtmes III. in the central, and that of Thohtmes IV. in the
lateral lines, kings of the eighteenth dynasty, in the fifteenth
century B. C. The two obelisks at Luxor were erected by the
king Rameses II., of the nineteenth dynasty, 131 1 B. C. (Wil-
kinson). One of these has been taken to Paris. The obelisk of
Heliopolis bears the name of Osirtasen I., 2020 B. C. (Wilkin-
son), and is consequently the most ancient. It is about sixty-
seven feet high. The obelisks at Alexandria were brought from
Heliopolis about 2,000 years ago. The one that was lying in
the sand, and the smaller of the two, was removed to London
some years ago, and the other, which was still standing, was
presented to the United States by Ismail Pasha, father of the
present Khedive. This monument of antiquity is an inestimable
treasure to our country. It bears the name of Thohtmes III. In
the lateral lines are the ovals of Rameses the Great. It is of red
granite of Syene. It bears the name of Cleopatra's Needle,
is about seventy feet high, with a diameter at its base of seven
feet, seven inches. We can hardly appreciate that we should
have standing in New York a relic so ancient — a column upon
which Moses and Aaron looked, and doubtless read its hiero-
glyphic inscription ; that Rameses the Great (Sesostris) had his
knightly banner carved upon it; that Darius, Cambyses, Alex-
ander the Great, the Ptolemies, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Mark
Antony and Augustus knew it; that it was equally known and
beheld of Pythagoras, Herodotus and Strabo; that a long pro-
cession of the most illustrious characters of the middle ages have
passed before it, from the days of Clement and Anastasius to
those of Don John of Austria; and, finally, that it was the first
herald of Egypt to Napoleon and Mohammed Ali. A monu-
ment like this will truly be cherished by every citizen. The
obelisk of the Piazza del Popolo claims great interest, as it
OBELISKS. 483
also stood before the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis. Lep-
sius attributes it to Meneptha. It was removed to Rome by
Augustus, B. C. 19, to ornament the Circus Maximus. The
obelisk in front of St. Peter's was brought to Rome by Caligula,
and placed on the Vatican in the Circus of Caligula. It is about
eighty-three feet high. There are several other Egyptian obe-
lisks in Rome. Nothing can afford a greater idea of the skill of
the Egyptians, and of their wonderful knowledge of mechanism,
than the erection of these monoliths.
The Greeks never made obelisks outside of Egypt. The
Macedonian kings, or Ptolemies, who reigned in that country, from
Alexander to Augustus, erected, terminated, or enlarged many
monuments, but always according to Egyptian rules. Egyptian
artists executed obelisks for their Greek princes, but they did
not depart, any more than in the other monuments, from their
ancient customs. The Egyptian style and proportions are al-
ways to be recognized, and the inscriptions are also traced in
hieroglyphics. The obelisk found at Philse was erected in honor
of Ptolemy Evergetes II. and of Cleopatra, his sister, or Cleo-
patra, his wife, and placed on a base bearing a Greek inscription
relatinof the reason and occasion of this monument. It was
removed from Philse by Belzoni, and has been now erected at
Kingston Hall, Dorset, by Mr. Bankes. It is very far from equal-
ing the Pharaonic obelisks in dimensions, it being only twenty-
two feet high.
After the Romans had made Egypt a Roman province they
carried away some of its obelisks. Augustus was the first who
conceived the idea of transporting these immense blocks to
Rome; he was imitated by Caligula, Constantine, and others.
They were generally erected in some circus. Thirteen remain
at the present day at Rome, some of which are of the time of
the Roman domination in Egypt. The Romans had obelisks
made in honor of their princes, but the material and the work-
484 OBELISKS.
manship of the inscriptions cause them to be easily distinguished
from the more ancient obeHsks. The Barberini obeHsk, on the
Monte Pincio, is of this number; it bears the names of Adrian,
of Sabina, his wife, and of Antinous, his favorite. The obeHsk
of the Piazza Navona, from the style of its hieroglyphics, is
supposed to be a Roman work of the time of Domitian. The
name of Santus Rufus can be read on the Albani obelisk, now at
Munich, and as there are two Roman prefects of Egypt known
of that name, it was, therefore, one of those magistrates who
had executed in that country these monuments in honor of the
reigning emperors, and then had them sent to Rome. The
Romans also attempted to make obelisks at Rome; Such is the
obelisk of the Trinita de' Monti, which formerly stood in the
Circus of Sallust. It is a bad copy of that of the Porta del
Popolo. The Roman emperors in the east had also some Egyp-
tian obelisks transported to Constantinople. Fragments of two
of these monuments have been found in Sicily, at Catania; one
of them has eight sides, but it is probably not a genuine Egyp-
tian work. The use of the obelisk as a gnomon, and the erec-
tion of it on a high base in the center of an open space, were only
introduced on the removal of single oblelisks to Rome.
Hsw<;i<)j^ <)\ fiyTWf.^<}y.
Mythology is from the word myth, meaning fable, it is
therefore a system of fabulous opinions and doctrines respecting
the deities which the heathen nations have supposed to preside
over the world or to influence its affairs.
They had twelve gods, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Mercury,
Mars, Vulcan, Apollo, Diana, Minerva, Juno, Ceres and Vesta.
Besides these there were other lesser gods, Bacchus, Isis, Hebe,
the Muses and the Fates, etc.; also Sleep, Dreams and Death;
and there were still others who had free will and intelligence,
and having mixed forms, such as the Pegasus, or winged horse,
the Centaur, half man and half horse. Hydra, etc. ^
The Greek theory of the origin of things was that the
beginning was chaos laden with the seed of all nature, then
came the Earth and the Heavens, or Uranus; these two were mar-
ried and from this union came a numerous and powerful brood.
First were the six Titans, all males, and then the six females, and
the Cyclops, three in number; these latter were of gigantici size,
having but one eye, and that in the center of the forehead. They
represented Thunder, Lightning and Fire, or the rapid flame.
The Titans made war upon their father and wounded him,
and from the drops of blood which flowed from the wound and
485
486 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
fell upon the earth sprang the Furies, whose names signified
" Unceasing," " Envier," and " Blood- Avenger;" and the Giants
and melian Nymphs, and from the blood drops which fell into the
sea sprang Venus, the goddess of love and beauty.
The youngest and bravest son, Saturn, who wounded and
dethroned his father, was, by the consent of his brethren, per-
mitted to reign with an understanding that his male children
should all be destroyed. But his wife, Rhea, hid from him three
of her sons, Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto, who, waging a ten-year
war against their father, finally dethroned him and divided the
kingdom among themselves. The oldest, Jupiter, had the
heavens, and reigned over all gods, Neptune over the sea, and
Pluto the lower regions.
Jupiter then built his courts on Mount Olympos, reigned
supreme god over heaven and earth ; he was called the father of
man and gods, and is placed at the head of the entire creation.
He is generally represented as majestic in appearance, seated
on a throne with a sceptre in one hand and thunderbolts in the
other. Jupiter had a number of wives; he also married his sister
Juno, who was the queen goddess. Besides Jupiter, Juno, Nep-
tune and Pluto the other eight gods were the children of Jupiter.
Neptune was second to Jupiter in power. He is represented
as carrying a trident or three-tined fork, with which he strikes
the earth and shakes it; he is therefore often called the "earth-
shaker." He is usually represented like Jupiter, of a serene and
majestic aspect, seated in a chariot made of shells and drawn by
dolphins and sea-horses, while the Tritons and the Nymphs gam-
bol about him.
Pluto is represented as the grim, stern ruler over hell. He is
also called Hades and Orcus. He has a throne of sulphur, from
beneath which flows the Rivers Lethe, or "Oblivion," Phleg-
ethon, Cocytus and Acheron. In one hand he holds his fork and
in the other the keys of hell, and beside him is the dog with
MYTHOLOGY. 487
three heads. He is described as being well qualified for his
position, being inexorable and deaf to supplications, and an ob-
ject of aversion and hatred to both gods and men. From his
realms there is no return, and all mankind, sooner or later, are
sure to be gathered into his kingdom.
As none of the goddesses would marry the stern and
gloomy god, he seized Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres, while
she was gathering flowers, and opened the earth and carried her
through into his dominion.
Mercury was the messenger and ambassador of the gods.
He was represented by wings on his hat, and sandals, and usually
carrying a wand, or staff", with two serpents twined around it.
He himself was a god of eloquence and the patron of orators,
merchants, thieves, robbers, travelers and shepherds.
Mars was the god of war. Sorrow and fear accompanied
him, disorder and discord in tattered garments go before him
and anger and clamor follow. He is of huge size and gigantic
strength, and his voice was louder than those of ten thousand
mortals.
Vulcan was the forger, and is generally represented at an
anvil in a short tunic, with a hammer in his right hand. He was
lame when he was born, and his mother, Juno, was so shocked
that she flung him headlong from the Mt. Olympos.
Apollo was the god of archery, prophecy and music, and
is usually seen with a harp in his hand and of beautiful figure.
Diana was the goddess of chase, and appears with a bow in
her hand and a quiver of arrows at her back, and on her side is
a hound. She devoted herself to perpetual celibacy, and her
chief joy was to speed like a Dorian maid over the hills, followed
by a train of n3'mphs in pursuit of the flying game.
Minerva is the goddess of wisdom and skill, and the teacher
m warfare. She has a serious and thoughtful countenance, a
spear in one hand and a shield in the other, while a helmet covers
her head. She is said to have sprung from the brains of Jupiter.
488 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Juno, the wife of Jupiter, was haughty, jealous and inexor-
able; a goddess of dignified and matronly air, often found with
a peacock at her feet.
Ceres is the goddess of grain and harvest. She is repre-
sented riding on a chariot drawn by dragons, and distributing
grain to the different regions of the earth. She holds in one hand
corn and wheat, in the other a lighted torch, and wears on her
head a garland of wheat heads.
After Pluto stole her daughter, Proserpine, she searched for
her throughout the whole world.
Vesta, the goddess of the household and domestic hearths,
is represented in a long-flowing robe, with a veil on her head, a
lamp in one hand, and a spear or javelin in the other. In her
temple at Rome, the sacred fire was guarded by six priestesses,
called the Vestal Virgins.
Among the lesser gods there were many, but the most com-
mon was Bacchus, who was the god of lust, wine, and the patron
of drunkenness and debauchery. He is represented as an effem-
inate young man, with long flowing hair. In one hand he holds
a goblet, in the other a bunch of grapes and a short dagger.
The Muses were goddesses who presided over music and
poetry, and all the liberal arts and sciences. They were nine
in number.
The Graces were three in number, and personified Splendor,
Joy and Pleasure. They were three beautiful sisters, standing
with their arms entwined.
The Fates were also three goddesses, who presided over the
destiny of mortals. The first was the staff of life, the second
spun the cord, and the third cut it off.
This is a brief outline of the origin and nature of the gods and
goddesses; and the legends are numerous, and some of them are
of exceeding interest and beauty, while others shock and disgust
us by the gross impossibilities and hideous deformities which they
MYTHOLOGICAL CHARACTERS.
489
reveal. We have concluded to give a direct translation of them
from the Greek, so that the reader may have them in the pure
original form, and thereby have not only the beauty and inter-
est retained, but at the same time an idea of the style of the
ancient writings; only a few stories have been modified to bring
them nearer to the level of the rest. We will, however, be
obliged to use the Greek names instead of the Latin in this
translation, as it is from the Greek, and will therefore give the
names translated below:
Greek.
Latin.
Greek.
Latin.
Zeus,
Jupiter.
Hephaistos,
Vulcan.
Here,
Juno.
Athene
Minerva.
Poseidon,
Neptune.
Ares,
Mars.
Plouton,
Pluto.
Aphrodite,
Venus.
Demeter,
Ceres.
Hermes,
Mercury.
Apollo,
Apolo.
Hestia,
Vesta.
Artemis,
Diana.
The most of the Greek people appear to have believed that
their divinities were real persons, but their philosophers explained
the legends concerning them as allegorical representations of
general physical and moral truths. The Greeks, therefore,
instead of favoring nature, worshiped the powers of nature per-
sonified.
THE DELPHIAN APOLLO.
From land to land the lady Leto wandered in fear and sor-
row, for no city or country would give her a home where she
might abide in peace. From Crete to Athens, from Athens to
^gina, from ^gina to the heights of Pelion and Athos, through
all the islands of the wide ^gaean Sea, Skyros and Imbros and
Lemnos, and Chios the fairest of all, she passed, seeking a home.
490
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
But in vain she prayed each land to receive her, until she came
to the Island of Delos, and promised to raise it to great glory if
only there she might rest in peace. And she lifted up her voice
and said, " Listen to me, O island of the dark sea. If thou wilt
o-rant me a home, all nations shall come unto thee, and great
wealth shall flow in upon thee; for here shall Phcebus Apollo,
the lord of light and life, be born, and men shall come hither to
know his will and win his favor." Then answered Delos, and
said, " Lady, thou promisest great things; but they say that the
power of Phoebus Apollo will be such as nothing on the wide
earth may withstand; and mine is but a poor and stony soil,
where there is little to please the eye of those who look upon
me. Wherefore I fear that he will despise my hard and barren
land, and go to some other country where he will build a more
glorious temple, and grant richer gifts to the people who come
to worship him." But Leto swore by the dark water of Styx,
and the wide heaven above, and the broad earth around her, that
in Delos should be the shrine of Phoebus, and that there should
the rich offerings burn on his altar the whole year round.
So Leto rested in the Island of Delos, and there was Phoebus
Apollo born. And there was joy among the undying gods who
dwell in Olympos, and the earth laughed beneath the smile of
heaven. Then was his temple built in Delos, and men came to
it from all lands to learn his will and oflfer rich sacrifices on his
altar.
THE PYTHIAJ^l APOLLO.
Long time Apollo abode in Delos ; and every 3^ear all the
children of Ion were gathered to the feast which was held before
his temple. But at length it came to pass that Apollo went
through many lands, journeying towards Pytho. With harp in
THE PYTHIAN APOLLO.
491
hand he drew nigh to the gates of Olympos, where Zeus and the
gods dwell in their glory; and straightway all rejoiced for the
sweetness of his harping. The Muses sang the undying gifts
of the gods, and the griefs and woes of mortal men who can not
flee from old age and death. The bright Horai joined hands
together with Hebe and Harmonia; and Ares stood by the side
of Aphrodite with Hermes the slayer of Argos, gazing on the
face of Phoebus Apollo, which glistened as with the light of the
new-risen sun. Then from Olympos he v/ent down into the
Pierian land, to lolkos and the Lelantian plain; but it pleased
him not there to build himself a home. Thence he wandered
on to Mykalessos, and, traversing the grassy plains of Teumes-
SOS, came to the sacred Thebes; but neither would he dwell
there, for no man had yet come hither, neither was there road
nor path, but only wild forests in all the land.
Further and further he roamed, across the stream of Kephi-
sos and beyond Okalea and Haliartos, until he came to Telphusa.
There he thought to build himself a temple, for the land was
rich and fair, so he said, " Beautiful
Telphusa, here would I rest in thy happy
vale, and here shall men come to ask my
will and seek for aid in the hour of fear;
and great glory shall come to thee while
I abide in thy land." But Telphusa was
moved with anger as she saw Phcebus
marking out the place for his shrine and
laying its foundations; and she spake
craftily to him, and said, " Listen to me,
Phcebus Apollo. Thou seekest here to
have a home, but here thou canst never
rest in peace; for my broad plain will
tempt men to the strife of battle, and the tramp of war-
horses shall vex the stillness of thy holy temple. Nay, even
JUPITER (Zeus).
492
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
in the time of peace, the lowing cattle shall come in crowds
to my fountain, and the tumult will grieve thine heart. But go
thou to Krisa, and make for thyself a home in the hidden clefts
of Parnassos, and thither shall men hasten with their gifts from
the utmost bounds of the earth." So Apollo believed her words,
and he went on through the land of the Phlegyes until he came to
Krisa. There he laid the foundations of his shrine in the deep
cleft of Parnassos ; and Trophonios and Agamedes, the children
of Erginos, raised the wall. There also he found the mighty
dragon who nursed Typhaon, the child of Here, and he smote
him, and said, " Rot there upon the ground, and vex not more
the children of men. The days of thy life are ended, neither
can Typhoeus himself aid thee now, nor Chimsera of the evil
name. But the earth and the burning sun shall consume and
scorch thy body." So the dragon died, and his body rotted on
the ground; wherefore the name of the place is called Pytho,
and they worship Phcebus Apollo as the great Pythian king.
But Phcebus knew now that Telphusa had deceived him,
because she said nothing of the great dragon of Krisa, or of the
roughness of the land. So he hastened back in his anger and
said, " Thou hast beguiled me, Telphusa, with thy crafty words;
but no more shall thy fountain send forth its sweet water, and
the glor}' shall be mine alone." Then Apollo hurled great crags
down and choked the stream near the beautiful fountain, and the
glory departed from Telphusa.
Then he thought within himself what men he should choose
to be his priests at Pytho; and far away, as he stood on the high
hill, he saw a ship sailing on the wine-faced sea, and the men
who were in it were Cretans, sailing from the land of King
Minos to barter their goods with the men of Pjdos. So Phcebus
leaped into the sea, and changed his form to the form of a dol-
phin, and hastened to meet the ship. None knew whence the
great fish came which smote the side of their vessel with its
PHCEBUS APOLLO.
493
mighty fins; but all marveled at the sight, as the dolphin
guided the ship through the dark waters, and they sat trembling
with fear, as they sped on without a sail by the force of the
strong south wind. From the headland of Malea and the land of
the Lakonians they passed to Helos and to Tsenaron where Helios
dwells, in whom the sons of men take delight, and where his cat-
tle feed in the rich pastures. There the sailors would have ended
their wanderings ; but they sought in vain to land, for the ship
would not obey its helm. Onward it went along the coast of
the Island of Pelops, for the mighty dolphin guided it. So from
Arene and Arguphea it came to the sandy Pylos, by Chalkis
and Dyme to the land of the Epeians, to Pherse and to Ithaka.
There the men saw spread out before them the waters which
wash the shores of Krisa; and the strong west wind came with
its fierce breath, and drove them off to the east and towards the
sunrising until they came to Krisa.
Then Phoebus Apollo came forth from the sea, like a star,
and the brightness of his glory reached up to the high heaven.
Into his shrine he hastened, and on the altar he kindled the undy-
ing fire, and his bright arrows were hurled abroad, till all Krisa
was filled with the blaze of his lightnings, so that fear came upon
all, and the cries of the women rose shrill on the sultry air. Then,
swift as a thought of the heart, he hastened back to the ship ; but
his form was now the form of a man in his beauty, and his golden
locks flowed over his broad shoulders. From the shore he called
out to the men in the Cretan ship, and said "Who are ye, stran-
gers ? and do ye come as thieves and robbers, bringing terror and
sorrow whithersoever ye may go.^ Why stay ye thus, tarrying
in your ships, and seek not to come out on the land ? Surely ye
must know that all who sail on the wide sea rejoice when their
ship comes to the shore, that they may come forth and feast with
the people of the land.^" So spake Phoebus Apollo; and the leader
of the Cretans took courage and said, "Stranger, sure I am that
494 - RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
thou art no mortal man, but one of the bright heroes or the undy-
insf gfods. Wherefore tell us now the name of this land and of the
people who dwell in it. Hither we never sought to come, for we
were sailing from the land of Minos to barter our wares at Pylos ;
but some one of the gods hath brought us hither against our
will."
Then spake the mighty Apollo, and said to them, " O, stran-
gers, who have dwelt in Knossos of the Cretan land, think not to
return to your ancient home, to 3''our wives or to 3'our children.
Here ye must guard and keep my shrine, and ye shall be honored
of all the children of men. For I am the son of Zeus, and my
name is Phcebus Apollo. It was I who brought you hither across
the wide sea, not in guile or anger, but that in all time to come
ye may have great power and glory, that ye may learn the coun-
sel of the undying gods and make known their will to men.
Hasten then to do my bidding; let down your sails, and bring
your ship to the shore. Then bring out your goods, and build
an altar on the beach, and kindle a fire, and offer white barley as
an offering; and because I led you hither under the form of a dol-
phin, so worship me as the Delphian god. Then eat bread and
drink wine, as much as your soul may lust after; and after that
come with me to the holy place, where ye shall guard my tem-
ple."
So they obeyed the words of Phoebus ; and when they had
offered the white barley, and feasted richly on the sea-shore, they
arose to go, and Apollo led them on their way. His harp was in
his hand, and he made sweet music, such as no mortal ear had
heard before ; and they raised the chant lo Paean, for a new power
was breathed into their hearts, as they went along. They thought
not now of toil or sorrow; but with feet unwearied they went up
the hill until they reached the clefts of Parnassos, where Phoebus
would have them dwell.
Then out spake the leader of the Cretans, and said, boldly,
PHCEBUS APOLLO.
495
*' O king, thou hast brought us far away from our homes to a
strange land; whence are we to get food here? No harvest will
grow on these bare rocks, no meadows are spread out before our
eyes. The whole land is bare and desolate." But the son of
Zeus smiled and said, " O foolish men, and easy to be cast down,
if ye had your wish ye would gain nothing but care and toil.
But listen to me and ponder well my words. Stretch forth
your hands and slay each day the rich offerings, for they
shall come to you with-
out stint and sparing,
seeing that the sons of
men shall hasten hither
from all lands, to learn
my will and ask for aid
in the hour of fear. Only
guard ye my temple
well, and keep your
hands clean and your
hearts pure; for if ye
deal rightly no man shall
take away your glory;
but if ye speak lies and
do iniquity, if 3^e hurt
the people who come to
my altar, and make
them to go astray, then
shall other men rise up
in your place, and ye
yourselves shall be ^^°^"°- i^rom an ancient Sculpture.)
thrust out forever, because ye would not obey my words."
496 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
NIOBE AND LCTO.
In the little Island of Delos there lived a long time ago a lady
who was called Niobe. She had many sons and many daughters,
and she was very proud of them, for she thought that in all the
Island of Delos, and even in all the world, there were no children
so beautiful as her own. And as they walked, and leaped, and
ran among the hills and valleys of that rocky island, all the peo-
ple looked at them, and said, "Surely there are no other children
like the children of the lady Niobe." And Niobe was so pleased
at hearing this, that she began to boast to every one how strong
and beautiful her sons and daughters were.
Now in this Island of Delos there lived also the lady named
Leto. She had only two children, and their names were Arte-
mis and Phoebus Apollo; but they were very strong and fair,
indeed. And whenever the lady Niobe saw them, she tried to
think that her own children were still more beautiful, although
she could hardly help feeling that she had never seen any so glo-
rious as Artemis and Apollo. So one day the lady Leto and the
lady Niobe were together, and their children were playing before
them; and Phcebus Apollo played on his golden harp, and then
he shot from his golden bow the arrows which never missed their
mark. But Niobe never thought of Apollo's bow, and the
arrows which he had in his quiver; and she began to boast to the
lady Leto of the beauty of her children, and said, "See, Leto;
look at my seven sons and my seven daughters, and see how
strong and fair they are. Apollo and Artemis are beautiful, I
know, but my children are fairer still; and you have only two
children while I have seven sons and seven daugfhters." So Niobe
went on boasting, and never thought whether she should make
Leto angry. But Leto said nothing until Niobe and her children
were gone, and then she called Apollo, and said to him, " I do not
NIOBE AND LETO. 497
love the lady Niobe. She is always boasting that her sons and
daughters are more beautiful than you and your sister ; and I wish
you to show her that no one else is so strong as my children, or
so beautiful." Then Phcebus Apollo was angry, and a dark frown
came upon his fair young face, and his eyes were like the flaming
fire. But he said nothing, and he took his golden bow in his
hand, and put his quiver with his terrible arrows across his
shoulder, and went away to the hills where he knew that the lady
Niobe and her children were. And when he saw them he went
and stood on a bare high rock, and stretched the string of his
golden bow, and took an arrow from his quiver. Then he held
out the bow, and drew the string to his breast, until the point of
the arrow touched the bow; and then he let the arrow fly.
Straight to its mark it went, and one of the lady Niobe's sons
fell dead. Then another arrow flew swiftly from the bow, and
another, and another, and another, till all the sons and all the
daughters of Niobe lay dead on the hillside. Then Apollo,
called out to Niobe, and said, " Go and boast now of your beauti-
ful children! "
It had all passed so quickly that Niobe scarcely knew
whether it was not a dream. She could not believe that her
children were really gone — all her sons and all her daughters,
whom she had just now seen so happy and strong around her.
But there they lay, still and cold, upon the ground. Their eyes
were closed as if they were asleep, and their faces had still a
happy smile, which made them look more beautiful than ever.
And Niobe went to them all one by one, and touched their cold
hands, and kissed their pale cheeks; and then she knew that the
arrows of Phoebus Apollo had killed them. Then she sat down
on a stone which was close to them, and the tears flowed from
her eyes, and they streamed down her face, as she sat there as
still as her children who lay dead before her. She never raised
her head to look at the blue sky — she never moved hand or foot,
32
498 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
but she sat weeping on the cold rock until she became as cold as
the rock itself. And still her tears flowed on, and still her body
grew colder and colder, until her heart beat no more, and the
lady Niobe was dead. But there she still seemed to sit and
weep, for her great grief had turned her into a stone ; and all the
people, whenever they came near that place, said, " See, there
sits the lady Niobe, who was turned into stone, when Phcebus
Apollo killed all her children^ because she boasted that no one
was so beautiful as they were." And long after, when the stone
was grown old and covered with moss, the people still thought
they could see the form of the lady Niobe; for the stone, which
did not look much like the form of a woman when they came
near to it, seemed at a distance just as though Niobe still sat
there, weeping for her beautiful children whom Phcebus Apollo
slew.
,Jft^^*"
DAPHNE.
In the vale of Tempe, where the stream of Peneios flows
beneath the heights of Olympos towards the sea, the beautiful
Daphne passed the days of her happy childhood. Fresh as the
earliest morning, she climbed the crags to greet the first rays of
the rising sun; and when he had driven his fiery horses over the
sky, she watched his chariot sink behind the western mountains.
Over hill and dale she roamed, free and light as the breeze of
spring. Other maidens round her spoke each of her love, but
Daphne cared not to listen to the voice of man, though many a
one sought her to be his wife.
One day as she stood on the slopes of Ossa in the glow of
early morning, she saw before her a glorious form. The light
of the new-risen sun fell on his face with a golden splendor, and
she knew that it was Phcebus Apollo. Hastily he ran towards
DAPHNE.
499
her, and said, " I have found thee, Child of the Morning. Others
thou hast cast aside, but from me thou canst not escape. I have
sought thee long, and now will I make thee mine." But the
heart of Daphne was bold and strong; and her cheek flushed and
her eye sparkled with anger, as she said, " I know neither love
nor bondage. I live free among the streams and hills; and to
none will I yield my freedom." Then the face of Apollo grew
dark with anger, and he drew near to seize the maiden; but swift
as the wind she fled away. Over hill and dale, over crag and
river, the feet of Daphne fell lightly as falling leaves in autumn;
but nearer 3^et came Phcebus Apollo, till at last the strength of
the maiden began to fail. Then she stretched out her hands, and
cried for help to the lady Demeter; but she came not to her aid.
Her head was dizzy, and her limbs trembled in utter feebleness
as she drew near the broad river which gladdens the plains of
Thessaly, till she almost felt the breath of Phcebus, and her robe
was almost in his grasp. Then, with a wild cry, she said,
"Father Peneios, receive thy child," and she rushed into the
stream, whose waters closed gently over her.
She was gone; Apollo mourned for his madness in chasing
thus the free maiden. And he said, " I have punished myself
by my folly; the light of the morning is taken out of the day.
I must go on alone till my journey shall draw towards its end."
Then he spake the word, and a laurel came up on the bank
where Daphne had plunged into the stream; and the green bush
with its thick clustering leaves keeps her name forever.
KYI^EJNE.
Among the valleys and hills of Thessaly, Kyrene, the fair-
armed daughter of Hypseus, wandered free as the deer upon
the mountain side. Of all the maidens of the land, there was
500 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
none to vie her in beauty; neither was there any that could be
matched with her for strength of arm and speed of foot. She
touched not the loom or the spindle; she cared not for banquets
with those who revel under houses. Her feasts were spread on
the green grass, beneath the branching tree; and with her spear
and dagger she went fearless among the beasts of the field, or
sought them out in their dens.
One day she was roaming along the winding banks of
Peneios, when a lion sprang from a thicket across her path.
Neither spear nor dagger was in her hand, but the heart of
Kyrene knew no fear, and she grappled with him until the beast
sank wearied at her feet. She had conquered, but not unseen,
for Phoebus Apollo had watched the maiden as she battled with
the angry lion; and straightway he called the wise centaur
Cheiron, who had taught him in the days of his youth. " Come
forth," he said, " from thy dark cave, and teach me once again,
for I have a question to ask thee. Look at 3'onder maiden, and
the beast which lies beaten at her feet; and tell me (for thou art
wise) whence she comes, and what name she bears. Who is
she, that thus she wanders in these lonely valleys without fear
and without hurt? Tell me if she may be wooed and won."
Then Cheiron looked steadfastly at the face of Phoebus, and a
smile passed over his countenance as he answered, " There are
hidden keys to unlock the prison-house of love; but why askest
thou me of the maiden's name and race — thou who knowest the
end of all things, and all the paths along which the sons of men
are journeying? Thou hast counted the leaves which burst forth
in the spring-time, and the grains of sand which the wind tosses
on the river bank, or b}' the sea shore. But if I must needs
match thee in suitable wisdom, then listen to my words. The
maiden is wooed and won already; and thou art going to bear
her as thy bride over the dark sea, and place her in golden halls
on the far-off Libyan land. There she shall have a home rich in
KYRENE. 501
every fruit that may grow up from the earth; and there shall
thy son Aristaios be born, on whose lips the bright Horai shall
shed nectar and ambrosia, so that he may not come under the
doom of mortal men."
Then Phoebus Apollo smiled as he answered, "Of a truth,
Cheiron, thou deservest thy fame, for there are none to match
with thee for wisdom ; and now I go with Kyrene to the land which
shall be called by her name, and where, in time to come, her
children shall build great and mighty cities, and their name shall
be spread abroad throughout all the earth for strength and
wisdom.
So the maiden Kyrene came to the Libyan land, and there
Aristaios, her child, was born. And Hermes carried the babe
to the bright Horai, who granted him an endless life; and he
dwelt in the broad Libyan plains, tending his flocks, and bringing
forth rich harvests from the earth. For him the bees wrought
their sweetest honey; for him the sheep gave their softest wool;
for him the cornfields waved with their fullest grain. No blight
touched the grapes which his hand had tended ; no sickness vexed
the herds which fed in his pastures. And they who dwelt in the
land said, " Strife and war bring no such gifts as these to the sons
of men; therefore let us live in peace."
HERMEg.
Early in the morning, long ago, in a cave of the great
Kyllenian hill, lay the new-born Hermes, the son of Zeus and
Maia. The cradle-clothes were scarcely stirred by his soft
breathing, while he slept as peacefully as the children of mortal
mothers. But the sun had not driven his fiery chariot half over
the heaven, when the babe arose from his sacred cradle and
^02 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Stepped forth from the dark cavern. Before the threshold a tor-
toise fed lazily on the grass; and when the child saw it he
laughed merrily. "Ah! this is luck, indeed," he said; "whence hast
thou come, pretty creature, with thy bright speckled shell ? Thou
art mine now, and I must take thee into my cave. It is better
to be under shelter than out of doors; and though there may be
some use in thee while thou livest, it will comfort thee to think
that thou wilt sing sweetly when thou art dead." So the child
Hermes took up his treasure in both arms, and carried it into the
cavern. There he took an iron probe, and pierced out the life
of the tortoise; and quick as thought, he drilled holes in its
shell, and fixed in them reed-canes. Then across the shell he
fastened a piece of ox-hide, and with seven sheep-gut cords he
finished the making of his lyre. Presently he struck it with
the bow, and a wave of sweet music swelled out upon the air.
Like the merry songs of youths and maidens, as they sport in
village feasts, rose the song of the child Hermes; and his eyes
laughed slyly as he sang of the loves of Zeus and Maia, and
how he himself was born of the mighty race of the gods.
Still he sang on, telling of all that he saw around him in the
home of the nymph, his mother, but all the while, as he sang,
his mind was pondering on other things; and when the song
was ended, he went forth from the cave, like a thief in the night,
on his wily errand.
The sun was hastening down the slope of heaven, with his
chariot and horses to the slow-rolling stream of Ocean, as Hermes
came to the shadowy hills of Pieria, where the cattle of the gods
fed in their large pastures. There he took fifty from the herd,
and made ready to drive them to the Kyllenian hill. But before
him lay vast plains of sand; and, therefore, lest the track of the
cattle should tell the tale of his thieving, he drove the beasts round
about by crooked paths, until it seemed as though they had gone
to the place from whence he had stolen them. He had taken
HERMES.
503
PLUTO AND HIS WIFE.
good care that his own footsteps should not betray him, for with
branches of tamarisk and myrtle, well twisted with their leaves,
he hastily made sandals, and sped away from Pieria. One man
alone saw him, a very old man,
who was working in his vineyard
on the sunny plain of Onchestos.
To him Hermes went quickly, and
said, "Old man, thou wilt have
plenty of wine when these roots
come all into bearing trim. Mean-
while keep a wise head on thy
crumpled shoulders, and take heed
not to remember more than may
be convenient." '
Onwards, over dark hills, and
through sounding dells, and across flowery plains, hastened the
child Hermes, driving his flock before him. The night waxed
and waned, and the moon had climbed to her watchtower in the
heaven, when, in the flush of early morning, Hermes reached the
banks of the great Alpheian stream. Then he turned his herd
to feed on the grassy plain, while he gathered logs of wood, and,
rubbing two sticks together, kindled the first flame that burned
upon the earth where dwell the sons of men. The smoke went
up to the heaven, and the flame crackled fiercely beneath it, as
Hermes brought forth two of the herd, and, tumbling them on
their back, pierced out the life of both. Their hides he placed on
the hard rock; their flesh he cut up into twelve portions; and so
Hermes hath the right of ordering all sacrifices which the children
of men offer to the undying gods. But he ate not of the flesh or
fat, although hunger sorely pressed him; and he burnt the bones
in the fire, and tossed his tamarisk sandals into the swift stream
of Alpheios. Then he quenched the fire, and with all his might
trampled down the ashes, until the pale moon rose up again in the
504 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
sky. So he sped on his way to Kyllene. Neither god nor man
saw him as he went, nor did the dogs bark. Early in the morn-
ing he reached his mother's cave, and darted through the keyhole
of the door, softly as a summer breeze. Without a sound his
little feet paced the stony floor, till he reached his cradle and lay
down, playing like a babe among the clothes with his left hand,
while the right held the tortoise-lyre hidden underneath them.
But, wily as he was, he could not cheat his mother. To his
cradle she came, and said, "Whither hast thou Wandered in the
dark night? Crafty rogue, mischief will be thy ruin. The son
of Leto will soon be here, and bear thee away Dound in chains
not easily shaken off". Out of my sight, little wretch, born to
worry the blessed gods and plague the race of men! " "Mother,"
said Hermes, gently, "why talk thus to me, as though I were like
mortal babes, a poor cowering thing, to cry for a little scolding?
I know thy interest and mine: why should we stay here in this
wretched cave, with never a gift nor a feast to cheer our hearts?
I shall not stay. It is pleasanter to banquet with the gods than
to dwell in a cavern in draughts of whistling wind. I shall try
my luck against Apollo, for I mean to be his peer; and if he will
not suffer me, and if Zeus, my father, take not up my cause, I
will see what I can do for myself, by going to the shrine of Pytho
and stealing thence the tripods and caldrons, the iron vessels and
glittering robes. If I may not have honor in Olympos, I can at
least be the prince of thieves."
Meanwhile, as they talked together, Eos rose up from the
deep ocean stream, and her tender light flushed across the sk}^
while Apollo hastened to Onchestos and the holy grove of Posei-
don. There the old man was at work in his vineyard, and to
him Phoebus went quickly, and said, " Friend hedger, I am come
from Pieria looking for my cows. Fifty of them have been
driven away, and the bull has been left behind with the four dogs
who guarded them. Tell me, old man, hast thou seen any one
HERMES. 505
with these cows, on the road?" But the old man said that it
would be a hard matter to tell of all that he might chance to see.
'' Many travelers journey on this road, some with evil thoughts,
some with good; I can not well remember all. This only I
know, that yesterday, from the rising of the sun to its setting, I
was digging in my vineyard, and I think, but I am not sure, that
I saw a child with a herd of cattle. A babe he was, and he held
a staff in his hand, and, as he went, he wandered strangely from
the path on either side."
Then Phoebus stayed not to hear more, for now he knew of a
surety that the new-born son of Zeus had done him the mischief.
Wrapped in a purple mist, he hastened to beautiful Pylos, and
came on the track of the cattle. " O Zeus!" he cried, " this is
indeed a marvel. I see the footprints of cattle, but they are
marked as though the cattle were going to the asphodel meadow,
not away from it. Of man or woman, of wolf, bear, or lion, ]
spy not a single trace. Only here and there I behold the foot-
prints of some strange monster, who has left his mark at random
on either side of the road." So on he sped to the woody heights
of Kyllene, and stood on the doorstep of Maia's cave. Straight-
way the child Hermes nestled under the cradle-clothes in fear,
like a new-born babe asleep. But, seeing through all his craft,
Phoebus looked steadily through all the cave and opened three
secret places full of the food and drink of the gods, and full also
of gold and silver and raiment ; but not a cow was in any of
them. At last he fixed his eyes sternly on the child, and said,
''Wily babe, where are my cows? If thou wilt not tell me,
there will be strife between us; and then I will hurl thee down
to the gloomy Tartaros, to the land of darkness, whence neither
thy father nor thy mother can bring thee back, and where
thy kingdom shall be only over the ghosts of men." "Ah!"
said Hermes, " these are dreadful words, indeed; but why dost
thou chide me thus, or come here to look for cows? I have not
frrvrrrrfn crrrrr)
5o6 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
seen or heard of them, nor has any one told me of them. I can
not tell where they are, or get the reward, if any were promised,
for discovering them. This is no work of mine; what do I care for
but for sleeping and sucking, and playing with my cradle-clothes,
and being washed in warm water? My friend, it will be much
better that no one should hear of such a silly quarrel. The
undying gods would laugh at the very thought of a little babe
leaving its cradle to run after cows. I was born but yesterday.
My feet are soft, and the ground is hard. But if it be any com-
fort to thee, I will swear by my father's head (and that is a very
great oath) that I have not done this deed, nor seen any one else
steal your cows, and that I do not know what cows are."
As he spoke he looked stealthily from one side to the other,
while his eyes winked slyl}', and he made a long soft whistling
sound, as if the words of Phcebus had amused him mightily.
" Well, friend," said Apollo, with a smile, " thou wilt break into
many a house, I see, and thy followers after thee; and thy fancy
for beef will set many a herdsman grieving. But come down
from the cradle, or this sleep will be thy last. Only this honor can
I promise thee, to be called the prince of thieves forever." So
without more ado Phoebus caught up the babe in his arms; but
Hermes gave so mighty a sneeze that he quickly let him fall,
and Phcebus said to him, gravely, " This is the sign that I shall
find my cows; show me, then, the way." In great fear Hermes
started up and pulled the cradle-clothes over his ears, as he said,
" Cruel god, what dost thou seek to do with me.^ Why worry
me thus about cows? I would there were not a cow in all the
earth. I stole them not, nor have I seen any one steal the cows,
whatever things cows may be. I know nothing but their name.
But come; Zeus must decide the quarrel between us."
Thus each with his own purpose spake to the other, and
their minds grew all the darker, for Phcebus sought only to know
where his cows might be, while Hermes strove only to cheat
HERMES.
507
him. So they went quickly and sulkily on, the babe first, and
PhcEbus following after him, till they came to the heights of
Olympos and the home of the mighty Zeus. There Zeus sat on
the throne of judgment, and all the undying gods stood around
him. Before them in the midst stood Phcebus and the child
Hermes, and Zeus said, " Thou hast brought a fine booty after
thy hunt to-day, Phcebus — a child of a day old. A fine matter
is this to put before the gods."
*' My father," said Apollo, quickly, " I have a tale to tell
which will show that I am not the only plunderer. After a
weary search I found this babe in the cave of Kyllene; and a
thief he is such as I have never seen whether among gods or
men. Yester eve he stole my cattle from the meadow, and
drove them straight towards Pylos to the shore of the sounding
sea. The tracks left were such that gods and men might well
marvel at them. The footprints of the cows on the sand were
as though they were going to my meadows, and not away from
them; his own footmarks beggar all words, as if he had gone
neither on his feet nor on his hands, and as if the oak tops had
suddenly taken to walking. So was it on the sandy soil; and
after this was passed, there remained no marks at all. But an
old man saw him driving them on the road to Pylos. There he
shut up the cattle at his leisure, and, going to his mother's cave,
lay down in his cradle like a spark in a mass of cinders, which
an eagle could scarcely spy out. When I taxed him with the
theft he boldly denied it, and told me that he had not seen the
cows or heard naught of them, and could not get the reward if
one were offered for restoring them."
So the words of Phcebus were ended, and the child Hermes
made obeisance to Zeus, the lord of all the gods, and said,
" Father Zeus, I shall tell thee the truth, for I am a very truth-
ful being, and I know not how to tell a lie. This morning, when
the sun was but newly risen, Phcebus came to my mother's cave,
5o8 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
looking for cows. He brought no witnesses ; but urged me by
force to confess; he threatened to hurl me into the abyss of Tar-
taros. Yet he has all the strength of early manhood, while I, as
he knows, was born but yesterday, and am not in the least like
a cattle-reiver. Believe me (by thy love for me, thy child) that
I have not brought these cows home, or passed beyond my
mother's threshold. This is strict truth. Nay, by Helios and
the other gods, I swear that I love thee and have respect for
Phcebus. Thou knowest that I am guiltless, and, if thou wilt, I
will also swear it. But, spite of all his strength, I will avenge
myself some day on Phoebus for his unkindness; and then help
thou the weaker."
So spake Hermes, winking his eyes and holding the clothes
to his shoulders ; and Zeus laughed aloud at the wiliness of the
babe, and bade Phoebus and the child be friends. Then he bowed
his head and charged Hermes to show the spot where he had
hidden the cattle, and the child obeyed, for none may despise that
sign and live. To Pylos they hastened and to the broad stream
of Alpheios, and from the fold Hermes drove forth the cattle.
But as he stood apart, Apollo beheld the hides flung on the rock,
and he asked Hermes, " How wast thou able, cunning rogue, to
flay two cows, thou a child but one day old ? I fear thy might in
time to come, and I can not let thee live." Again he seized the
child, and bound him fast with willow bands; but the child tore
them from his body like flax, so that Phoebus marveled greatly.
In vain Hermes sought a place wherein to hide himself, and great
fear came upon him till he thought of his tortoise-lyre. With
his bow he touched the strings, and the wave of song swelled out
upon the air more full and sweet than ever. He sang of the un-
dying gods and the dark earth, how it was made at the first, and
how to each of the gods his own appointed portion was given,
till the heart of Apollo was filled with a mighty longing, and he
spake to Hermes, and said, " Cattle-reiver, wily rogue, thy song
HERMES.
509
is worth fifty head of cattle. We will settle our strife by and
by. Meanwhile, tell me, was this wondrous gift of song born
with thee, or hast thou it as a gift from any god or mortal man.''
Never on Olympos, from those who can not die, have I heard such
strains as these. They who hear thee may have what they will,
be it mirth, or love, or sleep. Great is thy power, and great
shall be thy renown, and by my cornel staff I swear that I will
not stand in the way of thy honor or deceive thee in anywise."
Then said Hermes, "I grudge thee not my skill, son of
Leto, for I seek but thy friendship. Yet thy gifts from Zeus are
great. Thou knowest his mind, thou canst declare his will, and
reveal what is stored up in time to come for undying gods or
mortal men. This knowledge I fain would have. But my power
of song shall this day be thine. Take my lyre, the soother of
the wearied, the sweet companion in hours of sorrow or of
feasting. To those who come skilled in its language, it can dis-
co'.irse sweetly of all things, and drive away all thoughts that
annoy and cares that vex the soul. To those who touch it, not
knowing how to draw forth its speech, it will babble strange
nonsense, and rave with uncertain moanings. But thy knowledge
is born with thee, and so my lyre is thine. Wherefore now let
us feed the herds together, and with our care they shall thrive
and multiply. There is no more cause for anger."
So saying the babe held out the lyre, and Phoebus Apollo
took it. In his turn he gave to the child Hermes a glittering
scourge, with charge over his flocks and herds. Then, touching
the chords of the lyre, he filled the air with sweet music, and
they both took their way to Olympos, and Zeus was glad at
heart to see that the wrath of Apollo had passed away. But
Phoebus dreaded yet the wiles of Hermes, and said, " I fear me
much, child of Maia, that in time to come thou mayest steal both
my harp and my bow, and take away my honor among men.
Come now, and swear to me by the dark water of Styx
5IO RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
that thou wilt never do me wrong." Then Hermes bowed his
head, and swore never to steal anything from Apollo, and never
to lay hands on his holy shrine; and Phoebus swore that of all
the undying gods there should be none so dear to him as Hermes.
" And of this love," he said, "I will give thee a pledge. My
golden rod shall guard thee, and teach thee all that Zeus may
say to me for the well or ill-doing of gods or men. But the
higher knowledge for which thou didst pray may not be thine;
for that is hidden in the mind of Zeus, and I have sworn a great
oath that none shall learn it from me. But the man who comes
to me with true signs, I will never deceive; and he who puts
trust in false omens and then comes to inquire at my shrine, shall
be answered according to his folly, but his offering shall go into
my treasure-house. Yet further, son of Maia, in the clefts of
Parnassos far away dwell the winged Thriai, who taught me long
ago the secret things of times to come. Go thou, then, to the
three sisters, and thus shalt thou test them. If they have eaten
of the honeycomb before they speak, they will answer thee truly;
but if they lack the sweet food of the gods, they will seek to lead
astray those who come to them. These I give thee for thy
counselors; only follow them warily; and have thou dominion
over all flocks and herds, and over all living things that feed on
the wide earth ; and be thou the guide to lead the souls of mortal
men to the dark kingdom of Hades."
So was the love of Apollo for Hermes made sure; and
Hermes hath his place amongst all the deathless gods and dying
men. Nevertheless, the sons of men have from him no great
gain, for all night long he vexes them with his treacherous wiles.
THE pORROVy OF DEMETER.
In the fields of Enna, in the happy Island of Sicily, the beau-
tiful Persephone was playing with the girls who lived there with
THE SORROW OF DEMETER. 5II
her. She was the daughter of the lady Demeter, and every one
loved them both, for Demeter was good and kind to all, and no
one could be more gentle and merry than Persephone. She and
her companions were gathering flowers from the field, to make
crowns for their long flowing hair. They had picked many roses
and lilies and hyacinths, which grew in clusters around them,
when Persephone thought she saw a splendid flower far ofl"; and
away she ran, as fast as she could, to get it. It was a beautiful
narcissus, with a hundred heads springing from one stem; and
the perfume which came from its flowers gladdened the broad
heaven above, and the earth and sea around it. Eagerly Perse-
phone stretched out her hand to take this splendid prize, when
the earth opened, and a chariot stood before her, drawn by four
coal-black horses ; and in the chariot there was a man with a dark
and solemn face, which looked as though he could never smile,
and as though he had never been happy. In a moment he got
out of his chariot, seized Persephone round the waist, and put
her on the seat by his side. Then he touched the horses with
his whip, and they drew the chariot down into the great gulf,
and the earth closed over them again.
Presently the girls who had been playing with Persephone
came up to the place where the beautiful narcissus was growing;
but they could not see her anywhere. And they said, " Here is
the very flower which she ran to pick, and there is no place here
where she can be hiding." Still for a long time they searched
through the fields of Enna ; and when the evening was come the}'
went home to tell the lady Demeter that they could not tell what
had become of Persephone.
Very terrible was the sorrow of Demeter when she was
told that her child was lost. She put a dark robe on her shoul-
ders, and took a flaming torch in her hand, and went over land
and sea to look for Persephone. But no one could tell her
where she was gone. When ten days were passed she met
512
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Hekate, and asked her about her child; but Hekate said, "I
heard her voice, as she cried out when some one seized her; but
I did not see it with my eyes, and so I know not where she is
CERKS (or Demeter, from Pompeii Wall Painting).
gone." Then she went to Helios, and said to him, " O Helios,,
tell me about my child. Thou seest everything on the earth,
sitting in the bright sun." Then Helios said to Demeter, " I
pity thee for thy great sorrow, and I will tell thee the truth. It
THE SORROW OF DEMETER. 513
is Hades who has taken away Persephone to be his wife in the
dark and gloomy land which lies beneath the earth."
Then the rage of Demeter was m-ore terrible than her sor-
row had been; and she would not stay in the palace of Zeus, on
the great Thessalian hill, because it was Zeus who had allowed
Hades to take away Persephone. So she went down from
Olympos, and wandered on a long way until she came to Eleu-
sis, just as the sun was going down into his golden cup behind
the dark blue hills. There Demeter sat down close to a foun-
tain, where the water bubbled out from the green turf and fell
into a clear basin, over which some dark olive trees spread their
branches. Just then the daughters of Keleos, the king of Eleu-
sis, came to the fountain with pitchers on their heads to draw
water; and when they saw Demeter, they knew from her face
that she must have some great grief; and they spoke kindly to
her, and asked if they could do anything to help her. Then she
told them how she had lost and was searching for her child; and
they said, " Come home and live with us; and our father and
mother will give you everything that you can want, and do all
that they can to soothe your sorrow." So Demeter went down
to the house of Keleos, and she stayed there for a whole year.
And all this time, although the daughters of Keleos were very
gentle and kind to her, she went on mourning and weeping for
Persephone. She never laughed or smiled, and scarcely ever
did she speak to any one, because of her great grief. And even
the earth, and the things which grow on the earth, mourned for
the sorrow which had come upon Demeter. There was no fruit
upon the trees, no corn came up in the fields, and no flowers
blossomed in the gardens. And Zeus looked down from his
high Thessalian hill, and saw that everything must die unless he
could soothe the grief and anger of Demeter. So he sent
Hermes down to Hades, the dark and stern king, to bid him
send Persephone to see her mother, Demeter. But before Hades
514
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
let her go he gave her a pomegranate to eat, because he did not
wish her to stay away from him always, and he knew that she
must come back if she tasted but one of his pomegranate seeds.
Then the great chariot was brought before the door of ^he
palace, and Hermes touched with his whip the coal-black horses,
and away they went as swiftly as the wind, until they came close
to Eleusis. Then Hermes left Persephone, and the coal-black
horses drew the chariot away again to the dark home of King
Hades.
The sun was sinking down in the sky when Hermes left
Persephone, and as she came near to the fountain she saw some
one sitting near it in a long black robe, and she knew that it
must be her mother who still wept and mourned for her child.
And as Demeter heard the rustling of her dress, she lifted up
her face, and Persephone stood before her.
Then the joy of Demeter was greater, as she clasped her
daughter to her breast, than her grief and her sorrow had been.
Again and again she held Persephone in her arms, and asked her
about all that had happened to her. And she said, " Now that
you are come back to me, I shall never let you go away again;
Hades shall not have my child to live with him in his dreary
kingdom." But Persephone said, " It may not be so, my
mother; 1 can not stay with you always; for before Hermes
brought me away to see you. Hades gave me a pomegranate,
and I have eaten some of the seeds; and after tasting the seed I
must go back to him again when six months have passed by.
And, indeed, I am not afraid to go, for although Hades never
smiles or laughs, and everything in his palace is dark and
gloomy, still he is very kind to me, and I think that he feels
almost happy since I have been his wife. But do not be sorry,
my mother, for he has promised to let me come up and stay with
you for six months in every year, and the other six months I
must spend with him in the land which lies beneath the earth."
THE SORROW OF DEMETER. C^l^
So Demeter was comforted for her daughter Persephone,
and the earth and all the things that grew in it felt that her
anger and sorrow had passed away. Once more the trees bore
their fruits, the flowers spread out their sweet blossoms in the
garden, and the golden corn waved like the sea under the soft
summer breeze. So the six months passed happily away, and
then Hermes came with his coal-black horses to take Persephone
to the dark land. And she said to her mother, " Do not weep
much ; the gloomy king whose wife I am is so kind to me that I
can not be really unhappy, and in six months more he will let
me come to you again." But still, whenever the time came
round for Persephone to go back to Hades, Demeter thought of
the happy days when her child was a merry girl playing with
her companions and gathering the bright flowers in the beautiful
plains of Enna.
THE gLEEP OP ENDYMIOJN.
One beautiful evening, when the sun was sinking down irj
the West, Selene was wandering on the banks of the River
Meander; and she thought that of all the places which she had
ever seen there was none more lovely than the quiet valley
through which that genile river was flowing. On her right
hand rose a hill, whose sides were covered with trees and
flowers, where the vine clambered over the elm, and the purple
grapes shone out from amongst the dark leaves. Then Selene
asked some people who were passing by to tell her the name of
the hill, and they told her that it was called the hill of Latmos.
On she went, under the tall trees, whose branches waved over
her in the clear evening light, till at last she reached the top, and
looked down on the valley which lay beneath her. Then Selene
was indeed astonished, for she had never seen anything so beau-
Si6
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY
tiful before, even in a dream. She had fancied that nothing
could be more lovely than the vale of the Meander, and now she
saw something far more beautiful than the rocks and stones and
clear bright water of that winding river. It was a small valley,
at the bottom of which a lake shone like silver in the light of the
setting sun. All around it beautiful trees covered the sloping
banks; and their long branches drooped down over the water.
Not a breath of wind was
stirring the dark leaves — not
a bird was flying in the air.
Only the large green dragon-
fly floated lazily on the lake,
while the swan lay half asleep
on the silvery waters. On
one side, in the loveliest cor-
ner of the valley, there was a
marble temple, whose pillars
shone like the white snow;
and, leading down to the lake,
there were steps of marble,
over which the palm trees
spread their branches, and
everywhere were clusters of
all beautiful flowers, amongst
JUNO {or Here). which mosses, and ferns, and
the green ivy were tangled. There was the white narcissus
and the purple tulip — the dark hyacinth and the soft red rose.
But more beautiful than all the trees and flowers, a man lay
sleeping on the marble steps of the temple. It was Endymion,
who lived in this quiet valley, where the storms never came, and
where the dark rain-clouds never covered the sides of the moun-
tain. There he lay in the still evening hour; and at first Selene
thought that it could scarcely be a living man whom she saw, for
THE SLEEP OF ENDYMION. 517
he la}^ as still as if he were made of marble himself And as
she looked upon him, Selene drew in her breath for wonder; and
she went gently down" the valley till she came to the steps where
Endymion lay asleep. Presently the sun sank behind the hill,
and the rich glow of the evening made the silvery lake gleam
like gold; and Endymion awoke and saw Selene standing near
him. Then Selene said, " I am wandering over the earth; and
I may not stay here. Come away, and I will show you larger
lakes and more glorious valleys than these." But Endymion
said, " Lady, I can not go. There may be lakes which are
larger, and valleys more splendid than this, but I love this still
and quiet place, where the storms never come, and the sky is
never black with clouds. You must not ask me to leave the
cool shade of these sleeping trees, and the myrtles and roses
which twine under the tall elms, and these waters, where the
swans rest in the hot hours of the day and the dragon-fly spreads
his green and golden wings to the sun."
Many times did Selene ask him, but Endymion would not
leave his pleasant home; and at last she said, " I can stay no
more, but if you will not come with me, then you shall sleep on
these marble steps and never wake up again." So Selene left
him, and presently a deep sleep came over Endymion, and his
hands dropped down by his side, and he lay without moving on
the steps of the temple, while the evening breeze began to stir
gently the broad leaves of the palm trees, and the lilies which
bowed their heads over the calm water. There he lay all
through the still and happy night; and there he lay when the
sun rose up from the. sea, and mounted up with its fiery horses
into the sky. There was a charm now on this beautiful valley,
which made the breeze more gentle and the lake more still than
ever. The green dragon-flies came floating lazily in the air near
Endymion, but he never opened his eyes; and the swans looked
up from the lake, to see if he was coming to feed them; but he
5l8 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
stirred not in his deep and dreamless sleep. There he lay day
and night, for weeks, and months, and years; and many times,
when the sun went down into the sea, Selene came and stood on
the Latmian hill, and watched Endymion as he lay asleep on the
marble steps beneath the drooping palm trees; and she said, " I
have punished him because he would not leave his home; and
Endymion sleeps forever in the land of Latmos."
PHACTHON.
In the golden house which Hephaistos had wrought for him
with his wondrous skill, Helios saw nothing fairer than his son
Phaethon; and he said to his mother, Klymene, that no mortal
child might be matched with him for beauty. And Phaethon
heard the words, and his heart was filled with an evil pride. So
he stood before the throne of Helios, and said, " O father, who
dwellest in the dazzling light, they say that I am thy child; but
how shall I know it while I live in thy house without name and
glory .^ Give me a token, that men may know me to be thy
son." Then Helios bade him speak, and swear to grant his
prayer; and Phaethon said, " I will guide thy chariot for one day
through the his^h heaven; bid the Horai make ready the horses
for me, when Eos spreads her quivering light in the sky." But
the heart of Helios was filled with fear, and he besought his son
with many tears to call back his words. " O Phaethon, bright
child of Klymene, for all thy beauty thou art mortal still; and
the horses of Helios obey no earthl}^ master." But Phaethon
barkened not to his words, and hastened away to the dwelling of
the Horai, who guard the fiery horses. "Make ready for me,"
he said, " the chariot of Helios, for this day I go through the
high heaven in the stead of my father."
The fair-haired Eos spread her faint light in the pale sky,
PHAETHON.
519
and Lampetie was driving the cattle of Helios to their bright
pastures, when the Horai brought forth his horses and harnessed
them to the fiery chariot. With eager' hand Phaethon seized the
reins, and the horses sped upon their way up the heights of the
blue heaven, until the heart of Phaethon was full of fear and the
reins quivered in his grasp. Wildl}' and more madly sped the
steeds, till at last they hurried from the track which led to the
Hesperian land. Down from their path they plunged, and drew
near to the broad plains of earth. Fiercer and fiercer flashed
the scorching flames ; the trees bowed down their withered heads ;
the green grass shriveled on the hillsides; the rivers vanished
from their slimy beds, and the black vapors rose with smoke
and fire from the hidden depths of the mighty hills. Then in
every land the sons of men lay dying on the scorched and gaping
ground. They looked up to the yellow sky, but the clouds came
not; they sought the rivers and fountains, but no water glistened
on their seething beds; and young and old, all lay down in mad-
ness of heart to sleep the sleep of death.
So sped the horses of Helios on their fiery wanderings, and
Zeus looked down from his Thessalian hill and saw that all living
things on the earth must die unless Phaethon should be smitten
down from his father's chariot. Then the mighty thunders woke
in the hot sky which mourned for the clouds that were dead;
and the streams of lightning rushed forth upon Phaethon, and
bore him from the blazing heaven far down beneath the waters
of the green sea.
But his sisters wept sore for the death of the bright Phaethon,
and the daughters of Hesperos built his tomb on the sea-shore,
that all men might remember the name of the son of Helios and
say, " Phaethon fell from his father's chariot, but he lost not his
glory, for his heart was set upon great things."
520
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
BF(IAI^EOp.
There was strife in the halls of Olympos, for Zeus had con-
quered the ancient gods, and sat on the throne of his father
Kronos. In his hand he held the thunderbolts; the lightning
slumbered at his feet, and around him all the gods trembled for
the greatness of his power. For he laid hard tasks on all, and
spoke hard words, and he thought to rule harshly over the gods
who dwell on the earth and
in the broad sea. All the day
long Hermes toiled on weary
errands to do his will; for
Zeus sought to crush all
alike, and remembered not
the time when he, too, was
weak and powerless.
Then were there secret
whisperings, as the gods of
earth and sea took counsel
together; and Poseidon, the
lord of the dark waters,
spoke in fierce anger, and
said, " Hearken to me, Here
.and Athene, and let us rise
up against Zeus, and teach
him that he has not power
over all. See how he bears
DIANA (or Artemis). himself in his new majesty
— how he thinks not of the aid which we gave him in the war
with his father Kronos — how he has smitten down even the
mightiest of his friends. For Prometheus, who gave fire to
mortal men and saved them from biting cold and gnawing
BRIAREOS.
521
hunger, lies chained on the crags of Caucasus; and if he shrink
not to bind the Titan, see that he smite not thee also in his
wrath, O lady Here." And Athene said, " The wisdom of Zeus
is departed from him, and all his deeds are done now in craft and
falsehood; let us bind him fast, lest all the heaven and earth be
filled with strife and war." So they vowed a vow that they
would no more bear the tyranny of Zeus ; and Hephaistos forged
strong chains at their bidding to cast around him when sleep lay
heavy on his eyelids.
But Thetis heard the words of Poseidon and Athene, as she
sat beneath the waters in her coral cave, and she rose up like a
white mist from the sea, and knelt before the throne of Zeus.
Then she clasped her arms round his knees, and said, " O Zeus,
the gods tremble at thy might, but they love not thy hard words,
and they say that thy wisdom hath departed from thee, and that
thou doest all things in craft and falsehood. Hearken to me, O
Zeus, for Hephaistos hath forged the chain and the lady Here,
and Poseidon, the lord of the sea, and the pure Athene have
vowed a vow to bind thee fast when sleep lies heavy on thine
eyes. Let me therefore go, that I may bring Briareos to aid thee
with his hundred hands, and when he sits by thy side, then shalt
thou need no more to fear the wrath of Here and Poseidon.
And when the peril is past, then, O Zeus, remember that thou
must rule gently and justly, for that power shall not stand which
fights with truth and love; and forget not those who aid thee, nor
reward them as thou hast rewarded Prometheus on the crags of
Caucasus, for it may be that, in time to come, I may ask a boon
from thee for Achilleus, my child, who dwells now in the house
of his father, Peleus; and when that hour shall come, then call to
mind how in time past I saved thee from the chains of Hepha-
istos." /
Then Zeus spoke gently, and said, " Hasten, Thetis, and
bring hither the mighty Briareos, that he may guard me with his
522 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
hundred hands, and fear not for the words that thou hast spoken,
for Zeus will not cast aside good counsel, and the gods shall hate
me no more for hard and unkindly words."
So from the depths of the inmost earth Thetis summoned
Briareos to the aid of Zeus, and presently his giant form was
seen in the hall of Olympos, and the gods trembled as he sat
down by the side of Zeus, exulting in the greatness of his
strength. And Zeus spoke, and said, " Hearken to me, O lady
Here, and Poseidon, and Athene. I know your counsels, and
how ye purposed to bind me for my evil deeds; but fear not.
Only do my bidding in time to come, and ye shall no more have
cause to say that Zeus is a hard and cruel master."
DIONYgOg.
In the dark land beneath the earth, where wander the
ghosts of men, lay Semele, the daughter of Kadmos, while her
child Dionysos grew up full of strength and beauty on the flowery
plain of Orchomenos. But the wrath of the lady Here still
burned alike against the mother and the child. No pity felt
she for the helpless maiden whom the fiery lightning of Zeus
had slain; and so in the prison-house of Hades Semele mourned
for the love which she had lost, waiting till her child should lead
her forth to the banquet of the gods. But for him the wiles of
Here boded long toil and grievous peril. On the land and on
the sea strange things befel him; but from all dangers his own
strong arm and the love of Zeus, his father, rescued him. Thus
throughout the land men spake of his beauty and his strength,
and said that he was worthy to be the child of the maiden who
had dared to look on the majesty of Zeus. At length the days
of his youth were ended, and a great yearning filled his heart
DIONYSOS. 523
to wander through the earth and behold the cities and the ways
of men. So from Orchomenos Dionysos journeyed to the sea-
shore, and he stood on a jutting rock to gaze on the tumbhng
waters. The glad music of the waves fell upon his ear and
filled his soul with a wild joy. His dark locks streamed glori-
ously over his shoulders, and his purple robe rustled in the soft
summer breeze. Before him on the blue waters the ships danced
merrily in the sparkling sunlight, as they hastened from shore to
shore on the errands of war and peace. Presently a ship drew
near to the beach. Her white sail was lowered hastily to the
deck, and five of her crew leaped out and plunged through the
sea-foam to the shore, near the rock on which stood Dionysos.
" Come with us," they said, with rough voices, as they seized
him in their brawny arms;, "it is not every day that Tyrrhenian
mariners fall in with youths like thee." With rude jests they
dragged him into the ship, and there made ready to bind
him. " A brave youth and fair he is," they said; " we shall not
lack bidders when we put forth our goods for sale." So round
his limbs they fastened stout withy bands, but they fell from off
him as withered leaves fall from off trees in autumn, and a care-
less smile played on his face as he sat down and looked calmly
on the robbers who stood before him. Then on a sudden the
voice of the helmsman was heard, as he shouted, " Fools, what
do ye.'' The wrath of Zeus is hurrying you to your doom. This
youth is not of mortal race ; and who can tell which of the undy-
ing gods has put on this beautiful form? Send him straightway
from the ship in peace, if ye fear not a deadly storm as we cross
the open sea." Loud laughed the crew, as their chief answered,
jeeringly, " Look out for the breeze, wise helmsman, and draw
up the sail to the -wind. That is more thy task than to busy
thyself with our doings. Fear not for the boy. The withy
bands were but weak ; it is no great marvel that he shook them
off. He shall go with us, and before we reach Egypt or Cyprus
524 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
or the land of the Hyperboreans, doubtless he will tell us his
name and the name of his father and mother. Fear not, we
have found a godsend."
So the sail was drawn up to the mast, and it swelled
proudly before the breeze as the ship dashed through the crested
waves. And still the sun shone brightly down on the water,
and the soft white clouds floated lazily in the heavens, as the
mighty Dionysos began to show signs and wonders before the
robbers who had seized him. Over the deck ran a stream of
purple wine, and a fragrance as of a heavenly banquet filled the
air. Over mast and sailyard clambered the clustering vine, and
dark masses of grapes hung from the branches. The ivy twined
in tangled masses round the tackling, and bright garlands shone,
like jeweled crowns, on every oar-pin. Then a great terror fell
on all, as they cried to the old helmsman, " Quick, turn the ship
to the shore; there is no hope for us here." But there followed
a mightier wonder still. A loud roar broke upon the air, and a
tawny lion stood before them, with a grim and grizzly bear by
his side. Cowering like pitiful slaves, the Tyrrhenians crowded
to the stern, and crouched round the good helmsman. Then the
lion sprang and seized the chief, and the men leaped in their
agony over the ship's side. But the power of Dionysos followed
them still; and a change came over their bodies as they heard a
voice, which said, " In the form of dolphins shall ye wander
through the sea for many generations. No rest shall ye have
by night or by day, while ye fly from the ravenous sharks that
shall chase you through the seas."
But before the old helmsman again stood Dionysos, the
young and fair, in all the glory of undying beauty. Again his
dark locks flowed gently over his shoulders, and the purple
robe rustled softly in the breeze. " Fear not," he said, " good
friend and true, because thou hast aided one who is sprung from
the deathless race of the gods. I am Dionysos, the child of
DIONYSOS.
525
Zeus, the lord of the wine-cup and the revel. Thou hast stood
by me in the hour of peril; wherefore my power shall shield
thee from the violence of evil men and soothe thee in a green
old age, till thine eyes close in the sleep of death and thou goest
forth to dwell among brave heroes and good men in the as-
phodel meadows of Elysium.''
Then at the bidding of Dionysos, the north wind came and
wafted the ship to the land of Egypt, where Proteus was King.
And so began the long wanderings of the son of Semele, through
the regions of the Ethiopians and the Indians, towards the rising
of the sun. Whithersoever he went, the women of the land
gathered round him with wild cries and songs, and he showed
them of his secret things, punishing grievously all who set at
naught the laws which he ordained. So, at his word, Lykurgos,
the Edonian chieftan, was slain by his people, and none dared
any more to speak against Dionysos, until he came back to the
city where Semele, his mother, had been smitten b}' the light-
nings of Zeus.
PENTHEUg.
For many years Dionysos wandered far away from the land
of his birth; and wherever he went he taught the people of the
country to worship him as a god, and showed them strange rites.
Far Jvvay he roamed, to the regions where the Ganges rolls his
mighty stream into the Indian Sea, and where the Nile brings
every year rich gifts from the southern mountains. And in all
the lands to which he came he made the women gather round
him and honor him with wild cries and screams and marvelous
customs such as they had never known before. As he went
onwards the face of the land was changed. The women grouped
themselves in companies far away from the sight of men, and,
526
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
high up on the barren hills or down in the narrow valleys, with
wild movements and fierce shoutings, paid honor to Dionysos,
the lord of the wine-cup and the feast. At length, through the
Thracian highlands and the soft plains of Thessaly, Dionysos
came back to Thebes, where he had been born amid the roar
of the thunder and the blaze of the fiery lightning. Kadmos,
the King, who had built the city, was now old and weak, and he
had made Pentheus, the child of his daughter Agave, King in his
stead. So Pentheus sought to rule the people well, as his father
Kadmos had done, and to train them in the old laws, that they
might be quiet in the days of peace, and orderly and brave in
war.
Thus it came to pass that when Dionysos came near to
Thebes, and commanded all the people to receive the new rites,
which he sought to teach them, it grieved Pentheus at
the heart; and when he saw how the women seemed smitten
with madness, and that they
wandered away in groups to
desert places, where they lurked
for many days and nights, far
from the sight of men, he
mourned for the evils which
his kinsman, Dionysos, was bring-
ing upon the land. So King
Pentheus made a law that none
should follow these new cus-
toms, and that the women should
stay quietly doing their own
work in their homes. But when
they heard this, they were all
VULCAN {or Hephautos). f^^ ^f ^^^^^ ^^^ Dionysos had
deceived them by his treacherous words, and even Kadmos him-
self, in his weakness and old age, had been led astray by them.
PENTHEUS.
527
In crowds they thronged around the house of Pentheus, raisino-.
loud shouts in honor of Dionysos, and besought him to follow
the new way, but he would not hearken to them.
Thus it was for many days; and when all the city was
shaken by the madness of the new worship, Pentheus thought
that he would see with his own eyes the strange rites by which
the women, in their lurking-places, did honor to Dionysos. So
he went secretly to some hidden dells, whither he knew that the
women had gone ; but Dionysos saw him and laid his hands upon
him, and straightway the mind of King Pentheus himself was
darkened, and the madness of the worshipers was upon him,
also. Then in his folly he climbed a tall pine-tree, to see what
the women did in their revelry; but on a sudden one of them
saw him, and they shrieked wildly and rooted up the tree in their
fury. With one accord they seized Pentheus and tore him in
pieces; and his own mother, Agave, was among the first to lay
hands on her son. So Dionysos, the wine god, triumphed; and
this was the way in which the new worship was set up in the
Hellenic land.
A^KLEPIOp.
On the shores of the Lake Boibeis, the golden-haired Apollo
saw and loved Koronis, the beautiful daughter of Phlegyas.
Many a time they wandered beneath the branching elms while
the dew-drops glistened like jewels on the leaves, or sat beneath
the ivy bowers as the light of evening faded from the sky and
the blue veil of mist fell upon the sleeping hills. But at length
the day came when Apollo must journey to the western land, and
as he held Koronis in his arms, his voice fell softly and sadly on
her ear. "I go," he said, "to a land that is very far off, but
surely I will return. More precious to me than aught else on
528 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
the wide earth is thy love, Koronis. Let not its flower fiide, but
keep it fresh and pure as now, till I come to thee again. The
dancing Horai trip quickly by, Koronis, and when they bring the
day on which I may clasp thee in mine arms once more, it may
be that I shall find thee watching proudly over the child of our
love."
He was gone, and for Koronis it seemed as though the sun
had ceased to shine in the heaven. For many a day she cared
not to wander by the winding shore in the light of early morning,
or to rest in the myrtle bowers as the flush of evening faded from
the sky. Her thoughts went back to the days that were passed,
when Apollo, the golden-haired, made her glad with the music
of his voice. But at length a stranger came to the Boibean
land, and dwelt in the house of Phlegyas, and the spell of his
glorious beauty fell upon Koronis, and dimmed the love which
she had borne for Apollo, who was far away. Again for her the
sun shone brightly in the heaven, and the birds filled the air with
a joyous music, but the tale went swiftly through the land, and
Apollo heard the evil tidings as he journeyed back with his sister,
Artemis, to the house of Phlegyas. A look of sorrow that may
not be told passed over his fair face ; but Artemis stretched forth
her hand towards the flashing sun and swore that the maiden
should rue her fickleness. Soon, on the shore of the Lake
Boibeis, Koronis lay smitten by the spear which may never miss
its mark, and her child, Asklepios, lay a helpless babe by her
side. Then the voice of Apollo was heard saying, " vSlay not the
child with the mother, he is born to do great things, but bear
him to the wise centaur, Cheiron, and bid him train the boy in
all his wisdom, and teach him to do brave deeds, that men may
praise his name in the generations that shall be hereafter."
So in the deep glens of Pelion the child, Asklepios, grew up
to manhood under the teaching of Cheiron, the wise and good.
In all the land there was none that might vie with him in strength
ASKLEPIOS. 529
of body; but the people marveled yet more at his wisdom, which
passed the wisdom of the sons of men, for he had learned the
power of every herb and leaf to stay the pangs of sickness and
bring back health to the wasted form. Day by day the fame of
his doings was spread abroad more widely through the land, so
that all who were sick hastened to Asklepios and besought his
help. But soon there went forth a rumor that the strength of
death had been conquered by him, and that Athene, the mighty
daughter of Zeus, had taught Asklepios how to bring back the
dead from the dark kingdom of Hades. Then, as the number
of those whom he brought from the gloomy Stygian land in-
creased more and more. Hades went in hot anger to Olympos,
and spoke bitter words against the son of Koronis, so that the
heart of Zeus was stirred with a great fear lest the children of
men should be delivered from death and defy the power of the
gods. Then Zeus bowed his head, and the lightnings flashed
from heaven, and Asklepios was smitten down by the scathing
thunderbolt.
Mighty and terrible was the grief that stirred the soul of
the golden-haired Apollo when his son was slain. The sun
shone dimly from the heaven; the birds were silent in the dark-
ened groves ; the trees bowed down their heads in sorrow, and
the hearts of all the sons of men fainted within them, because
the healer of their pains and sickness lived no more upon the
earth. But the wrath of Apollo was mightier than his grief, and
he smote the giant Cyclopes, who shaped the fiery lightnings far
down in the depths of the burning mountain. Then the anger
of Zeus was kindled against his own child, the golden-haired
Apollo, and he spake the word that he should be banished from
the home of the gods to the dark Stygian land. But the lady
Leto fell at his knees and besought him for her child, and the
doom was given that a whole year long he should serve as a
bondsman in the house of Admetos, who ruled in Pherai.
34
530
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
IXIOJS.
Fair as the blushing clouds which float in early morning
across the blue heaven, the beautiful Dia gladdened the hearts of all
who dwelt in the house of
her father Hesioneus.
There was no guile in her
soft clear eye, for the light
of Eos was not more pure
than the light of the maid-
en's countenance. There
was no craft in her smile,
for on her rested the love
and the wisdom of Athene.
Man}' a chieftain sought to
win her for his bride; but
her heart beat with love
only for Ixion the beauti-
ful and mighty, who came
to the halls of Hesioneus
with horses which can not
grow old or die. The
golden hair flashed a glory
from his head dazzling as
the rays which stream from
Helios when he drives his
chariot up the heights of
heaven, and his flowing
robe glistened as he moved
like the vesture which the
sun-god gave to the wise
MINERVA, OR PALLAS ATHENE. (Fouod in Pompeii.) maiden Medeia, who dwelt
in Kolchis.
Long time Ixion abode in the house of Hesioneus, for
IXION.
531
Hesioneus was loth to part with his child. But at the last
Ixion sware to give for her a ransom precious as the golden
fruits which Helios wins from the teeming earth. So the
word was spoken, and Dia the fair became the wife of the
son of Amythaon, and the undying horses bare her away in
his gleaming chariot. Many a day and month and year the
hery steeds of Helios sped on their burning path, and sank
down hot and wearied in the western sea; but no gifts came
from Ixion, and Hesioneus waited in vain for the wealth which
had tempted him to barter away his child. Messenger after
messenger went and came, and always the tidings were that
Ixion had better things to do than to waste his wealth on the
mean and greedy. " Tell him," he said, " that ev^ery day I
journey across the wide earth, gladdening the hearts of the
children of men, and that his child has now a more glorious
home than that of the mighty gods who dwell on the high
Olympos. What would he have more.'^" Then day by day
Hesioneus held converse with himself, and his people heard the
words which came sadly from his lips. "What would I more.^"
he said; " I would have the love of my child. I let her depart,
when not the wealth of Phcebus himself could recompense me
for her loss. I bartered her for gifts, and Ixion withholds the
wealth which he sware to give. Yet were all the riches of his
treasure-house lying now before me, one loving glance from the
CACs of Dia would be more than worth them all."
But when his messengers went yet again to plead with Ixion,
and their words were all spoken in vain, Hesioneus resolved to
deal craftily, and he sent his servants by night and stole the
undying horses which bare his gleaming chariot. Then the
heart of Ixion was humbled within him, for he said, " My peo-
ple look for me daily throughout the wide earth. If they see
not my face their souls will faint with fear; they will not care to
sow their fields, and the golden harvests of Demeter will wave
532 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
no more in the summer breeze." So there came messengers
from Ixion, who said, " If tliou wouldst have the wealth which
thou seekest, come to the house of Ixion, and the gifts shall be
' thine, and thine eyes shall once more look upon thy child." In
haste Hesioneus went forth from his home, like a dark and
lonely cloud stealing across the broad heaven. All night long he
sped upon his way, and, as the light of Eos flushed the eastern
sky he saw afar off the form of a fair woman who beckoned to
him with her long white arms. Then the heart of the old man
revived, and he said, " It is Dia, my child. It is enough if I can
but hear her voice and clasp her in mine arms and die." But
his limbs trembled for joy, and he waited until presently his
daue:hter came and stood beside him. On her face there rested
a softer beauty than in former days, and the sound of her voice
was more tender and loving, as she said, " My father, Zeus has
made clear to me many dark things, for he has given me power
to search out the secret treasures of the earth, and to learn from
the wise beings who lurk in its hidden places the things that
shall be hereafter. And now I see that thy life is well-nigh done,
if thou seekest to look upon the treasures of Ixion, for no man
may gaze upon them and live. Go back, then, to thy home if
thou wouldst not die. I would that I might come with thee, but
so it may not be. Each day I must welcome Ixion when his
fiery horses come back from their long journey, and every morn-
ing I must harness them to his gleaming chariot before he speeds
upon his way. Yet thou hast seen my face and thou knowest that
I love thee now even as in the days of my childhood." But the
old greed filled again the heart of Hesioneus, and he said, " The
faith of Ixion is pledged. If he withhold still the treasures which
he sware to give, he shall never more see the deathless horses.
I will go myself into his treasure-house, and see whether in very
truth he has the wealth of which he makes such proud boasting."
Then Dia clasped her arms once again around her father, and
ixiON 533
she kissed his face, and said, sadly, " Farewell, then, m}^ father;
I go to my home, for even the eyes of Dia may not gaze on the
secret treasures of Ixion." So Dia left him, and when the old
man turned to look on her departing form it faded from his sight
as the clouds melt away before the sun at noon-day. Yet, once
again he toiled on his way, until before his glorious home he saw
Ixion, radiant as Phoebus Apollo in his beauty; but there was
anger in his kindling eye, for he was wroth for the theft of his
undying horses. Then the voice of Ixion smote the ear of
Hesioneus, harsh as the flapping of the wings of Erinys when
she wanders through the air. " So thou wilt see my secret
treasures. Take heed that thy sight be strong." But Hesioneus
spake in haste, and said, " Thy faith is pledged, not only to let
me see them, but to bestow them on me as my own, for there-
fore didst thou win Dia my child to be thy wife."" Then Ixion
opened the door of his treasure-house and thrust in Hesioneus,
and the everlasting fire devoured him.
But far above, in the pure heaven, Zeus beheld the deed of
Ixion, and the tidings were sent abroad to all the gods of Olym-
pos, and to all thq sons of men, that Ixion had slain Hesioneus
by craft and guile. A horror of great blackness fell on the
heaven above and the earth beneath for the sin of which Zeus
alone can purge away the guilt. Once more Dia made ready
her husband's chariot, and once more he sped on his fiery jour-
ney; but all men turned away their faces, and the trees bowed
their scorched and withered heads to the ground. The flowers
drooped sick on their stalks and died, the corn was kindled like
dried stubble on the earth, and Ixion said within himself, "My
sin is great; men will not look upon my face as in the old time,
and the gods of Olympos will not cleanse my hands from the
guilt of my treacherous deed." So he went straightway and
fell down humbly before the throne of Zeus, and said, "O thou
that dwellest in the pure aether far above the dark cloud, my
534
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
hands are ibul with blood, and thou alone canst cleanse them;
therefore purge mine iniquity, lest all living things die through-
out the wide earth."
Then the undying gods were summoned to the judgment
seat of Zeus. By the side of the son of Kronos stood Hermes,
ever bright and fair, the messenger who flies on his golden
sandals more swiftly than a dream; but fairer and more glorious
than all who stood near his throne was the lady Here, the queen
of the blue heaven. On her brow rested the majesty of Zeus
and the glory of a boundless love which sheds gladness on the
teeming earth and the broad sea. And even as he stood before
the judgment-seat, the eyes of Ixion rested with a strange yearn-
ing on her undying beauty, and he scarce heard the words which
cleansed him from blood-guiltiness.
So Ixion tarried in the house of Zeus, far above in the pure
aether, where only the light clouds weave a fairy net-work at the
rising and setting of the sun. Day by day his glance rested
more warm and loving on the countenance of the lady Here,
and Zeus saw that her heart, too, was kindled by a strange love, so
that a fierce wrath was stirred within him.
Presently he called Hermes, the messenger, and said, " Bring
up from among the children of Nephele one who shall wear the
semblance of the lady Here, and place her in the path of Ixion
when he wanders forth on the morrow." So Hermes sped away
on his errand, and on that day Ixion spake secretly with Here,
and tempted her to fly from the house of Zeus. " Come with
me," he said; "the winds of heaven can not vie in speed with my
deathless horses, and the palace of Zeus is but as the house of
the dead by the side of my glorious home." Then the heart of
Ixion bounded with a mighty delight, as he heard the words of
Here. " To-morrow I will meet thee in the land of the children
of Nephele." So on the morrow when the light clouds had
spread their fairy net-work over the heaven, Ixion stole away
IXION.
535
from the house of Zeus to meet the lady Here. As he went,
the fairy web faded from the sky, and it seemed to him that the
lady Here stood before him in all her beauty. '' Here, great
queen of the unstained heaven," he said, " come with me, for I
am worthy of thy love, and I quail not for all the majesty of
Zeus." But even as he stretched tbrth his arms, the bright form
vanished away. The crashing thunder rolled through the sky,
and he heard the voice of Zeus saying, '"' I cleansed thee from
thy guilt, I sheltered thee in my home, and thou hast dealt with
me treacherously, as thou didst before with Hesioneus. Thou
hast sought the love of Here, but the maiden which stood before
thee was but a child of Nephele, whom Hermes brought hither to
cheat thee with the semblance of the wife of Zeus. Wherefore
hear thy doom. No more shall thy deathless horses speed with
thy glistening chariot over the earth, but high in the heaven a
blazing wheel shall bear thee through the rolling years, and the
doom shall be on thee for ever and ever."
So was Ixion bound on the fiery-wheel, and the sons of men
see the flashing spokes day by day as it whirls in the high heaven.
TAf^TALO^.
Beneath the mighty rocks of Sip34os stood the palace of
Tantalos, the Phrygian King, gleaming with the blaze of gold
and jewels. Its burnished roof^* glistened from afar like the rays
which dance on ruffled waters. Its marble columns flashed with
hues rich as the hues of purple clouds which gather round the
sun as he sinks down in the sky. And far and wide was known
the name of the mighty chieftain, who was wiser than all the
sons of mortal men; for his wife, Euryanassa, they said, came of
the race of the und3'ing gods, and to Tantalos Zeus had given
the power of Helios, that he might know his secret counsels and
[UFIVBRSITrl
536 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
see into the hidden things of earth and air and sea. Many a
time, so the people said, he held converse with Zeus himseh' in
his home, on the high Olympos, and day by day his wealth in-
creased, his flocks and herds multiplied exceedingly, and in his
fields the golden corn waved like a sunlit sea.
But, as the years rolled round, there were dark sayings
spread abroad, that the wisdom of Tantalos was turned to craft,
and that his wealth and power were used for evil ends. Men
said that he had sinned like Prometheus, the Titan, and had
stolen from the banquet-hall of Zeus the food and drink of the
gods, and given them to mortal men. And tales yet more
strange were told, how that Panderos brought to him the hound
which Rhea placed in the cave of Dikte to guard the child, Zeus,
and how, when Hermes bade him yield up the dog, Tantalos
laughed him to scorn, and said, " Dost thou ask me for the
hound which guarded Zeus in the days of his childhood ? It were
as well to ask me for the unseen breeze which sounds through
the groves of Sipylos."
Then, last of all, men spake in whispers of a sin yet more
fearful, which Tantalos had sinned, and the tale was told that
Zeus and all the gods came down from Olympos to feast in his
banquet-hall, and how, when the red wine sparkled in the golden
goblets, Tantalos placed savory meat before Zeus, and bade him
eat of a>costly food, and, when the feast was ended, told him that
in the dish had lain the limbs of the child Pelops, whose sunny
smile had gladdened the hearts of' mortal men. Then came the
day of vengeance, for Zeus bade Hermes bring back Pelops
again from the kingdom of Hades to the land of living men, and
on Tantalos was passed a doom which should torment him for
ever and ever. In the shadowy region where wander the ghosts
of men, Tantalos, they said, lay prisoned in a beautiful garden,
gazing on bright flowers and glistening fruits and laughing
waters, out for all that his tongue was parched, and his limbs
TANTALOS.
537
were faint with hunger. No drop of water might cool his Hps,
no, luscious fruit might soothe his agony. If he bowed his head
to drink, the water fled away; if he stretched forth his hand to
pluck the golden apples, they would vanish like mists before
the face of the rising sun, and in place of ripe fruits glistening
ANCIENT SCUI PTURING ON TANTAI.OS.
among green leaves, a mighty rock beetled above his head, as
though it must fall and grind him to powder. Wherefore men
say, when the cup of pleasure is dashed from the lips of those
who would drink of it, that on them has fallen the doom of the
Phrygian Tantalos.
53^
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
THE TOIL^ Of HERAKLE^.
By the doom of his father Zeus, Herakles served in Argos
the false and cruel Eurystheus. For so it was that Zeus spake
of the birth of Herakles to Here, the Queen, and said, " This day
shall a child be born of the race of Perseus, who shall be the
mightiest of the sons of men." Even so he
spake, because Ate had deceived him by her
evil counsel. And Here askfed whether this
should be so in very deed, and Zeus bowed
his head, and the word went forth which
could not be recalled. Then Here went to
the mighty Eileithyiai, and by their aid she
brought it about that Eurystheus was born
before Herakles the son of Zeus.
So the lot was fixed that all his life long
Herakles should toil at the will of a weak
and crafty master. Brave in heart and stout
of body, so that no man might be matched
with him for strength or beauty, 3'et was he
to have no profit of all his labor till he should
come to the land of the undying gods. But
it grieved Zeus that the craft of Here, the
Queen, had brought grievous wrong on his child, and he cast
forth Ate from the halls of Olympos, that she might no more
dwell among the gods. Then he spake the word that Herakles
should dwell with the gods in Olympos, as soon as the days of
his toil on earth should be ended.
Thus the child grew in the house of Amphitryon, full of
beauty and might, so that men marveled at his great strength;
for as he lay one day sleeping, there came two serpents into the
chamber, and twisted their long coils round the cradle, and
URANIA (Muse of Astron-
omy).
THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 539
peered upon him with their cold glassy eyes, till the sound of
their hissing woke him from his slumber. But Herakles trem-
bled not for fear, but he stretched forth his arms and placed his
hands on the serpents' necks, and tightened his grasp more and
more till they fell dead on the ground. Then all knew by this
sign that Herakles must do great things and suffer many sorrows,
but that in the end he should win the victory. So the child
waxed great and strong, and none could be matched with him
for strength of arm and swiftness of foot and in taming of
horses and in wrestling. The best men in Argos were his teach-
ers, and the wise centaur Cheiron was his friend, and taught him
ever to help the weak and take their part against any who op-
pressed them. So, for all his great strength, none were more
gentle than Herakles, none more full of pity for those who were
bowed down by pain and labor.
But it was a sore grief to Herakles that all his life long he
must toil for Eurystheus, while others were full of joy and pleas-
ure and feasted at tables laden with good things. And so it-
came to pass that one day, as he thought of these things, he sat
down by the wayside, where two paths met, in a lonely valley
far away from the dwellings of men. Suddenly, as he lifted up
his eyes, he saw two women coming towards him, each from a
different road. They were both fair to look upon; but the one
had a soft and gentle face, and she was clad in a seemly robe of
pure white. The other looked boldly at Herakles, and her face
was more ruddy, and her eyes shone with a hot and restless
glare. From her shoulders streamed the long folds of her soft
embroidered robe, which scantily hid the beauty of her form
beneath. With a quick and eager step she hastened to Herakles,
that she might be the first to speak. And she said, " I know,
O man of much toil and sorrow, that thy heart is sad within
thee, and that thou knowest not which way thou shalt turn.
Come then with me, and I will lead thee on a soft and pleasant
540 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
road, where no storms shall vex thee and no sorrows shall trouble
thee. Thou shalt never hear of wars and battles, and sickness
and pain shall not come nigh to thee; but all day long shalt thou
feast at rich banquets and listen to the songs of minstrels. Thou
shalt not want for sparkling wine, and soft robes, and pleasant
couches; thou shalt not lack the delights of love, for the bright
eyes of maidens shall look gently upon thee, and their songs shall
lull thee to sleep in the soft evening hour, when the stars come
out in the sky.'' And Herakles said, " Thou promisest to me
pleasant things, lady, and I am sorely pressed down by a hard
master. What is thy name?" " My friends," said she, "call
me the happy and joyous one; and the}^ who look not upon me
with love have given me an evil name, but they speak falsely."
Then the other spake, and said, "O Herakles, I, too, know
whence thou art, and the doom which is laid upon thee, and how
thou hast lived and toiled even from the days of thy childhood;
and therefore I think that thou wilt give me thy love, and if thou
dost, then men shall speak of thy good deeds in time to come,
and my name shall be yet more exalted. But I have no fair
words wherewith to cheat thee. Nothing good is ever reached
without labor; nothing great is ever won without toil. If thou
seek for fruit from the earth thou must tend and till it; if thou
wouldst have the favor of the undying gods thou must come be-
fore them with prayers and offerings; if thou longest for the love
of men thou must do them good." Then the other brake in
upon her words, and said, " Thou seest, Herakles, that Arete
seeks to lead thee on a long and weary path, but my broad and
easy road leads thee quickly to happiness." Then Arete an-
swered her (and her eye flashed with anger), " O wretched one,
what good thing hast thou to give, and what pleasure canst thou
feel, who knowest not what it is to toil.^ Thy lusts are pam-
pered, thy taste is dull. Thou quaffest the rich wine before thou
art thirsty, and fillest thyself with dainties before thou art hun
THE TOILS OF HERAKLES.
541
gry. Though thou art numbered amongst the undying ones the
gods have cast thee forth out of heaven, and good men scorn
thee. The sweetest of all sounds, when a man's heart praises
him, thou hast never heard; the sweetest of all sights, when a
man looks on his good deeds, thou has never seen. They who
bow down to thee are weak and feeble in youth, and wretched
and loathsome in old age. But I dwell with the gods in heaven
and with good men on earth; and without me nothing good and
pure may be thought and done. More than all others am I hon-
ored by the gods, more than all others am I cherished by the
men who love me. In peace and in war, in health and in sick-
ness, I am the aid of all who seek me; and my help never fails.
My children know the purest of all pleasures, when the hour of
rest comes after the toil of day. In youth they are strong, and
their limbs are quick with health; in old age they look back
upon a happy life; and when they lie down to the sleep of death
their name is cherished among men for their brave and good
deeds. Love me, therefore, Herakles, and obey my words, and
thou shalt dwell with me, when thy toil is ended, in the home of
the undying gods."
Then Herakles bowed down his head and sware to follow
her counsels; and when the two maidens passed away from his
sight he went forth with a good courage to his labor and suffer-
ing. In many a land he sojourned and toiled to do the will of
the false Eurystheus. Good deeds he did for the sons of men;
but he had no profit of all his labor, save the love of the gentle
lole. Far away in CEchalia, where the sun rises from the east-
ern sea, he saw the maiden in the halls of Eurytos, and sought
to win her love. But the word which Zeus spake to Here, the
Queen, gave him no rest; and Eurystheus sent him forth to other
lands, and he saw the maiden no more.
But Herakles toiled on with a good heart, and soon the
glory of his great deeds were spread abroad throughout all the
£^42 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
earth. Minstrels sang how he slew the monsters and savage
beasts who vexed the sons of men, how he smote the Hydra in
the land of Lernai, and the wild boar, which haunted the groves
of Erymanthos, and the Harpies, who lurked in the swamps of
Stymphalos. They told how he wandered far away to the land
of the setting sun, when Eurystheus bade hi ti pluck the golden
apples from the garden of the Hesperides — how, over hill and
dale, across marsh and river, through thicket and forest, he came
to the western sea, and crossed to the African land, where Atlas
lifts up his white head to the high heaven — how he smote the
dragon which guarded the brazen gates, and brought the apples
to King Eurystheus. They sang of his weary journey, when he
roamed through the land of the Ethiopians and came to the wild
and desolate heights of Caucasus — how he saw a giant form
high on the naked rock, and the vulture which gnawed the
Titan's heart with its beak. They told how he slew the bird,
and smote off the cruel chains, and set Prometheus free. They
sang how Eurystheus laid on him a fruitless task, and sent him
down to the dark land of King Hades to bring up the monster,
Kerberos; how, upon the shore of the gloomy Acheron, he found
the mighty hound who guards the home of Hades and Perseph-
one; how he seized him in his strong right hand and bore him
to King Eurystheus. They sang of the days when he toiled in
the land of Queen Omphale, beneath the Libyan sun; how he
destroyed the walls of Ilion when Laomedon was King, and how
he went to Kalydon and wooed and won Deianeira, the daughter
of the chieftain, Oineus.
Long time he abode in Kalydon, and the people of the land
loved him for his kindly deeds. But one dav his spear smote the
boy, Eunomos, and his father was not angry, because he knew
that Herakles sought not to slay him. Yet Herakles would go
forth from the land, for his heart was grieved for the death of
the child. So he journeyed to the banks of the Evenos, where
THE TOILS OF HKKAKLES. 543
he smote the centaur, Nessos, because he sought to lay liands on
Deianeira. Swiftly the poison trom tiie barb of the spear ran
through the centaur's veins; but Nessos knew how to avenge him-
self on Herakles, and with a faint voice he besought Deianeira to
hll a shell with his blood, so that, if ever she lost the love of
Herakles, she might win it again by spreading it on a robe for
him to wear.
So Nessos died, and Herakles went to the land of Trachis,
and there Deianeira abode while he journeyed to the eastern sea.
Many times the moon waxed and waned in the heaven, and the
corn sprang up from the ground and gave its golden harvest, but
Herakles came not back. At last the tidings came how he had
done great deeds in distant lands, how Eurytos, the King of
CEchalia, was slain, and how, among the captives, was the daugh-
ter of the King, the fairest of all the maidens of the land.
Then the words of Nessos came back to Deianeira, and she
hastened to anoint a broidered robe, for she thought only that
the love of Herakles had passed away from her, and that she
must win it to herself again. So with words of love and honor,
she sent the gift for Herakles to put on, and 1 he messenger found
him on the Keneian shore, where he was offering rich sacrifice to
Zeus, his father, and gave him the broidered robe in token of
the lov^e of Deianeira. Then Herakles wrapt it closely round
him, and he stood by the altar while the dark smoke went up in
a thick cloud to the heaven. Presently the vengeance of Nessos
was accomplished. Through the veins of Herakles the poison
spread like devouring fire. Fiercer and fiercer grew the burning
pain, and Herakles vainly strove to tear the robe and cast it trom
him. It ate into the flesh, and as he struggled in his agony, the
dark blood gushed from his body in streams. Then came the
maiden lole to his side. With her gentle hands she sought
to soothe his pain, and with pitying words to cheer him
in his woe. Then once more the face of Herakles flushed with
544
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY
a deep jo}', and his eye glanced with a pure light, as in the days
of his might and strength, and he said, " Ah, lole, brightest of
maidens, thy voice shall cheer me as I sink down in the sleep of
death. I loved thee in the bright morning time, when my hand
was strong and my
foot swift, but Zeus
willed not that thou
shouldst be with me
in my long wander-
ings. Yet 1 grieve
not now, for again
thou hast come,
fair as the soft
clouds which gather
round the dying
sun." Then Her-
akles bade them
bear him to the high
crest of Oita and
gather wood. So
when all was ready,
he lay down to rest,
and they kindled the
great pile. The
black mists were
spreading over the
sky, but still Hera-
kles sought to gaze
on the fair face of
lole and to comfort
her in her sorrow. " Weep not, lole," he said, "my toil is done,
and now is the time for rest. I shall see thee again in the brisrht
land which is never trodden by the feet of night."
JCTPTTER (or ZeuK with Ms T/iunderboU).
THE TOILS OF HERAKLES. 545
' Blacker and blacker grew the evening shades, and only the
long line of light broke the darkness which gathered round the
blazing pile. Then Irom the high heaven came down the thick
cloud, and the din of its thunder crashed through the air. So
Zeus carried his child home, and the halls of Olympos were
opened to welcome the bright hero who rested from his mighty
toil. There the fair maiden. Arete, placed a crown upon his
head, and Hebe clothed him in a white robe for the banquet of
the gods.
ADMETOg.
There was high feasting in the halls of Pheres, because
Admetos, his son, had brought home Alkestis, the fairest of all
the daughters of Pelias, to be his bride. The minstrels sang of
the glories of the house of Pherai, and of the brave deeds of
Admetos — how, by the aid of the golden-haired Apollo, he had
yoked the lion and the boar, and made them drag his chariot to*
lolkos, for Pelias had said that only to one who came thus would
he give his daughter, Alkestis, to be his wife. So the sound of
mirth and revelry echoed through the hall, and the red wine was
poured forth in honor of Zeus and all the gods, each by his
name, but the name of Artemis was forgotten, and her wrath
burned sore against the house of Admetos.
But one, mightier yet than Artemis, was nigh at hand to aid
him, for Apollo, the son of Leto, served as a bondman in the
house of Pheres, because he had slain the Cyclopes, who forged
the thunderbolts of Zeus. No mortal blood flowed in his veins,
but, though he could neither grow old nor die, nor could any of
the sons of men do him hurt, yet all loved him for his gentle
dealing, for all things had prospered in the land from the day
when he came to the house of Admetos. And so it came to pass
35
546 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
that when the sacrifice of the marriage feast was ended, he spake
to Admetos, and said, " The anger of Artemis, my sister, is kin-
dled against thee, and it may be that she will smite thee with her
spear, which can never miss its mark. But thou hast been to
me a kind task-master, and though I am here as thy bond-ser-
vant, yet have I power still with my father, Zeus, and I have
obtained for thee this boon, that, if thou art smitten by the spear
of Artemis, thou shalt not die, if thou canst find one who in thy
stead will go down to the dark kingdom of Hades."
Many a time the sun rose up into the heaven and sank down
to sleep beneath the western waters, and still the hours went by
full of deep joy to Admetos and his wife, Alkestis, for their
hearts were knit together in a pure love, and no cloud of strife
spread its dark shadow over their souls. Once only Admetos
spake to her of the words of Apollo, and Alkestis answered with
a smile, "Where is the pain of death, my husband, for those
who love truly? Without thee I care not to live; wherefore, to
die for thee will be a boon."
Once again there was high feasting in the house of Admetos,
for Herakles, the mighty son of Alkmene, had come thither as
he journeyed through many lands, doing the will of the false
Eurystheus. But, even as the minstrels sang the praises of the
chieftains of Pherai, the flush of life faded from the face of
Admetos, and he felt that the hour of which Apollo had warned
him was come. But soon the blood came back tino:lino: througrh
his veins, when he thought of the sacrifice which alone could
save him from the sleep of death. Yet what will not a man do
for his life? and how shall he withstand when the voice of love
pleads on his side? So once again the fair Alkestis looked lov-
ingly upon him, as she said, " There is no darkness for me in
the land of Hades, if only I die for thee," and even as she spake
the spell passed from Admetos, and the strength of the daughter
of Pelias ebbed slowly away.
ADMETOS.
547
The sound of mirth and feasting was hushed. The harps
of the minstrels hung silent on the wall, and men spake in whis-
pering voices, for the awful Moirai were at hand to bear Alkestis
to the shadowy kingdom. On the couch lay her fair form, pale
as the white lily which floats on the blue water, and beautiful as
Eos when her light dies out of the sky in the evening. Yet a
little while, and the strife was ended, and Admetos mourned in
bitterness and shame for the love which he had lost.
Then the soul of the brave Herakles was stirred within him,
and he sware that the Moirai should not win the victory. So he
departed in haste, and far away in the unseen land he did battle
with the powers of death, and rescued Alkestis from Hades, the
stern and rugged King.
So once more she stood before Admetos, more radiant in
her beauty than in former days, and once more in the halls of
Pherai echoed the sound of high rejoicing, and the minstrels
sang of the mighty deeds of the good and brave Herakles, as he
went on his way from the home of Admetos to do in other lands
the bidding of the fair mean Eurystheus.
EPljVlETHEUg AJ^D PANDOF{A.
There was strife between Zeus and men, for Prometheus
stood forth on their side and taught them how they might with-
stand the new god who sat on the throne of Kronos; and he
said, " O men, Zeus is greedy of riches and honor, and your
flocks and herds will be wasted with burnt-oflferings if ye offer
up to Zeus the whole victim. Come and let us make a covenant
with him, that there may be a fair portion for him and for men."
So Prometheus chose out a large ox, and slew him and divided
the body. Under the skin he placed the entrails and the flesh,
548 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
and under the fat he placed the bones. Then he said, " Choose
thy portion, O Zeus, and let that on which thou la3^est thine
hands be thy share forever." So Zeus stretched forth his hand
in haste, and placed it upon the fat, and fierce was his wrath
when he found only the bare bones underneath it. Wherefore
men offer up to the undying gods only the bones and fat of the
victims that are slain.
Then in his anger Zeus sought how he might avenge him-
self on the race of men, and he took away from them the gift
of fire, so that they were vexed by cold and darkness and hun-
ger, until Prometheus brought them down fire which he had
stolen from heaven. Then was the rage of Zeus still more cruel,
and he smote Prometheus with his thunderbolts, and at his bid-
ding Hermes bare him to he crags of Caucasus, and bound him
with iron chains to the hard rock, where the vulture gnawed his
heart with its beak.
But the wrath of Zeus was not appeased, and he sought
how he might yet more vex the race of men; and he remem-
bered how the Titan Prometheus had warned them to accept no
gift from the gods, and how he left his brother Epimetheus to
guard them against the wiles of the son of Kronos. And he
said within himself, " The race of men knows neither sickness
nor pain, strife or war, theft or falsehood; for all these evil
things are sealed up in the great cask which is guarded by
Epimetheus. I will let loose the evils, and the whole earth shall
be filled with woe and misery."
So he called Hephaistos, the lord of fire, and he said,
" Make ready a gift which all the undying gods shall give to the
race of men. Take the earth, and fashion it into the shape of
woman. Very fair let it be to look upon, but give her an evil
nature, that the race of men may suffer for all the deeds that
they have done to me." Then Hephaistos took the clay and
moulded from it the image of a fair woman, and Athene clothed
EPIMETHEUS AND PANDORA. 549
her in a beautiful robe, and placed a crown upon her head, from
which a veil fell over her snowy shoulders. And Hermes, the
messenger of Zeus, gave her the power of words, and a greedy
mind, to cheat and deceive the race of men. Then Hephaistos
brought her before the assembly of the gods, and the}' marveled
at the greatness of her beauty; and Zeus took her by the hand
and gave her to Epimetheus, and said, "Ye toil hard, ye children
of men; behold one who shall soothe and cheer you when the
hours of toil are ended. The undying gods have taken pity on
you, because ye have none to comfort you; and woman is their
gift to men, therefore is her name called Pandora."
Then Epimetheus forgot the warning of his brother, and
the race of men did obeisance to Zeus, and received Pandora at
his hands, for the greatness of her beauty enslaved the hearts of
all who looked upon her. But they rejoiced not long in the gift
of the gods, for Pandora saw a great cask on the threshold of
the house of Epimetheus, and she lifted the lid, and from it came
strife and war, plague and sickness, theft and violence, grief and
sorrow. Then in her terror she set down the lid again upon the
cask, and Hope was shut up within it, so that she could not com-
fort the race of men for the grievous evil which Pandora had
brought upon them.
10 AND PI^OJVIETHEU^.
In the halls of Inachos, King of Argos, Zeus beheld and
loved the fair maiden lo, but when Here, the Queen, knew it, she
was very wroth, and sought to slay her. Then Zeus changed
the maiden into a heifer, to save her from the anger of Here,
but presently Here learned that the heifer was the maiden whom
she hated, and she went to Zeus, and said, " Give me that which
I shall desire," and Zeus answered, "Say on." Then Here said,
550
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
" Give me the beautiful heifer which I see feeding in the pastures
of King Inachos." So Zeus granted her prayer; for he Hked
not to confess what he had done to lo to save
her from the wrath of Here, and Here took
the heifer and bade Argos, with the hundred
eyes, watch over it by night and by day.
Long time Zeus sought how he might
deHver the maiden from the vengeance of
Here, but he strove in vain, for Argos never
slept, and his hundred eyes saw everything
around him, and none could approach with-
out being seen and slain. At the last Zeus
sent Hermes, the bright messenger of the
gods, who stole gently towards Argos, play-
ing soft music on his lute. Soothingly the
''"^''''^' sweet sounds fell upon his ear, and a deep
sleep began to weigh down his eyelids, until Argos, with the
hundred eyes, lay powerless before Hermes. Then Hermes
drew his sharp sword, and with a single stroke he smote off his
head, wherefore men call him the slayer of Argos, with the
hundred eyes. But the wrath of Here was fiercer than ever
when she learned that her watchman was slain, and she sware
that the heifer should have no rest, but wander in terror and pain
from land to land. So she sent a gad-fly to goad the heifer with
its fiery sting over hill and valley, across sea and river, to tor-
ment her if she lay down to rest, and madden her with pain when
she sought to sleep. In grief and madness she fled from the
pastures of Inachos, past the city of Erechtheus into the land of
Kadmos, the Theban. On and on still she went, resting not by
night or day, through the Dorian and Thessalian plains, until at
last she came to the wild Thrakian land. Her feet bled on the
sharp stones, her body was torn by the thorns and brambles, and
tortured by the stings of the fearful gad-fly. Still she fled on
lO AND PROMETHEUS.
551
and on, while the tears streamed often down her cheeks, and her
moaning showed the greatness of her agony. " O Zeus," she
said, " dost thou not see me in my misery? Thou didst tell me
once of thy love, and dost thou suffer me now to be driven thus
wildly from land to land, without hope of comfort or rest ? Slay
me at once, I pray thee, or suffer me to sink into the deep sea,
that so I may put off the sore burden of my woe."
But lo knew not that, while she spake, one heard her who
had suffered even harder things from Zeus. Far above her
head, towards the desolate crags of Caucasus, the wild eagle
soared shrieking in the sky, and the vulture hovered near, as
though waiting close to some dying man till death should leave
him for its prey. Dark snow-clouds brooded heavily on the
mountain, the icy wind crept lazily through the frozen air, and lo
thought that the hour of her death was come. Then, as she
raised her head, she saw far off a giant form, which seemed
fastened by nails to the naked rock, and a low groan reached her
ear, as of one in mortal pain, and she heard a voice which said,
" Whence comest thou, daughter of Inachos, into this savage
wilderness? Hath the love of Zeus driven thee thus to the icy
corners of the earth?" Then lo gazed at him in wonder and
awe, and said, " How dost thou know my name and my sor-
rows? and what is thine own wrong? Tell me (if it is given to
thee to know) what awaits thee and me in the time to come, for
sure I am that thou art no mortal man. Thy giant form is as
the form of gods or heroes, who come down sometimes to mingle
with the sons of men, and great must be the wrath of Zeus, that
thou shouldst be thus tormented here." Then he said, "Maiden,
thou seest the Titan Prometheus, who brought down fire for the
children of men, and taught them how to build themselves houses
and till the earth, and how to win for themselves food and cloth-
ing. I gave them wise thoughts and good laws and prudent
counsel, and raised them from the life of beasts to a life which
552
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
was fit for speaking men. But the son of Kronos was afraid at
ni}' doings, lest, with the aid of men, I might hurl him from his
place and set up new gods upon his throne. So he forgot all my
good deeds in times past, how I had aided him when the earth-
born giants sought to destroy his power and heaped rock on rock
and crag on crag to smite him on his throne, and he caught me
by craft, telling me in smooth words how that he was my friend,
and that my honor should not fail in the halls of Olympos. So
he took me unawares and bound me with iron chains, and bade
Hephaistos take and fasten me to this mountain-side, where the
frost and wind and heat scorch and torment me by day and
night, and the vulture gnaws my heart with its merciless beak.
But my spirit is not wholly cast down, for I know that I have
done good to the sons of men, and that they honor the Titan
Prometheus, who has saved them from cold and hunger and sick-
ness. And well I know, also, that the reign of Zeus shall one
day come to an end, and that another shall sit at length upon his
throne, even as now he sits on the throne of his father, Kronos.
Hither come, also,* those who seek to comfort me, and thou seest
before thee the daughters of Okeanos, who have but now left the
green halls of their father to talk with me. Listen, then, to me,
daughter of Inachos, and I will tell thee what shall befall thee in
time to come. Hence from the ice-bound chain of Caucasus
thou shalt roam into the Scvthian land and the recrions of
Chalybes. Thence thou shalt come to the dwelling-place of the
Am.izons, on the banks of the river Thermodon; these shall
guide thee on thy way, until at length thou shalt come to a strait,
which thou wilt cross, and which shall tell by its name forever
where the heifer passed from Europe into Asia. But the end of
thy wanderings is not yet."
Then lo could no longer repress her grief, and her tears
burst forth afresh; and Prometheus said, "Daughter of Inachos,
if thou sorrowest thus at what I have told thee, how wilt thou
lO AND PROMETHEUS.
553
bear to hear what beyond these things there remains for thee to
do?" But lo said, " Of what use is it, O Titan, to tell me of
these woeful wanderings? Better were it now to die and be at
rest from all this misery and sorrow." " Nay, not so, O maiden
of Argos," said Prometheus, " for if thou livest, the days will
come when Zeus shall be cast down from his throne, and the end
of his reign shall also be the end of my sufferings. For when
thou hast passed by the Thrakian Bosporos into the land of Asia,
thou wilt wander on through many regions, where the Gorgons
dwell, and the Arimaspians and Ethiopians, until at last thou
shalt come to the three-cornered land where the mighty Nile
goes out by its many arms into the sea. There shall be thy
resting-place, and there shall Epaphos, thy son, be born, from
whom, in times yet far away, shall spring the great Herakles,
who shall break my chain and set me free from my long tor-
ments. And if in this thou doubtest my words, I can tell thee
of ever}^ land through which thou hast passed on thy journey
hither; but it is enough if I tell thee how the speaking oaks of
Dodona hailed thee as one day to be the wife of Zeus and the
mother of the mighty Epaphos. Hasten, then, on thy way,
daughter of Inachos. Long years of pain and sorrow await thee
still, but my griefs shall endure for many generations. It avails
not now to weep, but this comfort thou hast, that thy lot is hap-
pier than mine, and for both of us remains the surety that the right
shall at last conquer, and the power of Zeus shall be brought low,
even as the power of Kronos, whom he hurled from his ancient
throne. Depart hence quickly, for I see Hermes, the messenger,
drawing nigh, and perchance he comes with fresh torments for
thee and me."
So lo went on her weary road, and Hermes drew nigh to
Prometheus, and bade him once again 3'ield himself to the will
of the mighty Zeus. But Prometheus laughed him to scorn, and
as Hermes turned to go away, the icy wind came shrieking
ctA RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
through the air, and the darK cloud sank lower and lower down
the hillside, until it covered the rock on which the body of the
Titan was nailed, and the great mountain heaved with the earth-
quake, and the blazing thunderbolts darted fearfully through the
sky. Brighter and brighter aashed the lightning, and louder
pealed the thunder in the ears of Prometheus, but he quailed not
for all the fiery majesty of Zeus, and still, as the storm grew
fiercer and the curls of fire were wreathed around his form, his
voice was heard amid the din and roar, and it spake of the day
when the good shall triumph and unjust power shall be crushed
and destroyed forever.
DEUKALION. .
From his throne on the high Olympos, Zeus looked down
on the children of men, and saw that everywhere they followed
only their lusts, and cared nothing for right or for law.
And ever, as their hearts waxed grosser in their wickedness,
they devised for themselves new rites to appease the anger of
the gods, till the whole earth was filled with blood. Far away
in the hidden glens of the Arcadian hills the sons of Lykaon
feasted and spake proud words against the majesty of Zeus, and
Zeus himself came down from his throne to see their way and
their doings.
The sun was sinking down in the sky when an old man
drew nigh to the gate of Lykosoura. His gray locks streamed
in the breeze, and his beard fell in tangled masses over his tat-
tered mantle. With staff in hand he plodded wearily on his
way, listening to the sound of revelry which struck upon his ear.
At last he came to the Agora, and the sons of Lykaon crowded
r-ound him. " So the wise seer is come,'' they said; " what tale
DEUKALION.
555
hast thou to tell us, old man? Canst thou sing of the days when
the earth came forth from Chaos? Thou art old enough to have
LAOCOON, THE FAT.SE PKTEST. (Srulptured 3000 yeai 8 ago.)
been there to see." Then with rude jeering they seized him and
placed him on the ground near the place where they were feast-
556 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
ing. " We have done a great sacrifice to Zeus this day, and
thy coming is timely, lor thou shalt share the banquet." So
they placed before him a dish, and the food that was in it was
the flesh of man, for with the blood of men they thought to turn
aside the anger of the gods. But the old man thrust aside the
dish, and, as he rose up, the weariness of age passed away from
his face, and the sons of Lykaon were scorched by the glory of
his countenance, for Zeus stood before them and spathed them
all with his lightnings, and their ashes cumbered the ground.
Then Zeus returned to his home on Ol3'mpos, and he gave
the word that a flood of waters should be let loose upon the
earth, that the sons of men might die for their great wickedness.
So the west wind rose in his might, and the dark rain-clouds
Veiled the whole heaven, for the winds of the north which drive
away the mists and vapors were shut up in their prison-house.
On the hill and valley burst the merciless rain, and the rivers,
loosened from their courses, rushed over the wide plains and up
the mountain-side. From his home on the highlands of Phthia,
Deukalion looked forth on the angry sky, and, when he saw the
waters swelling in the valleys beneath, he called Pyrrha, his
wife, the daughter of Epimetheus, and said to her, " The time
is come of which my father, the wise Prometheus, forewarned
me. Make ready, therefore, the ark which I have built, and
place in it all that we may need for food while the flood of
waters is out upon the earth. Far away on the crags of Cau-
casus the iron nails rend the flesh of Prometheus, and the vul-
ture gnaws his heart, but the words which he spake are being
fulfilled, that for the wickedness of men the flood of waters
would come upon the earth, for Zeus himself is but the servant
of one that is mightier than he, and must do his bidding."
Then Pyrrha hastened to make all things ready, and they
waited until the waters rose up to the highlands of Phthia and
floated away the ark of Deukalion. The fishes swam amidst
DEUKALION.
557
the old elm groves, and twined amongst the gnarled boughs of
the oaks, while on the face of the waters were tossed the bodies
of men, and Deukalion looked on the dead faces of stalwart
warriors, of maidens, and of babes, as the}^ rose and fell upon
the heaving waves. Eight days the ark was borne on the
flood, while the waters covered the hills, and all the children of
men died save a few who found a place of shelter on the summit
of the mountains. On the ninth day the ark rested on the
heights of Parnassos, and Deukalion, with his wife Pyrrha,
stepped forth upon the desolate earth. Hour by hour the waters
fled down the valleys, and dead fishes and sea-monsters lay
caught in the tangled branches of the forest. But, far as the
eye could reach, there was no sign of living thing, save of the
vultures who wheeled in circles through the heaven to swoop
upon their prey, and Deukalion looked on Pyrrha, and their
hearts were filled with a grief which can not be told. " We
know not," he said, " whether there live any one of all the sons
of men, or in what hour the sleep of death may fall upon us.
But the mighty being who sent the flood has saved us from its
waters; to him let us build an altar and bring our thankoffering."
So the altar was built and Zeus had respect to the prayer of
Deukalion, and presently Hermes, the messenger, stood before
him. " Ask what thou wilt," he said, " and it shall be granted
thee, for in thee alone of all the sons of men hath Zeus found a
clean hand and a pure heart." Then Deukalion bowed himself
before Hermes, and said, " The whole earth lies desolate; I pray
thee, let men be seen upon it once more." " Even so shall it
come to pass," said Hermes, " if ye will cover your faces with
your mantles and cast the bones of your mother behind you as
ye go upon your way."
So Hermes departed to the home of Zeus, and Deukalion
pondered his words, till the wisdom of his father, Prometheus,
showed him that his mother was the earth, and that they were to
558 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
cast the stones behind them as they went down from Parnassos.
Then they did each as they were bidden, and the stones which
Deukalion threw were turned into men, but those which were
thrown by Pyrrha became women, and the people which knew
neither father nor mother went forth to their toil throughout the
wide earth. The sun shone brightly in the heaven and dried up
the slime beneath them; yet was their toil but a weary labor,
and so hath it been until this day — a struggle hard as the stones
from which they have been taken.
But as the 3'ears passed on, there were children born to
Pyrrha and Deukalion, and the old race of men still lived on the
heights of Phthia. From Helen their son, sprang the mighty
tribes of the Hellenes, and from Protogeneia, their daughter, was
born Aethlios, the man of toil and suffering, the father of Endy-
mion, the fair, who sleeps on the hill of Latmos.
POgEIDOJsi AJ^ID ATHEJVJE.
Near the banks of the stream Kephisos, Erechtheus had
built a city in a rocky and thin-soiled land. He was the father
of a free and brave people, and though his city was small and
humble, yet Zeus, by his wisdom, foresaw that one day it would
become the noblest of all cities throughout the wide earth. And
there was a strife between Poseidon, the lord of the sea, and
Athene, the virgin child of Zeus, to see by whose name the city
of Erechtheus should be called. So Zeus appointed a day in
which he would judge between them in presence of the great
gods who dwell on high Olympos.
When the day was come, the gods sat each on his golden
throne, on the banks of the stream Kephisos. High above all
was the throne of Zeus, the great father of gods and men, and
POSEIDON AND ATHENE. 559
by his side sat Here, the Queen. This day even the sons of
men might gaze upon them, for Zeus had laid aside his Hghtnings,
and all the gods had come down in peace to listen to his judg-
ment between Poseidon and Athene. There sat Phcebus Apollo
with his golden harp in his hand. His face glistened for the
brightness of his beauty, but there was no anger in his gleaming
eye, and idle by his side lay the unerring spear, with which be
smites all who deal falsely and speak lies. There, beside him,
sat Artemis, his sister, whose days were spent in chasing the
beasts of the earth and in sporting with the nymphs on the reedy
banks of Eurotas. There, by the side of Zeus, sat Hermes, ever
bright and youthful, the spokesman of the gods, with staff in
hand, to do the will of the great father. There sat Hephaistos,
the lord of fire, and Hestia, who guards the hearth. There, too,
was Ares, who delights in war, and Dionysos, who loves the
banquet and the wine-cup, and Aphrodite, who rose from the sea-
foam, to fill the earth with laughter and woe.
Before them all stood the great rivals, awaiting the judg-
ment of Zeus. High in her left hand, Athene held the invinci-
ble spear, and on her segis, hidden from mortal sight, was the
face on which no man may gaze and live. Close beside her,
proud in the greatness of his power, Poseidon waited the issue
of the contest. In his right hand gleamed the trident, with
which he shakes the earth and cleaves the waters of the sea.
Then, from his golden seat, rose the spokesman, Hermes,
and his clear voice sounded over all the great council. " Listen,"
he said, " to the will of Zeus, who judges now between Poseidon
and Athene. The city of Erechtheus shall bear the name of
that god who shall bring forth out of the earth the best gift for
the sons of men. If Poseidon do this, the city shall be called
Poseidonia, but if Athene brings the higher gift it shall be called
Athens."
Then King Poseidon rose up in the greatness of his majesty.
560 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
and with his trident he smote the earth where he stood. Straight-
way the hill was shaken to its depths, and the earth clave
asunder, and forth trom the chasm leaped a horse, such as never
shall be seen again for strength and beauty. His body shone
white all over as the driven snow, his mane streamed proudly in
the wind as he stamped on the ground and scoured in very
wantonness over hill and valley. ''Behold my gift," said Posei-
don, " and call the city after my name. Who shall give aught
better than the horse to the sons of men.'*"
But Athene looked steadfastly at the gods with her keen gray
eye, and she stooped slowly down to the ground, and planted in
it a little seed, which she held in her right hand. She spoke no
word, but still gazed calmly on that great council. Presently
they saw springing from the earth a little germ, which grew up
and threw out its boughs and leaves. Higher and higher it rose,
with all its thick green foliage, and put forth fruit on its cluster-
ing branches. " My gift is better, O Zeus," she said, " than that
of King Poseidon. The horse which he has given shall bring
war and strife and anguish to the children of men ; my olive-tree
is the sign of peace and plenty, of health and strength, and the
pledge of happiness and freedom. Shall not, then, the cit}' of
Erechtheus be called after my name?"
Then with one accord rose the voices of the gods in the air,
as they cried out, " The gift of Athene is the best which may be
given to the sons of men; it is the token that the city of Erech-
theus shall be greater in peace than in war, and nobler in its
freedom than its power. Let the city be called Athens."
Then Zeus, the mighty son of Kronos, bowed his head in
sign of judgment that the cit}^ should be called by the name of
Athene. From his head the immortal locks streamed down, and
the earth trembled beneath his feet as he rose from his srolden
throne to return to the halls of Olympos. But still Athene stood
gazing over the land which was now her own ; and she stretched
POSEIDON AND ATHENE. 56 1
out her spear towards the city of Erechtheus, and said: " I have
won the victory, and here shall be my home. Here shall my
children grow up in happiness and freedom, and hither shall the
sons of men come to learn of law and order. Here shall they
see what great things may be done by mortal hands when aided
by the gods who dwell on Olympos, and when the torch of free-
dom has gone out at Athens, its light shall be handed on to other
lands, and men shall learn that my gift is still the best, and they
shall say that reverence tor law and freedom of thought and
deed has come to them from the city of Erechtheus, which bears
the name of Athene."
MEDUSA.
In the far western land, where the Hesperides guard the
golden apples which Gaia gave to the lady Here, dwelt the
maiden Medusa, with her sisters Stheino and Euryale, in their
lonely and dismal home. Between them and the land of living
men flowed the gentle stream of ocean, so that only the name of
the Gorgon sisters was known to the sons of men, and the heart
of Medusa yearned in vain to see some face which might look
on her with love and pity, for on her lay the doom of death, but
her sisters could neither grow old nor die. For them there was
nothing fearful in the stillness of their gloomy home, as they sat
with stern, unpitying faces, gazing on the silent land beyond the
ocean stream. But Medusa wandered to and fro, lonsfinof to see
something new in a home to which no change ever came, and
her heart pined for lack of those things which gladden the souls
of mortal men. For where she dwelt there was neither day nor
night. She never saw the bright children of Helios driving his
flocks to their pastures in the morning. She never beheld the
stars as they look out from the sky, when the sun sinks down
36
562 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
into his golden cup in the evening. There no clouds ever passed
across the heaven, no breeze ever whispered in the air, but a
pale yellow light brooded on the land everlastingly. So there
rested on the face of Medusa a sadness such as the children of
men may never feel; and the look of hopeless pain was the
more terrible because of the greatness of her beauty. She spake
not to any of her awful grief, for her sisters knew not of any
such thing as gentleness and love, and there was no comfort for
her from the fearful Graiai who were her kinsfolk. Sometimes
she sought them out in their dark caves, for it was something to
see even the faint glimmmer of the light of day which reached the
dwelling of the Graiai, but they spake not to her a word of hope
when she told them of her misery, and she wandered back to the
land which the light of Helios might never enter. Her brow
was knit with pain, but no tear wetted her cheek, for her grief
was too great for weeping.
But harder things yet were in store for Medusa, for Athene,
the daughter of Zeus, came from the Libyan land to the dwell-
ing of the Gorgon sisters, and she charged Medusa to go with
her to the gardens where the children of Hesperos guard the
golden apples of the lady Here. Then Medusa bowed herself
down at the feet of Athene, and besought her to have pity on
her changeless sorrow, and she said, " Child of Zeus, thou
dwellest with thy happy kinsfolk, where Helios gladdens all with
his light and the Horai lead the glad dance when Phcebus
touches the strings of his golden harp. Here there is neither
night nor day, nor cloud or breeze or storm. Let me go forth
from this horrible land and look on the face of mortal men, for I,
too, must die, and my heart yearns for the love which my sisters
scorn." Then Athene looked on her sternly, and said, " What
hast thou to do with love? and what is the love of men for one
who is of kin to the beings who may not die.? Tarry here till
thy doom is accomplished, and then it may be that Zeus will
MEDUSA.
563
grant thee a place among those who dwell in his glorious home."
But Medusa said, " Lady, let me go forth now. I can not tell
how many ages may pass before I die, and thou knowest not the
yearning which fills the heart of mortal things for tenderness and
love." Then a look of anger came over the fair face of Athene,
and she said, " Trouble me not. Thy prayer is vain, and the
sons of men would shrink from thee, if thou couldst go among
GRECIAN ALTAR. {3000 years old.)
them, for hardly could they look on the woeful sorrow of thy
countenance." But Medusa answered, gently, " Lady, hope
has a wondrous power to kill the deepest grief, and in the pure
light of Helios my face may be as fair as thine."
Then the anger of Athene became fiercer still, and she said,
^'Dost thou dare to vie with me.^ 1 stand by the side of Zeus,
564 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
to do his will, and the splendor of his glory rests upon me, and
what art thou, that thou shouldst speak to me such words as
these? Therefore, hear thy doom. Henceforth, if mortal man
ever look upon thee, one glance of thy face shall turn him to
stone. Thy beauty shall still remain, but it shall be to thee the
blackness of death. The hair which streams in golden tresses
over thy fair shoulders shall be changed into hissing snakes,
which shall curl and cluster round thy neck. On thy counte-
nance shall be seen only fear and dread, that so all mortal things
which look on thee may die." So Athene departed from her,
and the blackness of the great horror rested on the face of
Medusa, and the hiss of the snakes was heard as they twined
around her head and their coils were wreathed about her neck.
Yet the will of Athene was not wholly accomplished, for the heart
of Medusa was not changed by the doom which gave to her face
its deadly power, and she said, " Daughter of Zeus, there is hope
yet, for thou hast left me mortal still, and, one day, I shall die."
DANAE.
From the home of Phoebus Apollo, at Delphi, came words
of warning to Akrisios, the King of Argos, when he sent to ask
what should befall him in the after days, and the warning was
that he should be slain by the son of his daughter, Danae. So
the love of Akrisios was changed towards his child, who was
growing up fair as the flowers of spring, in her father's house,
and he shut her up in a dungeon, caring nothing for her wretched-
ness. But the power of Zeus was greater than the power of
Akrisios, and Danae became the mother of Perseus, and they
called her child the Son of the Bright Morning, because Zeus
had scattered the darkness of her prison-house. Then Akrisios
feared exceedingly, and he spake the word that • Danae and her
child should die.
DANAE.
565
The first streak of day was spreading its faint light in the
eastern sky when they led Danae to the sea-shore, and put her in
a chest, with a loaf of bread and a flask of water. Her child
slept in her " arms, and the rocking of the waves, as they bore
the chest over the heaving sea, made him slumber yet more
sweetly, and the tears of Danae fell on him as she thought of the
days that were past and the death which she must die in the
dark waters. And she prayed to Zeus, and said, " O Zeus, who
hast given me my child, canst thou hear me still and save me
from this terrible doom.?" Then a deep sleep came over Danae,
and, as she slept with the babe in her arms, the winds carried
the chest at the bidding of Poseidon, and cast it forth on the
shore of the island of Seriphos.
Now it so chanced that Diktys, the brother of Polydektes,
the King of the Island, was casting a net
into the sea, when he saw something thrown
up by the waves on the dry land, and he
went hastily and took Danae with her
child out of the chest, and said, " Fear
not, lady, no harm shall happen to thee
here, and they who have dealt hardly with
thee shall not come nigh to hurt thee in
this land." So he led her to the house of
King Polydektes, who welcomed her to
his home, and Danae had rest after all her
troubles.
Thus the time went on, and the child
Perseus grew up brave and strong, and all
who saw him marveled at his beauty. The
light of early morning is not more pure
than was the color on his fair cheeks, and
the golden locks streamed brightly over his shoulders, like the
rays of the sun when they rest on the hills at midday. And
THEMIS (Goddess of Law).
566 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Danae said, " My child, in the land where thou wast born, they
called thee the Son of the Bright Morning. Keep thy faith, and
deal justly with all men; so shalt thou deserve the name which
they gave thee." Thus Perseus grew up, hating all things that
were mean and wrong, and all who looked on him knew that his
hands were clean and his heart pure.
But there were evil days in store for Danae — for King Poly-
dektes sought to win her love against her will. Long time he
besought her to hearken to his prayer, but her heart was far
away in the land of Argos, where her child was born, and she
said, "O King, my Hfe is sad and weary; what is there in me
that thou shouldst seek my love? There are maidens in thy
kingdom fairer far than I; leave me, then, to take care of my
child while we dwell in a strange land." Then Polydektes said,
hastily, " Think not, lady, to escape me thus. If thou wilt not
hearken to my words, thy child shall not remain with thee, but I
will send him forth far away into the western land, that he may
bring me the head of the Gorgon Medusa.
So Danae sat weeping when Polydektes had left her, and
when Perseus came he asked her why she mourned and wept,
and he said, " Tell me, my mother, if the people of this land
have done thee wrong, and I will take a sword in my hand and
smite them." Then Danae answered, " Many toils await thee
in time to come, but here thou canst do nothing. Only be of
good courage, and deal truly, and one day thou shalt be able to
save me from my enemies."
Still, as the months went on, Polydektes sought to gain the
love of Danae, until at last he began to hate her because she
would not listen to his prayer. And he spake the word, that
Perseus must go forth to slay Medusa, and that Danae must be
shut up in a dungeon until the boy should return from the land
of the Graiai and the Gorgons.
So once more Danae lay within a prison, and the boy Per-
DANAE. 567
seus came to bid her farewell before he set out on his weary
journey. Then Danae folded her arms around him, and looked
sadly into his^ eyes, and said, " My child, whatever a mortal
man can do for his mother, that, I know, thou wilt do for me,
but I can not tell whither thy long toils shall lead thee, save that
the land of the Gorgons lies beyond the slow-rolling stream of
Ocean. Nor can I tell how thou canst do the bidding of Poly-
dektes, for Medusa alone of the Gorgon sisters may grow old
and die, and the deadly snakes will slay those who come near,
and one glance of her woeful eye can turn all mortal things to
stone. Once, they say, she was fair to look upon, but the lady
Athene has laid on her a dark doom, so that all who see the
Gorgon's face must die. It may be, Perseus, that the heart of
Medusa is full rather of grief than hatred, and that not of her
own will the woeful glare of her eye changes all mortal things
into stone, and, if so it be, then the deed which thou art charged
to do shall set her free from a hateful life, and bring to her some
of those good things for which now she yearns in vain. Go, then,
my child, and prosper. Thou hast a great warfare before thee,
and though I know not how thou canst win the victory, yet I
know that true and fair dealing gives a wondrous might to the
children of men, and Zeus will strengthen the arm of those who
hate treachery and lies."
Then Perseus bade his mother take courage, and vowed a
vow that he would not trust in craft and falsehood, and he said,
" I know not, my mother, the dangers and the foes which await
me, but be sure that I will not meet them with any weapons
which thou wouldst scorn. Only, as the days and months roll
on, think not that evil has befallen me, for there is hope within
me that I shall be able to do the bidding, of Polydektes and to
bear thee hence to our Argive land." So Perseus went forth
with a good courage to seek out the Gorgon Medusa.
568 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
The east wind crested with a silvery foam the waves of the
sea of Helle, when Perseus went into the ship which was to bear
him away from Seriphos. The white sail was spread to the
breeze, and the ship sped gaily over the heaving waters. Soon
the blue hills rose before them, and as the sun sank down in the
west, Perseus trod once more the Argive land.
But there was no rest for him now in his ancient home. On
and on, through Argos and other lands, he must wander in search
of the Gorgon, with nothing but his strong heart and his stout
arm to help him. Yet for himself he feared not, and if his eyes
filled with tears, it was only because he thought of his mother,
Danae; and he said within himself, " O, my mother, I would
that thou wert here. I see the towers of the fair city where
Akrisios still is King, I see the home which thou longest to be-
hold, and which now I may not enter, but one day I shall bring
thee hither in triumph, when I come to win back my birthright."
Brightly before his mind rose the vision of the time to come,
as he lay down to rest beneath the blue sky, but when his eyes
were closed in sleep, there stood before him a vision yet more
glorious, for the lady Athene was come from the home of Zeus,
to aid the young hero as he set forth on his weary labor. Her
face gleamed with a beauty such as is not given to the daughters
of men. But Perseus feared not because of her majesty, for the
soft spell of sleep lay on him, and he heard her words as she
said, " I am come down from Olympos, where dwells my father,
Zeus, to help thee in thy mighty toil. Thou art brave of heart
and strong of hand, but thou knowest not the way which thou
shouldst go, and thou hast no weapons with which to slay the
Gorgon Medusa. Many things thou needest, but only against
the freezing stare of the Grogon's face can I guard thee now.
PERSEUS. 569
On her countenance thou canst not look and live, and even when
she is dead, one glance of that fearful face will still turn all mor-
tal things to stone. So, when thou drawest nigh to slay her,
thine eye must not rest upon her. Take good heed, then, to
thyself, for while they are awake the Gorgon sisters dread no
danger, for the snakes which curl around their heads warn them
of every peril. Only while they sleep canst thou approach them,
and the face of Medusa, in life or in death, thou must never see.
Take, then, this mirror, into which thou canst look, and when
thou beholdest her image there, then nerve thy heart and take
thine aim, and carry away with thee the head of the mortal
maiden. Linger not in thy flight, for her sisters will pursue after
thee, and they can neither grow old nor die."
So Athene departed from him, and early in the morning he
saw by his side the mirror which she had given to him, and he
said, " Now I know that my toil is not in vain, and the help of
Athene is a pledge of yet more aid in time to come." So he
journeyed on with a good heart over hill and dale, across rivers
and forests, towards the setting of the sun. Manfully he toiled
on, till sleep weighed heavy on his eyes, and he lay down to rest
on a broad stone in the evening. Once more before him stood
a glorious form. A burnished helmet glistened on his head, a
golden staff was in his hand, and on his feet were the golden san-
dals, which bore him through the air with a flight more swift
than the eagle's. And Perseus heard a voice which said, " I am
Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, and I come to arm thee against
thine enemies. Take this sword, which slays all mortal things
on which it may fall, and go on thy way with a cheerful heart.
A weary road yet lies before thee, and for many a long day
must thou wander on before thou canst have other help in thy
mighty toil. Far away, towards the setting of the sun, lies the
Tartessian land, whence thou shalt see the white-crested moun-
tains where Atlas holds up the pillars of the heaven. There
57°
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
must thou cross the dark waters, and then thou wilt find thyself
in the land of the Graiai, who are of kin to the Gorgon sisters^
and thou wilt see no more the glory of Helios, who gladdens the
homes of living men. Only a faint light from the far-off sun
comes dimly to the desolate land where, hidden in the gloomy
cave, lurk the hapless Graiai. These thou must seek out, and
when thou hast found them, fear them not. Over their worn
and wrinkled faces stream tangled masses of long gray hair,
their voice comes hollow from their toothless gums, and a single
eye is passed from one to the other when they wish to look forth
from their dismal dwelling. Seek them out, for these alone can
tell thee what more remaineth yet for thee to do."
When Perseus woke in the morning, the sword of Hermes
lay beside him, and he rose up with great joy, and said, " The
help of Zeus fails me not; if more is needed will he not grant it
to me.^ So onward he went to the Tartessian land, and thence
across the dark sea towards the country of the Graiai, till he saw
the pillars of Atlas rise afar off into the sky. Then, as he drew
nigh to the hills which lay beneath them, he came to a dark
cave, and as he stooped to look into it, he fancied that he saw
the gray hair which streamed over the shoulders of the Graiai.
Long time he rested on the rocks without the cave, till he knew
by their heavy breathing that the sisters were asleep. Then he
crept in stealthily, and took the eye which lay beside them, and
waited till they should wake. At last, as the faint light from the
far-off sun, who shines on mortal men, reached the cave, he saw
them groping for the eye which he had taken, and presently,
from their toothless jaws, came a hollow voice, which said,
" There is some one near us who is sprung from the children of
men, for of old time we have known that one should come and
leave us blind until we did his bidding." Then Perseus came
forth boldly and stood before them, and said, " Daughters of
Phorkos and of Keto, I know that ye are of kin to the Gorgon
PERSEUS. 571
sisters, and to these ye must now guide me. Think not to
escape my craft or guile, for in my hands is the sword of
Hermes, and it slays all living things on which it may fall." And
they answered, quickly, " Slay us not, child of man, for we will
deal truly by thee, and will tell thee of the things which must be
done before thou canst reach the dwelling of the Gorgon sisters.
Go hence along the plain which stretches before thee, then over
hill and vale, and forest and desert, till thou comest to the slow-
rolling Ocean stream; there call on the nymphs who dwell be-
neath the waters, and they shall rise at thy bidding and tell thee
many things which it is not given to us to know."
Onwards again he went, across the plain, and over hill and
vale till he came to the Ocean which flows lazily round the
world of living men. No ray of the pure sunshine pierced the
murky air, but the pale yellow light, which broods on the land
of the Gorgons, showed to him the dark stream, as he stood on
the banks and summoned the nymphs to do his bidding. Pres-
ently they stood before him, and greeted him by his name, and
they said, " O Perseus, thou art the first of living men whose
feet have trodden this desolate shore. Long time have we
known that the will of Zeus would bring thee hither to accom-
plish the doom of the mortal Medusa. We know the things of
which thou art in need, and without us thy toil would in very
truth be vain. Thou hast to come near to beings who can see
all around them, for the snakes which twist about their heads
are their eyes, and here is the helmet of Hades, which will
enable thee to draw nigh to them unseen. Thou hast the sword
which never falls in vain; but without this bag which we give
thee, thou canst not bear away the head, the sight of which
changes all mortal things to stone. And when thy work of
death is done on the mortal maiden, thou must fly from her sis-
ters who can not die, and who will follow thee more swiftly than
eagles, and here are the sandals which shall waft thee through
572 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
the air more quickly than a dream. Hasten, then, child of
Danae, for we are ready to bear thee in our hands across the
Ocean stream."
So they bare Perseus to the Gorgon land, and he. journeyed
on in the pale yellow light which rests upon it everlastingly.
On that night, in the darkness of their lonesome dwelling,
Medusa spake to her sisters of the doom which should one day
be accomplished, and she said, " Sisters, ye care little for the
grief whose image on my face turns all mortal things to stone.
Ye who know not old age or death, know not the awful
weight of my agony, and can not feel the signs of the chang»e
that is coming. But I know them. The snakes which twine
around my head warn me not in vain; but they warn me against
perils which I care not now to shun. The wrath of Athene,
who crushed the faint hopes which lingered in my heart, left me
mortal still, and I am weary with the woe of the ages that are
past. O sisters, ye know not what it is to pity, but something
more, ye know what it is to love, for even in this living tomb
we have dwelt together in peace, and peace is of kin to love.
But hearken to me now. Mine eyes are heavy with sleep, and
my heart tells me that the doom is coming, for I am but a
mortal maiden, and I care not if the slumber which is stealing
on me be the sleep of those whose life is done. Sisters, my lot
is happier at the least than yours, for he who slays me is my
friend. I am weary of my woe, and it may be that better things
await me when I am dead."
But even as Medusa spake, the faces of Stheino and Eury-
ale remained unchanged, and it seemed as though for them the
words of Medusa were but an empty sound. Presently the Gor-
gon sisters were all asleep. The deadly snakes lay still and
quiet, and only the breath which hissed from their mouths was
heard throughout the cave.
Then Perseus drew nigh, with the helmet of Hades on his
PERSEUS. 573
head, and the sandals of the nymphs on his feet. In his right
hand was the sword of Hermes, and in his left the mirror of
Athene. Long time he gazed on the image of Medusa's face,
which still showed the wreck of her ancient beauty, and he said
within himself, " Mortal maiden, well may it be that more than
mortal woe should give to thy countenance its deadly power.
The hour of thy doom is come, but death to thee must be a
boon." Then the sword of Hermes fell, and the great agony of
Medusa was ended. So Perseus cast a veil over the dead face,
and bare it away from the cave in the bag which the nymphs
gave him on the banks of the slow-rolling Ocean.
ANDROMEDA.
Terrible was the rage of the Gorgon sisters when they woke
up from their sleep and saw that the doom of Medusa had been
accomplished. The snakes hissed as they rose in knotted clus-
ters round their heads, and the Gorgons gnashed their teeth in
fury, not for any love of the mortal maiden whose woes were
ended, but because a child of weak and toiling men had dared
to approach the daughters of Phorkos and Keto. Swifter than
the eagles they sped from their gloomy cave, but they sought in
vain to find Perseus, for the helmet of Hades was on his head, and
the sandals of the nymphs were bearing him through the air like
a dream. Onwards he went, not knowing whither he was borne,
for he saw but dimly through the pale yellow light which brooded
on the Gorgon land everlastingly ; but presently he heard a groan
as from one in mortal pain, and before him he beheld a giant
form, on whose head rested the pillars of the heaven, and he
heard a voice, which said, " Hast thou slain the Gorgon Medusa,
child of man, and art thou come to rid me of myipng woe.^*
• -- **^
OF TUP- ^•^\
574
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Look on me, for I am Atlas, who rose up with the Titans
against the power of Zeus, when Prometheus fought on his side;
and of old time have I known that for me is no hope of rest till
a mortal man should bring hither the Gorgon head which can
turn all living things to stone. For so was it shown to me from
Zeus, when he made me bow down beneath the weight of the
brazen heaven. Yet, if thou hast sla;n Medusa, Zeus hath been
more merciful to me than to Prometheus who was his friend, for
he lies nailed on the rugged crags of Caucasus, and only thy
child in the third generation shall scare away the vulture which
gnaws his heart, and set the Titan free. But hasten now, Per-
seus, and let me look on the Gorgon's face, for the agony of my
labor is well nigh greater than I can bear." So Perseus heark-
ened to the words of Atlas, and he unveiled before him the dead
face of Medusa. Eagerly he gazed for a moment on the change-
less countenance, as though beneath the blackness of great horror
he could yet see the wreck of her ancient beauty and pitied her
for her hopeless woe. But in an instant the straining eyes were
closed, the heaving breast was still, the limbs which trembled
with the weight of heaven were still and cold, and it seemed to
Perseus, as he rose again into the pale yellow air, that the gray
hairs which streamed from the giant's head were like the snow
Avhich rests on the peaks of the great mountain, and that in place
•of the trembling limbs he saw only the rents and clefts on a
rough hill-side.
Onward yet and higher he sped, he knew not whither, on
the golden sandals, till from the murky glare of the Gorgon land
he passed into a soft and tender light, in which all things wore
the colors of a dream. It was not the light of sun or moon,
for in that land was neither day nor night. No breeze wafted
the light clouds of morning through the sky, or stirred the leaves
of the forest trees where the golden fruits glistened the whole
year round, but from beneath rose the echoes of sweet music, as
ANDROMEDA.
575
he glided gently down to the earth. Then he took the helmet
of Hades from off his head, and asked the people whom he met
the name of this happy land, and they said, " We dwell where
the icy breath of Boreas can not chill the air or wither our fruits,
therefore is our land called the garden of the Hyperboreans."
There, for a while, Perseus rested from his toil, and all day
long he saw the dances of happy maidens fair as Hebe and
Harmonia, and he shared the rich banquets at which the people
of the land feasted with wreaths of laurel twined around their
head. There he rested in a deep peace, for no sound of strife or
war can ever break it, and they know nothing of malice and
hatred, of sickness or old age.
But presently Perseus remembered his mother, Danae, as
she lay in her prison-house, at Seriphos, and he left the garden of
the Hyperboreans to return to the world of toiling men, but the
people of the land knew only that it lay beyond the slow-rolling
Ocean stream, and Perseus saw not whither he went as he rose
on his golden sandals into the soft and dreamy air. Onwards he
flew, until far beneath he beheld the Ocean river, and once more
he saw the light of Helios, as he drove his fiery chariot through
the heaven. Far away stretched the mighty Libyan plain, and
further yet, beyond the hills which shut it in, he saw the waters
of the dark sea, and the white line of foam, where the breakers
were dashed upon the shore. As he came nearer, he saw the
huge rocks which rose out of the heaving waters, and on one
of them he beheld a maiden, whose limbs were fastened with
chains to a stone. The folds of her white robe fluttered in the
breeze, and her fair face was worn and wasted with the heat by
day and the cold by night. Then F^erseus hastened to her, and
stood a long time before her, but she saw him not, for the helmet
of Hades was on his head, and he watched her there till the
tears started to his eyes for pity. Her hands were clasped upon
her breast, and only the moving of her lips showed the greatness
576 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
of her misery. Higher and higher rose the foaming waters, till
at last the maiden said, " O Zeus, is there none whom thou
canst send to help me?" Then Perseus took the helmet in his
hand, and stood before her in all his glorious beauty, and the
maiden knew that she had nothing to fear when he said, " Lac v
I see that thou art in great sorrow; tell me who it is that has
wronged thee, and I will avenge thee mightily." And she
answered, " Stranger, whoever thou art, I will trust thee, for thy
face tells me that thou art not one- of those who deal falsely.
My name is Andromeda, and my father, Kepheus, is King of the
rich Libyan land, but there is strife between him and the old
man, Nereus, who dwells with his daughters in the coral caves,
beneath the sea, for, as I grew up in my father's house, my
mother made a vain boast of my beauty, and said that among
all the children of Nereus there was none so fair as I. wSo
Nereus rose from his coral caves, and went to the King Poseidon,
and said, " King of the broad sea, Kassiopeia, hath done a
grievous wrong to me and to my children. I pray thee let not
her people escape for her evil words."
Then Poseidon let loose the waters of the sea, and they
rushed in over the Libyan plains till only the hills which shut it
in remained above them, and a mighty monster came forth and
devoured all the fruits of the land. In grief and terror the peo-
ple fell down before my father, Kepheus, and he sent to the home
of Ammon to ask what he should do for the plague of waters
and for the savage beast who vexed them ; and soon the answer
came that he must chain up his daughter on a rock, till the beast
came and took her for his prey. So they fastened me here to
this desolate crag, and each day the monster comes nearer as
the waters rise; and soon, I think, they will place me within his
reach." Then Perseus cheered her with kindly words, and said,
" Maiden, I am Perseus, to whom Zeus has given the power to
do great things. I hold in my hand the sword of Hermes,
ANDROMEDA.
577
which has slain the Gorgon Medusa, and I am bearing to Poly-
dektes, who rules in Seriphos, the head which turns all who look
on it into stone. Fear not, then, Andromeda. I will do battle
with the monster, and, when thy foes are vanquished, I will sue
for the boon of thy love." A soft blush as of great gladness
came over the pale cheek of Andromeda, as she answered, " O
Perseus, why should I hide from thee my joy? Thou hast come
to me like the light of the morning when it breaks on a woeful
night." But, even as she spake, the rage
of the waves waxed greater, and the
waters rose higher and higher, lashing the
rocks in their fury, and the hollow roar
of the monster was heard as he hastened
to seize his prey. Presently by the maid-
en's side he saw a glorious form with the
flashing sword in his hand, and he lashed
the waters in fiercer anger. Then Per-
seus went forth to meet him, and he held
aloft the sword which Hermes gave to
him, and said, " Sword of Phcebus, let
thy stroke be sure, for thou smitest the
enemy of the helpless." So the sword eutkrpe (.)/««. 0/ 77.a«..r.).
fell, and the blood of the mighty beast reddened the waters of
the green sea.
In gladness of heart Perseus led the maiden to the halls of
Kepheus, and said, " O King, I have slain the monster to whom
thou didst give thy child for a pre}-; let her go with me now to
other lands, if she gainsay me not." But Kepheus answered,
" Tarry with us yet a while, and the marriage feast shall be
made ready, if indeed thou must hasten away from the Libyan
land." So, at the banquet, by the side of Perseus sate the
beautiful Andromeda; but there arose a fierce strife, for Phineus
had come to the feast, and it angered him that another should
37
578 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
have for his wife the maiden whom he had sought to make his
bride. Deeper and fiercer grew his rage, as he looked on the
face of Perseus, till at last he spake evil words of the stranger
who had taken away the prize which should have been his own.
But Perseus said, calmly, " Why, then, didst thou not slay the
monster thyself and set the maiden free?" When Phineus heard
these words his rage almost choked him, and he charged his
people to draw their swords and slay Perseus. Wildly rose the
din in the banquet hall, but Perseus unveiled the Gorgon's face,
and Phineus and all his people were frozen into stone.
Then, in the still silence, Perseus bare away Andromeda
from her father's home, and when they had wandered through
many lands they came at length to Seriphos. Once more Danae
looked on the face of her son, and said, " My child, the months
have rolled wearily since I bade thee farewell; but sure I am
that my prayer has been heard, for thy face is as the face of one
who comes back a conqueror from battle." Then Perseus said,
" Yes, my mother, the help of Zeus has never failed me. When
the eastern breeze carried me hence to the Argive land, my
heart was full of sorrow, because I saw the city which thou
didst yearn to see, and the home which thou couldst not enter,
and I vowed a vow to bring thee back in triumph when I came
to claim my birthright.
That evening, as I slept, the lady Athene came to me from
the home of Zeus, and gave me a mirror so that I might take
the Gorgon's head without looking on the face which turns
everything into stone, and yet another night, Hermes stood before
me, and gave me the sword whose stroke never fails, and the
Graiai told me where I should find the nymphs who gave me the
helmet of Hades, and the bag which has borne hither the Gor-
gon's head, and the golden sandals which have carried me like a
dream over land and sea. O, my mother, I have done wondrous
things by the aid of Zeus, By me the doom of Medusa has
ANDROMEDA. 579
been accomplished, and I think that the words which thou didst
speak were true, for the image of the Gorgon's face, which I saw
in Athene's mirror, was as the countenance of one whose beauty
has been marred by a woeful agony, and whenever I have looked
since on that image, it has seemed to me as though it wore the
look of one who rested in death from a mighty pain. So, as the
giant Atlas looked on that grief-stricken brow, he felt no more
the weight of the heaven as it rested on him, and the gray hair
which streamed from his head seemed to me, when I left him,
hke the snow which clothes the mountain-tops in winter. So,
when from the happy gardens of the Hyperboreans I came to
the rich Libyan plain, and had killed the monster who sought to
slay Andromeda, the Gorgon's face turned Phineus and his peo-
ple into stone, when they sought to slay me because I had won
her love." Then Danae answered the questions of Perseus, and
told him how Polydektes had vexed her with his evil words, and
how Diktys alone had shielded her from his brother. And Per-
seus bade Danae be of good cheer, because the recompense of
Polydektes was nigh at hand.
There was joy and feasting in Seriphos when the news was
spread abroad that Perseus had brought back for the King the
head of the Gorgon Medusa, and Polydektes made a great feast,
and the wine sparkled in the goblets as the minstrels sang of the
great deeds of the son of Danae. Then Perseus told him of all
that Hermes and Athene had done for him. He showed them
the helmet of Hades, and the golden sandals, and the unerring
sword, and then he unveiled the face of Medusa before Poly-
dektes and the men who had aided him against his mother,
Danae. So Perseus looked upon them, as they sat at the rich
banquet, stiff and cold as a stone, and he felt that his mighty
work was ended. Then, at his prayer, came Hermes, the mes-
senger of Zeus, and Perseus gave him back the helmet of Hades,
and the sword which had slain the Gorgon, and the sandals
580 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
which had borne him through the air like a dream. And
Hermes gave the helmet again to Hades, and the sandals to the
Ocean n3^mphs, but Athene took the Gorgon's head, and it was
placed upon her shield.
Then Perseus spake to Danae, and said, " My mother, it is
time for thee to go home. The Gorgon's face has turned
Polydektes and his people into stone, and Diktys rules in Seri-
phos." So once more the white sails were filled with the eastern
breeze, and Danae saw once more the Argive land. From city
to city spread the tidings that Perseus was come, who had slain
the Gorgon, and the youths and maidens sang " lo Paian," as
they led the conqueror to the halls of Akrisios.
AKRipiOp.
The shouts of " lo Paian " reached the ear of Akrisios, as
he sat in his lonely hall, marveling at the strange things which
must have happened to waken the sounds of joy and triumph;
for,' since the day when Danae was cast forth with her babe on
the raging waters, the glory of war had departed from Argos,
and it seemed as though all the chieftains had lost their ancient
strength and courage. But the wonder of Akrisios was changed
to a great fear when they told him that his child, Danae, was
coming home, and that the hero, Perseus, had rescued her from
Polydektes, the King of Seriphos. The memory of all the
wrong which he had done to his daughter tormented him, and
still in his mind dwelt the words of warnins: which came from
Phoebus Apollo that he should one da}^ be slain by the hands of
her son; so that, as he looked forth on the sky, it seemed to him
as though he should see the sun again no more.
In haste and terror Akrisios fled from his home. He tarried
AKRISIOS. 581
not to hear the voice of Danae, he stayed not to look on the face
of Perseus, nor to see that the hero who had slain the Gorgon
bore him no malice for the wrongs of the former days. Quickly
he sped over hill and dale, across river and forest, till he came
to the house of Teutamidas, the great chieftain who ruled in
Larissa.
The feast was spread in the banquet-hall, and the Thessalian
minstrels sang of the brave deeds of Perseus, for even thither
had his fame reached already. They told how from the land of
toiling men he had passed to the country of the Graiai and the
Gorgons, how he had slain the mortal Medusa and stiffened the
giant Atlas into stone, and then they sang how, with the sword
of Hermes, he smote the mighty beast which ravaged the Libyan
land, and won Andromeda to be his bride. Then Teutamidas
spake, and said, " My friend, I envy thee for thy happy lot, for
not often in the world of men may fathers reap such glory from
their children as thou hast won from Perseus. In the ages to
come men shall love to tell of his great and good deeds, and
from him shall spring mighty chieftains, who shall be stirred up
to a purer courage when they remember how Perseus toiled and
triumphed before them. And now tell me, friend, wherefore
thou hast come hither. Thy cheek is pale, and thy hand trem-
bles, but I think not that it can be from the weight of years, for
thy old age is yet but green, and thou mayest hope still to see
the children of Perseus clustering around thy knees."
But Akrisios could scarcely answer for shame and fear; for
he cared not to tell Teutamidas of the wrongs which he had
done to Danae. So he said, hastily, that he had fled from a great
danger, for the warning of Phoebus was that he should be slain
by his daughter's son. And Teutamidas said, " Has thy daugh-
ter yet another son?" And then Akrisios was forced to own
that he had fled from the hero, Perseus. But the face of Teu-
tamidas flushed with anger as he said, " O shame, that thou
582 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
shouldst flee from him who ought to be thy glory and thy pride!
Everywhere men speak of the goodness and the truth of Perseus,
and I will not believe that he bears thee a grudge for anything
that thou hast done to him. Nay, thou doest to him a more
grievous wrong in shunning him now than when thou didst cast
him forth in his mother's arms upon the angry sea." So he
pleaded with Akrisios for Perseus, until he spoke the word that
Danae and her child might come to the great games which were
to be held on the plain before Larissa.
With shouts of " lo Paian " the youths and maidens went
out before Perseus as he passed from the city of Akrisios to go
to Larissa, and everywhere as he journeyed the people came
forth from town and village to greet the bright hero and the
beautiful Andromeda, whom he had saved from the Libyan
dragon. Onwards they went, spreading gladness everywhere,
till the cold heart of Akrisios himself was touched with a feel-
ing of strange joy, as he saw the band of youths and maidens
who came before them to the house of Teutamidas. So once
more his child Danae stood before him, beautiful still, although
the sorrows of twenty years had dimmed the brightness of her
eye, and the merry laugh of her youth was gone. Once more
he looked on the face of Perseus, and he listened to the kindly
greeting of the hero whom he had wronged in the days of his
helpless childhood. But he marveled yet more at the beauty of
Andromeda, and he thought within himself that throughout the
wide earth were none so fair as Perseus and the wife whom he
had won with the sword of Hermes.
Then, as they looked on the chiefs who strove together in
the games, the shouting of the crowd told at the end of each
that Perseus was the conqueror. At last they stood forth to see
which should have most strength of arm in hurling the quoit;
and, when Perseus aimed at the mark, the quoit swerved aside
and smote Akrisios on the head, and the warning of Phoebus
Apollo was accomplished.
AKRISIOS. 583
Great was the sorrow of Teutamidas and his people as the
chieftain of Argos lay dead before them; but deeper still and
more bitter was the grief of Perseus for the deed which he had
unwittingly done, and he said, " O Zeus, I have striven to keep
my hands clean and to deal truly, and a hard recompense hast
thou given me."
So they went back mourning to Argos, but although he
strove heartily to rule his people well, the grief of Perseus could
not be lessened while he remained in the house of Akrisios. So
he sent a messenger to his kinsman, Megapenthes, who ruled at
Tiryns, and said, " Come thou and rule in Argos, and I will go
and dwell among thy people." So Perseus dwelt at Tiryns, and
the men of the city rejoiced that he had come to rule over them.
Thus the months and years went quickly by, as Perseus strove
with all his might to make his people happy and to guard them
against their enemies. At his bidding, the Cyclopes came from
the far-off Lykian land, and built the might}^ walls which gird
the city round about; and they helped him to build yet another
city, which grew in after-times to be even greater and mightier
than Tiryns. So rose the walls of Mykenae, and there, too, the
people loved and honored Perseus for his just dealing more than
for all the deeds which he had done with the sword of Hermes.
At last the time came when the hero must rest from his long
toil, but as they looked on his face, bright and beautiful even in
death, the minstrels said, " We shall hear his voice no more, but
the name of Perseus shall never die."
KEPHALO^ AND PROKRIg.
Of all the maidens in the land of Attica none was so beau-
tiful as Prokris, the daughter of King Erechtheus. She was the
delight of her father's heart, not so much for her beauty as for
584
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
her goodness and her gentleness. The sight of her fair face and
the sound of her happ}^ voice brought gladness to all who saw
and heard her. Every one stopped to listen to the songs which
she sang as she sat working busily at the loom, and the maidens
who dwelt with her were glad when the hour came to go with
Prokris and wash their clothes or draw water from the fountain.
Then, when all her tasks were ended, she would roam over hill
and valley, into every nook and dell. There was no spot in all
the land where Prokris had not been. She lay down to rest in
the top of the highest hills, or by the side of the stream where
it murmured among the rocks far down in
the woody glen. So passed her da3^s away;
and while all loved her and rejoiced to see
her face, only Prokris knew not of her own
beauty, and thought not of her own good-
ness. But they amongst whom she lived,
the old and the young, the sorrowful and
happy, all said that Prokris, the child of
Herse, was always as fair and bright as the
dew of early morning.
Once in her many wanderings she had
climbed the heights of Mount Hymettos,
almost before the first streak of dawn was
seen in the sky. Far away, as she looked over the blue sea, her
eyes rested on the glittering cliffs of Eubcea, and she looked and
saw that a ship was sailing towards the shore beneath the hill of
Hyrhettos. Presently it reached the shore, and she could see that a
man stepped out of the ship, and began to climb the hill, while the
rest remained on the beach. As he came nearer to her, Prokris
knew that his face was very fair, and she thought that she had
never seen such beauty in mortal man before. She had heard
that sometimes the gods come down from their home on Olym-
pos to mingle among the children of men, and that sometimes
THALIA {Muse of Comedy).
KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 585
the bright heroes were seen in the places where they had Hved
on the earth before they were taken to dwell in the halls of Zeus.
As the stranger came near to her the sun rose brightly and with-
out a cloud from the dark sea, and its light fell on his face, and
made it gleam with more than mortal beauty. Gently he came
towards her, and said, " Lady, I am come from the far-off east-
ern land, and as I drew near to this shore I saw that some one
was resting here upon the hill. So I hastened to leave the ship
that I might learn the name of the country which I have reached.
My name is Kephalos, and my father, Helios, lives in a beautiful
home beyond the sea, but I am traveling over the earth, till I
shall have gone over every land and seen all the cities which
men have built. Tell me now thy name, and the name of this
fair land." Then she said, " Stranger, my name is Prokris, an J
I am the daughter of King Erechtheus, who dwells at Athens
3'onder, where thou seest the bright line of Kephisos flowing
gently into the sea." So Prokris guided the stranger to her
father's house, and Erechtheus received him kindly, and spread a
banquet before him. But as they feasted and drank the dark
red wine, he thought almost that Kephalos must be one of the
bright heroes come back to his own land, so fair and beautiful
was he to look upon, and that none save only his own child, Pro-
kris, might be compared to him for beauty.
Long time Kephalos abode in the house of Erechtheus, and,
each day, he loved more and more the bright and happy Prokris ;
and Prokris became brighter and happier, as the eye of Kephalos
rested gently and lovingly upon her. At last Kephalos told her
of his love, and Erechtheus gave him his child to be his wife,
and there were none in all the land who dwelt together in a love
so deep and pure as that of Kephalos and Prokris.
But among the maidens of that land there was one who
was named Eos. She, too, was fair and beautiful, but she hnd
not the gentle spirit and the guileless heart of Prokris. When-
586 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
ever Kephalos wandered forth wich his young wife, then Eos
would seek to follow them stealthily, or, if she met them by
chance, she would suffer her eyes to rest long on the fair face of
Kephalos, till she began to envy the happiness of Prokris. And
so one day, when there was a feast of the people of the land,
and the maidens danced on the soft grass around the fountain,
Kephalos and Eos talked together, and Eos suffered herself to
be carried away by her evil love. From that day she sought
more and more to talk with Kephalos, till at last she bowed her
head before him and told him softly of her love. But Kephalos
said to her, gently, " Maiden, thou art fair to look upon, and there
are others who may love thee well, and thou deservest the love
of any. But I may not leave Prokris, whom Erechtheus has
given to me to be my wife. Forgive me, maiden, if Prokris ap-
pear to me even fairer than thou art ; but I prize her gentleness
more than her beauty, and Prokris, with her pure love and guile-
less heart, shall be always dearer to me than any other in all the
wide earth." Then Eos answered him craftily, " O Kephalos^
thou hast suffered thyself to be deceived. Prokris loves thee not
as I do; prove her love and thou shalt see that I have spoken
truly."
Thus Eos spoke to him for many days, and the great happi-
ness of his life was marred, for the words of Eos would come
back to his mind, as he looked on the happy and guileless Prokris.
He had begun to doubt whether she were in very deed so pure
and good as she seemed to be, and at last he said to Eos that he
would prove her love. Then Eos told him how to do so, and
said that if he came before his wife as a stranger and brought to
her rich gifts, as from a distant land, she would forget her love
for Kephalos.
With a heavy heart he went away, for he foreboded evil
days from the subtle words of Eos, and he departed and dwelt
in another land. So the time passed on, until many weeks and
KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 587"
months had gone by, and Prokris mourned and wept in the house
of Erechtheus, until the brightness of her eye was dimmed and
her voice had lost its gladness. Day after day she sought
throughout all the land for Kephalos, day after day she went up
the hill of Hymettos, and as she looked towards the sea, she
said, "Surely he will come back again; ah, Kephalos, thou
knowest not the love which thou hast forsaken." Thus she
pined away in her sorrow, although to all who were around her
she was as gentle and as loving as ever. Her father was now
old and weak, and he knew that he must soon die, but it grieved
him most of all that he must leave his child in a grief more
bitter than if Kephalos had remained to comfort her. So Erech-
theus died, and the people honored him as one of the heroes of
the land, but Prokris remained in his house desolate, and all who
saw her pitied her for her true love and her deep sorrow. At
last she felt that Kephalos would return no more, and that she
could no more be happy until she went to her father in the bright
home of the heroes and the gods.
Then a look of peace and loving patience came over her
fair face, and she roamed with a strange gladness through every
place where Kephalos had wandered with her; and so it came to
pass that one day Prokris sat resting in the early morning on the
eastern slopes of Mount Hymettos, when suddenly she beheld a
man coming near to her. The dress was strange, but she half
thought she knew his tall form and the light step as he came up
the hill. Presently he came close to her, and she felt as if she
were in a strange dream. The sight of his face and the glance
of his eye carried her back to the days that were past, and she
started up and ran towards him, saying, " O Kephalos, thou art
come back at last; how couldst thou forsake me so long?" But
the stranger answered, in a low and gentle voice (for he saw
that she was in great sorrow), " Lady, thou art deceived. I am
a stranger come from a far country, and I seek to know the
588 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
name of this land." Then Prokris sat down again on the grass,
and clasped her hands, and said, slowly, "It is changed and I
can not tell how; yet surely it is the voice of Kephalos." Then
she turned to the stranger, and said, " O stranger, I am mourn-
ing for Kephalos, whom I have loved and lost; he, too, came
from a far land across the sea. Dost thou know him, and canst
thou tell me where I may find him?" And the stranger an-
swered, "I know him, lady; he is again in his own home, far
away, whither thou canst not go; yet think not of him, for he
has forgotten his love." Then the stranger spoke to her in gen-
tle and soothing words, until her grief became less bitter. Long
time he abode in the land, and it pleased Prokris to hear his
voice while his eye rested kindly on her, until she almost fancied
that she was with Kephalos once more. And she thought to
herself, " What must that land be, from which there can come
two. who are beautiful as the bright heroes.^"
So at last, when with soft and gentle words he had soothed
her sorrow, the stranger spoke to her of his love, and Prokris
felt that she, too, could love him, for had not Kephalos despised
her love and forsaken her long ago? So he said, " Canst thou
love me, Prokris, instead of Kephalos?" and when she gently
answered "Yes," then a change came over the face of the
stranger, and she saw that it was Kephalos himself who clasped
her in his arms. With a wild cry she broke from him, and as
bitter tears ran down her cheek, she said, " O Kephalos, Kepha-
los, why hast thou done thus? all my love was thine, and thou
hast drawn me into evil deeds." Then, without tarrying for his
answer, with all her strength she fled away, and she hastened to
the sea shore and bade them make ready a ship to take her from
her father's land. Sorrowfully they did as she besought them,
and they took her to the Island of Crete, far away in the eastern
sea.
When Prokris was gone, the maiden Eos came and stood
KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 589
before Kephalos, and she said to him, " My words are true, and
now must thou keep the vow by which thou didst swear to love
me, if Prokris should yield herself to a stranger." vSo Kephalos
dwelt with Eos, but for all her fond words he could not love her
as still he loved Prokris.
Meanwhile Prokris wandered, in deep and bitter sorrow^
among the hills and valleys of Crete. She cared not to look on
the fair morning as it broke on the pale path of night; she cared
not to watch the bright sun as he rose from the dark sea, or
when he sank to rest behind the western waters. For the earth
had lost all its gladness, and she felt that she could die. But
one day as she sat on a hill-side and looked on the broad plains
which lay stretched beneath, suddenly a woman stood before her^
brighter and more glorious than the daughters of men, and Pro-
kris knew, from the spear which she held in her hand and the
hound which crouched before her, that it was Artemis,- the
mighty child of Zeus and Leto. Then Prokris fell at her feet,
and said, " O lady Artemis, pity me in my great sorrow;" and
Artemis answered, " Fear not, Prokris, I know thy grief. Kepha-
los hath done thee a great wrong, but he shall fall by the same
device wherewith he requited thy pure and trusting love." Then
she gave to Prokris her hound and her spear, and said, " Hasten
now to thine own land, and go stand before Kephalos, and I will
put a spell upon him that he may not know thee. Follow him
in the chase, and at whatsoever thou mayest cast this spear, it
shall fall, and from this hound no prey which thou mayest seek
for shall ever escape."
So Prokris sailed back to the land of Erechtheus with the
gifts of Artemis. And when Kephalos went to the chase,
Prokris followed him, and all the glory of the hunt fell to her
portion, for the hound struck down whatever it seized, and her
spear never missed its aim. And Kephalos marveled greatly,
and said to the maiden, " Give me thy hound and thy spear,"
.590 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
and he besought the stranger many times for the gift, till at last
Prokris said, " I will not give them but for thy love, thou must
forsake Eos and come to dwell with me." Then Kephalos said,
*' I care not for Eos; so only I have thy gifts, thou shalt have my
love." But even as he spoke these words, a change came over
the face of the stranger, and l^e saw that it was Prokris herself
who stood before him. And Prokris said, '' Ah, Kephalos, once
more thou hast promised to love me, and now may I keep thy
love, and remain with thee always. Almost I may say that I
never loved any one but thee, but thou art changed, Kephalos,
although still the same, else wouldst thou not have promised to
love me for the gift of a hound and a spear." Then Kephalos
besought Prokris to forgive him, and he said, " I am caught in
the trap which I laid for thee, but 1 have fallen deeper. When
thou gavest thy love to me as to a stranger, it pleased thee yet to
think that I was like Kephalos, and my vow to thee has been
given for the mere gifts which I coveted." But Prokris only
said, " My joy is come back to me again, and now I will leave
thee no more."
So once more in the land of Erechtheus Prokris and
Kephalos dwelt together in a true and deep love. Once more
they wandered over hill and dale as in the times that were past,
and looked out from the heights of Hymettos to the white shore
of Euboea, as it glistened in the light of early day. But when-
ever he went to the chase with the hound and the spear of Arte-
mis, Prokris saw that Eos still watched if haply she might talk
with Kephalos alone, and win him again for herself Once more
she was happy, but her happiness was not what it had been when
Kephalos first gave her his love, while her father, Erechtheus,
was yet alive. She knew that Eos still envied her, and she
sought to guard Kephalos from the danger of her treacherous
look and her enticing words. She kept ever near him in the
-chase, although he saw her not, and thus it came to pass that one
KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS.
591
day, as Prokris watched him from a thicket, the folds of her
dress rustled against the branches, so that Kephalos thought it
NUMA POMPTLIIJS VISITING THE NYMPH EGEKIA,
was some beast moving from his den, and hurled at her the spear
of Artemis that never missed its mark. Then he heard the cry
592 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
as oi one who has received a deadly blow, and when he hastened
into the thicket, Prokris lay smitten down to the earth before
him. The coldness of death was on her face, and her bright eye
was dim, but her voice was as loving as ever, while she said, " O
Kephalos, it grieves me not that thy arm hath struck me down.
I have thy love, and having it, I go to the land of the bright
heroes, where my father, Erechtheus, is waiting for his child, and
where thou, too, shalt one day meet me, to dwell with me for-
ever." One loving look she gave to Kephalos, and the smile of
parting vanished in the stillness of death.
Then over the body of Prokris Kephalos wept tears of
bitter sorrow, and he said, " Ah, Eos, Eos, well hast thou re-
warded me for doubting once a love such as thou couldst never
feel." Many days and many weeks he mourned for his lost
love, and daily he sat on the slopes of Hymettos, and thought
with a calm and almost happy grief how Prokris there had
rested by his side. All this time the spear of Artemis was idle,
and the hound went not forth to the chase, until chieftains came
from other lands to ask his aid against savage beasts or men.
Among them came Amphitryon, the lord of Thebes, to ask for
help, and Kephalos said, " I will do as thou wouldst have me.
It is time that I should begin to journey to the bright land where
Prokris dwells, beyond the western sea."
So he went with Amphitr3'on into the Theban land, and
hunted out the savage beasts which wasted his harvests, and then
he journeyed on till he came to the home of Phoebus Apollo, at
Delphi. There the god bade him hasten to the western sea,
where he should once again find Prokris. Onward he went,
across the heights and vales of ^tolia, until he stood on the
Leukadian cape and looked out on the blue water. The sun
was sinking low down in the sky, and the golden clouds of even-
ing were gathered round him as he hastened to his rest. And
Kephalos said, " Here must I rest, also, for my journey is done.
KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS. 593
and Prokris is waiting for me in the brighter land." There on
the white diflf he stood, and just as the sun touched the waters,
the strength of Kephalos failed him, and he sank gently into the
sea.
So again, in the homes of the bright heroes, Kephalos found
the wife whom he had loved and slain.
?KYLLA.
From the turret of her father's house, Skylla, the daughter
of Nisos, watched the ships of King Minos, as they drew near
from the Island of Crete. Their white sails and the spears of
the Cretan warriors sparkled in the sunshine, as the crested
waves rose and fell, carrying the long billows to the shore. As
she watched the goodly sight, Skylla thought sadly of the days
that were gone, when her father had sojourned as a guest in the
halls of King Minos, and she had looked on his face as on the
face of a friend. But now there was strife between the chieftains
of Crete and Megara, for Androgeos, the son of Minos, had
been slain by evil men as he journeyed from Megara to Athens,
and Minos was come hither with his warriors to demand the
price of his blood. But when the herald came with the message
of Minos, the face of Nisos, the King, flushed with anger, as he
said, " Go thy way to him that sent thee, and tell him that he
who is guarded by the undying gods cares not for the wrath of
men whose spears shall be snapped like bulrushes." Then said
the herald, " I can not read thy riddle, chieftain of Megara, but
the blood of the gods runs in the veins of Minos, and it can not
be that the son of Europa shall fall under the hands of thee or
of thy people."
The sun went down in a flood of golden glory behind the
38
594 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
purple heights of Geraneia, and as the mists of evening fell upon
the land, the warriors of Minos made ready for the onset on the
morrow. But when the light of Eos flushed the eastern sky,
and the men of Crete went forth to the battle, their strength
and their brave deeds availed them nothing, for the arms of the
mightiest became weak as the hands of a Httle child, because
the secret spell, in which lay the strength of the undying gods,
guarded the city of Nisos. And so it came to pass that, as day
by day they fought in vain against the walls of Megara, the
spirit of the men of Crete waxed feeble, and many said that they
came not thither to tight against the deathless gods.
But each day as Minos led his men against the city, the
daughter of Nisos had looked forth from her turret, and she saw
his face, beautiful as in the days when she had sojourned in his
house at Gnossos, and flushed with the pride and eagerness of the
war. Then the heart of Skylla was filled with a strange love,
and she spake musingly within herself, " To what end is this
strife of armed men.^* Love is beyond all treasures, and brighter
for me than the love of others would be one kindly look from the
bright son of Europa. I know the spell which keeps the city of
the Megarians, and where is the evil of the deed, if I take the pur-
ple lock of hair which the gods have given to my father as a
pledge that so long as it remains untouched, no harm shall befall
his people? If I give it to Minos the struggle is ended, and it
may be that I shall win his love."
So when the darkness of night fell again upon the earth,
and all :he sons of men were buried in a deep sleep, Skylla en-
tered stealthily into her father's chamber, and shore off* the pur-
ple lock in whi»_h lay his strength and the strength of his peo-
ple. Then, as the ^'nts of early morning stole across the dark
heavens, the watchmen of the Cretans beheld the form of a
woman as she drew nigh to them and bade them lead her to the
tent of King Minos. When she was brought before him, with
y SKYLLA. 595
downcast face she bowed herself to the earth, and said, " I have
sojourned in thy halls in the days that are gone, when there was
peace between thee and the house of my father, Nisos. O
Minos, peace is better than war, and of all treasures the most
precious is love. Look on me, then, gently as in former days,
for at a great price do I seek thy kindness. In this purple lock
is the strength of my father and his people." Then a strange
smile passed over the face of Minos, as he said, " The gifts of
fair maidens must not be lightly cast aside; the requital shall be
made when the turmoil of strife is ended."
With a mighty shout the Cretan warriors went forth to the
onset as the fiery horses of Helios rose up with his chariot into
the kindled heaven. Straightway the walls of Megara fell, and
the men of Crete burst into the house of Nisos. So the city
was taken, and Minos made ready to go against the men of
Athens, for on them also he sought to take vengeance for the
death of his son, Androgeos. But even as he hastened to his
ship, Skylla stood before him on the sea-shore. " Thy victory is
from me," she said, " where is the requital of my gift?" Then
Minos answered, " She who cares not for the father that has
cherished her has her own reward, and the gift which thou didst
bring me is beyond human recompense." The light southern
breeze swelled the outspread sail, and the ship of Minos danced
gaily over the rippling waters. For a moment the daughter of
Nisos stood musing on the shore. Then she stretched forth her
arms, as with a low cry of bitter anguish she said, " O Love,
thy sting is cruel, and my life dies poisoned by the smile of
Aphrodite!" So the waters closed over the daughter of Nisos,
as she plunged in the blue depths; but the strife which vexes the
sons of men follows her still, when the eagle swoops down from
the clouds for his prey in the salt sea.
596 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
PHf^IXO^ AND HELL£.
Many, many years ago, there was a man called Athamas,
and he had a wife whose name was Nephele. They had two
children — a boy and a girl. The name of the boy was Phrixos,
and his sister was called Helle. They were good and happy
children, and played about merrily in the fields, and their mother,
Nephele, loved them dearly. But by and by their mother was
taken away from them, and their father, Athamas, forgot all
about her, for he had not loved her as he ought to do. And
very soon he married another wife whose name was Ino, but she
was harsh and unkind to Phrixos and Helle, and they began to
be very unhappy. Their cheeks were no more rosy, and their
faces no longer looked bright and cheerful, as they used to do
when they could go home to their mother, Nephele, and so they
played less and less, until none would have thought that they
were the same children who were so happy before Nephele was
taken away. But Ino hated these poor children, for she was a
cruel woman, and she longed to get rid of Phrixos and Helle,
and she thought how she might do so. So she said that Phrixos
spoiled all the corn, and prevented it from growing, and that they
would not be able to make any bread till he was killed. At last
she persuaded Athamas that he ought to kill Phrixos. But al-
though Athamas cared nothing about Phrixos and Helle, still
their mother, Nephele, saw what was going on, although they
could not see her, because there was a cloud between them; and
Nephele was determined that Athamas should not hurt Phrixos.
So she sent a ram which had a golden fleece to carry her chil-
dren away, and one day, when they were sitting down on the
grass (for they were too sad and unhappy to play), they saw a
beautiful ram come into the field. And Phrixos said to Helle,
*' Sister, look at this sheep that is coming to us; see, he shines all
PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 597
over like gold — his horns are made of gold, and all the hair on
his body is golden, too." So the ram came nearer and nearer,
and at last he lay down quite close to them, and looked so quiet
that Phrixos and Helle were not at all afraid of him. Then
they played with the sheep, and they took him by the horns,
and stroked his golden fleece, and patted him on the head, and
the ram looked so pleased that they thought they would like to
have a ride on his back. So Phrixos got up first, and put his
arms round the ram's neck, and little Helle got up behind her
brother and put her arms round his waist, and then they called
to the ram to stand up and carry them about. And the ram
knew what they wanted, and began to walk first, and then to
run. By and by it rose up from the ground and began to fly.
And when it first left the earth, Phrixos and Helle became
frightened, and they begged the ram to go down again and put
them upon the ground, but the ram turned his head round, and
looked so gently at them, that they were not afraid any more.
So Phrixos told Helle to hold on tight round his waist, and he
said, " Dear Helle, do not be afraid, for I do not think the ram
means to do us any harm, and I almost fancy that he must have
been sent by our dear mother, Nephele, and that he will carry us
to some better country, where the people will be kind to us, as
our mother used to be."
Now it so happened that, just as the ram began to fly away
with the two children on its back, Ino and Athamas came into
the field, thinking how they might kill Phrixos, but they could
not see him anywhere; and when they looked up, then, high up
in the air over their heads, the}^ saw the ram flying away with
the children on its back. So they cried out and made a great
noise, and threw stones up into the air, thinking that the ram
would get frightened and come down to the earth again; but the
ram did not care how much noise they made or how many
stones they threw up. On and on he flew, higher and higher,
598 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
till at last he looked only like a little yellow speck in the blue
sky; and then Ino and Athamas saw him no more.
So these wicked people sat down, very angry and unhappy.
They were sorry because Phrixos and Helle had got away all
safe, when they wanted to kill them. But they were much more
sorry because they had gone away on the back of a ram whose
fleece was made of gold. So Ino said to Athamas, " What a
pity that we did not come into the field a little sooner, for then
we might have caught this ram and killed him and stripped off
his golden fleece, and we should have been rich for the rest of
our days."
All this time the ram was flying on and on, higher and
higher, with Phrixos and Helle on his back. And Helle began
to be very tired, and she said to her brother that she could not
hold on much longer, and Phrixos said, " Dear Helle, try and
hold on as long as 3'ou possibly can ; I dare say the ram will
soon reach the place to which he wants to carry us, and then
you shall lie down on the soft grass, and have such pleasant sleep
that you will not feel tired any more." But Helle said, " Dear-
est Phrixos, I will indeed try and hold fast as long as I can, but
my arms are becoming so weak that I am afraid that I shall not
be able to hold on long." And by and by, when she grew
weaker, she said, " Dear Phrixos, if I fall off", you will not see
Helle any more, but you must not forget her, you must always
love her as she loved you, and then some day or other we shall
see each other again, and live with our dear mother, Nephele."
Then Phrixos said, " Try and hold fast a little longer still, Helle.
I can never love any one so much as I love you ; but I want you
to live with me on earth, and I can not bear to think of living
without you."
But it was of no use that he talked so kindly and tried to
encourage his sister, because he was not able to make her arms
and her body stronger; so by and by poor Helle fell off, just as
PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 599
they were flying over a narrow part of the sea, and she fell into
it and was drowned. And the people called the part of the
sea where she fell in, the Hellespont, which means the sea of
Httle Helle.
So Phrixos was left alone on the ram's back; and the ram
flew on and on a long way, till it came to the palace of Aietes,
the King of Kolchis. And King Aietes was walking about in
his garden, when he looked up into the sky, and saw something
which looked very like a yellow sheep with a little boy on its
back. And King Aietes was greatly amazed, for he had never
seen so strange a thing before, and he called his wife and his
children, and everyone else that was in his house, to come and
see this wonderful sight. And^ they looked, and saw the ram
coming nearer and nearer, and then they knew that it really was
a boy on its back; and by and by the ram came down upon the
earth near their feet, and Phrixos got off" its back. Then King
Aietes went up to him, and took him by the hand, and asked
him who he was, and he said, " Tell me, little boy, how it is
that you come here, riding in this strange way on the back of a
ram." Then Phrixos told him the ram had come into the field
where he and Helle were playing, and had carried them away
from Ino and Athamas, who were very unkind to them, and how
little Helle had grown tired, and fallen off* his back, and had
been drowned in the sea. Then King Aietes took Phrixos up in
his arms, and said, "Do not be afraid; 1 will take care of you
and give you all that you want, and no one shall hurt you here;
and the ram which has carried you through the air shall stay in
this beautiful place, where he will have as much grass to eat as
he can possibly want, and a stream to drink out of and to bathe
in whenever he likes."
So Phrixos was taken into the palace of King Aietes, and
everybody loved him, because he was good and kind, and never
hurt any one. And he grew up healthy and strong, and he
6oO RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
learned to ride about the country and to leap and run over the
hills and valleys, and swim about in the clear rivers. He had
not forgotten his sister Helle, for he loved her still as much as
ever, and very often he wished that she could come and live
with him again, but he knew that she was with his mother,
Nephele, in the happy land to which good people go after they
are dead. And therefore he was never unhappy when he
thought of his sister, for he said, " One day I, too, shall be
taken to that bright land, and live with my mother and my sis-
ter again, if I try always to do what is right." And very often
he used to go and see the beautiful ram with the golden fleece
feeding in the garden, and stroke its golden locks.
But the ram was not so strong now as he was when he flew
through the air with Phrixos and Helle on his hack, for he was
growing old and weak, and at last the ram died, and Phrixos
was very sorry. And King Aietes had the golden fleece taken
off from the body, and they nailed it up upon the wall, and ever}'
one came to look at the fleece which was made of gold, and to
hear the story of Phrixos and Helle.
But all this while Athamas and Ino had been hunting about
everywhere, to see if they could find out where the ram had
gone with the children on his back; and they asked every one
whom they met, if they had seen a sheep with a fleece of gold
carrying away two children. But no one could tell anything
about it, till at last they came to the house of Aietes, the King
of Kolchis. And they came to the door, and asked Aietes if he
had seen Phrixos and Helle, and the sheep with the golden
fleece. Then Aietes said to them, " I have never seen little
Helle, for she fell off* from the ram's back, and was drowned in
the sea, but Phrixos is with me still, and as for the ram, see here
is his golden fleece nailed up upon the wall." And just then
Phrixos happened to come in, and Aietes asked them, " Look,
now, and tell me if this is the Phrixos whom you are seeking."
PHRIXOS AND HELLE. 6oi
And when they saw him, they said, " It is indeed the same
Phrixos who went away on the ram's back, but he is grown into
a great man;" and they began to be afraid, because they thought
they could not now ill-treat Phrixos, as they used to do when he
was a little boy. So they tried to entice him away by pretend-
ing to be glad to see him, and they said, " Come awjiy with us,
and we shall live happily together." But Phrixos saw from the
look of their faces that they were not telling the truth, and that
they hated him still, and he said to them, " I will not go with
you; King Aietes has been very good to me, and you were
always unkind to me and to my sister, and therefore I will never
leave King Aietes to go away with you." Then they said to
Aietes, " Phrixos may stay here, but give us the golden fleece
which came from the ram that carried away the children." But
the King said, " I will not — I know that you only ask for it be-
cause you wish to sell it, and therefore you shall not have it."
Then Ino and Athamas turned away in a rage, and went to
their own country again, wretched and unhappy because they
could not get the golden fleece. And they told every one that
the fleece of the ram was in the palace of the King of Kolchis,
and they tried to persuade every one to go in a great ship and
take away the fleece by force. So a great many people came,
and they all got into a large ship called the Argo, and they
sailed and sailed, until at last they came to Kolchis. Then they
sent some one to ask Aietes to give them the golden fleece, but
he would not, and they would never have found the fleece again,
if the wise maiden, Medeia, had not shown lason how he might
outdo the bidding of King Aietes. But when lason had won the
prize and they had sailed back again to their own land, the fleece
was not given to Athamas and Ino. The other people took it,
for they said, "It is quite right that we should have it, to make
up for all our trouble in helping to get it." So, with all their
greediness, these wretched people remained as poor and as miser-
able as ever.
6o2 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
MEDEIA.
Far away in the Kolchian land, where her father, Aietes,
was King, the wise maiden, Medeia, saw and loved lason, who
had come in the ship, Argo, to search for the golden fleece. To
her Zeus had given a wise and cunning heart, and she had power
over the hidden things of the earth, and nothing in the broad sea
could withstand her might. She had spells to tame the monsters
which vex the children of men, and to bring back youth to the
wrinkled face and the tottering limbs of the old. But the spells
of Eros were mightier still, and the wise maiden forgot her
cunning as she looked on the fair countenance of lason, and she
said within herself that she would make him conqueror in his
struggle for the golden fleece, and go with him to be. his wife in
the far-off" western land. So King Aietes brought up in vain the
fire-breathing bulls that they might scorch lason as he plowed
the land with -the dragon's teeth, and in vain from these teeth
sprang up the harvest of armed men ready for strife and blood-
shed. For Medeia had anointed the body of lason with oint-
ment, so that the fiery breath of the bulls hurt him not; and by
her bidding he cast a stone among the armed men, and they
fought with one another for the stone till all lay dead upon the
ground. Still King Aietes would not give to him the golden
fleece, and the heart of lason was cast down till Medeia came to
him and bade him follow her. Then she led him to a hidden
dell where the dragon guarded the fleece, and she laid her spells
on the monster and brought a heav}^ sleep upon his eye, while
lason took the fleece and hastened to carry it on board the ship
Argo.
So Medeia left her father's house, and wandered with lason
into many lands — to lolkos, to Athens, and to Argos. And
MEDEIA.
603
wherever she went, men marveled at her for her wisdom and
her beauty, but as they looked on her fair face and listened to her
gentle voice, they knew not the power of the
maiden's wrath if any one should do her
wrong. So she dwelt at lolkos, in the house
of Pelias, who had sent forth lason to look for
the golden fleece, that he might not be King
in his stead, and the daughters of Pelias loved
the beautiful Medeia, for they dreamed not
that she had sworn to avenge on Pelias the
wrong which he had done to lason. Craftily
she told the daughters of Pelias of the power
of her spells, which could tame the fire-breath
ing bulls, and lull the dragon to sleep, and
bring back the brightness of youth to the
AYMAnAMYOOYd
POLYHYMNIA (Muse of
Rhetoric and Elo-
quence).
withered cheeks of the old. And the daugh-
ters of Pelias said to her, " Our father is old,
and his limbs are weak and tottering, show us how once
more he can be made 3^oung," Then Medeia took a ram and
cut it up, and put its limbs into a caldron, and when she had
boiled them on the hearth there came forth a lamb, and she said,
" So shall your father be brought back again to youth and
strength, if ye will do to him. as I have done to the ram, and
when the time is come, I will speak the words of my spell, and
the change shall be accomplished." So the daughters of Pelias
followed her counsel, and put the body of their father into the
caldron, and, as it boiled on the hearth, Medeia said, " I must go
up to the house-top and look forth on the broad heaven, that I
may know the time to speak the words of my charm." And
the fire waxed fiercer and fiercer, but Medeia gazed on at the
bright stars, and came not down from the house-top till the limbs
of Pelias were consumed away.
Then a look of fierce hatred passed over her face, and she
uhivbe:ity1
II
604 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
said, " Daughters of Pelias, ye have slain your father, and I go
with lason to the land of Argos." So thither she sped with
him in her dragon chariot, which bore them to the house of King
Kreon.
Long time she abode in Argos, rejoicing in the love of
lason and at the sight of her children, who were growing up in
strength and beauty. But lason cared less and less for the wise
and cunning Medeia, and he loved more to look on Glauke, the
daughter of the King, till at last he longed to be free from the
love and the power of Medeia.
Then men talked in Argos of the love of lason for the
beautiful Glauke, and Medeia heard how he was going to wed
another wife. Once more her face grew dark with anger, as
when she left the daughters of Pelias mourning for their father,
and she vowed a vow that lason should repent of his great
treachery. But she hid her anger within her heart, and her eye
was bright and her voice was soft and gentle as she spake to
lason and said, " They tell me that thou art to wed the daughter
of Kreon; I had not thought thus to lose the love for which I
left my father's house and came with thee to the land of strang-
ers. Yet do I chide thee not, for it may be that thou canst not
love the wise Kolchian maid like the soft daughters of the
Argive land, and yet thou knowest not altogether how I have
loved thee. Go, then, and dwell with Glauke, and I will send her
a bright gift, so that thou mayest not forget the days that are
past."
So lason went away, well pleased that Medeia had spoken
to him gentl}^ and upbraided him not, and presently his children
came after him to the house of Kreon, and said, " Father, we
have brought a wreath for Glauke, and a robe which Helios gave
to our mother, Medeia, before she came away with thee from the
house of her father." Then Glauke came forth eagerly to take
the gifts, and she placed the glittering wreath on her head, and
MEDEIA. 605
wrapped the robe round her slender form. Like a happy child,
she looked into a mirror to watch the sparkling of the jewels on
her fair forehead, and sat down on the couch playing with the
folds of the robe of Helios. But soon a look of pain passed
over her face, and her eyes shone with a fiery light as she lifted
her hand to take the wreath away, but the will of Medeia was
accomplished, for the poison had eaten into her veins, and the
robe clung with a deadly grasp to her scorched and wasted
limbs. Through the wide halls rang the screams of her agony,
as Kreon clasped his child in his arms. Then sped the poison
through his veins also, and Kreon died with Glauke.
Then Medeia went with her children to the house-top, and
looked up to the blue heaven, and stretching forth her arms, she
said, " O Helios, who didst give to me the wise and cunning
heart, I have avenged me on lason, even as once I avenged him
on Pelias. Thou hast given me thy power; yet, it may be, 1
would rather have the life-long love of the helpless daughters of
men."
Presently her dragon chariot rose into the sky, and the peo-
ple of Argos saw the mighty Medeia no more.
Many a long year ago a little child was playing on the white
sand of the Bay of Troizen. His golden locks streamed in the
breeze as he ran amongst the rippling waves which flung them-
selves lazily on the beach. Sometimes he clapped his hands in
glee as the water washed over his feet, and he stopped again to
look with wondering eyes at the strange things which were bask-
ing on the sunny shore, or gazed on the mighty waters which
stretched away bright as a sapphire stone into the far distance.
6o6 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
But- presently some sadder thoughts troubled the child, lor the
look of gladness passed away from his face, and he went slowly
to his mother, who sat among the weed-grown rocks, watching
her child play.
" Mother," said the boy, " I am very happy here, but may
I not know to-day why I never see my father as other children
do? I am not now so very young, and I think that you feel
sometimes lonely, for your face looks sad and sorrowful, as if you
were grieving for some one who is gone away."
Fondly and proudly the mother looked on her boy, and
smoothed the golden locks on his forehead, as she said, " My
child, there is much to .make us happy, and it may be that many
days of gladness are in store for us both. But there is labor and
toil for all, and many a hard task awaits thee, my son. Only
have a brave heart, and turn away from all things mean and
foul, and strength will be given thee to conquer the strongest
enemy. Sit down, then, here by my side, and I will tell thee a
tale which may make thee sad, but which must not make thee
unhappy, for none can do good to others who waste their lives in
weeping. Many summers have come and gone since the day
when a stranger drew nigh to the house of my father, Pittheus.
The pale light of evening was fading from the sky, but we could
see, by his countenance and the strength of his stalwart form,
that he was come of a noble race and could do brave deeds.
When Pittheus went forth from the threshold to meet him, the
stranger ofrasped his hand, and said, ' I come to claim the rights
of our ancient friendship, for our enemies have grown too
mighty for us, and Pandion, my father, rules no more in Athens.
Here, then, let me tarry till I can find a way to punish the men
who have driven away their King and made his children wan-
derers on the earth.' So Aigeus sojourned in my father's house,
and soon he won my love, and I became his wife. Swiftly and
happil}^ the days went by, and one thing only troubled me, and
THESEUS. 607
this was the thought that one day he must leave me, to fight
with his enemies and place his father again upon his throne.
But even this thought was forgotten for awhile, when Aigeus
looked on thee for the first time, and, stretching forth his hands
SPHINX OP EGYPT.
towards heaven, said, ' O Zeus, that dwellest in the dark cloud,
look down on my child, and give him strength that he may be a
better man than his father, and if thou orderest that his life shall
be one of toil, still let him have the joy which is the lot of all
6o8 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
who do their work with a cheerful heart and keep their hands
from all defiling things.' Then the days passed by more quickly
and happily than ever, but at last there came the messengers
from Athens, to tell him that the enemies of Pandion were at
strife among themselves, and that the time was come that
Aigeus should fight for his father's house. Not many days after
this we sat here, watching thee at play among the weeds and
flowers that climb among the rocks, when thy father put his
arms gently round me, and said, ' Aithra, best gift of all that
the gods have ever given to me, I leave thee to go to my own
land, and I know not what things may befall me there, nor
whether I may return hither to take thee to dwell with me at
Athens. But forget not the days that are gone, and faint not for
lack of hope that we may meet again in the days that are com-
ing. Be a brave mother to our child, that so he, too, may grow
up brave and pure, and when he is old enough to know what he
must do, tell him that he is born of a noble race, and that he
must one day fight stoutly to win the heritage of his fathers.'
And now, my son, thou seest yonder rock, over which the wild
briars have clambered. No hands have moved it since the day
when thy father lifted it up and placed beneath it his sword and
his sandals. Then he put back the stone as it was before, and
said to me, ' When thou thinkest fit, tell our child that he must
wait until he is able to lift this stone. Then must he put my
sandals on his feet, and gird my sword on his side, and journey
to the city of his forefathers.' From that day, my child, I have
never seen thy father's face, and the time is often weary, al-
though the memory of the old days is sweet and my child is by
my side to cheer me with his love. So now thou knowest some-
thing of the task that lies before thee. Think of thy father's
words, and make thyself ready for the toil and danger that may
fall to thy lot in time to come."
The boy looked wistfully into his mother's face, and a
THESEUS. 609
strange feeling of love and hope and strength filled his heart,
as he saw the tears start to her eyes when the tale was ended.
His arms were clasped around her neck, but he said only,
^' Mother, I will wait patiently till I am strong enough to lift
the stone, but before that time comes, perhaps my father may
come back from Athens."
So for many a year more the days went by, and the boy,
Theseus, grew up brave, truthful, and strong. None who looked
upon him grudged him his beauty, for his gentleness left no room
for envy, and his mother listened with a proud and glad heart to
the words with which the people of the land told of his kindly
deeds. At length the days of his youth were ended, but Aigeus
came not back, and Theseus went to Aithra, and said, " The
time is come, my mother; I must see this day whether I am
strong enough to lift the stone." And Aithra answered, gently,
" Be it as thou wilt, and as the undying gods will it, my son."
Then he went up to the rock, and nerved himself for a mighty
effort, and the stone yielded slowly to his strength, and the sword
and sandals lay before him. Presently he stood before Aithra,
and to her it seemed that the face of Theseus was as the face of
one of the bright heroes who dwell in the halls of Zeus. A
flush of glorious beauty lit up his countenance, as she girt the
sword to his side and said, " The gods prosper thee, my son,
and they will prosper thee, if thou livest in time to come as thou
hast lived in the days that are gone."
So Theseus bade his mother farewell, there on the white
sea-shore, where long ago he had asked her first to tell him of
his name and kindred. Sadly, yet with a good hope, he set out
on his journey. The blue sea lay before him, and the white sails
of ships glistened as they danced on the heaving waters. But
Theseus had vowed a vow that he would do battle with the evil-
doers who filled the land with blood, and for terror of whom the
travelers walked in by-ways. So at Epidauros he fought with
39 .
6lO RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
the cruel Periphetes, and smote him with his own club, and at
the Megarian isthmus he seized the robber, Sinis, and tore him
to pieces between the trunks of pines, even as he had been wont
to do with the wayfarers who fell into his hands. Then, in the
thickets of Krommyon, he slew the huge sow that ravaged the
fair corn-fields, and on the borderland he fought a sore fight with
Skiron, who plundered all who came in his path, and, making
them wash his feet, hurled them, as they stooped, down the cliffs
which hung over the surging sea. Even so did Theseus to him,
and journeying on to the banks of Kephisos, stretched the robber,
Prokroustes, on the bed on which he had twisted and tortured
the limbs of his victims till they died.
Thus, amid the joyous shoutings of the people whom he had
set free, Theseus entered into the city of his fathers, and the
rumor of him was brought to Aigeus, the King. Then the
memory of the days that were gone came back to Aigeus, and
his heart smote him as he thought within himself that this must
be the child of Aithra, whom he had left mourning on the shore
of Troizen. But soon there was a strife in the city, for among
the mightiest of the people were many who mocked at Theseus,
and said, " Who is this stranger that men should exalt him thus,
as though he came of the race of heroes? Let him show that
he is the child of Aigeus, if he would win the heritage which he
claims." So was Theseus brought before the King, and a blush
of shame passed over the old man's face when he saw the sword
and sandals which he had left beneath the great stone, near the
Troizenian shore. Few words only he spake of welcome, and
none of love or kindness for his child or for the wife who still
yearned for the love of the former days. Then, at his father's
bidding, Theseus made ready to go forth once again on his path
of toil, and he chafed not against the hard lot which had fallen
to his portion. Only he said, " The love of a father would
sweeten my labor, but my mother's love is with me still, and the
battle is for right and for law."
THESEUS. 6ll
So in after-times the minstrels sang of the glorious deeds of
Theseus the brave and fair. They told how at last at the bid-
ding of his father he went forth from the gates of Athens and
smote the bull which ravaged the broad plains of Marathon, and
how in the secret maze of the labyrinth he smote the Minotauros.
They sang of his exploits in the day when the Amazons did bat-
tle with the men of Athens — how he went with Meleagros and
his chieftains to the chase of the boar in Kalydon — how with the
heroes in the ship Argo he brought back the golden fleece from
Kolchis. They told how at last he went down with Peirithoos,
his comrade, into the gloomy kingdom of Hades and seized on
the daughter of Demeter, to bring her to the land of living men.
They sang of the fierce wrath of Hades when his lightnings
burst forth and smote Peirithoos — of the dark prison-house
where Theseus lay while many a rolling year went round, until
at last the mighty Herakles passed the borders of the shadowy
land and set the captive free.
And so it was that, when the heroes had passed to the home
of Zeus and the banquet of the gods, the glory of Theseus was
as the glory of the brave son of Alkmene who toiled for the
false Eurystheus; and ever in the days of feasting, the minstrels
linked together the names of Herakles and Theseus.
ARIADNE.
The soft western breeze was bearing a ship from the Athe-
nian land to the fair haven of Gnossos, and the waters played
merrily round the ship as it sped along the paths of the sea. But
on board there were mournful hearts and weeping eyes, for the
youths and maidens which that ship was bearing to Crete were
to be the prey of the savage Minotauros. As they came near
6l2 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
the harbor gates, they saw the people of King Minos crowded
on the shore, and they wept aloud because they should no more
look on the earth and on th": sun as he journeyed through the
heaven.
In that throng stood Ariadne, the daughter of the King, and
as she gazed on the youths and maidens who came out of the
tribute ship, there passed before her one taller and fairer than all,
and she saw that his eye alone was bright and his step firm, as
he moved from the shore to go to the house of Minos. Presently
they all stood before the King, and he saw that one alone gazed
steadfastly upon him, while the eyes of the rest were dim with
many tears. Then he said, "What is thy name?" The young
man answered, " I am Theseus, the son of King Aigeus, and I
have come as one of the tribute children, but I part not with my
life till I have battled for it with all my strength. Wherefore
send me first, I pray thee, that I may fight with Minotauros; for
if I be the conqueror, then shall all these go back with me in
peace to our own land." Then Minos said, " Thou shalt indeed
go first to meet Minotauros; but think not to conquer him in the
fight, for the flame from his mouth will scorch thee, and no
mortal man may withstand his strength." And Theseus an-
swered, "It is for man to do what best he may ; the gods know
for whom remains the victory."
But the gentle heart of Ariadne was moved with love and
pity as she looked on his fair face and his bright and fearless
eye, and she said within herself, " I can not kill the Minotauros
or rob him of his strength, but I will guide Theseus so that
he may reach the monster while sleep lies heavy upon him."
On the next day Theseus, the Athenian, was to meet the
dreadful Minotauros, who dwelt in the labyrinth of Gnossos.
Far within its thousand twisted alleys was his den, where he
waited for his prey, as they were brought each along the wind-
ing paths. But Ariadne talked in secret with Theseus in the
ARIADNE. ' 613
Still evening time, and she gave him a clue of thread, so that
he mijrht know how to come back out of the mazes of the
labyrinth after he had slain the Minotauros; and when the
moon looked down from heaven, she led him to a hidden gate,
and bade him go forth boldly, for he should come to the mon-
ster's den while sleep lay heavy on his eyes. So when the
morning came, the Minotauros lay lifeless on the ground, and
there was joy and gladness in the great city of Gnossos, and
Minos himself rejoiced that the youths and maidens might go
back with Theseus in peace to Athens.
So once again they went into the ship, and the breeze blew
softly to carry them to the homes which they had not thought to
see again. But Theseus talked with Ariadne, in the house of
Minos, and the maiden wept as though some great grief lay
heavy upon her, and Theseus twined his arm gently round her,
and said, " Fairest of maidens, thy aid hath saved me from
death, but I care not now to live if I may not be with thee.
Come with me, and I will lead thee to the happier land, where
my father, Aigeus, is King. Come with me, that my people
may see and love the maiden who rescued the tribute children
from the savage Minotauros."
Then Ariadne went with him joyfully, for her own love
made her think that Theseus loved her not less dearly. So she
wept not as she saw the towers of Gnossos growing fainter and
fainter while the ship sped over the dancing waters, and she
thought only of the happy days which she should spend in the
bright Athens where Theseus sho'.id one day be King. Gaily
the ship sped upon her way, and there was laughter and mirth
among the youths and maidens who were going back to their
home. And Theseus sat by the side of Ariadne, speaking the
words of a deeper love than in truth he felt, and fancying that
he loved the maiden even as the maiden loved him. But while
yet he gazed on the beautiful Ariadne, the image of Aigle came
6i4
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
back to his mind, and the old love was wakened again in his
heart. Onward sailed the ship, cleaving its way through the
foaming waters, by the Islands of Thera and Amorgos, till the
high cliffs of Naxos broke upon their sight.
The sun was sinking down into the sea when they came to
its winding shores, and the seamen moored the ship to the land,
and came forth to rest until the morning. There they feasted
gaily on the beach, and Theseus talked with Ariadne until the
moon was high up in the sky. So they slept through the still
hours of night, but when the sun was risen, Ariadne was alone
upon the sea-shore. In doubt and fear, she
roamed along the beach, but she saw no
one, and there was no ship sailing on the
blue sea. In many a bay and nook she
sought him, and she cried in bitter sor-
row, " Ah, Theseus, Theseus, hast thou
forsaken me?" Her feet were wounded by
1 ' rW/ I'i W P. \ ^^^ sharp flints, her limbs were faint from
f ^m^^L-X^I very weariness, and her eyes were dim
with tears. Above her rose the high cliffs
like a wall, before her was spread the
CALLIOPE. bright and laughing sea, and her heart sank
(Mtise of Heroic Verse.) within her, for she felt that she must die.
"Ah, Theseus," she cried, " have I done thee wrong? I pitied
thee in the time of thy sorrow and saved thee from thy doom,
and then I listened to thy fair words, and trusted them as a maid-
en trusts when love is first awakened within her. Yet hast thou
dealt me a hard requital. Thou art gone to happy Athens, and
it may be thou thinkest already of some bright maiden who there
has crossed thy path, and thou hast left me here to die for
weariness and hunger. So would I not requite thee for a deed
of love and pity."
Wearied and sad of heart, she sank down on the rock, and
ARIADNE. 6 1 5
her long- hair streamed over her fair shoulders. Her hands were
clasped around her knees, and the hot tears ran down her cheeks,
and she knew not that there stood before her one fairer and
brighter than the sons of men, until she heard a voice which
said, " Listen to me, daughter of Minos. I am Dionysos, the
lord of the feast and revel. I wander with light heart and the
sweet sounds of laughter and song over land and sea ; I saw thee
aid Theseus when he went into the labyrinth to slay the Mino-
tauros. I heard his fair words when he prayed thee to leave
thy home and go with him to Athens. I saw him this morning,
while yet the stars twinkled in the sky, arouse his men and sail
away in his ship to the land of Aigeus; but I sought not to stay
him, for, Ariadne, thou must dwell with me. Thy love and
beauty are a gift too great for Theseus; but thou shalt be the
bride of Dionysos. Thy days shall be passed amid feasts and
banquets, and when thy life is ended here, thou shalt go with me
to the homes of the undying gods, and men shall see the crown
of Ariadne in the heavens when the stars look forth at night
from the dark sky. Nay, weep not, Ariadne, thy love for The-
seus hath been but the love of a day, and I have loved thee long
before the black-sailed ship brought him from poor and rugged
Athens." Then Ariadne wept no more, and in the arms of
Dionysos she forgot the false and cruel Theseus; so that among
the matrons who thronged round the joyous wine-god the fairest
and the most joyous was Ariadne, the daughter of Minos.
ARETHU^A.
On the heights of Msenalos the hunter Alpheios saw the
maiden Arethusa as she wandered joyously with her companions
over the green swelling downs where the heather spread out its
6l6 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
pink blossoms to the sky. Onward she came, the fairest of all
the band, until she drew nigh to the spot where Alpheios stood
marveling at the brightness of her beauty. Then, as she fol-
lowed the winding path on the hill-side, she saw his eye resting
upon her, and her heart was filled with fear, for his dark face
was flushed by the toil of the long chase and his torn raiment
waved wildly in the breeze. And yet more was she afraid when
she heard the sound of his rough voice, as he prayed her to tarry
by his side. She lingered not to listen to his words, but with
light foot she sped over hill and dale and along the bank of the
river where it leaps down the mountain cliffs and winds along
the narrow valleys.
Then Alpheios vowed a vow that the maiden should not
escape him. " I will follow thee," he said, " over hill and dale;
I will seek thee through rivers and seas, and where thou shalt
rest, there will I rest, also." Onward they sped, across the dark
heights of Erymanthos and over the broad plains of Pisa, till the
waters of the western sea lay spread out before them, dancing in
the light of the midday sun.
Then with arms outstretched, and with wearied limbs, Are-
thusa cried aloud, and said, "O daughters of the gentle Okea-
nos, I have played with you on the white shore in the days of
mirth and gladness, and now I come to your green depths. Save
me from the hand of the wild huntsman." So she plunged be-
neath the waves of the laughing sea, and the daughters of Okea-
nos bore her gently downwards till she came to the coral caves,
where they sat listening to the sweet song of the waters. But
there they suffered her not to rest, for they said, " Yet further
must thou flee, Arethusa, for Alpheios comes behind thee." Then
in their arms they bore her gently beneath the depths of the sea,
till they laid her down at last on the Ortygian shore of the
Thrinakian land, as the sun was sinking down in the sky.
Dimly she saw spread before her the blue hills, and she felt the
ARETHUSA.
617
soft breath of the summer breeze, as her eyes closed for weari-
ness. Then suddenly she heard the harsh voice which scared
her on the heights of Msenalos, and she tarried not to listen to
his prayer. " Flee not away, Arethusa,'' said the huntsman,
Alpheios, " I mean not to harm thee; let me rest in thy love, and
let me die for the beauty of thy fair face." But the maiden fled
THE ORIGIN OP MAN. (From an antique Sculpture.)
with a wild cry along the winding shore, and the light step of
her foot left no print on the gHstening sand. " Not thus shalt
thou escape from m}' arms," said the huntsman, and he stretched
forth his hand to seize the maiden, as she drew nigh to a fountain
whose waters flashed clear and bright in the light of the sinking
sun. Then once again Arethusa called aloud on the daughters
6l8 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
of Okeanos, and she said, " O friends, once more I come to your
coral caves, for on earth there is for me no resting-place." So
the waters closed over the maiden, and the image of heaven
came down again on the bright fountain. Then a flush of anger
passed over the face of Alpheios, as he said, " On earth thou
hast scorned my love, O maiden, but my form shall be fairer in
thy sight when I rest beside thee beneath the laughing waters."
So over the huntsman, Alpheios, flowed the Ortygian stream, and
the love of Arethusa was given to him in the coral caves, where
they dwell with the daughters of Okeanos.
TYRO.
On the banks of the fairest stream in all the land of Thes-
saly, the golden-haired Enipeus wooed the maiden Tyro; with
her he wandered in gladness of heart, following the path of the
winding river, and talking with her of his love. And Tyro
listened to his tender words, as day by day she stole away from
the house of her father, Salmoneus, to spend the livelong day on
the banks of his beautiful stream.
But Salmoneus was full of rage when he knew that Tyro
loved Enipeus, and how she had become the mother of two fair
babes. There was none to plead for Tyro and her helpless
children, for her mother, Alkidike, was dead, and Salmoneus had
taken the iron-hearted Sidero to be his wife. So he followed her
evil counsels, and he said to Tyro, " Thy children must die, and
thou must wed Kretheus, the son of the mighty Aiolos."
Then Tyro hastened in bitter sorrow to the banks of the
stream, and her babes slept in her arms, and she stretched out
her hands with a loud cry for aid, but Enipeus heard her not, for
he lay in his green dwelling far down beneath the happy waters.
TYRO. 619
So she placed the babes amidst the thick rushes which grew
along the banks, and she said, " O Enipeus, my father says that
I may no more see thy face; but to thee I give our children;
guard them from the anger of Salmoneus, and it may be that in
time to come they will avenge my wrongs."
There, nestled amid the tall reeds, the children slept, till a
herdsman saw them as he followed his cattle along the shore.
And Tyro went back in anguish of heart to the house of Sal-
moneus, but she would not have the love of Kretheus or listen to
his words. Then Sidero whispered again her evil counsels into
the ear of Salmoneus, and he shut up Tyro, so that she might
not see the light of the sun or hear the voice of man. He cut
-off the golden locks that clustered on her fair cheeks, he clothed
her in rough raiment, and bound her in fetters which gave her
no rest by night or by day. So in her misery she pined away,
and her body was wasted by hunger and thirst, because she
would not become the wife of Kretheus. Then more and more
she thought of the days when she listened to the words of Eni-
peus as she wandered with him by the side of the sounding
waters, and she said within herself, " He heard me not when I
•called to him for help, but I gave him my children, and it may
be that he has saved them from death; and if ever they see my
face again, they shall know that 1 never loved any save Enipeus,
who dwells beneath the stream."
So the years passed on, and Pelias and Neleus dwelt with
the herdsman, and they grew up strong in body and brave of
soul. But Enipeus had not forgotten the wrongs of Tyro, and
he put it into the heart of her children to punish Sidero for her
evil counsels. So Sidero died, and they brought out their
mother from her dreary dungeon, and led her to the banks of
the stream where she had heard the words of Enipeus in the
former days. But her eyes were dim with long weeping, and
the words of her children sounded strangely in her ears, and she
620 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
said, " O my children, let me sink to sleep while I hear your
voices, which sound to me like the voice of Enipeus." So she-
fell asleep and died, and they laid her body in the ground by
the river's bank, where the waters of Enipeus made their soft
music near her grave.
NARKIg^Og.
On the banks of Kephisos, Echo saw and loved the Deauti-
ful Narkissos, but the youth cared not for the maiden of the
hills, and his heart was cold to the words of her love, for he
mourned for his sister, whom Hermes had taken away beyond
the Stygian River. Day by day he sat alone by the stream-
side, sorrowing for the bright maiden whose life was bound uj>
with his own, because they had seen the light of the sun in the
self-same day, and thither came Echo and sat down by his side,,
and sought in vain to win his love. " Look on me and see," she-
said, " I am fairer than the" sister for whom thou dost mourn."'
But Narkissos answered her not, for he knew that the maidert
would ever have something to say against his words. So he sat
silent and looked down into the stream, and there he saw his-
own face in the clear water, and it was to him as the face of his
sister for whom he pined away in sorrow, and his grief became
less bitter as he seemed to ^ee again her soft blue eye, and
almost to hear the words which came from her lips. But the
grief of Narkissos was too deep for tears, and it dried up slowly
the fountain of his life. In vain the words of Echo fell upon his
ears, as she prayed him to hearken to her prayer: " Ah, Nar-
kissos, thou mournest for one who can not heed thy sorrow, and
thou carest not for her who longs to see thy face and hear thy
voice forever." But Narkissos saw still in the waters of Kephi-
sos the face of his twin sister, and still gazing at it he fell asleep
NARKISSOS. 62 1
:and died. Then the voice of Echo was heard no more, for she
•sat in silence by his grave, and a beautiful flower came up close
to it. Its white blossoms drooped over the banks of Kephisos
where Narkissos had sat and looked down into its clear water,
^nd the people of the land called the plant after his name.
OF(PHEUg AND EURYDIKE.
In the pleasant valleys of a country which was called Thes-
:saly there lived a man whose name was Orpheus. Every day
he made soft music with his golden harp, and sang beautiful
sonsfs such as no one had ever heard before. And whenever
•Orpheus sang, then everything came to listen to him, and the
trees bowed down their heads to hear, and even the clouds sailed
along more gently and brightly in the sky when he sang, and
the stream which ran close to his feet made a softer noise, to
■show how glad his music made it.
Now, Orpheus had a wife who was called Eurydike, whom
lie loved very dearly. All through the winter, when the snow
was on the hills, and all through the summer, when the sunshine
made everything beautiful, Orpheus used to sing -to her, and
Eurydike sat on the grass by his side while the beasts came
round to listen, and the trees boWed down their heads to hear
him.
But one day when Eurydike was playing with some children
•on the bank of the river, she trod upon a snake in the long grass,
and the snake bit her. And by and by she began to be very
•sick, and Eurydike knew that she must die. So she told the
^"hildren to go to Orpheus (for he was far away) and say how
•sorry she was to leave him, and that she loved him alwa3^s very
clearly, and then she put her head down upon the grass and fell
622 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
asleep and died. Sad indeed was Orpheus when the children
came to tell him that Eurydike was dead. He felt so wretched
that he never played upon his golden harp, and he never opened
his lips to sing, and the beasts that used to listen to him won-
dered why Orpheus sat all alone on the green bank where Eury-
dike used to sit with him, and why it was that he never made
any more of his beautiful music. All da}^ long he sat there, and
his cheeks were often wet with tears. At last he said, '' I can
not stay here any more, I must go and look for Eurydike. I
can not bear to be without her, and perhaps the king of the land
where people go after they are dead will let her come back and
live with me again."
So he took his harp in his hand, and went to look for Eury-
dike in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down
into his golden cup before the night comes on. And he went
on and on a very long way, till at last he came to a high and
dark gateway. It was barred across with iron bars, and it was
bolted and locked so that nobody could open it.
It was a wretched and gloomy place, because the sunshine
never came there, and it was covered with clouds and mist. In
front of this great gateway there sat a monstrous dog, with three
heads, and six eyes, and three tongues, and everything was
dark around, except his eyes, which shone like fire, and which
saw every one that dared to come near. Now, when Orpheus
came looking for Eurydike, the dog raised his three heads, and
opened his three mouths, and gnashed his teeth at him, and
roared terribly, but when Orpheus came nearer, the dog jumped
up upon his feet and got himself ready to fly at him and tear
him to pieces. Then Orpheus took down his harp and began to
play upon its golden strings. And the dog, Kerberos (for that
was his name), growled and snarled and showed the great white
teeth which were in his three mouths, but he could not help hear-
ing the sweet music, and he wondered why it was that he did
ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE.
623
not wish any more to tear Orpheus in pieces. Very soon the
music made him quiet and still, and at last it lulled him to sleep,
and only his heavy breathing told that there was any dog there.
So when Kerberos had gone to sleep, Orpheus passed by him
and came up to the gate, and he found it wide open, for it had
come open of its own accord while he was singing. And he was
glad when he saw this, for he thought that now he should see
Eurydike.
So he went on and on a long way, until he came to the pal-
ace of the King, and there were guards placed before the door
who tried to keep him from going in, but
Orpheus played upon his harp, and then they
could not help letting him go.
So he went into the great hall, where he
saw the King and Queen sitting on a throne,
and as Orpheus came near, the King called
out to him with a loud and terrible voice,
" Who are you, and how dare you to come
here? Do you not know that no one is
allowed to come here till after they are dead.'*
I will have you chained and placed in a dun-
geon, from which you will never be able to
get out." Then Orpheus said nothing, but
he took his golden harp in his hand and began ««A™(if«.. of the Lute).
to sing more sweetly and gently than ever, because he knew that,
if he liked to do so, the King could let him see Eurydike again.
And as he sang, the face of the King began to look almost glad,
and his anger passed away, and he began to feel how much hap-
pier it must be to be gentle and loving than to be angry and cruel.
Then the King said, " You have made me feel happy with your
sweet music, although I have never felt happy before; and now
tell me why you have come, because you must want something or
other, for, otherwise, no one would come, before he was dead, to
624 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
this sad and gloomy land of which I am the King." Then Orpheus
said, " O King, give me back my dear Eurydike, and let her go from
this gloomy place and live v^^ith me on the bright earth again."
So the King said that she should go. And the King said to
Orpheus, " I have given you what you wanted, because you sang
so sweetly, and when you go back to the earth from this place,
your wife whom you love shall go up after you, but remember
that you must never look back until she has reached the earth,
for if you do, Eurydike will be brought back here, and I shall
not be able to give her to you again, even if you should sing
more sweetly and gently than ever."
Now, Orpheus was longing to see Eurydike, and he hoped
that the King would let him see her at once, but when the King
said that he must not try to see her till she had reached the
earth, he was quite content, for he said, " Shall I not wait
patiently a little while, that Eurydike may come and live with
me again?" So he promised the King that he would go up to
the earth without stopping to look behind and see whether Eury-
dike was coming after him.
Then Orpheus went away from the palace of the King, and
he passed through the dark gateway, and the dog, Kerberos, did
not bark or growl, for he knew that Orpheus would not have
been allowed to come back if the King had not wished it. So
he went on and on a long way, and he became impatient, and
longed more and more to see Eurydike. At last he came near
to the land of living men, and he saw just a little streak of light,
where the sun was going to rise from the sea, and presently the
sky became brighter, and he saw everything before him so
clearly that he could not help turning round to look at Eury-
dike. But, ah! she had not yet quite reached the earth, and so
now he lost her again. He just saw something pale and white,
which looked like his own dear wife, and he just heard a soft
and gentle voice, which sounded like the voice of Eurydike, and
ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE.
625
then it all melted away. And still he thought that he saw that
pale white face, and heard that soft and gentle voice, which said,
*' O Orpheus, Orpheus, why did you look back?
How dearly I love you, and how glad I should
have been to live with you again, but now I
must go back, because you have broken your
promise to the King, and I must not even kiss
you, and say how much I love you.'^
And Orpheus sat down at the place where
Eurydike was taken away from him, and he could
not go on any further, because he felt so miserable.
There he stayed day after day, and his cheek
became more pale, and his body weaker and
weaker, till at last he knew that he must die. Smm
And Orpheus was not sorry, for although he loved
TERPSrCHOKE.
the bright earth, with all its flowers and soft grass (^^"'' of Dancing.)
and sunny streams, he knew that he could not be with Eur3'dike
again until he left it. So at last he laid his head upon the earth,
and fell asleep, and died; and then he and Eurydike saw each
other in the land which is far away, where the sun goes down
at night into his golden cup, and were never parted again.
KADMO? AND EUROPA.
In a beautiful valle}' in Phoenicia, a long time ago, two
children, named Kadmos and Europa, lived with their mother,
Telephassa. They were good and happy children, and full of
fun and merriment. It was a very lovel}' place in which they
lived, where there were all sorts of beautiful trees with fruits
and flowers. The oranges shone like gold among the dark
leaves, and great bunches of dates hung from the tall palm trees
40
626 ' RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
which bowed their heads as if they were asleep, and there was a
delicious smell from the lime groves, and from many fruits and
flowers which are never seen in America, but which blossom and
ripen under the hot sun in Syria.
So the years went ; and one day, as they were playing about
by the side of the river, there came into the field a beautiful white
bull. He was quite white all over — as white as the whitest snow;
there was not a single spot or speck on any part of his body.
And he came and lay down on the green grass, and remained
still and quiet. So they went nearer and nearer to the bull, and
the bull did not move, but looked at them with his large eyes as
if he wished to ask them to come and play with him, and at
last they came to the place where the bull was. Then Kadmos
thought that he would be very brave, so he put out his hand,
and began to pat the bull on his side, and the bull only made a
soft sound to show how glad he was. Then Europa put out her
hand, and stroked him on the face, and laid hold of his white
horn, and the bull rubbed his face gently against her dress.
So by and by Kadmos thought that it would be pleasant to
have a ride on the back of the bull, and he got on, and the bull
rose up from the ground, and went slowly round the field with
Kadmos on his back, and just for a minute or two Kadmos felt
frightened, but when he saw how well and safely the bull carried
him, he was not afraid any more. So they played with the bull
until the sun sank down behind the hills, and then they hastened
home.
When they reached the house, they ran quickly to Tele-
phassa, and said to her, " Only think, we have been playing in
the field with a beautiful white bull." And Telephassa was glad
that they had been so happy, but she would not have been so
glad if she had known what the bull was going to do.
Now, the next day while Europa was on its back, the bull
began to trot quickly away, but Kadmos thought he was only
KADMOS AND EUROPA. 627
trotting away for fun. So he ran after him, and cried out to
make him stop. But the faster that Kadmos ran, the bull ran
faster still, and then Kadmos saw that the bull was running away
with his sister, Europa. Away the bull flew, all along the bank
of the river, and up the steep hill and down into the valley on
the other side, and then he scoured along the plain beneath.
And Kadmos watched his white bod}^, which shone like silver as
he dashed through the small bushes and the long waving grass
and the creeping plants which were trailing about all over the
ground, till at last the white body of the bull looked only like a
little speck, and then Kadmos could see it no more.
Very wretched was Kadmos when his sister was taken away
from him in this strange way. His eyes were full of tears so
that he could scarcely see, but still he kept on looking and look-
ing in the way the bull had gone, and hoping that he would
bring his sister back by and by. But the sun sank lower and
lower in the sky, and then Kadmos saw him go down behind the
hills, and he knew now that the bull would not come again, and
then he began to weep bitterly. He hardly dared to go home
and tell Telephassa what had happened, and yet he knew that he
ought to tell her. So he went home slowly and sadly, and Tele-
phassa saw him coming alone, and she began to be afraid that
something had happened to Europa, and when she came up to
him Kadmos could scarcely speak. At last he said, " The bull
has run away with Europa." Then Telephassa asked him where
he had gone, and Kadmos said that he did not know. But
Telephassa said, "Which way did he go?" and then Kadmos
told her that the bull had run away towards the land of the
West, where the sun goes down into his golden cup. Then
Telephassa said that they, too, must get up early in the morning
and go towards the land of the West, and see if they could find
Europa again.
That night they hardly slept at all, and their cheeks were
628 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
pale and wet with their tears. And before the sun rose, and
while the stars still glimmered in the pale light of the morning,
they got up and went on their journey to look for Europa. Far
away they went, along the valleys and over the hills, across the
rivers and through the woods, and they asked every one whom
they met if they had seen a white bull with a girl upon its back.
But no one had seen anything of the kind, and many people
thought that Kadmos and Telephassa were silly to ask such a
question, for they said, "Girls do not ride on the backs of bulls;
you can not be telling the truth." So they went on and on, ask-
ing every one, but hearing nothing about her; and as they jour-
neyed, sometimes they saw the great mountains rising up high
into the sky, with their tops covered with snow, and shining like
gold in the light of the setting sun; sometimes they rested on
the bank of a great broad river, where the large white leaves
lay floating and sleeping on the water, and where the palm trees
waved their long branches above their heads. Sometimes they
came to a water-fall, where the water sparkled brightly as it
rushed over the great stones. And whenever they came to these
beautiful places, Kadmos would say to Telephassa, " How we
should have enjoyed staying here if Europa were with us; but
we do not care to stay here now, we must go on looking for her
everywhere." So they went on and on till they came to the sea,
and they wondered how they could get across it, for it was a
great deal wider than any river which they had seen. At last
they found a place where the sea was narrow, and here a boat-
man took them across in his boat, just where little Helie had
been drowned when she fell off the back of the ram that was
carrying her and her brother away to Kolchis. So Telephassa
and Kadmos crossed over Hellespontos, which means the Sea of
Helle, and they went on and on, over mountains and hills and
rocks, and wild gloomy places, till they came to the sunny plains
of Thessaly. And still they asked every one about Europa, but
KADMOS AND EUROPA. • 629
they found no one who had seen her. And Kadmos saw that
his mother was getting weak and thin, and that she could not
walk now as far and as quickly as she had done when they had
set out from home to look for his sister. So he asked her to rest
for a little while. But Telephassa said, ''We must go on, Kad-
mos, for if we do, perhaps we may still find Europa.'' So they
went on, until at last Telephassa felt that she could not go any
further. And she said to Kadmos, "I am very tired, and I do
not think I shall be able to walk any more with you; I must lie
down and go to sleep here, and perhaps, Kadmos, I may not
wake again. But if I die while I am asleep, then 3'ou must go
on by yourself and look for Europa, for I am quite sure that you
will find her some day, although I shall not be with you. And
when you see your sister, tell her how I longed to find her again,
and how much I loved her always. And now, my child, I must
go to sleep, and if I do not wake up any more, then I trust that
we shall all see each other again one day, in a land which is
brighter and happier than even the land in which we used to live
before your sister was taken away from us."
So when she had said this, Telephassa fell asleep, just as the
daylight was going away from the sky, and when the bright
round moon rose up slowly from behind the dark hill. All night
long Kadmos watched by her side, and when the morning came,
he saw that Telephassa had died while she was asleep. Her
face was quite still, and Kadmos knew by the happy smile which
was on it, that she had gone to the bright land to which good
people go when they are dead. Kadmos was very sorry to be
parted from his mother, but he was not sorry that now she could
not feel tired or sorrowful any more. So Kadmos placed his
mother's body in the ground, and very soon all kinds of flowers
grew up upon her grave.
But Kadmos had gone on to look for his sister, Europa, and
presently he met a shepherd who was leading his flock of sheep.
630 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY
He was very beautiful to look at. His face shone as bright al-
most as the sun. He had a golden harp, and a golden bow, and
arrows in a golden quiver, and his name was Phcebus Apollo.
And Kadmos went up to him and said, " Have you seen my
sister, Europa.? a white bull ran away with her on his back.
Can you tell me where I can find her.^'' And Phoebus Apollo
said, " I have seen your sister, Europa, but I can not tell you yet
where she is, you must go on a great way further still, till you
come to a town which is called Delphi, under a great mountain
named Parnassos, and there perhaps you may be able to find out
something about her. But when you have seen her you must
not stay there, because I wish you to build a city, and become a
King, and be wise and strong and good. You and Europa must
follow a beautiful cow that I shall send, till it lies down upon the
ground to rest, and the place where the cow shall lie down shall
be the place where I wish you to build the city."
So Kadmos went on and on till he came to the town of
Delphi, which lay beneath the great mountain, called Parnassos.
And there he saw a beautiful temple with white marble pillars,
which shone brightly in the light of the early morning. And
Kadmos went into the temple, and there he saw his dear sister,
Europa. And Kadmos said, " Europa, is it you, indeed? How
glad I am to find you." Then Europa told Kadmos how the
bull had brought her and left her there a long time ago, and how
sorry she had been that she could not tell Telephassa where she
was. Then she said to Kadmos, " How pale and thin and weak
you look; tell me how it is you are come alone, and when shall I ,
see our dear mother?" Then his" eyes became full of tears, and
Kadmos said, "We shall never see our mother again in this
world. She has gone to the happy land where good people go
when they are dead. She was so tired with seeking after you
that at last she could not come any further, and she lay down and
fell asleep, and never waked up again. But she said that when
KADMOS AND EUROPA.
631
I saw you I must tell you how she longed to see you, and how
she hoped that we should all live together one day in the land to
which she has gone before us. And now, Europa, we must not
sta}^ here, for I met a shepherd whose name is Phoebus Apollo.
He had a golden harp and a golden bow, and his face shone like
ANCIENT SACRIFICE. {From Wall Painting of Pompeii )
the sun, and he told me that we must follow a beautiful cow
which he would send, and build a city in that place where the
cow shall lie down to rest."
So Europa left Delphi with her brother, Kadmos, and when
they had gone a little way, the}' saw a cow lying down on the
grass. But when they came near, the cow got up, and began to
632 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
walk in front of them, and then they knew that this was the
cow which Phoebus Apollo had sent. So they followed the cow,
and it went on and on, a long way, and at last it lay down to
rest on a large plain, and Kadmos knew then that this was the
place where he must build the city. And there he built a great
many houses, and the city was called Thebes. And Kadmos
became the King of Thebes, and his sister, Europa, lived there
with him. He was a wise and good King, and ruled his people
justly and kindly. And by and by Kadmos and Europa both
fell asleep and died, and then they saw their mother, Telephassa,
in the happy land to which good people go when they are dead,
and were never parted from her any more.
BELLEF{0PH0JV|.
The minstrels sang of the beauty and the great deeds of
Bellerophon through all the lands of Argos. His arm was strong
in the battle, his feet were swift in the chase, and his heart was
pure as the pure heart of Artemis and Athene. None that were
poor and weak and wretched feared the might of Bellerophon.
To them the sight of his beautiful form brought only joy and
gladness, but the proud and boastful, the slanderer and the rob-
ber, dreaded the glance of his keen eye. But the hand of Zeus
lay heavy upon Bellerophon. He dwelt in the halls of King
Proetos, and served him even as Herakles served the mean and
crafty Eurystheus. For many long years Bellerophon knew that
he must obey the bidding of a man weaker than himself, but his
soul failed him not, and he went forth to his long toil with a
heart strong as the sun when he rises in his strength, and pure as
the heart of a little child.
But Anteia, the wife of King Proetos, saw day by day the
BELLEROPHON. 633
beauty of Bellerophon, and she would not turn away her eye
from his fair face. Every day he seemed to her to be more and
more hke to the bright heroes who feast with the gods in the
halls of high Olympos, and her heart became filled with love,
and she sought to beguile Bellerophon by her enticing words.
But he hearkened not to her evil prayer, and heeded not her tears
and sighs; so her love was turned to wrath, and she vowed a
vow that Bellerophon should suffer a sore vengeance, because he
would not hear her prayer. Then, in her rage, she went to King
Proetos, and said, " Bellerophon, thy slave, hath sought to do me
wrong, and to lead me astray by his crafty words. Long time
he strove with me to win my love, but I would not hearken to
him. Therefore, let thine hand lie more heavy upon him than in
time past, for the evil that he hath done, and slay him before my
face." Then was Prcetos also full of anger, but he feared to
slay Bellerophon, lest he should bring on himself the wrath of
Zeus, his father. So he took a tablet of wood, and on it he drew
grievous signs of toil and war, of battles and death, and gave it
to Bellerophon to carry to the far-off L3^kian land, where the
father of Anteia was King, and as he bade him farewell, he said,
" Show this tablet to the King of Lykia, and he will recompense
thee for all thy good deeds which thou hast done for me, and for
the people of Argos."
So Bellerophon went forth on his long wandering, and
dreamed not of the evil that was to befall him by the wicked
craft of Anteia. On and on he journe3''ed towards the rising of
the sun, till he came to the country of the Lykians. Then he
went to the house of the King, who welcomed him with rich
banquets, and feasted him for nine days, and on the tenth day he
sought to know wherefore Bellerophon had come to the Lykian
land. Then Bellerophon took the tablet of Prcetos and gave it
to the King, who saw on it grievous signs of toil and woe, of
battles and death. Presently the King spake, and said^ " There
\a.
oyr
634 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
are great things which remain for thee to do, Bellerophon, but
when thy toil is over, high honor awaits thee here and in the
homes of the bright heroes." So the King sent him forth to
slay the terrible Chimaera, which had the face of a lion with a
goat's body and a dragon's tail. Then Bellerophon journeyed
yet further towards the rising of the sun, till he came to the pas-
tures where the winged horse, Pegasos, the child of Gorgo, with
the snaky hair, was feeding, and he knew that if he could tame
the steed he should then be able to conquer the fierce Chimaera.
Long time he sought to seize on Pegasos, but the horse
snorted wildly and tore up the ground in his fury, till Bellero-
phon sank wearied on the earth and a deep sleep weighed down
his eyelids. Then, as he slept, Pallas Athene came and stood
by his side, and cheered him with her brave words, and gave
him a philtre which should tame the wild Pegasos. When Belle-
rophon awoke, the philtre was in his hand, and he knew now
that he should accomplish the task which the Lykian King had
given him to do. So, by the help of Athene, he mounted the
winged Pegasos and smote the Chimaera, and struck off his head,
and with it he went back, and told the King of all that had be-
fallen him. But the King was filled with rage, for he thought
not to see the face of Bellerophon again, and he charged him to
go forth and do battle with the mighty Solymi and the fair Ama-
zons. Then Bellerophon went forth again, for he dreamed not
of guile and falsehood, and he dreaded neither man nor beast
that might meet him in open battle. Long time he fought with
the Solymi and the Amazons, until all his enemies shrank from
the stroke of his mighty arm, and sought for mercy. Glad of
heart, Bellerophon departed to carry his spoils to the home of
the Lykian King, but as he drew nigh to it and was passing
through a narrow dell where the thick brushwood covered the
ground, fifty of the mightiest Lykians rushed upon him with
fierce shoutings, and sought to slay him. At the first, Bellero-
ISELLEROPHON. 635
phon withheld his hands, and said, " Lykian friends, I have
feasted in the halls of your King, and eaten of his bread; surely
ye are not come hither to slay me." But they shouted the more
fiercely, and they hurled spears at Bellerophon; so he stretched
forth his hand in the greatness of his strength, and did battle for
his life until all the Lykians lay dead before him.
Wear}^ in body and sad of heart, Bellerophon entered the
hall where the King was feasting with his chieftains. And the
King knew that Bellerophon could not have come thither unless
he had first slain all the warriors whom he had sent forth to lie
in wait for him. But he dissembled his wrath, and said, " Wel-
come, Bellerophon, bravest and mightiest of the sons of men.
Th}' toils are done, and the time of rest is come for thee. Thou
shalt wed my daughter, and share with me my kingly power."
Then the minstrels praised the deeds of Bellerophon, and
there was feasting for many days when he wedded the daughter
of the King. But not yet was his doom accomplished; and
once again the dark cloud gathered around him, laden with woe
and suffering. Far away from his Lykian home, the wrath of
Zeus drove him to the western land where the sun goes down
into the sea. His heart was brave and guileless still, as in the
days of his early youth, but the strength of his arm was weak-
ened, and the light of his eye was now dim. Sometimes the
might was given back to his limbs, and his face shone with its
ancient beauty; and then, again, he wandered on in sadness and
sorrow, as a man wanders in a strange path through the dark
hours of night, when the moon is down. And so it was that
when Bellerophon reached the western sea, he fell asleep and
died, and the last sight which he saw before his eyes were
closed was the red glare of the dying sun, as he broke through
the barred clouds and plunged beneath the sea.
636 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
ALTHAIA AJ^D THE BUI^JSINQ BI^AND.
There was feasting in the halls of Oineus, the chieftain of
Kalydon, in the ^^tolian land, and all prayed for wealth and
glory for the chief, and for his wife, Althaia, and for the child
who had on that day been born to them. And Oineus besought
the King of gods and men with rich offerings, that his son,
Meleagros, might win a name greater than his own, that he
might grow up stout of heart and strong of arm, and that in time
to come men might say, " Meleagros wrought mighty works and
did good deeds to the people of the land."
But the mighty Moirai, whose word even Zeus himself may
not turn aside, had fixed the doom of Meleagros. The child lay
sleeping in his mother's arms, and Althaia prayed that her son
might grow up brave and gentle, and be to her a comforter in
the time of age and the hour of death. Suddenly, as she yet
spake, the Moirai stood before her. There was no love or pity in
their cold, grey eyes, and they looked down with stern, unchang-
ing faces on the mother and her child, and one of them said,
'' The brand burns on the hearth, when it is burnt wholly, thy
child shall die." But love is swifter than thought, and the
mother snatched the burning brand from the fire, and quenched
its flame in water, and she placed it in a secret place where no
hand but her own might reach it.
So the child grew, brave of heart and sturdy of limb, and
ever ready to hunt the wild beasts or to go against the cities of
men. Many great deeds he did in the far-off Kolchian land,
when the chieftains sailed with Athamas and Ino to take away
the golden fleece from King Aietes. But there were greater
things for him to do when he came again to Kalydon, for his
father, Oineus, had roused the wrath of the mighty Artemis.
There was rich banqueting in his great hall when his harvest was
AT.THAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND. 637
ingathered, and Zeus and all the other gods feasted on the fat
burnt-otferings, but no gift was set apart for the virgin child of
Leto. Soon she requited the wrong to Oineus, and a savage
boar was seen in the land, which tore up the fruit-trees, and de-
stroyed the seed in the ground, and trampled on the green corn
as it came up. None dared to approach it, for its might}' tusks
tore everything that crossed its path. Long time the chieftains
took counsel what they should do, until Meleagros said, " I will
go forth; who will follow me.^" Then from Kalydon and from
the cities and lands round about came mighty chieftains and
brave youths, even as they had hastened to the ship, Argo, when
they sought to win the golden fleece from Kolchis. With them
came the Kouretes, who live in Pleuron, and among them were
seen Kastor and Polydeukes, the twin brethren, and Theseus,
with his comrade, Peirithoos, and lason and Admetos. But
more beautiful than all was Atalante, the daughter of Schoineus,
a stranger from the Arcadian land. Much the chieftains sought
to keep her from the chase, for the maiden ^s arm was strong, and
her feet swift, and her aim sure, and they liked not that she
should come from a far country to share their glory or take away
their name. But Meleagros loved the fair and brave maiden,
and said, " If she go not to the chase, neither will I go with
you." So they suffered her, and the chase began. At first the
boar fled, trampling down those whom he chanced to meet, and
rending them with his tusks, but at last he stood fiercely at bay,
and fought furiously, and many of the hunters fell, until at length
the spear of Atalante pierced his side, and then Meleagros slew
him.
Then was there great gladness as they dragged the body of
the boar to Kalydon, and made ready to divide the spoil. But
the anger of Artemis was not yet soothed, and she roused a
strife between the men of Pleuron and the men of Kalydon.
For Meleagros sought to have the head, and the Kouretes of
638 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
Pleuron cared not to take the hide only for their portion. So
the strife grew hot between them, until Meleagros slew the
chieftain of the Kouretes, who was the brother of Althaia, his
mother. Then he seized the head of the boar, and bare it to
Atalante, and said, " Take, maiden, the spoils are rightly thine.
From thy spear came the first wound which smote down the
boar; and well hast thou earned the prize for the fleetness of thy
foot and the sureness of thy aim."
So Atalante took the spoils and carried them to her home
in the Arcadian land, but the men of Pleuron were full of wrath,
and they made war on the men of Kalydon. Many times they
fought, but in every battle the strong arm of Meleagros and his
stout heart won the victory for the men of his own city, and the
Kouretes began to grow faint in spirit, so that they quailed be-
fore the spear and sword of Meleagros. But presently Melea-
gros was seen no more with his p eople, and his voice was no
longer heard cheering them on to the battle. No more would
he take lance in hand or lift up his shield for the strife, but he
tarried in his own house by the side of the beautiful Kleopatra,
whom Idas, her father, gave to him to be his wife.
For the heart of his mother was filled with grief and rage
when she heard the story of the deadly strife, and that Melea-
gros, her child, had slain her brother. In heavy wrath and sor-
row she sat down upon the earth, and she cast the dust from the
ground into the air, and with wild words called on Hades,
the unseen King, and Persephone, who shares his dark throne :
" Lord of the lands beneath the earth, stretch forth thy hand
against Meleagros, my child. He has quenched the love of a
mother in my brother's blood, and I will that he should die."
And even as she prayed, the awful Erinys, who wanders
through the air, heard her words and swore to accomplish the
doom. But Meleagros was yet more wrathful when he knew
that his mother had laid her curse upon him, and therefore he
ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND.
639
would not go forth out of his chamber to the aid of his people
in the war.
So the Kouretes grew more and more mighty, and their
warriors came up against the City of Kalydon, and would no
longer suffer the people to come witnout
the walls. And everywhere there was
faintness of heart and grief of spirit, for
the enemy had wasted their fields and
slain the bravest of the men, and little
store remained to them of food. Day by
day Oineus besought his son, and the great
men of the city fell at the knees of Melea-
gros and prayed him to come out to their
help, but he would not hearken. Still he
tarried in his chamber with his wife, Kleo-
patra, by his side, and heeded not the hun-
ger and the wailings of the people. Fiercer
and fiercer waxed the roar of war; the
loosened stones rolled from the tottering
wall, and the battered gates were scarce able to keep out the
enemy. Then Kleopatra fell at her husband's knee, and she
took him by the hand, and called him gently by his name, and
said, " O Meleagros, if thou wilt think of thy wrath, think also
of the evils which war brings with it — how when a city is taken,
the men are slain, and the mother with her child, the old and
the young are borne away into slavery. If the men of Pleuron
win the day, thy mother may repent her of the curse which she
has laid upon thee; but thou wilt see thy children slain and me a
slave."
Then Meleagros started from his couch and seized his spear
and shield. He spake no word, but hastened to the walls, and
soon the Kouretes fell back before the spear which never missed
its mark. Then he gathered the warriors of his city, and bade
MELPOMENE.
{Muse of Tragedy.)
640 RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
them open the gates, and went forth against the enemy. Long
and dreadful was the battle, but at length the Kouretes turned
and fled, and the danger passed away from the men of Kalydon.
But the Moirai still remembered the doom of the burning
brand, and the unpitying Erinys had not forgotten the curse of
Althaia, and they moved the men of KaWdon to withhold the
prize of his good deeds from the chieftain, Meleagros. " He
came not forth," they said, " save at the prayer of his wife. He
hearkened not when we besought him, he heeded not our miser}'
and tears; why should we give him that which he did not win
from any love for us?" So his people were angry with Melea
gros, and his spirit grew yet more bitter within him. Once
again he lay within his chamber, and his spear and shield hung
idle on the wall, and it pleased him more to listen the whole day
long to the soft words of Kleopatra than to be doing brave and
good deeds for the people of his land.
Then the heart of his mother, Althaia, was more and more
turned away from him, so that she said in bitterness of spirit,
"What good shall his life now do to me.^" and she brought
forth the half burnt brand from its secret place, and cast it on the
hearth. ^Suddenly it burst into a flame, and suddenly the strength
of Meleagros began to fail as he lay in the arms of Kleopatra.
"My life is wasting within me," he said; "clasp me closer in
thine arms; let others lay a curse upon me, so only I die rejoicing
in thy love." Weaker and weaker grew his failing breath, but
still he looked with loving eyes on the face of Kleopatra, and his
spirit went forth with a sigh of gladness, as the last spark of the
brand flickered out upon the hearth.
Then was there grief and sorrow in the house of Oineus
and through all the City of Kalydon, but they wept and mourned
in vain. They thought now of his good deeds, his wise coun-
sels, and his mighty arm, but in vain they bewailed the death of
their chieftain in the glory of his age. Yet deeper and more
ALTHAIA AND THE BURNING BRAND. 64I
bitter was the sorrow of Althaia, for the love of a mother came
back to her heart when the Moirai had accomphshed the doom
of her child. And yet more bitterly sorrowed his wife, Kleo-
patra, and yearned for the love which had been torn away from
her. There was no more joy within the halls of Oineus, for the
Erinyshad done their task well. Soon Althaia followed her child
to the unknown land, and Kleopatra went forth with joy to
meet Meleagros in the dark kingdom of Hades and Persephone.
lAJVlOp.
On the banks of Alpheios, Evadne watched over her new-
born babe, till she fled away because she feared the wrath of
Aipytos, who ruled in Phaisana. The tears streamed down her
cheeks as she prayed to Phoebus Apollo, who dwells at Delphi,
and said, " Lord of the bright day, look on thy child, and guard
him when he lies forsaken, for I may no longer tarry near him."
So Evadne fled away, and Phcebus sent two serpents, who
fed the babe with honey as he lay amid the flowers which clus-
tered round him. And ever more and more through all the land
went forth the saying of Phoebus, that the child of Evadne
should grow up mighty in wisdom and in the power of telling
the things that should happen in the time to come. Then
Aipytos asked of all who dwelt in his house to tell him where
he might find the son of Evadne. But they knew not where the
child lay, for the serpents had hidden him far away in the
thicket, where the wild flowers sheltered him from wind and
heat. Long lime they searched amid the tall reeds which
clothe the banks of Alpheios, until at last they found the babe
lying in a bed of violets. So Aipytos took the child and called
his name lamos, and he grew up brave and wise of heart, pon-
41
642
RELIGION OR MYTHOLOGY.
dering well the signs of coming grief and joy, and the tokens of
hidden things which he saw in the heaven above him or the wide
earth beneath. He spake but little to the youths and maidens
who dwelt in the house of Aipytos, but he wandered on the bare
hills or by the stream side, musing on many things. And so it
came to pass that one night, when the stars glimmered softly in
the sky, lamos plunged beneath the
waters of Alpheios, and prayed to
Phoebus who dwells at Delphi, and
to Poseidon, the lord of the broad
sea; and he besought them to open
his eyes, that he might reveal to
the sons of men the things which
of themselves they could not see.
Then they led him away to the
hiofh rocks which look down on the
plain of Pisa, and they said, " Look
CLIO {Muse of History). yonder, child of Evadne, where the
j^hite stream of Alpheios winds its way gently to the sea. Here,
in the days which are to come, Herakles, the son of the mighty
Zeus, shall gather together the sons of Plelen, and give them in
the solemn games the mightiest of all bonds; hither shall they
come to know the will of Zeus, and here shall it be thy work
and the work of thy children to read to them the signs which of
themselves they can not understand." Then Phoebus Apollo
touched his ears, and straightway the voices of the birds spake
to him clearly of the things which were to come and he heard
their words as a man listens to the speech of his friend. So
lamos prospered exceedingly, for the men of all the Argive land
sought aid from his wisdom, and laid rich gifts at his feet. And
he taught his children after him to speak the truth and to deal
justly, so that none envied their great wealth, and all men spake
well jf the wise children of lamos.
rm )^HT?-
The artistic instinct is one of the earliest developed in man;
the love of representation is evolved at the earliest period; we
see it in the child, we see it in the savage, we find traces of it
among primitive men. The child in his earliest years loves to
trace the forms of objects familiar to his eyes. The savage takes
a pleasure in depicting and rudely giving shape to objects which
constantly meet his view. The artistic instinct is of all ages and
of all climes; it springs up naturally in all countries, and takes its
origin alike ever3'where in the imitative faculty of man. Evi-
dences of this instinct at the earliest period have been discovered
among the relics of primitive men; rough sketches on slate and
on stone of the mammoth, the deer, and of man, have been
found in the caves of France; the American savage traces rude
hunting scenes, or the forms of animals on the covering of his
tents, and on his buffalo robes; the savage Australian covers the
side of caverns, and the faces of rocks with coarse drawings of
animals. We thus find an independent evolution of the art of
design, and distinct and separate cycles of its'' development
through the stages of rise, progress, maturit}^, decline and decay,
in many countries the most remote and unconnected with one
another. The earliest mode of representing men, animals and
objects was in outline and in profile. It is evidently the most
primitive style, and characteristic of the commencement of the
art, as the first attempts made by children and uncivilized people
643
644
FINE ARTS.
are solely confined to it; the most inexperienced perceive the ob«
ject intended to be represented, and no effort is required to com-
prehend it. Outline figures were thus in all countries the earliest
style of painting, and we find this mode practiced at a remote
period in Egypt and in Greece. In Egypt we meet paintings in
this earliest stage of the art of design in the tombs of Beni
Hassan, dating from over 2000 B. C. They are illustrative of
the manners and customs of that age. Tradition tells us that
the origin of the art of design in Greece was in tracing in out-
line and in profile the shadow of a human head on the wall and
afterwards filling it in so as to present the appearance of a kind
of silhouette. The Greek painted vases of the earliest epoch
exhibit examples of this style. From this humble beginning the
art of design in Greece rose in gradually successive stages, until
it reached its highest degree of perfection under the hands of
Zeuxis and Apelles.
The interest that attaches to Egyptian art is from its great
antiquity. We see it in the first attempts to represent what in
after times, and in some other countries, gradually arrived, under
better auspices, at the greatest perfection ; and we even trace in it
the germ of much that was improved upon by those who had a
higher appreciation of, and feeling for, the beautiful. For, both
in ornamental art, as well as in architecture, Egypt exercised in
early times considerable influence over other people less ad-
vanced than itself, or only just emerging from barbarism ; and the
various conventional devices, the lotus flowers, the sphinxes, and
other fabulous animals, as well as the early Medusa's head, with
a protruding tongue, of the oldest Greek pottery and sculptures,
and the ibex, leopard, and above all the (Nile) " goose and sun,'*
on the vases, show them to be connected with, and frequently
directly borrowed from, Egyptian fancy. It was, as it still is, the
custom of people to borrow from those who have attained to a
greater degree of refinement and civilization than themselves; the
ANCIENT ART AND LITERATURE.
645
646 FINE ARTS.
nation most advanced in art led the taste, and though some had
sufficient invention to alter what they adopted, and to render it
their own, the original idea may still be traced whenever it has
been derived from a foreign source. Egypt was long the domi-
nant nation, and the intercourse established at a very remote
period with other countries, through commerce of war, carried
abroad the taste of this the most advanced people of the time;
and so general seems to have been the fashion of their orna-
ments, that even the Nineveh marbles present the winged globe,
and other well-known Egyptian emblems, as established elements
of Assyrian decorative art.
While Greece was still in its infancy, Egypt had long been
the leading nation of the world; she was noted for her magnifi-
cence, her wealth, and power, and all acknowledged her pre-
eminence in wisdom and civilization. It is not, therefore, sur-
prising that the Greeks should have admitted into their early art
some of the forms then most in vogue, and though the wonderful
taste of that gifted people speedily raised them to a point of
excellence never attained by the Egyptians or any others, the
rise and first germs of art and architecture must be sought in the
Valley of the Nile. In the oldest monuments of Greece, the
sloping or pyramidal line constantly predominates; the columns
in the oldest Greek order are almost purely Egyptian, in the pro-
portions of the shaft, and in the form of its shallow flutes without
fillets; and it is a remarkable fact that the oldest Egyptian
columns are those which bear the closest resemblance to the
Greek Doric.
Though great variety was permitted in objects of luxury,
as furniture, vases, and other things depending on caprice, the
Egyptians were forbidden to introduce any material innovations
into the human figure, such as would alter its general character,
and all subjects connected with religion retained to the last the
same conventional type. A god in the latest temple was of the
EGYPTIAN SCULPTURE. 647
same form as when represented on monuments of the earliest
date; and King Menes would have recognized Amun, or Osiris,
in a Ptolemaic or a Roman sanctuary. In sacred subjects the
law was inflexible, and religion, which has frequently done so
much for the development and direction of taste in sculpture, had
the effect of fettering the genius of Egyptian artists. No im-
provements, resulting from experience and observation, were
admitted in the mode of drawing the human figure; to copy
nature was not allowed; it was therefore useless to study it, and
no attempt was made to give the proper action to the limbs.
Certain rules, certain models, had been established by the priest-
hood, and the faulty conceptions of ignorant times were copied
and perpetuated by every successive artist. For, as Plato and
Synesius say, the Egyptian sculptors were not suffered to at-
tempt anything contrary to the regulations laid down regarding
the figures of the gods; they were forbidden to introduce any
change, or to invent new subjects and habits, and thus the art,
and the rules which bound it, always remained the same.
Egyptian bas-relief appears to have been, in its origin, a
mere copy of painting, its predecessor. The first attempt to
represent the figures of gods, sacred emblems, and other subjects,
consisted in drawing or painting simple outlines of them on a
flat surface, the details being afterwards put in with color; but
in process of time these forms were traced on stone with a tool,
and the intermediate space between the various figures being after-
wards cut away, the once level surface assumed the appearance of
a bas-relief It was, in fact, a pictorial representation on stone,
which is evidently the character of all the bas-reliefs on Egyp-
tian monuments, and which readily accounts for the imperfect
arrangement of their figures.
Deficient in conception, and above all in a proper knowledge
of grouping, they were unable to form those combinations which
give true expression; every picture was made up of isolated
648 FINE ARTS.
parts, put together according to some general notions, but with-
out harmony, or preconceived effect. The human face, the
whole body, and everything they introduced, were composed in
the same manner, of separate members placed together one by
one according to their relative situations: the eye, the nose, and
other features composed a face, but the expression of feelings
and passions was entirely wanting; and the countenance of the
King, whether charging an enemy's phalanx in the heat of battle,
or peaceably offering incense in a sombre temple, presented the
same outline and the same inanimate look. The peculiarity of
the front view of an eye, introduced in a profile, is thus ac-
counted for: it was the ordinary representation of that feature
added to a profile, and no allowance was made for any change in
the position of the head.
It was the same with drapery: the figure was first drawn,
and the drapery then added, not as part of the whole, but as an
accessory; they had no general conception, no previous idea of
the effect required to distinguish the warrior or the priest, be-
yond the impressions received from costume, or from the subject
of which they formed a part, and the same figure was dressed
according to the character it was intended to perform. Every
portion of a picture was conceived by itself, and inserted as it
was wanted to complete the scene; and when the walls of the
building, where a subject was to be drawn, had been accurately
ruled with squares, the figures were introduced, and fitted to this
mechanical arrangement. The members were appended to the
body, and these squares regulated their form and distribution, in
whatever posture they might be placed.
As long as this conventional system continued, no great
change could take place, beyond a slight variation in the propor-
tions, which at one period became more elongated, particularly
in the reign of the second Remeses; but still the general form
and character of the figures continued the same, which led to the
EGYPTIAN SCULPTURE. 649
remark of Plato, " that the pictures and statues made ten thou-
sand years ago, are in no one particular better or worse than
what they now make." And taken in this Hmited sense — that
no nearer approach to the beau ideal of the human figure, or its
real character, was made at one period than another — his remark
is true, since they were always bound by the same regulations,
which prohibited any change in these matters, even to the latest
times, as is evident from the sculptures of the monuments
erected after Egypt had long been a Roman province. All was
still Egyptian, though of bad style; and if they then attempted
to finish the details with more precision, it was only substituting
ornament for simplicity; and the endeavor to bring the propor-
tions of the human figure nearer to nature, with the retention of
its conventional -type, only made its deformity greater, and showed
how incompatible the Egyptian was with any other style.
In the composition of modern paintings three objects are
required: one main action, one point of view, and one instant of
time, and the proportions and harmony of the parts are regu-
lated by perspective, but in Egyptian sculpture these essentials
were disregarded; every thing was sacrificed to the principal
figure; its colossal dimensions pointed it out as a center to
which all the rest was a mere accessory, and, if any other was
made equally conspicuous, or of equal size, it was still in a sub-
ordinate station, and only intended to illustrate the scene con-
nected with the hero of the piece.
In the paintings of the tombs greater license was allowed
in the representation of subjects relating to private life, the trades,
or the manners and occupations of the people, and some indica-
tion of perspective in the position of the figures may occasionally
be observed ; but the attempt was imperfect, and, probably, to an
Egyptian eye, unpleasing, for such is the force of habit, that even
where nature is copied, a conventional style is sometimes pre-
ferred to a more accurate representation.
650 FINE ARTS.
In the battle scenes on the temples of Thebes, some of the
figures representing the monarch pursuing the flying enemy,
despatching a hostile chief with his sword, and drawing his bow,
as his horses carry his car over the prostrate bodies of the slain,
are drawn with much spirit, and the position of the arms gives
a perfect -idea of the action which the artist intended to portray;
still, the same imperfections of style, and want of truth, are ob-
served; there is action, but no sentiment, expression of the pas-
sions, nor life in the features; it is a figure ready formed, and
mechanically varied into movement, and whatever position it is
made to assume, the point of view is the same : the identical pro-
file of the human body with the anomaly of the shoulders seen
in front. It is a description rather than a representation.
But in their mode of portraying a large crowd of persons
they often show great cleverness, and, as their habit was to avoid
uniformity, the varied positions of the heads give a truth to the
subject without fatiguing the eye. Nor have they any symmetri-
cal arrangement of figures, on opposite sides of a picture, such
as we find in some of the ver}^ early paintings in Europe.
As their skill increased, the mere figurative representation
was extended to that of a descriptive kind, and some resemblance
of the hero's person was attempted; his car, the army he com-
manded, and the flying enemies, were introduced, and what was
at first scarcely more than a symbol, aspired to the more exalted
form and character of a picture. Of a similar nature were all
their historical records, and these pictorial illustrations were a
substitute for written documents. Rude drawing and sculpture,
indeed, long preceded letters, and we find that even in Greece, to
describe, draw, engrave, and write, were expressed by the same
word. 4
Of the quality of the pencils used by the Egyptians for
drawing and painting, it is difficult to form any opinion. Those
generally employed for writing were a reed or rush, many of
ETRUSCAN PAINTING. 65 I
which have been found with the tablets or inkstands belonging
to the scribes; and with these, too, they probably sketched the
figures in red and black upon the stone or stucco of the walls.
To put in the color, we may suppose that brushes of some kind
were used, but the minute scale on which the painters are
represented in the sculptures prevents our deciding the question.
Habits among men of similar occupations are frequently
alike, even in the most distant countries, and we find it was not
unusual for an Egyptian artist, or scribe, to put his reed pencil
behind his ear, when engaged in examining the effect of his paint-
ing, or listening to a person on business, like a clerk in the
counting-house.
The Etruscans, it is said, cultivated painting before the
Greeks, and Pliny attributes to the former a certain degree of
perfection before the Greeks had emerged from the infancy of
the art. Ancient paintings at Ardea, in Etruria, and at Lanu-
vium still retained, in the time of Pliny, all their primitive fresh-
ness. According to Pliny, paintings of a still earlier date were
to be seen at Caere, another Etruscan city. Those paintings
mentioned by Pliny were commonly believed to be earlier than
the foundation of Rome. At the present day the tombs of
Etruria afford examples of Etruscan painting in every stage of
its development, from the rudeness and conventionality of early
art in the tomb of Veil to the correctness and ease of design,
and the more perfect development of the art exhibited in the
painted scenes in the tombs of Tarquinii. In one of these tombs
the pilasters are profusely adorned with arabesques, and a frieze
which runs round the side of the tomb is composed of painted
figures draped, winged, armed, fighting, or borne in chariots.
The subjects of these paintings are various; in them we find the
ideas of the Etruscans on the state of the soul after death, com-
bats of warriors, banquets, funeral scenes. The Etruscans painted
also bas-reliefs and statues.
652
FINE ARTS
The Greeks carried painting to the highest degree of perfec-
tion; their first attempts were long posterior to those of the
Eo-yptians; they do not even date as far back as the epoch of the
sieo-e of Troy; and Pliny remarks that Homer does not mention
painting. The Greeks always cultivated sculpture in preference.
Pausanias enumerates only eighty-eight paintings, and forty-three
portraits; he describes, on the other hand, 2,827 statues. These
were, in fact, more suitable ornaments to public places, and the
gods were always represented in the temple by sculpture. In
Greece painting followed the invariable law of development. Its
cycle was run through. Painting passed through the successive
stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline, and decay. The art
of design in Greece is said to have had its origin in Corinth.
The legend is: the daughter of Dibutades, a potter of Corinth,
struck by the shadow of her lover's head cast by the lamp on
the wall, drew its outline, filling it in with a dark shadow.
Hence, the earliest mode of representing the human figure was
a silhouette. The simplest form of design or drawing was mere
outline, or monogrammon, and was invented by Cleanthes, of
Corinth. After this, the outlines were filled in, and light and
shade introduced of one color, and hence were styled mono-
chromes. Telephanes, of Sicyon, further improved the art by
indicating the principal details of anatomy; Euphantes, of Cor-
inth, or Craton, of Sicyon, by the introduction of color. Cimon,
of Cleonse, is the first who is mentioned as having advanced the
art of painting in Greece, and as having emancipated it from its
archaic rigidity, by exchanging the conventional manner of ren-
dering the human form for an approach to truthfulness to nature.
He also first made muscular articulations, indicated the veins,
and gave natural folds to draperies. He is also supposed to have
been the first who used a variety of colors, and to have intro-
duced foreshortening. The first painter of great renown was
Polygnotus. Accurate drawing, and a noble and distinct man-
RENOWNED PAINTERS. 653
ner of characterizing the most different mythological forms was
his great merit; his female figures also possessed charms and
grace. His large tabular pictures were conceived with great
knowledge of legends, and in an earnest religious spirit. At
Athens he painted, according to Pausanias, a series of paintings
of mythological subjects in the Pinakotheke in the Propylaea on
the Acropolis, and pictorial decorations for the temple of The-
seus, and the Pcecile. He executed a series of paintings at
Delphi on the long walls of the Lesche. The wall to the right
on entering the Lesche bore scenes illustrative of the epic myth
of the taking of Troy; the left, the visit of Ulysses to the lower
world, as described in the Odyssey. Pliny remarks that in place
of the old severity and rigidity of the features he introduced a
great variet}'^ of expression, and was the first to paint figures
with the lips open. Lucian attributes to him great improve-
ments in the rendering of drapery so as to show the forms under-
death. ApoUodorus, of Athens, was the first great master of
light and shade. According to Pliny he was the first to paint
men and things as they really appear. A more advanced stage
of improved painting began with Zeuxis, in which art aimed at
illusion of the senses and the rendering of external charms. He
appears to have been equally distinguished in the representation
of female charms, and of the sublime majesty of Zeus on his
throne. His masterpiece was his picture of Helen, in painting
which he had as his models the five most beautiful virgins of
Croton.
Neither the place nor date of the birth of Zeuxis can be
accurately ascertained, though he was probably born about 455
B. C, since thirty years after that date we find him practicing
his art with great success at Athens. He was patronized by
Archelaus, King of Macedonia, and spent some time at his court.
He must also have visited Magna Graecia, as he painted his
celebrated picture of Helen for the City of Croton. He acquired
654
FINE ARTS.
great wealth by his pencil, and was very ostentatious in display-
ing it. He appeared at Olympia in a magnificent robe, having
his name embroidered in letters of gold, and the same vanity is
also displayed in the anecdote that, after he had reached the sum-
mit of his fame, he no longer sold, but gave away, his pictures,
as being above all price. With regard to his style of art, single
figures were his favorite subjects. He could depict gods or
heroes, with sufficient majesty, but he particularly excelled in
painting the softer graces of female beauty. In one important
respect he appears to have degenerated from the style of Poly-
gnotus, his idealism being rather that oi form than of character
and expression. Thus his style is analogous to that of Euripides
in tragedy. He was a great master of color, and his paintings
were sometimes so accurate and life-like as to amount to illusion.
This is exemplified in the story told of him and Parrhasius. As
a trial of skill, these artists painted two pictures. That of Zeuxis
represented a bunch of grapes, and was so naturally executed
that the birds came and pecked at it. After this proof, Zeuxis,
confident of success, called upon his rival to draw aside the cur-
tain which concealed his picture. But the painting of Parrhasius
was the curtain itself, and Zeuxis was now obliged to acknowl-
edge himself vanquished, for, though he had deceived birds,
Parrhasius had deceived the author of the deception. But many
of the pictures of Zeuxis also displayed great dramatic power.
He worked very slov^ly and carefully, and he is said to have
replied to somebody who blamed him for his slowness, " It is
true I take a long time to paint, but then I paint works to last a
long time." His master-piece was the picture of Helen, already
mentioned.
Parrhasius was a native of Ephesus, but his art was chiefly
exercised at Athens, where he was presented with the right of
citizenship. His date can not be accurately ascertained, but he
was probably rather younger than his contemporary, Zeuxis, and
PARRHASIUS.
655
it is certain that he enjoyed a high reputation before the death
of Socrates. The style and degree of excellence attained by
Parrhasius appear to have been much the same as those of
Zeuxis. He was particularly celebrated for the accuracy of his
drawing, and the excellent proportions of his figures. For these
PAINTING. (2000 years old.)
he established a canon, as Phidias had done in sculpture for gods,
and Polycletus for the human figure, whence Quintilian calls
him the legislator of his art. His vanity seems to have been as
remarkable as that of Zeuxis. Among the most celebrated of
his works was a portrait of the personified Athenian Demos
656 FINE ARTS.
which is said to have miraculously expressed even the most con-
tradictory qualities of that many-headed personage.
Parrhasius excelled in giving a roundness and a beautiful
contour to his figures, and was remarkable for the richness and
variety of his creations. His numerous pictures of gods and
heroes attained the highest consideration in art. He was over-
come, however, in a pictorial contest, in which the subject was
the contest of Ulysses and Ajax for the arms of Achilles, by the
ingenious Timanthes, in whose sacrifice of Iphigenia the ancients
admired the expression of grief carried to that pitch of intensity
at which art had only dared to hint. The most striking feature
in the picture was the concealment of the face of Agamemnon in
his mantle. (The concealment of the face of Agamemnon in
this picture has been generally considered as a " trick " or in-
genious invention of Timanthes, when it was the result of a
fundamental law in Greek art — to represent alone what was
beautiful, and never to present to the eye anything repulsive or dis-
agreeable; the features of a father convulsed with grief would
not have been a pleasing object to gaze on; hence the painter,
fully conscious of the laws of his art, concealed the countenance
of Agamemnon.) Timanthes was distinguished for his invention
and expression. Before all, however, ranks the great Apelles,
who united the advantages of his native Ionia — grace, sensual
charms, and rich coloring — with the scientific accuracy ot the
Sicyonian school. The most prominent characteristic of his
style was grace (chads), a quality which he himself avowed as
peculiarly his, and which serves to unite all the other gifts and
faculties which the painter requires; perhaps in none of his
pictures was it exhibited in such perfection as in his famous
Anadyomene, in which Aphrodite is represented rising out of
the sea, and wringing the wet out of her hair. But heroic
subjects were likewise adapted to his genius, especially grandly-
conceived portraits, such as the numerous likenesses of Alex-
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658
FINE ARTS.
came the end of the artist. The tendencies which are pecuHar
to this period gave birth sometimes to pictures which ministered
to a low sensuality ; sometimes to works which attracted by their
effects of light, and also to caricatures and travesties of mytho-
logical subjects. The artists of this period were under the
necessity of attracting attention by novelty and variety; thus
rhyparography, and the lower classes of art, attained the ascend-
ency, and became the characteristic styles of the period. In
these Pyreicus was pre-eminent; he was termed rhyparographos,
on account of the mean quality of his subjects. After the de-
struction of Corinth by Mummius and the spoliation of Athens
by Sylla the art of painting experienced a rapid and total decay.
We shall now make a few extracts from Mr. Wornum's
excellent article on the vehicles, materials, colors, and methods
of painting used by the Greeks.
The Greeks painted with wax, resins, and in water-colors, to
which they gave a proper consistency, according to the material
upon which they painted, with gum, glue, and the white of egg;
gum and glue were the most common.
They painted upon wood, clay, plaster, stone, parchment,
and canvas. They generally painted upon panels or tables, and
very rarely upon walls; and an easel, similar to what is now
used, was common among the ancients. These panels, when
finished, were fixed into frames of various descriptions and
materials, and encased in walls. The ancients used also a pal-
ette very similar to that used by the moderns, as is sufficiently
attested by a fresco painting from Pompeii, which represents a
female painting a copy of Hermes, for a votive tablet, with a
palette in her left hand.
The earlier Grecian masters used only four colors : the earth
of Melos for white; Attic ochre for yellow; Sinopis, an earth
from Pontus, for red; and lamp-black; and it was with these
simple elements that Zeuxis, Polygnotus, and others of that age.
COLORS USED. 659
executed their celebrated works. By degrees new coloring sub-
stances were found, such as were used by Apelles and Protogenes.
So great, indeed, is the number of pigments mentioned by
ancient authors, and such the beauty of them, that it is very
doubtful whether, with all the help of modern science, modern
artists possess any advantage in this respect over their predeces-
sors.
We now give the following list of colors, known to be gen-
erally used by ancient painters:
Red. — The ancient reds were very numerous, cinnabar, ver-
milion, bisulphuret of mercury, called also by Pliny and Vitru-
vius, minium. The cinnabaris indica, mentioned by Pliny and
Dioscorides, was what is vulgarly called dragon's blood, the
resin obtained from various species of the calamus palm. Miltos
seems to have had various significations; it was used for cin-
nabaris, minium, red lead, and rubrica, red ochre. There were
various kinds of rubricse; all were, however, red oxides, of
which the best were the Lemnian, from the Isle of Lemnos, and
the Cappadocian, called by the Romans rubrica sinopica, from
Sinope in Paphlagonia. Minium, red oxide of lead, red lead,
was called by the Romans cerussa usta, and, according to Vitru-
vius, sandaracha.
The Roman sandaracha seems to have had various significa-
tions. Pliny speaks of the different shades of sandaracha; there
was also a compound color of equal parts of sandaracha and
rubrica calcined, called sandyx, which Sir H. Davy supposed to
approach our crimson in tint; in painting it was frequently glazed,
with purple, to give it additional lustre.
Tellow. — Yellow-ochre, hydrated peroxide of iron, the sil
of the Romans, formed the base of many other yellows, mixed
with various colors and carbonate of lime. Ochre was procured
from different parts — the Attic was considered the best; some-
times the paler sort of sandaracha was used for yellow.
66o FINE ARTS.
Green. — Chrysocolla, which appears to have been green
carbonate of copper, or malachite (green verditer), was the
green most approved of by the ancients; there was also an arti-
ficial kind which was made from clay impregnated with sulphate
of copper (blue vitriol) rendered green by a yellow dye. The
commonest and cheapest colors were the Appianum, which was
a clay, and the creta viridis, the common green earth of Verona.
Blue. — The ancient blues were very numerous; the princi-
pal of these was coeruleum, azure, a species of verditer, or blue
carbonate of copper, of which there were many varieties. The
Alexandrian was the most valued, as approaching the nearest to
ultramarine. It was also manufactured at Pozzuoli. This imi-
tation was called ccelon. Armenium was a metallic color, and
was prepared by being ground to an impalpable powder. It was
of a light blue color. It has been conjectured that ultramarine
(lapis lazuli) was known to the ancients under the name of Arme-
nium, from Armenia, whence it was procured. It is evident,
however, from Pliny's description, that the " sapphirus " of the
ancients was the lapis lazuli of the present day. It came from
Media.
Indigo, indicum, was well known to the ancients.
Purple. — The ancients had several kinds of purple, purpur-
issimum, ostrum, hysginum, and various compound colors. Pur-
purissimum was made from creta argentaria, a fine chalk or
clay, steeped in a purple dye, obtained from the murex. In
color it ranged between minium and blue, and included every
degree in the scale of purple shades. The best sort came from
Pozzuoli. Purpurissimum indicum was brought from India.
It was of a deep blue, and probably was the same as indigo.
Ostrum was a liquid color, to which the proper consistence was
given by adding honey. It was produced from the secretion of
a fish called ostrum, and diflfered in tint according to the country
from whence it came; being deeper and more violet when
COLORS USED. 66 I
brought from the northern, redder when from the southern
coasts of the Mediterranean. The Roman ostrum was a com-
pound of red ochre and blue oxide of copper. Hysginum,
according to Vitruvius, is a color between scarlet and purple.
The celebrated Tyrian dye was a dark, rich purple, of the color
of coagulated blood, but, when held against the light, showed a
crimson hue. It was produced by a combination of the secre-
tions of the murex and buccinum. In preparing the dye the
buccinum was used last, the dye of the murex being necessary
to render the colors fast, while the buccinum enlivened by its tint
of red the dark hue of the murex. Sir H. Davy, on examining
a rose-colored substance, found in the baths of Titus, which in
its interior had a lustre approaching to that of carmine, consid-
ered it a specimen of the best Tyrian purple. The purpura, as
mentioned in Pliny, was an amethyst or violet color.
Brown. — Ochra usta, burnt ochre. — The browns were
ochres calcined, oxides of iron and manganese, and compounds
of ochres and blacks.
Black. — Atramentum, or black, was of two sorts, natural
and artificial. The natural was made from a black earth, oi
from the secretion of the cuttle-fish, sepia. The artificial was
made of the dregs of wine carbonized, calcined ivory, or lamp-
black. The atramentum indicum, mentioned by Pliny, was
probably the Chinese Indian ink.
White. — The ordinary Greek white was melinum, an earth
from the Isle of Melos; for fresco-painting the best was the Afri-
can parcetonium. There was also a white earth of Eretria and
the annularian white. Carbonate of lead, or white lead, cerussa,
was apparently not much used by the ancient painters. It haa
not been found in any of the remains of painting in Roman
ruins.
Methods of Paintififr. — There were two distinct classes of
painting practiced by the ancients — in water colors and in wax.
662 FINE ARTS.
both of which were practiced in various ways. Of the former
the principal were fresco, al fresco; and the various kinds of dis-
temper (a tempera), with glue, with the white of egg, or with
gums (a guazzo); and with wax or resins when these were ren-
dered by any means vehicles that could be worked with water.
Of the latter the principal was through fire, termed encaustic.
Fresco was probably little employed by the ancients for
works of imitative art, but it appears to have been the ordinary
method of simply coloring walls, especially amongst the Romans.
Coloring al fresco, in which the colors were mixed simply in
water, as the term implies, was applied when the composition of
the stucco on the walls was still wet (udo tectorio), and on that
account was limited to certain colors, for no colors except earths
can be employed in this way.
The fresco walls, when painted, were covered with an
encaustic varnish, both to heighten the colors and to preserve
them from the injurious effects of the sun or the weather.
Vitruvius describes the process as a Greek practice. When
the wall was colored and dry, Punic wax, melted and tempered
with a little oil, was rubbed over it with a hard brush (seta);
this was made smooth and even by applying a cauterium or an
iron pan, filled with live coals, over the surface, as near to it as
was just necessary to melt the wax ; it was then rubbed with a
candle (wax) and a clean cloth. In encaustic painting the wax
colors were burnt into the ground by means of a hot iron (called
cauterium) or pan of hot coals being held near the surface of the
picture. The mere process of burning in constitutes the whole
difference between encaustic and the ordinary method of painting
with wax colors.
We shall now say a few words with regard to the much
canvassed question of painting or coloring statues. Its antiquity
and universality admit of no doubt. Indeed, the practice of
painting statues is a characteristic of a primitive and workman-
SCULPTURE PAINTING. 663
ship of clay or wood. It was a survival of the old religious
practices of daubing the early statues of the gods with vermilion,
and was done to meet the superstitious tastes of the uneducated.
Statues for religious purposes may have been painted in obedi-
ence to a formula prescribed by religion, but statues as objects
of art, on which the sculptor exhibited all his genius and taste,
were unquestionably executed in the pure and uncolored marble
alone. In the chryselephantine, or ivory statues of Jove and
Minerva, by Phidias, art was made a handmaid to religion.
Phidias himself would have preferred to have executed them in
marble.
We may further remark that form, in its purest ideal, being
the chief aim of sculpture, any application of color, which would
detract from the purity and ideality of this purest of the arts,
could never be agreeable to refined taste. Coloring sculpture
and giving it a life-like reality is manifestly trenching on the
province of painting, and so departing from the true principle of
sculpture, which is to give form in its most perfect and idealized
development. We must also consider that sculpture in marble,
by its whiteness, is calculated for the display of light and shade.
For this reason statues and bas-reliefs were placed either in the
open light to receive the direct rays of the sun, or in under-
ground places, or thermai, where they received their light either
from an upper window, or, by night, from the strong light of a
lamp, the sculptor having for that purpose studied the effects of
the shadows. It must also be remembered that the statues in
Greek and Roman temples received their light from the upper
part of the building, many of the temples being hypaethral, thus
having the benefit of a top light, the sculptor's chief aim. Color
in these statues or bas-reliefs would have tended to mar the con-
trasts of light and shade, and blended them too much; for ex-
ample, color a photograph of a statue, which exhibits a marked
contrast of light and shade, and it will tend to confuse and blend
664 FINE ARTS.
the two. The taste for polychrome sculpture in the period of
the decline of art was obviously but a returning to the primitive
imperfection of art, when an attempt was made to produce illu-
sion in order to please the uneducated taste of the vulgar.
The Romans derived their knowledge of painting from the
Etruscans, their ancestors and neighbors; the first Grecian
painters who came to Italy are said to have been brought over
by Demaratus, the father of Tarquinius Priscus, King of Rome;
at all events Etruria appears to have exercised extensive in-
fluence over the arts of Rome during the reign of the Tarquins.
Tradition attributes to them the first works which were used to
adorn the temples of Rome, and, according to Pliny, not much
consideration was bestowed either on the arts or on the artists.
Fabius, the first among the Romans, had some painting executed
in the temple of Salus, from which he received the name of
Pictor. The works of art brought from Corinth by Mummius,
from Athens by Sulla, and from Syracuse by Marcellus, intro-
duced a taste for paintings and statues in their public buildings,
which eventually became an absorbing passion with many dis-
tinguished Romans. Towards the end of the republic Rome
was full of painters. Julius Caesar, Agrippa, Augustus, were
among the earliest great patrons of artists. Suetonius informs
us that Caesar expended great sums in the purchase of pictures
by the old masters. Under Augustus, Marcus Ludius painted
marine subjects, landscape decorations, and historic landscape as
ornamentation for the apartments of villas and country houses.
He invented that style of decoration which we now call ara-
besque or grotesque. It spread rapidly, insomuch that the baths
of Titus and Livia, the remains discovered at Cumae, Pozzuoli,
Herculaneum, Stabiae, Pompeii, in short, whatever buildings
about that date have been found in good preservation, afford
numerous and beautiful examples of it. At this time, also, a
passion for portrait painting prevailed; an art which flattered
FRESCO PAINTING. 665
their vanity was more suited to the tastes of the Romans than
the art which could produce beautiful and refined works similar
to those of Greece. Portraits must have been exceedingly
numerous; Varro made a collection of the portraits of 700 emi-
nent men. Portraits, decorative and scene painting, seem to have
engrossed the art. The example, or rather the pretensions, of
Nero must also have contributed to encourage painting in Rome ;
but Roman artists were, however, but few in number; the vic-
tories of the consuls, and the rapine of the praetors, were suffi-
cient to adorn Rome with all the master-pieces of Greece and
Italy. They introduced the fashion of having a taste for the
beautiful works of Greek art. At a later period, such was the
corrupt state of taste, that painting was almost left to be prac-
ticed by slaves, and the painter was estimated by the quantity
of work that he could do in a day.
The remains of painting found at Pompeii, Herculaneum,
and in the baths of Titus, at Rome, are the only paintings which
can give us any idea of the coloring and painting of the
ancients, which, though they exhibit many beauties, particu-
larly in composition, are evidently the works of inferior artists
in a period of decline. At Pompeii there is scarcely a house
the walls of which are not decorated with fresco paintings.
The smallest apartments were lined with stucco, painted in the
most brilliant and endless variety of colors, in compartments
simply tinted with a light ground, surrounded by an ornamental
margin, and sometimes embellished with a single figure or
subject in the center, or at equal distances. These paintings
are very frequently historical or mythological, but embrace
every variety of subject, some of the most exquisite beauty.
Landscape painting was never a favorite with the ancients,
and if ever introduced in a painting, was subordinate. The
end and aim of painting among the ancients was to represent
and illustrate the myths of the gods, the deeds of heroes, and
666 FINE ARTS.
important historical events, hence giving all prominence to the
delineation of the human form. Landscape, on the other hand,
illustrated nothing, represented no important event deserving of
record, and was thus totally without significance in a Grecian
temple or pinacotheca. In an age of decline, as at Pompeii, it
was employed for mere decorative purposes. Many architectural
subjects are continually found in which it is easy to trace the
true principles of perspective, but they are rather indicated
than minutely expressed or accurately displayed; whereas in
most instances a total want of the knowledge of this art is but
too evident. Greek artists seem to have been employed; indeed,
native painters were few, while the former everywhere abounded,
and their superiority in design must have always insured them
the preference.
The subjects of Roman mural paintings are usually Greek
myths; in the composition and style we see Greek conception,
modified by Roman influence. The st3de of drawing is rather
dexterous than masterly; rapidity of execution seems to be
more prized than faithful, conscientious representation of the
truth of nature; the drawing is generally careless, and effects
are sometimes produced by tricks and expedients, which belong
rather to scene-painting than to the higher branches of art. It
must not, however, be forgotten that the majority of these
pictures were architectural decorations, not meant to be regarded
as independent compositions, but as parts of larger compositions,
in which they were inserted as in a frame. As examples of
ancient coloring they are of the highest interest, and much
may be learnt from them in reference to the technical materials
and processes employed by ancient artists.
^CULPTUF{INQ.
We do not intend to enter here on the history of sculpture
in all its phases, but to give the distinctive features which char-
acterize the different styles of Egyptian, Greek, and Roman
sculpture, as they are visible in statues of the natural or colossal
size, in statues of lesser proportion, and lastly in busts and bas-
reliefs.
We shall give also the styles of each separate nation which
prevailed at each distinct age or epoch, styles which mark the
stages of the development of the art of sculpture in all countries.
Sculpture, like architecture and painting, indeed all art, had an
indigenous and independent evolution in all countries, all these
arts springing up naturally, and taking their origin alike every-
where in the imitative faculty of man. They had their stages
of development in the ascending and descending scales, their rise,
progress, culminating point, decline and decay, their cycle of
development; the sequence of these stages being necessarily de-
veloped wherever the spirit of art has arisen, and has had growth
and progress. The first and most important step in examining a
work of ancient sculpture is to distinguish with certainty whether
it is of Egyptian, Etruscan, Greek, or Roman workmanship; and
this distinction rests entirely on a profound knowledge of the
style peculiar to each of those nations. The next step is, from
its characteristic features, to distinguish what period, epoch, or
stage of the development of the art of that particular nation it
belongs to. We shall further give the various attributes and
characteristics of the gods, goddesses, and other mythological
667
668 FINE ARTS.
personages which distinguish the various statues visible in Egyp-
tian, Etruscan, Greek, and Roman sculpture.
This enumeration will be found of use in the many sculptui e
galleries of the various museums both at home and abroad.
Man attempted sculpture long before he studied architec-
ture ; a simple hut, or a rude house, answered every purpose as a
place of abode, and a long time elapsed before he sought to
invent what was not demanded by necessity.
Architecture is a creation of the mind; it has no model in
nature, and it requires great imaginative powers to conceive its
ideal beauties, to make a proper combination of parts, and to
judge of the harmony of forms altogether new and beyond the
reach of experience. But the desire in man to imitate and to
record what has passed before his eyes, in short, to transfer the
impression from his own mind to another, is natural in every
stage of society; and however imperfectl}^ he may succeed in
representing the objects themselves, his attempts to indicate their
relative position, and to embody the expression of his own ideas,
are a source of the highest satisfaction.
As the wish to record events gave the first, religion gave the
second impulse to sculpture. The simple pillar of wood or stone,
which was originally chosen to represent the deity, afterwards
assumed the human form, the noblest image of the power that
created it ; though the Hermce of Greece were not, as some have
thought, the origin of statues, but were borrowed from the
mummy-shaped gods of Egypt.
Pausanias thinks that " all statues were in ancient times of
wood, particularly those made in Egypt;" but this must have
been at a period so remote as to be far beyond the known his-
tory of that country; though it is probable that when the arts
were in their infancy the Egyptians were confined to statues of
that kind; and they occasionally erected wooden figures in their
temples, even till the times of the latter Pharaohs.
SCULPTURE IN GREECE AND EGYPT. 669
Long after men had attempted to make out the parts of the
figure, statues continued to be very rude; the arms were placed
directly down the side of the thighs, and the legs were united
together; nor did they pass beyond this imperfect state in
Greece, until the age of Dsedalus. Fortunately for themselves
and for the world, the Greeks were allowed to free themselves
from old habits, while the Egyptians, at the latest periods, con-
tinued to follow the imperfect models of their early artists, and
were forever prevented from arriving at excellence in sculpture;
and though they made great progress in other branches of art,
though they evinced considerable taste in the forms of their vases,
their furniture, and even in some architectural details, they were
forever deficient in ideal beauty, and in the mode of representing
the natural positions of the human figure.
In Egypt the prescribed automaton character of the figures
effectually prevented all advancement in the statuary's art; the
limbs being straight, without any attempt at action, or, indeed,
any indication of life; they were really statues of the person
they represented, not the person " living in marble," in which
they differed entirely from those of Greece. No statue of a
warrior was sculptured in the varied attitudes of attack and
defence; no wrestler, no discobolus^ no pugilist exhibited the
grace, the vigor, or the muscular action of a man; nor were the
beauties, the feeling, and the elegance of female forms displayed
in stone: all was made to conform to the same invariable model,
which confined the human figure to a few conventional postures.
A sitting statue, whether of a man or woman, was repre-
sented with the hands placed upon the knees, or held across tne
breast; a kneeling figure sometimes supported a small shrine or
sacred emblem ; and when standing the arms were placed directly
down the sides of the thighs, one foot (and that always the left)
being advanced beyond the other, as if in the attitude of walk-
ing, but without any attempt to separate the legs.
Oyo FINE ARTS.
The oldest Egyptian sculptures on all large monuments were
in low relief, and, as usual at every period, painted (obelisks and
everything carved in hard stone, some funeral tablets, and other
small objects, being in intaglio); and this style continued in
vogue until the time of Remeses II., who introduced intaglio
very generally on large monuments; and even his battle scenes
at Karnac and the Memnonium are executed in this manner.
The reliefs were little raised above the level of the wall; they
had generally a flat surface with the edges softly rounded off, far
surpassing the intaglio in effect; and it is to be regretted that the
best epoch of art, when design and execution were in their zenith,
should have abandoned a style so superior; which, too, would
have improved in proportion to the advancement of that period.
After the accession of the twenty-sixth dynasty some at-
tempt was made to revive the arts, which had been long neg-
lected; and, independent of the patronage of government, the
wealth of private individuals was liberally employed in their
encouragement. Public buildings were erected in many parts
of Egypt, and beautified with rich sculpture; the City of Sais,
the royal residence of the Pharaohs of that dynasty, was
adorned with the utmost magnificence, and extensive additions
were made to the temples of Memphis, and even to those of the
distant Thebes.
• The fresh impulse thus given to art was not without effect;
the sculptures of that period exhibit an elegance and beauty
which might even induce some to consider them equal to the
productions of an earlier age, and in the tombs of the Assaseef,
at Thebes, are many admirable specimens of Egyptian art. To
those, however, who understand the true feeling of this peculiar
school, it is evident, that though in minuteness and finish they
are deserving of the highest commendation, 3'et in grandeur of
conception and in boldness of execution they fall far short of the
sculptures of Sethos and the second Remeses.
SCULPTURES OF ANCIENT KINGS. 67 1
The skill of the Egyptian artists in drawing bold and clear
outlines is, perhaps, more worthy of admiration than anything
connected with this branch of art, and in no place is the freedom
of their drawing more conspicuous than in the figures in the un-
finished part of Belzoni's tomb, at Thebes. It was in the draw-
ing alone that they excelled, being totally ignorant of the correct
mode of coloring a figure, and their painting was not an imita-
tion of nature, but merely the harmonious combination of certain
hues, which they well understood. Indeed, to this day the
harmony of positive colors is thoroughly felt in Eg3pt and the
East, and it is strange to find the little perception of it in
Northern Europe, where theories take upon themselves to ex-
plain to the mind what the eye has not yet learned, as if a gram-
mar could be written before the language is understood.
A remarkable feature of Egyptian sculpture is the frequent
representation of their Kings in a colossal form. The two most
famous colossi are the seated figures in the plain of Thebes.
One is recognized to be the vocal Memnon (Amunoph III.)
mentioned by Strabo. They are forty-seven feet high, and
measure about eighteen feet three inches across the shoulders.
But the grandest and largest colossal statue was the stupendous
statue of King Remeses II., a Syenite granite, in the Memno-
nium, at Thebes. It represented the King seated on a throne,
in the usual attitude of Kings, the hands resting on his knees.
It is now in fragments. It measured twenty-two feet four inches
across the shoulders. According to Sir G. Wilkinson, the whole
mass, when entire, must have weighed about 887 tons. A
colossal statue of Remeses II. lies with his face upon the ground
on the site of Memphis; it was placed before the temple of
Pthah. Its total height is estimated at forty-two feet eight
inches, without the pedestal. It is of white siliceous limestone.
Another well-known colossus is the statue of the so-called
Memnon, now in the British Museum. It is supposed to be the
672 FINE ARTS.
statue of Remeses II. It was brought by Belzoni from the
Memnonium, at Thebes.
In the different epochs of Egyptian sculpture, the Egyptian
artists were bound by certain fixed canons or rules of proportion
to guide them in their labors, and which they were obliged to
adhere to rigidly. The following are the canons of three distinct
epochs: i. The canon of the time of the pyramids, the height
was reckoned at six feet from the sole of the foot to the crown
of the head, and subdivisions obtained by one-half or one-third
of a foot. 2. The canon from the twelfth to the twenty-second
dynasty is only an extension of the first. The whole figure was
contained in a number of squares of half a foot, and the whole
height divided into eighteen parts. In these two canons the
height above the sixth foot is not reckoned. 3. The canon of
the age of Psammetici, which is mentioned by Diodorus, reckon-
ing the entire height at twenty -one and one-fourth feet from the
sole to the crown of the head, taken to the upper part. The
proportions are different, but without any introduction of the
Greek canon. The canon and the leading lines were originally
traced in red, subsequently corrected by the principal artist in
black, and the design then executed. In Egypt, almost every
object of sculpture and architecture was painted. The colossal
Egyptian statues are generally of granite, basalt, porphyry, or
sandstone. The two colossi on the plain of Thebes are, of course,
hard gritstone. The Egyptians also worked in dark and red
granites, breccias, serpentines, arragonite, limestones, jaspers,
feldspar, cornelian, glass, gold, silver, bronze, lead, iron, the
hard woods, fir or cedar, sycamore, ebony, acacia, porcelain and
ivory, and terra cotta. All objects, from the most gigantic
obelisk to the minute articles of private life, are found decorated
with hieroglyphics.
Egyptian sculptors were also remarkable for the correct and
excellent representation of animals. They may, indeed, be
ANIMAL SCULPTURE. " 673
noticed in their representation a freedom of hand, a choice and
variety of forms, a truthfulness, and even what deserves to be
called imitation, which contrast with the uniformity, the rigidity,
the absence of nature and life, which human figures present.
Plato mentions a law which forbade the artists to depart, in the
slightest degree, in the execution of statues of the human form
from the type consecrated by priestly authority. The artist,
therefore, not being restricted in his study of the animal form,
could thus give to his image greater variety of motion, and by
imitating animals in nature, indemnify himself for the constraint
he experienced when he represented Kings and priests. The
two colossal lions in red granite, brought to England by the
late Duke of Northumberland, may be considered as remarkably
good specimens of Egyptian art, as applied to the delineation of
animal forms. They evince a considerable knowledge of anatomy
in the strongly-marked delineation of the muscular development.
The form also is natural and easy, thus admirably expressing
the idea of strength in a state of repose. They were sculptured
in the reign of Amunoph III. The representations of the sacred
animals, the cynocephalus, the lion, the jackal, the ram, etc.,
are frequently to be met with in Egyptian sculpture.
Greek. — The stages of the cycle of development of the art
of sculpture in Greece may be given in five distinct periods or
epochs, naming these, for greater convenience, chiefly from the
name of the principal artist whose style prevailed at that period:
I. The Daedalean, or early . . ( — 580 B. C.)
II. The ^ginetan, or archaic . (580 — 480 B. C.)
III. The Phidian, or the grand . (480 — 400 B. C.)
IV. The Praxitelean, or the beautiful (400 — 250 B. C.)
V. The Decline (250 — )
Prior to the age of Daedalus, there was an earlier stage in
the development of art, in which the want of art, which is pecu-
liar to that early stage, was exhibited in rude attempts at the
43
674 FINE ARTS.
representation of the human figure, for similar and almost iden-
tical rude representations are attempted in the early stages of
art in all countries; as the early attempts of children are nearly
identical in all ages. The presence of a god was indicated in a
manner akin to the Fetichism of the African, by the simples'
and most shapeless objects, such as unhewn blocks of stone and
by simple pillars or pieces of wood. The first attempt at repre-
sentation consisted in fashioning a block of stone or wood into
some semblance of the human form, and this rude attempt con-
stituted a divinity. Of this primitive form was the Venus of
Cyprus, the Cupid of Thespiae; the Juno of Argos was fashioned
in a similar rude manner from the trunk of a wild pear tree.
These attempts were thus nothing more than shapeless blocks,
the head, arms, and legs scarcely defined. Some of these
wooden blocks are supposed to have been, in a coarse attempt
at imitation, furnished with real hair, and to have been clothed
with real draperies in order to conceal the imperfection of the
form. The next step was to give these shapeless blocks a
human form. The upper part assumed the likeness of a head,
and by degrees arms and legs were marked out; but in these
early imitations of the human figure the arms were, doubtless,
represented closely attached to the sides; and the legs, though to
a certain extent defined, were still connected and united in a
common pillar.
The age of Daedalus marks an improvement in the model-
ing of the human figure, and in giving it life and action. This
improvement in the art consisted in representing the human fig-
ure with the arms isolated from the body, the legs detached, and
the eyes open; in fine, giving it an appearance of nature as well
as of life, and thus introducing a principle of imitation. This im-
portant progress in the practice of the art is the characteristic
feature of the school of Daedalus, for under the name of Daedalus
we must understand the art of sculpture itself in its primitive
MODELING OF THE HUMAN FIGURE. 675
form, and in its tirst stage of development. According to Flax-
man, the rude efforts of this age were intended to represent
divinities and heroes only — -Jupiter, Neptune, Hercules, and sev-
eral heroic characters, had the selfsame face, figure, and action;
the same narrow eyes, thin lips, with the corners of the mouth
turned upwards; the pointed chin, narrow loins, turgid muscles;
the same advancing position of the lower limbs; the right hand
raised beside the head, and the left extended. Their only dis-
tinctions were that Jupiter held the thunderbolt, Neptune the
trident, and Hercules a palm branch or bow. The female divin-
ities were clothed in draperies divided into few and perpendicular
folds, their attitudes advancing like those of the male figures.
The hair of both male and female statues of this period is
arranged with great care, collected in a club behind, sometimes
entirely curled.
Between the rudeness of the Daedalean and the hard and
severe style of the ^ginetan there was a transitional style, to
which period the artists Dipcenus and Scyllis are assigned by
Plin}'. The metopes of the temple of Selinus in Sicily, the bas-
reliefs representing Agamemnon, Epeus, and Talthybius, in the
Louvre, the Harpy monument in the British Museum, and the
Apollo of Tenea, afford examples of this style.
./^frinetan. — In the ^ginetan period of sculpture there was
still retained in the character of the heads, in the details of the
costume, and in the manner in which the beard and the hair are
treated, something archaic and conventional, undoubtedly de-
rived from the habits and teachings of the primitive school.
But there prevails at the same time, in the execution of the
human form, and the manner in which the nude is treated, a
knowledge of anatomy, and an excellence of imitation carried to
so high a degree of truth as to give convincing proofs of an ad-
vanced step and higher stage in the development of the art.
The following are the principal characteristics of the yEginetan
676 FINE ARTS.
style, as derived from a careful examination of the statues found
in ^gina, which were the undoubted productions of the school
of the ^ginetan period. The style in which they are executed
is called Hieratic, or Archaic.
The heads, either totally destitute of expression, or all re-
duced to a general and conventional expression, present, in the
oblique position of the eyes and mouth, that forced smile which
seems to have been the characteristic feature common to all pro-
ductions of this archaic style; for we find it also on the most
ancient medals, and on bas-reliefs of the primitive period.
The hair, treated likewise in a systematic manner in small
curls or plaits, worked with wonderful industry, imitates not
real hair, but genuine wigs, a peculiarity which may be remarked
on other works in the ancient style, and of Etruscan origin.
The beard is indicated on the cheek by a deep mark, and is
rarely worked in relief, but, in the latter case, so as to imitate a
false beard, and consequently in the same system as the hair.
The costume partakes of the same conventional and hieratic
taste; it consists of drapery, with straight and regular folds,
falling in symmetrical and parallel masses, so as to imitate the
real draperies in which the ancient statues in wood were draped.
These conventional forms of the drapery and hair may, there-
fore, be considered as deriving their origin from an imitation of
the early statues in wood, the first objects of worship and of art
among the Greeks, which were frequently covered with false
hair, and clothed with real draperies. The muscular develop-
ment observable in these figures is somewhat exaggerated, but,
considering the period, is wonderfully accurate and true to
nature. The genius for imitation exhibited in this st3^1e, carried
as far as it is possible in the expression of the forms of the body,
although still accompanied by a little meagreness and dryness,
the truth of detail, the exquisite care in the execution, evince so
profound a knowledge of the structure of the human body, so
^'THE SCULPTOR OF THE GODS." 677
great a readiness of hand — in a word, an imitation of nature so
skillful, and, at the same time, so simple, that one can not but
recognize in them the productions of an art which had arrived
at a point which required only a few steps more to reach perfec-
tion. To the latter part of this period belong the sculptors
Canachus, Calamis, and Pythagoras. Canachus was the sculp-
tor of a famous statue of a nude Apollo in bronze, termed
Philesius, at Didymi, near Miletus, and was considered as very
hard in his st34e.
Phidian. — " This period (we here adopt Mr. Vaux's words)
is the golden age of Greek art. During this period arose a
spirit of sculpture which combined grace and majesty in the hap-
piest manner, and by emancipating the plastic art from the fetters
of antique stiffness, attained, under the direction of Pericles, and
by the hand of Phidias, its culminating point. It is curious to
remark the gradual progress of the arts; for it is clear that it
was slowly and not -per saltum that the gravity of the elder
school was changed to the perfect style of the age of Phidias."
In this phase of the art, the ideal had reached its zenith, and we
behold a beauty and perfection which has never been equaled.
In this age alone sculpture, by the grandeur and sublimity it had
attained to in its style, was qualitied to give a form to the sub-
lime conceptions of the deity evolved by the mind of Phidias.
He alone was considered able to embody and to render manifest
to the eye the sublime images of Homer. Flence, he was called
"the sculptor of the gods." It is well known that in the concep-
tion of his Jupiter Olympus, Phidias wished to render manifest,
and that he succeeded in realizing, the sublime image under
which Homer represents the master of the gods. The sculptor
embodied that image in the following manner, according to Pau-
sanias: "The god, made of ivory and gold, is seated on a throne,
his head crowned with a branch of olive, his right hand presented
a Victory of ivory and gold, with a crown and fillet ; his left
678 FINE ARTS.
hand held a sceptre, studded with all kinds of metals, on which
an eagle sat; the sandals of the god were gold, so was his
drapery, on which were various animals, with flowers of all kinds,
especially Hlies; his throne was richly wrought with gold and
precious stones. There were also statues; four Victories, alight-
ing, were at each foot of the throne; those in front rested each
on a sphinx that had seized a Theban youth; below the sphinxes
the children of Niobe were slain by the arrows of Apollo and
Artemis." This statue, Flaxman observes, sixty feet in height,
was the most renowned work of ancient sculpture, not for stu-
pendous magnitude alone, but more for careful majesty and sub-
lime beauty. His Minerva in the Parthenon was of gold and
ivory. The goddess was represented standing robed in a tunic,
and her head covered with the formidable aegis; with her right
hand she held a lance; in the left she held a statue of Victory
about five feet high; her helmet was surmounted by a sphinx
and two grifl[ins, and over the visor eight horses in front in full
gallop. The shield erected at the feet of the goddess was
adorned on both sides with bas-reliefs. At the base of the
statue were a sphinx and a serpent. This colossus was thirty-
seven feet high. The gem of Aspasus and the silver tetra-
drachm of Athens are said to be copies of the head of this
Minerva.
Another remarkable statue of Phidias was the Athene Pro-
machus, in the Acropolis. It represented the tutelary goddess of
the Athenians, fully armed and in the attitude of battle, with
one arm raised and holding a spear in her hand. This work
was of colossal dimensions, and stood in the open air, nearly
opposite the Propylsea. It towered above the roof of the Par-
thenon, and it is said the crest of the helmet and the point of
the spear could be seen far off by ships approaching Athens
from Sunium. Its height is supposed to have been, with its
pedestal, about seventy feet; the material was bronze. There
GRANDEUR OF STYLE.
079
are two marble statues which have come down to us, and which
give some idea of the Minervas of Phidias. One is the Pallas
of Velletri, which is supposed to be a copy of the Minerva Pro-
machus (cut is on p. 530). The Farnese Minerva, at Naples, may
afford some idea of the chryselephantine statue of the Parthenon.
It does not, however, present the accessories of the Athenian figure.
The Sphinx, the serpent and the shield are not represented.
The sculptures of the Parthenon, now in the British Museum,
can lead us to appreciate the manner of Phidias, and the charac-
ter of his school, so observed by Flaxman. The statues of the
pediments, the metopes, and bas-reliefs, are remarkable for the
grandeur of style, simplicity, truth, beauty, which are the
characteristics of this school. On the eastern pediment was
represented the birth of Minerva, and on the western the con-
test between Minerva and Neptune for the guardianship of the
soil of Attica. Of the figures still preserved to us of the east-
ern pediment, it has been generally supposed that the reclining
figure may be identified as Theseus, that another is Ceres, a third
Iris, the messenger, about to announce to mortals the great
event of the birth of Minerva, which has just taken place, while
the group of three female figures are considered to represent the
three Fates. Of the western pediment, the remaining figures
are Cecrops, the first King and founder of Athens, and Aglaura,
his wife, and the river god, Ilissus, or Cephisus. The metopes,
which generally represent single contests between the Athenians
and the Centaurs, are in strong high relief, full of bold action and
passionate exertion — though this is for the most part softened
by great beauty of form and a masterly style of composition
which knows how to adapt itself with the utmost freedom to the
strict conditions of the space. These reliefs were placed high,
as they were calculated for the full light of the sun, and to throw
deeper shadows.
The frieze may be considered as the chief glory of the art
TV«r
68o ^ FINE ARTS.
of Phidias. The artists here expressed with the utmost beauty
the signification of the temple by depicting a festive procession,
which was celebrated every fifth year at Athens, in honor of
Minerva, conveying in solemn pomp to the temple of the Par-
thenon the peplos, or sacred veil, which was to be suspended
before the statue of the goddess. The end of the procession has
just reached the temple, the archons and heralds await, quietly
conversing together, the end of the ceremony. They are fol-
lowed by a train of Athenian maidens, singly or in groups, many
of them with cans and other vessels in their hands. Then fol-
low men and women, then bearers of sacrificial gifts, then flute-
players and musicians, followed by combatants in chariots, with
four splendid horses. The whole is concluded by prancing
horsemen, the prime of the manly youth of Athens. This frieze
was within the colonnade of the Parthenon, on the upper part
of the wall of the cella, and was continued round the building.
By its position it only obtained a secondary light. Being placed
immediately below the sofiit, it received all its light from between
the columns, and by reflection from the pavement below. Mr.
Westmacott remarks that these works are unquestionably the
finest specimens of the art that exist, and they illustrate fully
and admirably the progress and, as it may be said, the consum-
mation of sculpture. They exhibit in a remarkable degree all
the qualities that constitute fine art — truth, beauty, and perfect
execution. In the forms, the most perfect, the most appropriate
and the most graceful have been selected. All that is coarse or
vulgar is omitted, and that only is represented which unites the
two essential qualities of truth and beauty. The result of this
happy combination is what has been termed ideal beauty. These
sculptures, however, which emanated from the mind of Phidias,
and were most certainly executed under his eyes, and in his
school, are not the works of his hands. Phidias himself dis-
dained or worked but little in marble. They were, doubtless,
STATUES. 68 1
the works of his pupils, Alcamenes, Agoracritus, Colotes, Paeo-
nios, and some other artists of his time. For, as Flaxman re-
marks, the styles of different hands are sufficiently evident in the
alto and basso rilievo. To the age of Phidias belong the sculp-
tors Alcamenes, Agoracritus, and Paeonios. The greatest work
of Alcamenes was a statue of Venus in the Gardens, a work
to which it is said Phidias himself put the finishing touch. He
also executed a bronze statue of a conqueror in the games, which
Pliny says was known as the " Encrinomenos, the highly ap-
proved." Agoracritus, who, Pliny says, was such a favorite of
Phidias that he gave his own name to many of that artistes
works, entered into a contest with Alcamenes, the subject being
a statue of Venus. Alcameties was successful, Pliny tells us,
not that his work was superior, 'jUt because his fellow-citizens
chose to give their suffi-ages in his favor, in preference to a
stranger. It was for this reason that Agoracritus, indignant at
his treatment, sold his statue on the express condition that it
should never be taken to Athens, and changed its name to
Nemesis. It was accordingly erected at Rhamnus.
A marble statue of Victory, a beautiful Nike in excellent
preservation, has been lately discov^ered at Olympia, bearing the
name of Paeonios. This statue is mentioned by Pausanius as a
votive offering set up by the Messenians in the Altis, the sacred
grove of Zeus at Olympia. The statues in the eastern pediment
of the temple of Jupiter at Olympia were by Paeonios, and those
in the western by Alcamenes. The first represented the eques-
trian contest of Pelops against Oenomaus, and in the second the
Lapithae were represented fighting with the centaurs at the mar-
riage of Pirithous.
The frieze of the temple of Apollo at Bassae, near Phigaleia,
in Arcadia, belongs to this period. It was the work of Ictinus,
the architect of the Parthenon. Contests with the Amazons and
battles with the centaurs form the subject of the whole. The
682 FINE ARTS.
most animated and boldest compositions are sculptured in these
reliefs. They exhibit, however, exaggeration, and are wanting
in that repose and beauty which are the characteristics of the
works of Phidias.
In the half draped Venus of Milo now in the Louvre, we
have a genuine Greek work, which represents an intermediate
style between that of Phidias and Praxiteles. " Grandly seri-
ous," Professor Lubke writes, " and almost severe, stands the
goddess of Love, not yet conceived as in later representations,
as a love requiring woman. The simple draper}', resting on the
hips, displays uncovered the grand forms of the upper part of the
body, which, with all her beauty, have that mysteriously unap-
proachable feeling which is the genuine expression of the divine.'^
Praxitilean. — This period is characterized by a more rich
and flowing style of execution, as well as by the choice of softer
and more delicate subjects than had usually been selected for
representation. In this the beautiful was sought after rather
than the sublime. Praxiteles may be considered the first sculp-
tor who introduced this more sensual, if it may be so called,
style of art, for he was the first who, in the unrobed Venus,
combined the utmost luxuriance of personal charms with a spir-
itual expression in which the queen of love herself appeared as a
woman needful of love, and filled with inward longing. He first
gave a prominence to corporeal attractions, with which the deity
was invested. His favorite subjects were of youthful and femi-
nine beauty. In his Venus of Cnidos he exhibited the goddess
in the most exquisite form of woman. His Cupid represented
the beauty and grace of that age in boys which seemed to the
Greeks the most attractive. His Apollo Sauroctonos presented
the form of a youth of exquisite beauty and proportion. The
Venus of Cnidos stands foremost as one of the celebrated art
creations of antiquity. This artist represented the goddess com-
pletely undraped; but this bold innovation was justified by the
SIATUES. 683
fact that she was taking up her garment with her left hand, as if
she were just coming from her bath, while with her right she
modestly covered her figure. Many as are the subsequent copies
preserved of this famous statue, we can only conceive the out-
ward idea of the attitude, but none of the pure grandeur of the
work of Praxiteles. In the Vatican (Chiaramonte gallery, No.
112) there is one of very inferior execution, but perhaps the only
one which gives a correct idea of this Venus, as it corresponds
as nearly as possible with the pose of the statue on the coin of
Cnidos and with the description of Lucan.
His Cupid is represented as a sl-ender, undeveloped boy, full
of liveliness and activity, earnestly endeavoring to fasten the
strings to his bow. A Roman copy of this statue is in the
British Museum.
He also executed in bronze a Faun, which was known as
" Periboetos, the much famed;" the finest of the many copies of
this celebrated statue that have come down to us, is in the Capi-
tol ; and a youthful Apollo, styled Sauroctonos, because he is
aiming an arrow at a lizard which is stealing towards him ; a copy
of this statue in marble is in the Vatican, and one in bronze in
the Villa Albani.
Contemporary with Praxiteles was Scopas. His works ex-
hibit powerful expression, grandeur, combined with beauty and
grace. The group of Niobe and her children, at Florence, has
been attributed to him. Another very celebrated work of
Scopas was the statue of the Pythian Apollo pla3'ing on the lyre,
which Augustus placed in the temple which he built to Apollo,
on the Palatine, in thanksgiving for his victory at Actium. An
inferior Roman copy of this statue is in the Vatican. He was
also celebrated for his heads of Apollo. Of these many e:^-
cellent copies are still extant, the finest being that formerly in the
Giustiniani collection, and now in the British Museum.
The late discoveries at Halicarnassus have yielded genuine
684 FINE ARTS.
works of Scopas in the sculptures of the bas-reliefs of Mauso-
leum, erected by Artemisia in memory of her husband, Mausolus,
King of Caria, the east side of which is known to have pro-
ceeded from his hands; the other sides by his contemporaries,
Bryaxis, Timotheus and Leochares. Parts of these are now in
the British Museum.
The bas-reliefs of the temple of Nike Apteros have been as-
sociated with the peculiarities which characterize the productions
of Scopas. A figure of Victory, stooping to loose her sandal, in
bas-relief from this temple, is remarkable for its admirably ar-
ranged drapery.
The sculptural decorations of the temple of Artemis, at
Ephesus, the foundations of which have been lately discovered
by Mr. Wood, there is every reason to believe were contributed
by Praxiteles and Scopas. The drum of a column, with figures
in bas-relief from this temple, has been lately added to the Brit-
ish Museum.
The beautiful figure of a Bacchante in bas-relief in the
British Museum is generally referred to Scopas.
The following are some of the more particular character-
istics of the human form, adopted by the Grecian sculptors of
this age:
In the profile, the forehead and lips touch a perpendicular
line drawn between them. In young persons, the brow and nose
nearly form a straight line, which gives an expression of gran-
deur and delicacy to the face. The forehead was low, the eyes
large, but not prominent. A depth was given to the eye to give
to the eyebrow a finer arch, and, by a deeper shadow, a bolder
relief To the eyes a living play of light was communicated by
a sharp projection of the upper eyelid, and a deep depression of
the pupil. The eye was so differently shaped in the heads of
divinities and ideal heads that it is itself a characteristic by
which they can be distinguished. In Jupiter, Apollo, and Juno
DESCRIPTIok OF STATUES. 685
the opening of the eye is large, and roundly arched; it has also
less length than usual, that the curve which it makes may be
more spherical. Pallas likewise has large eyes, but the upper
lid falls over them more than in the three divinities just men-
tioned, for the purpose of giving her a modest maiden look.
Small eyes were reserved for Venuses and voluptuous beauties,
which gave them a languishing air. The upper lip was short
the lower lip fuller than the upper, as this tended to give a
roundness to the chin; the short upper lip, and the round and
grandly-formed chin, being the most essential signs of genuine
Greek formation. The lips were generally closed; they slightly
open in the statues of the gods, especially in the case of Venus,
but the teeth were never seen. The ear was carefully modeled
and finished. The beauty, and especially the execution of them,
is, according to Winkelman, the surest sign by which to discrim-
inate the antique from additions and restorations. The hair was
curl}', abundant, and disposed in floating locks, and executed
with the utmost imaginable care; in females it was tied in a
knot behind the head. The frontal hair was represented as
growing in a curve over the temples, in order to give the face an
oval shape. The face was always oval, and a cross drawn in the
oval indicated the design of the face. The perpendicular line
marked the position of the brow, the nose, the mouth, and the
chin; the horizontal line passed through the eyes, and was par-
allel to the mouth. The hands of youth were beautifully
rounded, and the dimples given; the fingers were tapered, but
the articulations were not generally indicated. In the male
form the chest was high, arched, and prominent. In the female
form, especially in that of goddesses and virgins, the form of
the breasts is virginal in the extreme, since their beauty was
generally made to consist in the moderateness of their size.
They were generally a little higher than nature. The abdo-
men was without prominence. The legs and knees of youth
686 FINE ARTS.
ful figures are rounded with softness and smoothness, and un-
marked by muscular movements. The proportion of the limbs
was longer than in the preceding period. In male and female
figures the foot was rounded in its form ; in the female the toes
are delicate, and have dimples over their first joints gently
marked.
It is evident that this t3'pe of beauty of form, adopted by
the Grecian sculptors, is in unison with, and exhibits a marked
analogy to the t3'pe of face and form of the Greeks themselves,
for, as Sir Charles Bell observes, the Greek face is a fine oval,
the forehead full and carried forward, the eyes large, the nose
straight, the lips and chin finely formed; in short, the forms of
the head and face have been the type of the antique, and of all
which we most admire.
The sculptors of this age, instead of aiming at an abstract,
unattainable ideal, studied nature in its choicest forms, and at-
tained the beautiful by selecting and concentrating in one those
charms which are found diffused over all. They avoided the
representation of all violent motions and perturbations of the
passions, which would have completely marred that expression
of serene repose which is a prominent characteristic of the beau-
tiful period of Greek sculpture. Indeed, the chief object of the
\Greek sculptor was the representation of the beautiful alone,
and to this principle he made character, expression, costume, and
everything else subordinate.
Lysippus, the successor of Praxiteles and Scopas, was a con-
temporary of Alexander the Great. He contributed to advance
their style by the peculiar fullness, roundness, and harmonious
general effect by which it appears that his works were charac-
terized. His school exhibited a strong naturalistic tendency, a
closer imitation of nature, leading to many refinements in detail.
It was unquestionably greater in portrait than in ideal works.
Pliny thus speaks of his style: " He is considered to have con-
WORK OF LYSIPPUS. 687
tributed very greatly to the art of the statuary by expressing
the details of the hair, and by making the head smaller than
had been done by the ancients, and the body more graceful and
less bulky, a method by which his statues were made to appear
taller."
The portrait statues of Alexander the Great by Lysippus
were very numerous. The great King would only allow himself
to be modeled by Lysippus. The head of Alexander, as the
young Ammon on the coins of Lysimachus, is said to have been
designed by him. An athlete, scraping his body with a strigil,
was the most famous of the bronze statues of Lysippus. The
statue of an athlete in the Vatican, in a similar position, is sup-
posed to be a marble copy of the original bronze of Lysippus;
though an inferior work, it illustrates the statements of Pliny
regarding the proportions adopted by Lysippus — a small head
and the body long and slim. The bas-reliefs also on the monu-
ment of Lysicrates, representing the story of Dionysus and the
Tyrrhenian pirates, presented all the characteristic features of the
school of Lysippus. It was erected in the archonship of Eusene-
tus, B. C. 335.
The canon of Polycletus began to be generally adopted at
this period. It was followed by Lysippus, who called the Dory-
phoros of that artist his master. In his practice of dealing with
the heads and limbs of his figures, Lysippus was followed by
Silanion and Euphranor, and his authority may be said to have
governed the school cA Greece to a late period of the art,
Pliny tells us that Euphranor was the first who represented
heroes with becoming dignity, and who paid particular attention
to proportion. He made, however, in the generality of instances,
the bodies somewhat more slender and the heads larger. His
most celebrated statue wa? a Paris, which expressed alike the
judge of the goddesses, the lover of Helen, and the slayer of
Achilles. The very beautiful sitting figure of Paris, in marble,
in the Vatican, is, no doubt, a copy of this work.
688 FINE ARTS.
Subsequently to these sculptors we have Chares, the Rho-
dian, who constructed the famous colossus of Helios at the en-
trance of the harbor of Rhodes, which was 105 feet high. It
appears there is no authority for the common statement that its
lesfs extended over the mouth of the harbor.
Of the later Asiatic or Rhodian schools we have the famous
groups of the Laocoon, on page 555, and of Dirce tied to a bulU
commonly called the Toro Farnese. In both of these the dra-
matic element is predominant, and the tragic interest is not ap-
preciated. In the Laocoon consummate skill is shown in the
mastery of execution; but if the object of the artist was to
create pity or awe, he has drawn too much attention to his power
of carving marble. The Laocoon was executed, according to
Pliny, by Agesander, Polydorus and Athenodorus, natives of
Rhodes. This group, now in the Vatican, was found in the
baths of Titus. From the evidence of an antique gem, on
which is engraved a representation of this group, we find the
right arm of the Laocoon has been wrongly restored. In the
gem the hand of Laocoon is in contact with his head, and not, as
restored by Giovanni da Montorsoli, raised high.
The Farnese Bull, a work in which we possess the most
colossal group of antiquity, was executed by Apollonius and
Tauriscus, of Tralles. To the same school belongs the Dying
Gladiator, who unquestionably represents, as usually supposed, a
combatant who died in the amphitheatre. It is remarkable for
the entire absence of ideal representation, and for its complete
individuality and close imita:ion of nature. This statue is prob-
ably one of the masterpieces of the celebrated Pyromachus,
who executed several groups, and large compositions of Vvittle
scenes for Attains, King of Pergamus, to celebrate his decisive
victory over ihe Gauls (B. C. 240).
To the later Athenian school belong probably the Belvidere
Torso, so mucn admired by Michael Angelo, the Farnese Her-
THE MACEDONIAN AGE.
689
cules, the Venus de' Medici, and the Fighting Gladiator. The
Belvidere Torso is now considered to be a copy by Apollonius,
the son of Nestor, of the Hercules of Lysippus, and probably
executed in the Macedonian period. The Farnese Hercules is
so exaggerated in its style as to have been deemed a work as
DYING GLADIATOR.
late as the Roman empire. According to Flaxman, the Venus
de' Medici is a deteriorated variety or repetition of a Venus of
Praxiteles. It is now generally admitted that it is a work of
the latest Macedonian period, probably by Cleomenes, whose
name appears on its base. The Fighting Gladiator bears the
name of Agasias of Ephesus. From the attitude of the figure
it is clear that the statue represents not a gladiator, but a war-
rior contending with a mounted combatant, probably an Athe-
nian, warding off a blow from a centaur.
The Macedonian age, to which most of these statues be-
longed, commenced with Alexander the Great, and terminated
with the absorption of Greek art by the Romans.
Art having, in the two previous periods, reached its cul-
minating point of perfection, as is the law of all development,
when a culminating point is reached, a downward tendency and
a period of decline begins, for the cycle of development must be
44
690 FINE ARTS
completed and the stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline and
decay run through.
No exact date, however, can be assigned to the beginning
of the stage of decline; no sharp line of demarcation can be
pointed out dividing one stage from the other. The decline was
so gradual that there was an inevitable blending of the two.
We perceive evident signs of decline in the fourth stage, while,
in the fifth, or stage of decline^ we sometimes meet some noble
works of art partaking of the perfect style of the earlier periods.
A period of decline inevitably and invariably follows an age of
maturity and perfection. As Mr. Lecky observes, " The sculptor
and the painter of the age of Praxiteles precipitated art into
sensuality; both of them destroyed its religious character, both
of them raised it to high aesthetic perfection, but in both cases
that perfection was followed by a speedy decline." Muller re-
marks, " The creative activity, the real central point of the en-
tire activity of art, which fashions peculiar forms for peculiar
ideas, must have flagged in its exertions when the natural circle
of ideas among the Greeks had received complete plastic embodi-
ment, or it must have been morbidly driven to abnormal inven-
tions. We find, therefore, that art, during this period, with
greater or less degrees of skill in execution, delighted now in
fantastical, now in effeminate productions, calculated merely to
charm the senses. And even in the better and nobler works of
the time there was still on the whole something — not, indeed,
very striking to the eye, but which could be felt by the natural
sense, something which distinguished them from the earlier
works — the striving after effects The spirit of imitation
marked the later portion of this period of decline. The sculp-
tors of this age, despairing of equaling the productions of the
former age, gave themselves up completely to servile imitation.
The imitation was naturally inferior to the original, and each
succeeding attempt at imitation was but a step lower in degra-
ROMAN ART. 69 1
dation of the art. When they ceased to study nature they
thought to repair the deterioration of the beauty of form by the
finish of the parts, and in a still later period they gave, instead
of a grandeur of style, an exaggeration of form. Lastly, being
utterly unable to cope with their predecessors in the sculpture
of statues, they had recourse to the manufacture of busts and
portraits, which they executed in countless numbers. The art
reached its lowest ebb, and thus the cycle of the development of
Greek sculpture terminated in its last stage — utter decay and
degradation.
Roman. — In the very early periods the Romans imitated the
Etruscans, for, generally speaking, all the works of the first
periods of Rome were executed by Etruscan artists. Their
earliest statues of gods were in clay. Etruscan art exercised
the greatest influence in Rome, for Rome was adorned with
monuments of Etruscan art, in its very infancy; it was a Tuscan
called Veturius Mamurius who made the shields (ancilia) of the
temple of Numa, and who made, in bronze, the statue of Ver-
tumna, a Tuscan deity, in the suburb of Rome. The Romans
owed all their culture to the Etruscans, from whom they learned
the arts of architecture, terra-cotta work, and painting; calling in
artists of that more tasteful race when anything of that sort was
required for the decoration of their simple edifices. The most
ancient monuments of Rome thus corresponded with the con-
temporaneous style of Etruscan art; there is thus a similarity in
the figures; the attributes alone can lead one to distinguish them,
as these attributes tell if the statue was connected with the
creed or modes of belief of Etruria or Rome. There was not,
therefore, any Roman style, properly so called; the only distinc-
tion to be remarked is that the statues of the early periods, exe-
cuted by the Romans, are characterized, like the Romans them-
selves of the same period, by a beard and long hair. At a late
period all the architecture, all the sculpture of the public edifices
692
FINE ARTS.
at Rome, were in the Tuscan style, according to the testimony
of Pliny.
After the second Punic war, Greek artists took the place of
Etruscan artists at Rome; the taking of Syracuse gave the
Romans a knowledge of the beautiful works of Greece, and the
treasures of art brought from Corinth chiefly contributed to
awaken a taste among them, and they soon turned into ridicule
their ancient statues in clay ; Greek art was gradually transferred
to Rome; Greek artists began to abound there, and the history
of Roman art was thenceforward confounded with that of the
vicissitudes of Greek art. The style of the works of sculpture
under the first Emperors may be considered as a continuation and
sequel of the development of Greek sculpture. These works,
more particularly the portrait statues, which were the prevailing
works of this period, exhibit a great deal of force and character,
though a want of care is visible in some parts, especiall}' in the
hair. The characters of the heads always bear out the descrip-
tions which historians have given of the person they belong to,,
the Roman head differing essentially from the Greek, in having
a more arched forehead, a nose more aquiline, and features alto-
gether of a more decided character. It may be observed, how-
ever, as a general remark, that the Roman statues are of a
thicker and more robust form, with less ease and grace, more
stern, and of a less ideal expression than Greek statues, though
equally made by Greek artists. Under Augustus, and the fol-
lowing Roman Emperors, to meet the demand for Greek statues
to embellish their houses and villas, several copies and imitations
of celebrated Greek works were manufactured by the sculptors
of the age. The Apollo Belvidere, the Venus of the Capitol,
and several copies of celebrated Greek works, in various
Museums, such as the Faun, Cupid, Apollo Sauroctonos, and.
Venus of Praxiteles, the Discobolos of Myron, and several
works of Scopas and Lysippus, are supposed to be of this age^
COPIES OF ANCIENT GODS. 693
Archaeologists are now generally agreed in thinking that the
Apollo Belvidere is only a copy of a Roman period of a very
fine Greek statue of about the beginning of the third century B.
C, and that the original was in bronze. Another copy has been
identified in a bronze statuette now in St. Petersburg, known as
the Stroganoff Apollo. From this statuette it is found that the
Apollo Belvidere held forward in his left hand, not a bow as was
thought, but the cegis^ in the attitude of spreading consternation
among an enemy. The production of this statue is generally
assigned to the period after the invasion of the Gauls, whom, in
278 B. C, the god drove in alarm from his sanctuary, at Delphi.
(A cut of Apollo Belvidere is seen on page 495.)
Of the Faun of Praxiteles there are two copies in the Vati-
can, but both are inferior to that in the Capitol. A copy of the
Cupid of Praxiteles is in the British Museum. Of the Apollo
Sauroctonos there are two copies, one in the Vatican, and an-
other in bronze in the Villa Albani. Of the Venus of Cnidos of
Praxiteles there are several copies in the Vatican; one in partic-
ular, in the Chiaramonte Gallery, No. 112, though very inferior
as a work of art, gives the exact pose of the original statue as it
appears on the coin of Cnidos. The Venus of the Capitol is a
Roman version of the Praxitelean statue; it differs in attitude.
Several copies of the Discobolos of Myron are still in existence:
one in the British Museum, one in the Vatican, and a third, much
finer than either of the others, in the possession of Prince Mas-
simo. A very fine marble copy of the celebrated bronze of Lysip-
pus is in the Vatican. A copy of the Pythian Apollo by Scopas
is in the same museum.
The noble statue of Augustus, discovered in 1863, and now
in the Vatican, is a grand example of the portrait statues of this
period. It is full of life and individuality. The pose is simple
and majestic, as befitting the portrait of an Emperor. The bust
of the young Augustus in the Vatican for depth of expression,
694 FINE ARTS.
individuality, truth to nature, and delicacy of finish and treat-
ment, is a marvel in portraiture.
Under Tiberius and Claudius a limit was placed to the right
of having statues exposed in public; consequently a lesser num-
ber of statues were made, and less attention was paid to the per-
fection of the portrait. However, some excellent works were
produced in this period. The style became purer and more
refined under Hadrian, for a partial revival of Greek art is at-
tributed to this Emperor. The hair was carefully worked, the
eyebrows were raised, the pupils were indicated by a deep cavity
— an essential characteristic of this age, rare before this period,
and frequently introduced afterwards; the heads required greater
strength, without, however, increasing in character. Of the
most remarkable productions of the age of Hadrian are the
numerous repetitions of the statue of Antinous, an ideal portrait
of Hadrian's favorite, exhibiting much artistic perfection. That
in the Capitol is remarkable, not only for its exceeding beauty,
but also for its correct anatomy. Of the Emperor Hadrian
there is a fine portrait statue in the British Museum. Under the
Antonines, the decay of the art was still more manifest, display-
ing a want of simplicity, and an attention in trivial and meretri-
cious accessories. Thus, in the busts, the hair and the beard
luxuriate in an exaggerated profusion of curls, the careful expres-
sion of features of the countenance being at the same time
frequently neglected. This age was remarkable also for its
recurrence to the style of a primitive and imperfect art in the
reproduction of Egyptian statues.
^OgAIC.
Mosaic, opus musivum, is a kind of painting made with
minute pieces of colored substances, generally either marble or
natural stones, or else glass, more or less opaque, and of every
variety of hue which the subject may require, set in very fine
cement, and which thus form pictures of different kinds, rival-
ing in color and hue those painted by the brush.
Early nations knew the art of mosaic, and it is supposed to
derive its origin from Asia, where paintings of this kind were
composed, in imitation of the beautiful carpets manufactured at
all periods in those countries. The Egyptians employed it very
probably for different purposes; no traces of it have, however,
been found in the temples or palaces the ruins of which remain.
There is in the Egyptian collection at Turin a fragment of a
mumm}' case, the paintings of which are executed in mosaic
with wonderful precision and truth. The material is enamel,
the colors are of different hues, and their variety renders with
perfect truth the plumage of birds. It is believed to be the only
example of Egyptian mosaic.
The Greeks carried the art of mosaic to the highest perfec-
tion, assuming after the time of Alexander an importance which
entitled it to be ranked as an independent art. Skillfully manag-
ing the hues, and giving to the figures in their compositions an
exquisite harmony, they resembled at a slight distance real paint-
ings. Different names were given to the mosaics, according as
they were executed in pieces of marble of a certain size; it was
then litliostroton^ opus sectile; or in small cubes, in this case it
was called of us tessellatum^ or vermiculatum. The name of
695
698 FINE ARTS.
tion much more easy. It was then carried to a very high degree
of perfection. The mosaic found at Pompeii, which represents
three masked figures playing on different instruments, with a
child near them, is of the most exquisite workmanship. It is
formed of very small pieces of glass, of the most beautiful colors,
and of various shades. The hair, the small leaves which orna-
ment the masks, and the eyebrows, are most delicately expressed.
What enhances the value of this mosaic is the name of the artist
worked in it — Dioscorides of Samos. Another mosaic found at
Pompeii is the beautiful one of Acratus on a Panther. The sub-
jects represented in mosaics are in endless variety, and generally
are derived from m3^thology or heroic myths. Landscapes and
ornaments in borders, in frets, in compartments, intermingled
with tritons, nereides, centaurs, are to be found on them. The
principal subject is in the center, the rest serves as a bordering
or framework. In the Greek tessellated pavement found at
Halicarnassus, the mosaic is of very fine workmanship, being
composed of small cubes of white, black and red marble.
Another and a still more remarkable mosaic was discovered
in the House of the Faun, and is perhaps the most beautiful
and magnificent specimen of the art that has yet been found.
This mosaic, which is now preserved in the museum at Naples,
is about eighteen feet long by nine broad. The subject repre-
sents a battle between Greeks and barbarians, the latter appar-
ently of eastern race; but a variety of conjectures have been
hazarded as to what battle is actually depicted. Some have
seen in it the combat between Patroclus and Sarpedon, and the
death of the latter; others have recognized in it the battles of
the Granicus, of Arbela, of Plataea, of Marathon, etc. But the
opinion most commonly adopted is that of Professor Quaranta,
who refers the picture to the' battle of Issus. The Grecian
leader, supposed to represent Alexander the Great, is drawn with
great beauty and vigor. Charging, bareheaded, ir 'he midst of
BATTLE REPRESENTED IN MOSAICS. 699
the fight, he has transfixed with his lance one of the Persian
leaders, whose horse, wounded in the shoulder, had already
fallen. The expression of physical agony in the countenance of
the wounded man is admirably depicted. Another horse, which
an attendant had brought for him, has arrived too late. The
death of the Persian general has evidently decided the fortune
of the day. In the background, the Persian spears are still
directed against the advancing Greeks. But at the sight of the
fallen general, another Persian leader in a quadriga, who, from
the richness of his dress and accoutrements, the height of his
tiara, and his red chlamys, is probably Darius himself, stretches
forth his right hand in an attitude of alarm and despair, while
the charioteer urges his horses to precipitate flight. Nothing
can exceed the vigor with which both men and animals are
depicted in this unequaled mosaic. If the Grecian hero really
represents Alexander the Great, the mosaic may probably be a
copy of a picture by Appelles, the only artist privileged to paint
the Macedonian conqueror. It is unfortunate that the work has
suffered much damage on the left side, or that which contains
the Grecian host. It was, howev^er, in this mutilated state when
discovered, and seems to have been under a process of repara-
tion. The border represents a river, apparently the Nile, with a
crocodile, hippopotamus, ichneumon, ibises, etc.; whence some
have been led to think that the mosaic is a copy of a picture
on the same subject known to have been painted by a female
Egyptian artist named Helena, and brought to Rome by Vespa-
sian.
Painted floors were first used by the Greeks, who made and
colored them with much care, until they were driven out by the
mosaic floors called Uthostrota. The most famous workman in
this kind was Sosus, who wrought at Pergamus the pavement
which is called asarotus oikos^ the unswept hall, made of quar-
rels or square tesserae of different colors, in such a wa}^ as to
698 FINE ARTS.
tion much more easy. It was then carried to a very high degree
of perfection. The mosaic found at Pompeii, which represents
three masked figures playing on different instruments, with a
child near them, is of the most exquisite workmanship. It is
formed of very small pieces of glass, of the most beautiful colors,
and of various shades. The hair, the small leaves which orna-
ment the masks, and the eyebrows, are most delicately expressed.
What enhances the value of this mosaic is the name of the artist
worked in it — Dioscorides of Samos. Another mosaic found at
Pompeii is the beautiful one of Acratus on a Panther. The sub-
jects represented in mosaics are in endless variety, and generally
are derived from mythology or heroic myths. Landscapes and
ornaments in borders, in frets, in compartments, intermingled
with tritons, nereides, centaurs, are to be found on them. The
principal subject is in the center, the rest serves as a bordering
or framework. In the Greek tessellated pavement found at
Halicarnassus, the mosaic is of very fine workmanship, being
composed of small cubes of white, black and red marble.
Another and a still more remarkable mosaic was discovered
in the House of the Faun, and is perhaps the most beautiful
and magnificent specimen of the art that has yet been found.
This mosaic, which is now preserved in the museum at Naples,
is about eighteen feet long by nine broad. The subject repre-
sents a battle between Greeks and barbarians, the latter appar-
ently of eastern race; but a variety of conjectures have been
hazarded as to what battle is actually depicted. Some have
seen in it the combat between Patroclus and Sarpedon, and the
death of the latter; others have recognized in it the battles of
the Granicus, of Arbela, of Plataea, of Marathon, etc. But the
opinion most commonly adopted is that of Professor Quaranta,
who refers the picture to the' battle of Issus. The Grecian
leader, supposed to represent Alexander the Great, is drawn with
great beauty and vigor. Charging, bareheaded, ir :he midst of
BATTLE REPRESENTED IN MOSAICS. 699
the fight, he has transfixed with his lance one of the Persian
leaders, whose horse, wounded in the shoulder, had already
fallen. The expression of physical agony in the countenance of
the wounded man is admirably depicted. Another horse, which
an attendant had brought for him, has arrived too late. The
death of the Persian general has evidently decided the fortune
of the day. In the background, the Persian spears are still
directed against the advancing Greeks. But at the sight of the
fallen general, another Persian leader in a quadriga, who, from
the richness of his dress and accoutrements, the height of his
tiara, and his red chlamys, is probably Darius himself, stretches
forth his right hand in an attitude of alarm and despair, while
the charioteer urges his horses to precipitate flight. Nothing
can exceed the vigor with which both men and animals are
depicted in this unequaled mosaic. If the Grecian hero really
represents Alexander the Great, the mosaic may probably be a
copy of a picture by Appelles, the only artist privileged to paint
the Macedonian conqueror. It is unfortunate that the work has
suffered much damage on the left side, or that which contains
the Grecian host. It was, however, in this mutilated state when
discovered, and seems to have been under a process of repara-
tion. The border represents a river, apparently the Nile, with a
crocodile, hippopotamus, ichneumon, ibises, etc.; whence some
have been led to think that the mosaic is a copy of a picture
on the same subject known to have been painted by a female
Egyptian artist named Helena, and brought to Rome by Vespa-
sian.
Painted floors were first used by the Greeks, who made and
colored them with much care, until they were driven out by the
mosaic floors called lithostrota. The most famous workman in
this kind was Sosus, who wrought at Pergamus the pavement
which is called asarotus oikos^ the unswept hall, made of quar-
rels or square tesserae of different colors, in such a wa}^ as to
700
FINE ARTS.
resemble the crumbs and scraps that fell from the table, and
such-like things as usually are swept away, as if they were still
left by negligence upon the pavement. There also is admirably
represented a dove drinking, in such a way that the shadow of
her head is cast on the water. Other doves are seen sitting on
the rim of the vessel preening themselves and basking in the sun.
The first paved floors which came into use were those called
barbarica and subtegulanea, which were beaten down with ram-
mers, as may be known by the name pavimentum, from pavire,
to ram. The pavements called scalpturata were first introduced
into Italy in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, after the begin-
ning of the third Punic war. But ere the Cimbric wars began,
such pavements were in common use at Rome, and men took
great delight and pleasure therein.
For galleries and terraces open to the sky, they were devised
by the Greeks, who, enjoying a warm climate, used to cover
their houses with them; but where the rain waters freeze, pave-
ments of this sort are not to be trusted. To make a terrace of
this sort, it is necessary to lay two courses of boards, one
athwart the other, the ends of which ought to be nailed, that they
should not twist nor warp; which done take two parts of new
rubbish, and one of tiles stamped to powder; then with other
three parts of old rubbish mix two parts of lime, and herewith
lay a bed of a foot thickness, taking care to ram it hard together.
Over this must be laid a bed of mortar, six fingers thick, and
upon this middle couch, large paving-tiles, at least two fingers
deep. This sort of pavement is to be made to rise to the center
in the proportion of one inch and a-half to ten feet. Being thus
laid, it is to be planed and polished diligently with some hard
stone; but, above all, regard is to be had that the boarded floor
be made of oak. As for such as do start or warp any way, they
be thought naught. Moreover, it were better to lay a course of
flint or chaff" between it and the lime, to the end that the lime
GRANDEUR OF STYLE. 7OI
may not have so much force to hurt the board underneath it.
It were also well to put at the bottom a bed of round pebbles.
APOLLO CHARMING NATURE.
And here we must not forget another kind of these pave-
ments which are called Grsecanica, the manner of which is this:
702
FINE ARTS.
Upon a floor well beaten with rammers, is laid a bed of rubbish,
or else broken tile-shards, and then upon it a couch of charcoal,
well beaten, and driven close together, with sand, and lime, and
small cinders, well mixed together, to the thickness of half a
foot, well leveled; and this has the appearance of an earthen
floor; but, if it be polished with a hard smooth stone, the whole
pavement will seem all black. As for those pavements called
lithostrota, which are made of divers colored squares or dice,
they came into use in Sylla's time, who made one at Prseneste,
in the temple of Fortune, which pavement remains to be seen
at this day.
It may be remarked here, that the Roman villa at North-
leigh, in Oxfordshire, examined and described by Mr. Hakewill,
abounded with beautiful pavements. The substratum of one of
these, which had been broken, was investigated, when it was
found that the natural soil had been removed to a depth of near
seven feet, and the space filled up with materials which bear a
near resemblance to those which Plin}'^ recommends.
A specimen of the coarser sort of mosaic pavement is to be
seen in the Townley Gallery, in the British Museum.
HTSH^AT^HS-
The perfection which the Greeks attained in literature and
art is one of the most striking features in the history of the peo-
ple. Their intellectual activity and their keen appreciation of
the beautiful constantly gave birth to new forms of creative
genius. There was an uninterrupted progress in the develop-
ment of the Grecian mind from the earliest dawn of the history
of the people to the downfall of their political independence, and
each succeeding age saw the production of some of those master
works of genius which have been the models and admiration of
all subsequent time.
The poets were the popular writers of ancient Greece ; prose
writers appear no earlier than the sixth century before the Chris-
tian era, at which time the first literary prose essay was pro-
duced, for which three contemporary authors claim the honor.
The Greeks had arrived at a high degree of civilization before
they can be said to have possessed a history of their own.
Nations far behind them in intellectual development have infin-
itely excelled them in this respect. The imagination seems to
have been entirely dazzled and fascinated with the glories of the
heroic ages, and to have taken but little interest in the events
which were daily passing around them. Poetry constitutes the
chief part of early Greek literature. We give specimens of
both Greek poetry and prose. We will not attempt to give
specimens of all, but only such as are considered, by common
consent, the best.
703
704 LITERATURE
HOMEI^.
Seven cities have contested for the honor of the birth-place
of Homer. It is now generally agreed that he was born about
950 B. C, in the City of Melesigenes.
It is not a little strange that nothing should be known with
certainty of the parentage or of the birth-place, or even of the
era of the greatest poet of antiquity, of him who, next to Milton,
ran'ks as the greatest epic poet of the world. In two respects,
all the accounts concerning him agree — that he had traveled
much, and that he was afflicted with blindness. From the first
circumstance, it has been inferred that he was either rich or en-
joyed the patronage of the wealthy; but this will not appear
necessary when it is considered that, in his time, journeys were
usually performed on foot, and that he probably traveled, with a
view to his support, as an itinerant musician or reciter. From
most of the traditions respecting him, it appears that he was
poor, and it is to be feared that necessity, rather than the mere
desire of gratifying curiosity, prompted his wanderings. All
that has been advanced respecting the occasion of his blindness
is mere conjecture. Certain it is, that this misfortune arose
from accident or disease, and not from the operation of nature
at his birth; for the character of his compositions seems rather
to suppose him all eye, than destitute of sight; and if they were
even framed during his blindness, they form a glorious proof of
the vivid power of the imagination more than supplying the
want of the bodily organs, and not merely throwing a variety of
its own tints over the objects of nature, but presenting them to
the mind in a clearer light than could be shed over them by one
whose powers of immediate vision were perfectly free from
blemish.
Of the incidents in the life of Homer, almost as little is
HOMER. 705
known as of his parentage and birth-place. Howe\er, the gen-
eral account is that he was for many years a school- master in
Smyrna; that, being visited b}^ one Mentes, the commander of a
Leucadian ship, he was induced by him to leave his occupation
and travel; that, in company with this captain, he visited the
various countries around the shores of the Mediterranean, and at
last was left at Ithaca, in consequence of a weakness in his eyes.
While in this island, he was entertained by a man of fortune
named Mentor, who narrated to him the stories upon which after-
wards the Odyssey was founded. On the return of Mentes, he
accompanied him to Colophon, where he became totally blind.
He then returned to Smyrna, and afterwards removed to Cyme
(called also Cuma), in ^olis, where he received great applause
in the recitations of his poems, but no pecuniary reward; the
people alleging that they could not maintain all the Homeroi, or
blind men, and hence he obtained the name of Homer. Thence
he went about from place to place, acquiring much wealth by his
recitations, and died at the Island of los, one of the Cyclades,,
where he was buried.
The works attributed to Homer consist of the two epic
poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, of twenty-four books each,,
the Batrachomyomachia, or "Battle of the Frogs and Mice," a
humorous, mock-heroic poem, and somewhat of a parody on the
Iliad; the Margites, a satirical, personal satire, and about thirty
Hymns. All of these but the two great epics are now, however,
considered as spurious.
But it was left to modern skepticism (which seems to think
that to doubt shows a higher order of intellect than to believe on
evidence) to maintain the bold position that the " Iliad " and the
" Odyssey" were a collection of separate lays by different au-
thors, arranged and put together for the first time during the
tyranny and by the order of Pisistratus, at Athens, about 550 B.
C. The chief supporters of this theory are the cgjebrated Ger-
45 ■ ' "^^"'"■^iL^.
7o6 LITERATURE.
man scholars, Wolf and Heyne, who flourished about the year
1800.
Those who may desire to go into the subject fully will read
Wolf's "Prolegomena," and the strictures of his great opponent,
G. W. Nitzsch; but a succinct account of the argument may be
found in Browne's " Classical Literature," and in the " History
of Greek Literature," by Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd.
Even Wolf himself candidly declares that when he reads
the " Iliad" he finds such unity of design, such harmony of color-
ing, and such consistency of character, that he is ready to give
up his theories, and to be angry with himself for doubting the
common faith in the personality of Homer.
Professor Felton, in his excellent edition of the " Iliad,"
thus remarks in the preface: " For my part, I prefer to consider
it, as we have received it from ancient editors, as one poem, the
work of one author, and that author Homer — the first and
greatest of minstrels. As I understand the ' Iliad,' there is a
unity of plan, a harmony of parts, a consistency among the dif-
ferent situations of the same character, which mark it as the
production of one mind; but of a mind as versatile as the forms
of nature, the aspects of life, and the combinations of powers,
propensities and passions in man are various." In these views,
the literary world now very generally concurs.
" The hypothesis to which the antagonists of Homer's per-
sonality must resort implies something more wonderful than the
theory which they impugn. They profess to cherish the deepest
veneration for the genius displayed in the poems. They agree,
also, in the antiquity usually assigned to them; and they make
this genius and this antiquity the arguments to prove that one
man could not have composed them. They suppose, then, that
in a barbarous age, instead of one being marvelously gifted,
there were many; a mighty race of bards, such as the world has
never since seen — a number of miracles instead of one. All ex-
HOMER. 707
perience is against this opinion. In various periods of the world
great men have arisen, under very different circumstances, to
astonish and delight it; but that the intuitive power should be so
strangely diffused, at any one period, among a great number,
who should leave no successors behind them, is unworthy of
credit. And we are requested to believe this to have occurred
in an age which those who maintain the theory regard as un-
favorable to the poetic art! The common theory, independent
oi' other proofs, is prima facie the most probable. Since the
early existence of the works can not be doubted, it is easier to
believe in one than in twenty Homers.'' — Talfourd.
OPEJNIJ^Q Af^QUMENT OF THE ILIAD.
(hy Homer.')
Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring
Of woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing!
That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;
Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore;
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove.
Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove.
Pope.
JVIINERVA ARMINQ HEF^gELf fOF{ BATTLE.
(By Homer.)
Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she wove
With glorious colors, as she sate on th' azure floor of Jove;
And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field.
About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,
Fring'd round with ever-fighting snakes; though it was drawn to life
The miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown 'd bloody Strife;
7o8 LITERATURE.
In it shin'd sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew;
In it the monster Gorgon's head, in which held out to view
Were all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac'd
His four-plum'd glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast,
It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.
Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend;
And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,
With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance,
And overturn whole fields of men; to show she was the seed
Of him that thunders. Then heaven's queen, to urge her horses' speed,
Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heaven
Rung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is given,
With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish'd Hours;
That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in showers.
This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they won
The top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn's son
Sate severed from the other gods.
Chapman's translation^ v.
PARTINQ OF HECTOI^ AJ^D AJ^DI^OMACHE.
{By Homer.)
Hector now pass'd, with sad presaging heart,
To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;
At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:
She, with one maid of all her menial train,
Had thence retired; and with her second joy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy:
Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,
Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;
There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore.
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.
Hector this heard, return'd without delay;
Swift through the town he trod his former way,
Through streets of palaces and walks of state,
And met the mourner,at the Scaean gate.
With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair,
His blameless wife. Action's wealthy heir.
ANCIENT AUTHORS.
709
7IO LITERATURE.
The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd,
His only hope hun^ smiling at her breast;
Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.
Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'd
To tender passions all his mighty mind:
His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,
Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke;
Her bosom labor'd with a boding sigh,
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
" Too darling prince! ah, whither dost thou run?
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son!
And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be,
A widow I, a helpless orphan he!
For sure such courage length of life denies,
And thou must fall, thy virtues sacrifice.
Greece in her single heroes strove in vain;
Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain!
Oh grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his doom,
All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb!
So shall my days in one sad tenor run.
And end with sorrows as they first begun.
No parent now remains my griefs to share,
No father's aid, no mother's tender care.
The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire,
Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire!
By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell,
In one sad day beheld the gates of hell.
My mother lived to bear the victor's bands.
The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands.
Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see
My father, mother, brethren, all in thee:
Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all
Once more will perish, if my Hector fall.
Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share;
O, prove a husband's and a father's care!
That quarter most the skillful Greeks annoy,
Where yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy;
Thou from this tower defend the important post;
HOMER. 711
There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,
That passTydides, Ajax, strive to gain.
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.
Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given,
Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven.
Let others in the field their arms employ,
But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy."
The chief replied: " That post shall be my care,
Nor that alone, but all the works of war.
How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd.
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,
Attaint the lustre of my former name,
Should Hector basely quit the field of fame?
My early youth was bred to martial pains.
My soul impels me to the embattled plains;
Let me be foremost to defend the throne,
And guard my father's glories and my own.
Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates;
(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)
The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend.
Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind,
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,
Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore.
Not all my brothers gasping on the shore.
As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread;
I see the trembling, weeping, captive led!
In Argive looms our battles to design.
And woes of which so large a part was thine!
To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring
The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring.
There, while you groan beneath the load of life,
They cry, ' Behold the mighty Hector's wife!'
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see.
Embitters all thy woes by naming me.
The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,
A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!
May I lie cold before that dreadful day,
Press'd with a load of monumental clay!
712 LITERATURE.
Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,
Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep."
Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy
Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast,
Sacred at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,
And Hector hasted to relieve his child;
The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,
And placed the gleaming helmet on the ground.
Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air.
Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer: —
"O, thou whose glory fills the ethereal throne!
And all ye deathless powers, protect my son!
Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,
To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown;
Against his country's foes the war to wage,
And rise the Hector of the future age!
So when, triumphant from successful toils
Of heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils.
Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim,
And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame;'
While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy,
His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy."
He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,
Restored the pleasing burden to her arms;
Soft on her fragrant breast the babe he laid,
Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.
The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear,
She mingled with the smile a tender tear.
The soften 'd chief with kind compassion view'd,
And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued: —
" Andromache, my soul's far better part.
Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?
No hostile hand can antedate my doom.
Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb.
Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth;
And such the hard condition of our birth,
No force can then resist, no flight can save;
HOMER.
All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.
No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home,
There guide the spindle, and direct the loom:
Me glory summons to the martial scene,
The field of combat is the sphere for men;
Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim,
The first in danger, as the first in fame."
Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes
His towery helmet black with shading plumes.
His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh,
Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye,
That stream 'd at every look; then, moving slow.
Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe.
There, while her tears deplored the god-like man,
Through all her train the soft infection ran.
The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed,
And mourn the living Hector as the dead.
Pope^ Iliad., vi.
713
THE RACE OF JVIAN.
{By Homer.')
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground:
Another race the following spring supplies;
They fall successive, and successive rise:
^o generations in their course decay;
So flourish these when those are past away.
Pope, Iliad., vi.
COUf^CIL Of THE qOD^.
{By Homer.)
Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn,
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn;
When Jove convened the senate of the skies.
Where high Olympus' cloudly tops arise.
714 LITERATURE.
The Sire of Gods his awful silence broke,
The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke: —
" Celestial states, immortal gods, give ear!
Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear;
The fix'd decree, which net all heaven can move;
Thou, Fate, fulfill it; and ye. Powers, approve.'
What god but enters yon forbidden field.
Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield.
Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven,
Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven:
Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus thrown,
Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan.
With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors,
And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors;
As deep beneath the infernal center hurl'd,
As from that center to the ethereal world.
Let him who tempts me dread those dire abodes.
And know the Almighty is the god of gods.
League all your forces, then, ye powers above.
Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove:
Let down our golden everlasting chain.
Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main;
Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth,
To drag, by this, the Thunderer down to earth:
Ye strive in vain! If I but stretch this iiand,
I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land;
I fix the chain to great Olympus' height,
And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight!
For such I reign, unbounded and above;
And such are men and gods, compared to Jove."
y^ Pope^ Iliad, viii.
NIQHT-gCEJviE.
(By Homer.)
The troops exulting sat in order round.
And beaming fires illumined all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night!
HOMER. 715
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light.
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene.
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole,
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies:
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight.
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays:
The long reflections of the distant fires
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires.
Pope, Iliad, viii.
HATEfULNEg? OF Wy\F(.
(By Homer.)
Cursed is the man, and void of law and right,
Unworthy property, unworthy light,
Unfit for public rule, or private care;
That wretch, that monster, who delights in war:
Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy
To tear his country, and his kind destroy!
Pope, Iliad, ix.
fAL^flHOOD.
{By Homer.)
Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Pope, Iliad, ix.
7l6 LITERATURE.
^HOWERg Of Af^f^0W3.
(fiy Homer.)
As the feathery snows
Fall frequent on some wintry day, when Jove
Hath risen to shed them on the race of man,
And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the wind,
Then shakes them down continual, covering thick
Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads.
And cultured valleys rich, and ports and shores
Along the margined deep; but there the wave
Their further progress stays; while all besides
Lies whelm'd beneath Jove's fast-descending shower;
So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurled
Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks returned,
The stony volleys flew.
Cotrper^ Iliad, xii.
PF{IAM BEQQINQ THE BODY Of HJE:CT0F{.
(By Homer.)
"Think, O Achilles, semblance of the gods,
On thine own father, full of days like me,
And trembling on the gloomy verge of life.
Some neighbor chief, it may be, even now
Oppresses him, and there is none at hand.
No friend to succor him in his distress.
Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives,
He still rejoices, hoping day by day.
That one day he shall see the face again
Of his own son, from distant Troy returned.
But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons.
So late the flowers of Ilium, are all slain.
When Greece came hither. I had fifty sons;
But fiery Mars hath thinn'd them. One I had,
One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy,
HOMER. 717
Whom, standing for his country, thou hast slain —
Hector. His body to redeem I come
Into Achaia's fleet, bringing myself.
Ransom inestimable to thy tent.
Revrence the gods, Achilles! recollect
Thy father; for his sake compassion show
To me, more pitiable still, who draw
Home to my lips (humiliation yet
Unseen on earth) his hand who slew my son!"
So saying, he waken'd in his soul regr'et
Of his own sire; softly he placed his hand
On Priam's hand, and pushed him gently away.
Remembrance melted both. Rolling before
Achilles' feet, Priam his son deplored,
Wide-slaughtering Hector, and Achilles wept
By turns his father, and by turns his friend
Patroclus: sounds of sorrow fill'd the tent.
Cowper, Iliad, xxiv.
HELE|S S LAME|NTATION OVER HECTOF}.
{By Homer.)
Grief fell on all around;
Then Helen thus breathed forth her plaintive sound: —
"Hector, to Helen's soul more lov'd than all
Whom I in Ilion's walls dare brother call,
Since Paris here to Troy his consort led.
Who in the grave had found a happier bed.
'Tis now, since here I came, the twentieth year.
Since left my land, and all I once held dear:
But never from that hour has Helen heard
From thee a harsh reproach or painful word;
But if thy kindred blam'd me, if unkind
The queen e'er glanc'd at Helen's fickle mind —
(For Priam, still benevolently mild,
Look'd on me as a father views his child) —
Thy gentle speech, thy gentleness of soul.
yi8 LITERATURE.
Would by thine own, their harsher minds control.
Hence, with a heart by torturing misery rent,
Thee and my hapless self I thus lament;
For no kind eye in Troy on Helen rests,
But who beholds me shudders and detests."
Sotheby, Iliad, xxt
We will here give a few pages of the history of the Trojan
war, giving some of the characters, subjects, etc., referred to in
the preceding poems in a prose story.
PARlg.
There was sorrow, instead of gladness, in the halls of
Priam, because a son was born unto him, and because the lady
Hecuba had dreamed a dream, from which the seers knew that
the child should bring ruin on the Ilion land. So his mother
looked with cold, unloving eyes on the babe as he lay weak and
helpless in his cradle, and Priam bade them take the child and
leave him on rugged Ida, for the fountain of his love was closed
against him.
For five days the dew fell on the babe by night, and the
sun shone fiercely on him by day, as he lay on the desolate hill-
side, and the shepherd who placed him there to sleep the sleep
of death looked upon the child and said, " He sleeps as babes
may slumber on silken couches; the gods will it not that he
should die." So he took him to his home, and the child grew
up with ruddy cheek and nimble feet, brave and hardy, so that
none might be matched with him for strength and beauty. The
fierce wolves came not near the flocks while Paris kept guard
near the fold, the robber lurked not near the homestead when
Paris sat by the hearth. So all sang of his strength and his
great deeds, and they called him Alexandros, the helper of men.
PARIS. 719
Many years he tended the flocks on woody Ida, but Priam,
his father, dwelt in Ilion, and thought not to see his face again,
and he said within himself, " Surely my child is long since dead,
and no feast has been given to the gods that Paris may dwell in
peace in the dark kingdom of Hades." Then he charged his
servants to fetch him a bull from the herd, which might be given
to the man who should conquer in the games, and they chose
out one which Paris loved above all others that he drove out to
pasture. So he followed the servants of Priam in grief and
anger, and he stood forth and strove with his brethren in the
games, and in all of them Paris was the conqueror. Then one
of his brothers was moved with wrath, and lifted up his sword
against him, but Paris fled to the altar of Zeus, and the voice
of Cassandra, his sister, was heard saying, " O blind of eye and
heart, see ye not that this is Paris, whom ye sent to sleep the
sleep of death on woody Ida?" . .
But Paris would not dwell in the sacred Ilion, for he loved
not those who sought to slay him while he was yet a helpless
child, and again he tended the flocks on the wide plains and up
the rough hillsides. Strong he was of limb and stout of heart,
and his face shone with a marvelous beauty, so that they who
saw it thought him fair as the bright heroes. There, as he
w^andered in the woody dells of Ida, he saw and wooed the beau-
tiful CEnone, the child of the river-god, Kebren. Many a time
Tie sat with the maiden by the side of the stream, and the sound
of their voices was mingled with the soft murmur of the waters.
He talked to her of love, and CEnone looked up with a wondrous
joy into his beautiful face, when the morning dew glistened white
upon the grass and when the evening star looked out upon the
pale sky.
So was Paris wedded to CEnone, and the heart of the
maiden was full of happiness, for none was braver or more gentle
— none so stout of heart, so lithe of limb, so tender and loving,
720
LITERATURE.
as Paris. Thus passed the days away in a swift dream of joy,
for CEnone thought not of the change that was coming.
There was feasting and mirth among the gods and men, for
the brave Peleus had won Thetis, the maiden of the sea, for his
bride; and she rose from the depths of her coral caves to go to
his home in Phthia. The banquet was spread in his ancient hall,
and the goblets sparkled with the dark wine, for all the gods had
come down from Olympus to share the feast in the house of
Peleus. Only Eris was not bidden, for she was the child of
War and Hatred, and they feared to see her face in the hours of
laughter and mirth; but her evil heart rested not till she found a
way to avenge herself for the wrong which they had done to
her.
The gods were listening to the song of Phcebus Apollo as
he made sweet music on the strings of his harp, when a golden
apple was cast upon the table before them. They knew not
whence it came, only they saw that it was to be a gift for the
fairest in that great throng, for so was it written on the apple.
Then the joy of the feast was gone, and the music of the song
ceased, for there was a strife which should have the golden prize;
and Here, the Queen, said, " The gods themselves do obeisance
to me when I enter the halls of Olympus, and men sing of the glory
of my majesty; therefore must the gift be mine." But Athene
answered, and said, " Knowledge and goodness are better things
than power; mine is the worthier title." Then the fair Aphro-
dite lifted her white arm, and a smile of triumph passed over her
face as she said, " I am the child of love and beauty, and the
stars danced in the heaven for joy as I sprang from the sea foam ;
I dread not the contest, for to me alone must the golden gift be
given."
So the strife waxed hot in the banquet hall, till Zeus spake
with a loud voice, and said, " It needs not to strive now. Amid
the pine forest of Ida dwells Paris, the fairest of the sons of men;
PARIS. 721
let him be judge, and the apple shall be hers to whom he shall
give it." Then Hermes rose and led them quickly over land
and sea, to go to the rough hillside where Paris wooed and won
CEnone.
Presently the messenger of Zeus stood before Paris, and
said, " Fairest of the sons of men, there is strife among the
undying gods, for Here and Aphrodite and Athene seek each to
have the golden apple which must be given to her who is
most fair. Judge thou, therefore, between them when they
come, and give peace again to the halls of Zeus."
In a dream of joy and love CEnone sate by the river-side,
and she looked on her own fair face, which was shown to her in
a still calm pool where the power of the stream came not, and
she said to herself, " The gods are kind, for they have given to
me a better gift than that of beauty, for the love of Paris sheds
for me a wondrous beauty over the heaven above and the broad
earth beneath." Then came Paris, and said, " See, CEnone,
dearest child of the bright waters, Zeus hath called me to be
judge in a weighty matter. Hither are coming Here, the
Queen, and Aphrodite and Athene, seeking each the golden
apple which must be given to her alone who is the fairest. Yet
go not away, Qj^none; the broad vine leaves have covered our
summer bower; there tarry and listen to the judgment, where
none may see thee."
So Paris sat in judgment, and Plere spake to him, and said,
" I know I am the fairest, for none other has beauty and majest}^
like mine. Hearken, then, to me, and I will give thee power to
do great deeds among the sons of men, and a name which the
minstrels shall sing of among those who shall be born in long
time to come." But Athene answered, "Heed not her words,
O Paris. Thy hand is strong and th}^ heart is pure, and the
men among whom thou dwellest honor thee even now because
thou hast done them good. There are better things than power
46
722
LITERATURE.
and high renown; and if thou wilt hearken to me, I will give
thee wisdom and strength; and pure love shall be thine, and the
memory of happy days when thou drawest near to the dark land
of Hades."
Then Paris thought that he heard the voice of CEnone, and
it seemed to whisper to him, " Wisdom and right are better than
power, give it to Athene." But Aphrodite gazed upon him
with laughing eyes, as she came up closer to his side. Her dark
curls fell waving over his shoulder, and he felt the breath from
her rosy lips, as she laid her hand on his arm and whispered
softly in his ear, " I talk not to thee of my beaut}', for it may be
thou seest that I am very fair, but hearken to me, and I will give
thee for thy wife the fairest of all the daughters of men." But
Paris answered, "I need not thy -gift, O child of the bright sea
foam, for fairer wife than CEnone no mortal man may hope to
have. Yet art thou the fairest of all the daughters of the undy-
ing gods, and the gift of the fairest is thine."
So he placed the golden apple in the palm of her snow-
white hand, and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through
the heart of Paris as she parted from him with smiling lip and
laughing eye. But Here, the Queen, and Athene, the virgin
child of Zeus, went away displeased, and evermore their wrath
lay heavy on the city and land of Ilion.
Then went Paris to CEnone, and he twined his arms around
her and said, " Didst thou see the dark countenance of the lady
Here when I gave to the fairest the gift which the fairest alone
may have? Yet what care I for the wrath of Here and Athene?
One smile from the lips of Aphrodite is better than their favor
for a whole life long." But CEnone answered sadly, " I would
that thou mayest speak truly, Paris; yet in my eyes the lady
Athene is fairer far, and Aphrodite is ever false as fair." Then
Paris clasped her closer in his arms and kissed her pale cheek,
and said nothing.
PARIS.
723
But the tierce wrath of Eris was not ended yet. Far away
in the western land, there was sore famine in the kingdom of
the mighty Menelaus, the people died by the wayside, and the
warriors had no strength to go forth to the battle or the hunts-
men to the chase. Many times they sought to know the will
724
LITERATURE.
of the gods, but they heard only dark words for answers, till
Phoebus Apollo said that the famine should never cease from the
land until they brought from Ilion the bones of the children of
Prometheus, whom Zeus bound on the desolate crags of Cau-
casus. So Menelaus, the King, departed from his home and
went to the city of Priam. There he saw the beautiful Paris,
and took him to the Spartan land, for he said that Paris should
return home rich and wealthy. So Paris believed his words,
and sailed with him over the wide sea. Long time he abode in
Sparta, and day by day he saw the lady Helen in the halls of
Menelaus. At the first he thought within himself, " I would
that CEnone were here to see the wife of Menelaus, for surely
she is fairer than aught else on the earth." But soon he thought
less and less of CEnone, who was sorrowing for his long sojourn
in the strange land, as she wandered amid the pine forests of
woody Ida.
Quickly sped the days for Paris, for his heart was filled with
a strange love, and the will of Eris was being accomplished
within him. He thought not of CEnone and her lonely wander-
ings on heathy Ida; he cared not for the kindly deeds of Mene-
laus; and so it came to pass that, when Menelaus was far away,
Paris spoke words of evil love to Helen and beguiled her to
leave her home. Stealthily they fled away, and sailed over the
sea till they came to the Ilion land; and Helen dwelt with Paris
in the house of his father, Priam.
But CEnone mourned for the love which she had lost, and
her tears fell into the gentle stream of Kebren as she sat on its
grassy banks. " Ah me," she said, " my love hath been stung
by Aphrodite. O Paris, Paris! hast thou forgotten all thy
words? Here thine arms were clasped around me, and here, as
thy lips were pressed to mine, thou didst say that the wide earth
had for thee no living thing so fair as CEnone. Sure am I that
Helen hath brought to thee only a false joy; for her heart is not
PARIS. 725
thine as the heart of a maiden when it is given to her first love;
and sure am I, too, that Helen is not a fairer wife than I, for my
heart is all thine, and the beauty of woman is marred when she
yields herself to a lawless love. But the cloud is gathering
round thee; and I am sprung from the race of the gods, and
mine eyes are opened to behold the things that willingly I would
not see. I see the waters black with ships, and the hosts of the
Achaians gathered round the walls of Ilion. I see the moons
roll round, while thy people strive in vain against the wrath of
Here and the might of the son of Peleus ; and far away I see the
flames that shall burn the sacred Ilion. I see thy father smitten
down in his own hall, and the spear that shall drink thy life-
blood. Ah me! for the doom that is coming, and for the pleas-
ant days when we loved and wandered among the dells of Ida."
So Paris dwelt with Helen in the house of Priam; but men
said, " This is no more the brave Alexandros," for he lay at
ease on silken couches, and his spear and shield hung idle on the
wall. For him the wine sparkled in the goblet while the sun
rose high in the heavens, and he cared only to listen to the voice
of Helen, or the minstrels who sang of the love and the bowers
of laughter-loving Aphrodite. And Helen sat by his side in
sullen mood, for she thought of the former days and of the evil
which she had done to the good King Menelaus. Then there
came into her heart a deep hatred for Paris, and she loathed
him for his false words and his fond looks, as he lay quaffing the
wine and taking his rest by day and by night upon the silken
couches.
But throughout the streets of Ilion there was hurrying and
shouting of armed men, and terror and cries of women and
children; for the hosts of the Achaians were come to take ven-
geance for the wrongs of Menelaus. Yet Paris heeded not the
prayers of his brethren, that he should send back Helen; so she
tarried by his side in his gilded chambers, and he went not forth
726 LITERATURE.
to the battle, till all men reviled him for his evil love, because he
had forsaken the fair CEnone.
So for Paris fell the mighty Hector; for him died the brave
Sarpedon; and the women of Ilion mourned for their husbands
who were smitten down by the Achaian warriors. Fiercer and
fiercer grew the strife, for Here and Athene fought against the
men of Troy, and no help came from the laughter-loving Aphro-
dite.
Many times the years went round, while yet the Achaians
strove to take the city of Priam, till at last for very shame Paris
took from the wall his spear and shield, and went forth to the
battle, but the strength of his heart and of his arm was gone, and
he trembled at the fierce war-cries, as a child trembles at the roar-
ing of the storm. Then before the walls of Ilion there was fiercer
strife, and the bodies of the slain lay in heaps upon the battle plain.
Faint and weary, the people of Priam were shut up within the
walls, until the Achaians burst into the gates and gave the city
to sword and flame. Then the cry of men and women went up
to the high heaven, and the blood ran in streams upon the
ground. With a mighty blaze rose up the flames of the burning
city, and the dream of Paris was ended.
Fast he fled from the wrath of Menelaus, and he cared not
to look back on the Argive Plelen or the slaughter of his kins-
folk and his people. But the arrow of Philoctetes came hissing
through the air, and the barb was fixed in the side of Paris.
Hastily he drew it from the wound, but the weapons of Herakles
failed not to do their work, and the poison sped through his
burning veins. Onwards he hastened to the pine forests of Ida,
but his limbs trembled beneath him, and he sank down as he
drew nigh to the grassy bank where he had tended his flocks in
the former days. " Ah, CEnone," he said, " the evil dream is
over, and thy voice comes back to mine ear, soft and loving as
when I wooed and won thee among the dells of Ida. Thou
PARIS. 727
hearest me not, CEnone, or else I know that, forgiving all the
wrong, thou wouldst hasten to help me."
And even as he spoke CEnone stood before him, fair and
beautiful as in the days that were past. The glory as of the
pure evening time was shed upon her face, and her eye glistened
with the light of an undying love. Then she laid her hand upon
him and said, gently, "Dost thou know me, Paris? I am the
same CEnone whom thou didst woo in the dells of woody Ida. My
grief hath not changed me, but thou art not the same, O Paris,
for th}^ love hath wandered far away, and thou hast yielded thy-
self long to an evil dream." But Paris said, " I have wronged
thee, CEnone, fairest and sweetest, and what may atone for the
wrong? The fire burns in my veins, m}^ head reels, and mine
eye is dim; look but upon me once, that thinking on our ancient
love, I may fall asleep and die."
Then CEnone knelt by the side of Paris, and saw the wound
which the arrow of Philoctetes had made; but soon she knew
that neither gods nor men could stay the poison with which
Herakles had steeped his mighty weapons. There she knelt, but
Paris spoke not more. The coldness of death passed over him
as CEnone looked down upon his face and thought of the days
when they lived and loved amid the dells of Ida.
Long time she knelt by his side, until the stars looked forth
in the sky. Then CEnone said, "O Eris, well hast thou worked
thy will, and well hath Aphrodite done thy bidding. O Paris,
we have loved and suffered, but I never did thee wrong, and now
I follow thee to the dark land of Hades."
Presently the flame shot up to heaven from the funeral pile
of Paris, and CEnone la}' down to rest on the fiery couch bv his
side.
728 LITERATURE.
ACHILLEA.
Nine years the Achaians had fought against Ilion to avenge
the wrongs and woes of Helen, and still the war went on, and
only the words of Kalchas, which he spoke long ago in Aulis,
cheered them with the hope that the day of vengeance was near
at hand. For strife had arisen between the King, Agamemnon,
and the mighty son of Peleus, and it seemed to the men of
Argos that all their toil must be for naught. In fierce anger
Achilles vowed a vow that he would go forth no more to the
battle, and he sat in sullen silence within his tent, or wandered
gloomily along the sea-shore. With fresh courage the hosts of
the Trojans poured out from their walls when they knew that
Achilles fought no more on the side of the Achaians, and the
chieftains sought in vain for his help when the battle went against
them. Then the face of the war was changed, for the men of
Ilion came forth from their city, and shut up the Achaians
within their camp, and fought fiercely to take the ships. Many
a chief and warrior was smitten down, and still Achilles sat
within his tent, nursing his great wrath, and reviling all who
came before him with gifts and prayers.
But dearer than all "others to the child of the sea-nymph,
Thetis, was Patroclus, the son of Menoetius, and the heart of
Achilles was touched with pity when he saw the tears stream
down his face, and he said, " Dear friend, tell me thy grief, and
hide nothing from me. Hast thou evil tidings from our home at
Phthia, or weepest thou for the troubles which vex us here.'*"
Then Patroclus spoke out boldly, and said, "Be not angry at
my words, Achilles. The strength of the Argives is wasted
away, and the mightiest of their chieftains lie wounded or dead
around their ships. They call thee the child of Peleus and of
Thetis, but men will say that thou art sprung from the rugged
ACHILLES. 729
rocks and the barren sea, if thou seest thy people undone and
liftest not an arm to help them." Then Achilles answered,
" My friend, the vow is on me, and I can not go, but put thou on
my armor and go forth to the battle. Only take heed to my
words, and go not in my chariot against the City of Ilion.
Drive our enemies from the ships, and let them fight in the plain,
and then do thou come back to my tent."
Then the hearts of the Achaians were cheered, for next to
Achilles there was not in all the host a warrior more brave and
mighty than Patroclus. At his word the Myrmidons started up
from their long rest, and hastily snatched their arms to follow
him to the battle. Presently Patroclus came forth. The glisten-
ing helmet of Achilles was on his head, and his armor was
girt around his body. Only he bore not his mighty spear, for
no mortal man might wield that spear in battle but Achilles,
Before the tent stood the chariot, and harnessed to it were the
horses, Xanthos and Balios, who grow not old nor die.
So Patroclus departed for the fight, and Achilles went into
his tent, and as he poured out the dark wine from a golden
goblet, he prayed to Zeus, and said, "O thou that dwellest far
away in Dodona, where the Selloi do thy bidding and proclaim
thy will, give strength and victory to Patroclus, my friend. Let
him drive the men of Ilion from the ships and come back safe to
me after the battle." But Zeus heard the prayer in part only,
for the doom was that Achilles should see PatroClus alive no
more.
Then the hosts of the Trojans trembled as Patroclus drew
nigh on the chariot of Achilles, and none dared to go forth
against him. Onward sped the undying horses, and wherever
they went the ground was red with the blood of the Trojans
who were smitten down by his spear. Then Sarpedon, the
great chief of the Lykians, spake to Glaucus, and said, " O
friend, I must go forth and do battle with Patroclus. The peo-
730
LITERATURE.
pie fall beneath his sword, and it is not fit that the chieftains
should be backward in the strife," But the doom of Sarpedon
was sealed, and presentl}' his body lay lifeless on the ground,
while the men of Argos and of Ilion fought for his glittering
arms.
Then the doom came on Patroclus also, for Phoebus Apollo
fought against him in the battle, and in the dust was rolled the
helmet which no enemy had touched when it rested on the head
of Achilles. Before him flashed the spear of Hector, as he
said, " The hour of thy death is come, Patroclus, and the aid of
Achilles can not reach thee now." But Patroclus said only,
" It is thy time for boasting now; wait yet a little while, and the
sword of Achilles shall drink thy life-blood."
So Patroclus died, and there was a fierce fight over his
body, and many fell on both sides, until there was a great heap
of dead around it. But away from the fight, the horses Xan-
thos and Balios wept for their charioteer, and they would not stir
with the chariot, but stood fixed firm as pillars on the ground,
till Zeus looked down in pity on them, and said, " Was it for
this that I gave you to Peleus, the chieftain of Phthia — horses
who can not grow old or die, to a mortal man, the most
wretched thing that crawls upon the earth.'' But fear not; no
enemy shall lay hands on the chariot of Achilles, or on the
immortal horses which bear it. Your limbs shall be filled with
new strength-, and ye shall fly like birds across the battle-field
till ye come to the tent of your master." Then the horses wept
no more, but swift as eagles they bore Automedon through the
fight, while Hector and his people strove fiercely to seize them.
At last the battle was over, and, while the Achaians bore the
body of Patroclus to the ships, Antilochus, the son of Nestor,
went to the tent of Achilles, and said, " Thy friend is slain, and
Hector has his armor."
Then the dark cloud of woe fell on the soul of Achilles.
ACHILLES.
731
In a fierce grief he threw earth with both hands into the air, and
rent his clothes, and lay down weeping in the dust. Far away
in her coral caves beneath the sea Thetis heard the deep groans
of her child, and, like a white mist, she rose from the waters and
went to comfort him; and she said, "Why weepest thou, my
son? When Agamemnon did thee wrong, thou didst pray that
the Achaians might sorely need thy aid in the battle, and thy
wish has been accomplished. So may it be again." But Achil-
les answered, " Of what profit is it to me, my mother, that
my prayer has been heard, since Patroclus, my friend, is slain,
and Hector has my armor? One thmg only remains to me now.
I will slay Hector and avenge the slaughter of Patroclus."
Then the tears ran down the cheeks of Thetis as she said,
" Then is thine own doom accomplished, for when thou slayest
Hector, thou hast not many days to live." " So then let it be,"
said Achilles; "the mighty Herakles tasted of death; there-
fore let me die also, so only Hector dies before me."
Then Thetis sought no more to turn him from his purpose,
but she went to the house of Hephaistos to get armor for her
child in place of that which Hector had taken from Patroclus.
And Achilles vowed a vow that twelve sons of the Trojans
should be slain at the grave of his friend, and that Hector should
die before the funeral rites were done. Then Agamemnon sent
him gifts, and spake kindly words, so that the strife between
them might end, and Achilles now go forth to fight for the
Achaians. So, in the armor which Hephaistos had wrought at
the prayer of Thetis, he mounted his chariot, and bade his horses
bring him back safe from the battle-field. Then the horse Xan-
thos bowed his head, and the long tresses of his mane flowed
down to the earth as he made answer, " We will in very truth
save thee, O mighty Achilles; but thy doom is near at hand,
and the fault rests not with us now, or when we left Patroclus
dead on the battle-field, for Phcebus Apollo slew him and gave
732
LITERATURE.
the glory and the arms to Hector." And Achilles said, " Why
speak to me of evil omens .^ I know that I shall see my father
and my mother again no more; but if I must die in a strange
land, I will first take my fill of vengeance."
Then the war-cry of Achilles was heard again, and a
mighty life was poured into the hearts of the Achaians, as they
seized their arms at the sound. Thick as withering leaves in
autumn fell the Trojans beneath his unerring spear. Chief after
chief was smitten down, until their hosts fell in terror within the
walls of Ilion. Only Hector awaited his coming, but the
shadow of death was stealing over him, for Phoebus Apollo had
forsaken the great champion of Troy because Zeus so willed it.
So in the strife the strength of Hector failed, and he sank down
on the earth. The foot of Achilles rested on his breast, and
the spear's point was on his neck, while Hector said, " Slay me
if thou wilt, but give back my body to my people. Let not
the beasts of the field devour it, and rich gifts shall be thine
from my father and my mother for this kindly deed." But the
eyes of Achilles flashed with a deadly hatred, as he answered,
"Were Priam to give me thy weight in gold, it should not save
thy carcass from the birds and dogs." And Hector said, " I
thought not to persuade thee, for thy heart is made of iron, but
see that thou pay not the penalty for thy deed on the day when
Paris and Phoebus Apollo shall slay thee at the Scsean gates of
Ilion." Then the life-blood of Hector reddened the sfround as
Achilles said, " Die, wretch ! My fate I will meet in the hour
when it may please the undying gods to send it."
But not yet was the vengeance of Achilles accomplished.
At his feet lay Hector dead, but the rage in his heart was fierce
as ever, and he tied the body to his chariot and dragged it furi-
ously, till none who looked on it could say, " This was the brave
and noble Hector." But things more fearful still came after-
wards, for the funeral rites were done to Patroclus, and twelve
ACHILLES. 733
sons of the Trojans were slain in the mighty sacrifice. Still the
body of Hector lay on the ground, ami the men of Ilion sought
in vain to redeem it from Achilles. But Phoebus Apollo came
down to guard it, and he spread over it his golden shield to keep
away all unseemly things. At last the King, Priam, mounted
his chariot, for he said, " Surely he will not scorn the prayer of
a father when he begs the body of his son." Then Zeus sent
Hermes to guide the old man to the tent of Achilles, so that
none others of the Achaians might see him. Then he stood be-
fore the man who had slain his son, and he kissed his hands, and
said, " Hear my pra3'er, Achilles. Thy father is an old man
like me, but he hopes one day to see thee come back with great
glory from Ilion. My sons are dead, and none had braver sons
in Troy than I; and Hector, the flower and pride of all, has been
smitten by thy spear. Fear the gods, Achilles, and pity me
for the remembrance of thy father, for none has ever dared like
me to kiss the hand of the man who has slain his son." So
Priam wept for his dear child, Hector, and the tears flowed down
the cheeks of Achilles as he thought of his father, Peleus, and
his friend, Patroclus, and the cry of their mourning went up to-
gether.
So the body of Hector was borne back to Ilion, and a great
sacrifice was done to the gods beneath the earth, that Hector
might be welcomed in the kingdom of Hades and Persephone.
But the time drew nigh that the doom of Achilles must be
accomplished, and the spear of Phcebus Apollo pierced his heart
as they fought near the Scaean gates of Ilion. In the dust lay
the body of Achilles, while the Achaians fought the whole day
around it, till a mighty storm burst forth from the heaven.
Then they carried it away to the ships, and placed it on a couch,
and washed it in pure water. And once more from her coral
caves beneath the sea rose the silver-footed Thetis, and the cry
of the nymphs who followed her filled the air, so that the Acha-
734 LITERATURE.
ians who heard it trembled, and would have fled to the ships,
but Nestor, the wise chief of the Pylians, said, " Flee not, ye
Argives, for those come to mourn for the dead Achilles."
So Thetis stood weeping by the body of her child, and the
nymphs wrapped it in shining robes. Many days and nights
they wept and watched around it, until at last they raised a
great pile of wood on the sea-shore, and the flame went up to
heaven. Then they gathered up the ashes, and placed them,
with the ashes of Patroclus, in a golden urn which Hephaistos
wrought and gave to Dionysus, and over it they raised a great
cairn on the shore of the Sea of Helle, that men might see it
afar off" as they sailed on the broad waters.
THE VEJ^QEANCE OF ODYggEUg.
A fair breeze filled the sail of the Phgeakian ship in which
Odysseus lay asleep as in the dreamless slumber of the dead.
The wild music of the waves rose on the air as the bark sped on
its glistening pathway, but their murmur reached not the ear of
the wanderer, for the spell of Athene was upon him, and all his
cares and griefs were for a little while forgotten.
The dawn light was stealing across the eastern sky when
the good ship rode into the haven of the sea-god, Phorkys, and
rested without anchor or cable beneath the rocks which keep off
the breath of the harsh winds. At the head of the little bay a
broad-leaved olive tree spread its branches in front of a cave
where the sea nymphs wove their beautiful purple robes.
Gently the sailors raised Odysseus in their arms; gently they
bore him from the ship, and placed him on the land with the
gifts which Alkinous and Arete and Naogikaa had given to him
when he set oflf to go to Ithaka. So the Phaeakians went away,
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS.
735
and Odysseus rested once more in his own land. But when he
awoke from his sleep, he knew not where he was, for Athene
had spread a mist on land and sea. The haven, the rocks, the
trees, the pathways wore a strange look in the dim and gloomy
light; but while Odysseus yet pondered where he should stow
away the gifts lest thieves should lind them, there stood before
him a glorious form, and he heard a voice, which said, " Dost
thou not know me, Odysseus.^ I am Pallas Athene, who have
stood by thy side to guard thee in all thy wanderings and deliver
Menelaus. Paris. Diomedes. Odysseus. Nestor. Achilles. Agamemnon.
HEROES OF THE TROJAN WAR.
thee from all thy enemies. And now that thou standest again
on thine own land of Ithaka, I have come to thee once more, to
bid thee make ready for the great vengeance, and to bear with
patience all that may befall thee until the hour be come." But
Odysseus could scarcely believe that he was in Ithaka, even
though it was Athene who spake to him, until she scattered the
mist and showed him the fair haven with its broad-spreading
olive trees, and the home of the sea nymphs, and the old hill of
Neritos with its wooded sides.
736 LITERATURE.
Then they placed the gifts of the Phaeakians in the cave
hard by the stream of hving waters which flowed through it to
the sea, and Athene touched him with a staff, and all the beauty
of his form was gone. His face became seamed with wrinkles,
his flashing eyes grew dim, and the golden locks vanished from
his shoulders. His glistening raiment turned to noisome rags,
as Athene put a beggar's wallet on his shoulder and placed a
walking staff in his hand, and showed him the path which led to
the house of the swineherd Eumaius.
So Odysseus went his way, but when he entered the court-
yard of Eumaius in his tattered raiment, the dogs flew at him
with loud barkings, until the swineherd drove them away, and
led the stranger into his dwelling, where he placed a shaggy
goat-skin for him to lie on. " Thou hast welcomed me kindly,"
said Od3'sseus, " the gods grant thee in return thy heart's de-
sire." Then Eumaius answered sadly, "My friend, I may not
despise a stranger though he be even poorer and meaner than
myself, for it is Zeus who sends to us the poor man and the
beggar. Little indeed have I to give, for so it is with bondmen
when the young chiefs lord it in the land. But he is far away
who loved me well and gave me all my substance. I would that
the whole kindred of Helen had been uprooted from the earth,
for it was for her sake that my master went to fight with the
Trojans at Ilion."
Then Eumaius placed meat and wine before him. " It is
but a homely meal," he said, " and a poor draught, but the
chiefs who throng about my master's wife eat all the fat of the
land. A brave life they have of it, for rich were the treasures
which my master left in his house when he went to take ven-
geance for the wrongs of Helen." " Tell me thy master's name,
friend," said the stranger. " If he was indeed so rich and great,
I may perhaps be able to tell you something about him, for I
have been a wanderer in many lands." " Why, what would be
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 737
the use?" answered the swineherd. "Many a vagabond comes
here with trumped-up tales to my master's wife, who Hstens to
them greedil}^, hoping against hope. No, he must long ago have
died; but we love Odysseus still, and we call him our friend,
though he is very far away." "Nay, but thou art wrong this
time," said the stranger, " for I do know Odysseus, and I swear
to thee that the sun shall not finish his journey through the
heavens before thy lord returns." But Eumaius shook his head.
" I have nothing to give you for your news. Sure I am that
Odysseus will not come back. Say no more about him, for my
heart is pained when any make me call to mind the friend whom
I have lost. But what is your name, friend, and whence do you
come?"
Then Odysseus was afraid to reveal himself, so he told him a
long story how he had come from Crete, and been made a slave
in Egypt, how after many years Phoinix had led him to the
purple land, how Pheidon, the chief of the Thesprotians, had
showed him the treasures of Odysseus, and how at last he had
fallen into the hands of robbers, who had clothed him in beggarly
rags and left him on the shore of Ithaka. But still Eumaius
would not believe. " I can not trust your tale, m}' friend, when
you tell me that Odysseus has sojourned in the Thesprotian land.
I have had enough of such news since an ^olian came and
told me that he had seen him in Crete with Idomeneus, mendincr
the ships which had been hurt by a storm, and that he would
come again to his home before that summer was ended. Many
a year has passed since, and if I welcome you still, it is not for
your false tidings about m}' master. "Well," said Odysseus,
" I will make a covenant with you. If he returns this year, you
shall clothe me in sound garments and send me home to Douli-
chion, if he does not, bid thy men hurl me from the cliffs, that
beggars may learn not to tell lies." " Nay, how can I do that,"
said Eumaius, "when you have eaten bread in my house? Would
47 ^^^^^-^^^^
738 LITERATURE.
Zeus ever hear my prayer again? Tell me no more false tales,
and let us talk together as friends.''
Meanwhile Telemachus was far away in Sparta, whither he
had gone to seek his father, Odysseus, if haply he might find
him; and one night as he lay sleepless on his couch, Athene
stood before him and warned him to hasten home. " The
suitors are eating up thy substance, and they lie in wait that
they may slay thee before the ship reaches Ithaka; but the gods
who guard thee will deliver thee from them, and when thou
comest to the land, go straightway to the house of Eumaius.
Then in the morning Telemachus bade farewell to Menelaus,
and the fair-haired Helen placed in his hands a beautiful robe
which her own fingers had wrought. " Take it," she said, " as
a memorial of Helen, and give it to thy bride when thy mar-
riage day has come." So they set off from Sparta, and came
to Pylos, and there, as Telemachus offered sacrifice, the wise
seer Theoklymenus stood by his side, and asked him of his name
and race, and when he knew that he was the son of Odysseus
he besought Telemachus to take him with him to the ship, for he
had slain a man in Argos and he was flying from the avenger of
blood. So Theoklymenus, the seer, came with Telemachus to
Ithaka.
Then again Odysseus made trial of the friendship of Eumai-
us, and when the meal was over, he said, " To-morrow, early in
the morning, I must go to the house of Odysseus. Therefore,
let some one guide me thither. It may be that Penelope will
listen to my tidings, and that the suitors will give alms to the
old man. For I can serve well, my friends, and none can light
a fire and heap on wood, or hand a winecup, more deftly than
myself." But Eumaius was angry, and said sharply, " Why not
tarry here? You annoy neither me nor my friends, and when
Odysseus comes home, be sure he will give 3'ou coat and cloak
and all else that you may need." And the beggar said, " God
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 739
reward thee, good friend, for succoring the stranger," and he
asked him if the father and mother of Odysseus were yet alive.
Then Eumaius told him how his mother had pined away and
died after Odysseus went to Ilion, and how Laertes lingered on
in a wretched and squalid old age.
But the ship of Telemachus had now reached the land, and
he sent some of his men to tell Penelope that her son was come
back, while he himself went to the house of Eumaius. Glad
indeed was the swineherd to see him, for he had not thought to
look upon his face again. And Telemachus said, " Is my mother
yet in her home, or has she wedded another, and is the bridal
couch of Odysseus covered with the webs of spiders.'*" Nay,
she is still in her home," said Eumaius; " but night and day she
sheds bitter tears in her grievous sorrow." Then Telemachus
spied the beggar; and when he learned his story from Eumaius,
he was troubled. "What can we do with him.^ Shall I give
him a cloak and a sword and send him away.^ I am afraid to
take him to my father's house, for the suitors may flout and jeer
him." Then the beggar put in his word: " Truly these suitors
meet us at every turn. How comes it all about .^ Do you yield
to them of your own free will, or do the people hate you, or
have you a quarrel with your kinsfolk? If these withered arms
of mine had but the strength of their youth, soon should some
of these suitors smart for their misdeeds; and if their numbers
were too great for me to deal with, better so to die than see
them thus devour the land." " Nay, friend, your guesses are
wrong," said Telemachus. " The people do not hate me, and I
have no feud with my kindred; but these suitors have swarmed
in upon us like bees from all the country round about."
Presently Eumaius rose up to go with tidings to Penelope,
and when he was gone a glorious form stood before the door,
but the eyes only of Odysseus saw her, and he knew that it was
Pallas Athene. "The time is come," she said ;" show thyself
740 LITERATURE.
to Telemachus and make ready with him for the great ven-
geance." Then Athene passed her golden staff over his body,
and straightway his tattered raiment became a white and gHsten-
ing robe. Once more the hue of youth came back to his cheek
and the golden locks flowed down over his shoulders, so that
Telemachus marveled, and said, " Who art thou, stranger, that
thou lookest like one of the bright gods? But now thy garment
was torn, and thy hands shook with age." " Na}', I am no god,"
answered the man of many toils and sorrows, '^I am thy father."
Then Odysseus kissed his son, and the tears ran down his cheek,
but Telemachus would not believ^e. "• Men change not thus," he
said, "from age to 3'outh, from squalor and weakness to strength
and splendor." " It is the work of Athene," said the stranger,
" who can make all things fresh and fair, and if I be not Odys-
seus, none other will ever come to Ithaka." Then Telemachus
put his arms around his father and wept, and the cr}^ of their
weeping went up together, and Odysseus said, " The time for
vengeance draws nigh. How many are these suitors?" " They
may be told by scores," said Telemachus, " and what are two
against so many?" "They are enough," answered Odysseus,
" if only Zeus and Athene be on their side."
Then Telemachus went to the house of Odysseus, where the
suitors were greatly cast down because their messengers had not
been able to kill him. And Penelope came forth from her
chamber, beautiful as Artemis and Aphrodite, and she kissed
her son, who told her how he had journeyed to Sparta, seeking
in vain for his father. But Theoklymenus, the seer, put in a
word, and said, " Odysseus is now in Ithaka, and is making
ready for the day of the great vengeance."
Presently Eumaius went back to his house, and there he
found the beggar, for Odysseus had laid aside his glistening robe
and the glory of youth had faded away again from his face. So
they went to the city together, and sat by the beautiful fountain,
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 74 1
whither the people came to draw water, and Melanthius, the
goatherd, as he drove the flock for the suitors, spied them out
and reviled them. " Thieves love thieves, they say; where hast
thou found this vagabond, friend swineherd?" and he pushed
Odysseus with his heel. Then Odysseus was wroth, and would
have slain him, but he restrained himself, and Eumaius prayed
aloud to the nymphs that they would bring his master home.
And Melanthius said, " Pray on, as thou wilt, but Telemachus
shall soon lie low, for Odysseus shall see Ithaka no more." Then
he drove the goats onwards to the house of Odysseus, and
Eumaius and the beggar followed him, and as they communed
by the way, the swineherd bade him go first into the house, lest
any finding him without might jeer or hurt him. But the beg-
gar would not. " Many a hard buffet have I had by land and
by sea," he said, " and I am not soon cast down." Soon they
stood before the door, and a dog worn with age strove to rise
and welcome him, but his strength was gone, and Odysseus wept
when he saw his hound, Argos, in such evil plight. Then, turn-
ing to Eumaius, he said, " The hound is comely in shape. Was
he swift and strong in his youth?" " Never anything escaped
him in the chase; but there are none to care for him now." It
mattered not, for the twenty long years had come to an end,
and when Argos had once more seen his master, he sank down
upon the straw and died.
Then Odysseus passed into his house, and he stood a beggar
in his own hall, and asked an alms from Antinous. " Give,"
said he, " for thou lookest like a King, and I will spread abroad
thy name through the wide earth. For I, too, was rich once,
and had a glorious home, and often I succored the wanderer; but
Zeus took away all my wealth, and drove me forth to Cyprus
and to Egypt." But Antinous thrust him aside. " What pest
is this?" he said. " Stand off", old man, or thou shalt go again
to an Egypt and a Cyprus which shall not be much to thy lik-
742 LITERATURE.
ing." Then Antinous struck him on the back; but Odysseus
stood firm as a rock, and he shook his head for the vengeance
that was coming. But the others were angry, and said, " Thou
hast done an evil deed, if indeed there be a god in heaven; nay,
often in the guise of strangers the gods themselves go through
the earth, watching the evil and the good."
When the tidings were brought to Penelope, she said to
Eumaius, " Go call me this stranger hither, for he may have
something to tell me of Odysseus." But the beggar would not
go then. " Tell her," he said, " that I know her husband well,
and that I have shared his troubles; but I can not talk with her
before the sun goes down. At eventide she shall see me."
Then, as Odysseus sate in the hall, there came up to him
the beggar Arnaius, whom the suitors called Iros because he was
their messenger, and he said, " Get up, old man, and go, for the
chiefs have bidden me to cast thee out; yet I would rather see
thee depart of thy own will." But Odysseus said, " Nay, friend,
there is room enough here for both of us. You are a beggar
like me, and let us pray the gods to help us; but lay not thine
hand upon me, lest I be angry and smite thee; for if I do, thou
wilt not, I take it, care to come again to the house of Odysseus,
the son of Laertes." But Iros looked scornfully at him, and
said, " Hear how the vagabond talks, just like an old furnace
woman. Come now, and gird up thyself, and let us see which
is the stronger." Then Antinous, who had heard them quarrel-
ing, smiled pleasantly and called to the other suitors: "See
here, the stranger and Iros are challenging each other. Let us
bring them together and look on." But Iros shrank back in fear
as the beggar arose, and only one feeble blow had he given,
when Od3^sseus dashed him to the ground. Then all the suitors
held up their hands and almost died with laughter, as the
stranger dragged Iros from the hall, and said, " Meddle not
more with other men's matters, lest a worse thing befall thee."
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 743
Then Odysseus gathered up his tattered garment and went and
sat down again upon the threshold, while the suitors praised him
with loud cheers for his exploit, and Amphinomus held out to
him a goblet of rosy wine: " Drink, stranger, and ma3est thou
have good luck in time to come, for now thy lot is hard and
gloomy enough." The kindly words stirred the beggar's heart,
and he said, " Hear my counsel, Amphinomus, and trust me
who have borne many griefs and sorrows and wandered in many
lands since Zeus drove me from my home. Depart from these
evil men who are wasting another's substance and heed not the
woes that are coming, when Odysseus shall once more stand in
his father's house." But Amphinomus would not hear, for so
had Athene doomed that he should fall on the day of the great
vengeance.
So, laughing at the beggar as he sat quietly on the threshold,
the suitors feasted at the banquet table of Odysseus, till the stars
looked forth in the sky. But when they were gone away to
sleep, Odysseus bade Telemachus gather up their arms and place
them in the inner chamber. And they carried in the spears and
shields and helmets, while Athene went before with a golden
lamp in her hand to light the way. And Telemachus said,
" Surely some one of the blessed gods must be here, my father,
for walls, beams and pillars all gleam as though they were full of
eyes of blazing fire." But Odysseus bade him be silent and
sleep, and Telemachus went his way, and Odysseus tarried to
take counsel with Athene for the work of the comincf vensreance.
Then, as he sat alone in the hall, Penelope came forth from
her chamber, to hear what the stranger might tell her of Odys-
seus. But before she spake, Melantho reviled him as her father,
Melanthius, had reviled him by the fountain, and Odysseus said,
" Dost thou scorn me because my garments are torn and my face
is seamed with age and sorrow? Well, I, too, have been young
and strong. See, then, that the change come not on thee when
744 LITERATURE.
Odysseus returns to his home." Then Penelope asked him
straightly, " Who art thou, stranger, and whence hast thou
come?" And the beggar said, "Ask me not, for I have had
grievous troubles, and the thought of all my woes will force
the tears into my eyes, so that ye may think I am mad with
misery." But Penelope urged him: " Listen to me, old man.
My beauty faded away when Odysseus left me to go to Ilion,
and my life has been full of woe since the suitors came thronging
round me, because my husband, as they said, lived no more upon
the earth. So I prayed them to let me weave a shroud for
Laertes, and every night I undid the web which I had woven in
the day time. Thus three years passed away, but in the fourth
the suitors found out my trick, and I know not how to avoid
longer the marriage which I hate. Wherefore tell me who thou
art, for thou didst not spring forth a full-grown man from a tree
or a stone." Then Odysseus recounted to her the tale which he
had told to the swineherd, Eumaius, and the eyes of Penelope
were filled with tears as the stranger spoke of the exploits of
Odysseus, "Good friend," she said, "thy kindly words fall
soothingly on my ear. Here shalt thou sojourn, and I will give
thee a robe which I had meant for him who will come back to
me no more." But Odysseus would not take it, and he strove
to comfort her, till at the last he swore to her that before the
year's end her husband should stand before her.
And now, at the bidding of Penelope, his old nurse, Eury-
kleia, came with water to wash his feet, and looking hard at
him she said, " Many a stranger has come to this house, but
never one so like in form and voice to my child, Odysseus, and
the stranger answered, smiling, " Most folk who have seen us
both have marked the likeness." So she knelt down to wash
his feet, but Odysseus turned himself as much as he could from
the fire, for he feared that she might see the mark of the wound
which the boar's tusk had made long ago when he went to Par-
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS.
745
nassus. But he strove in vain. For presently she saw the scar,
and she let go his feet, and the water was spilt upon the ground,
ANCIENT METAL ENUKAVING.
as she cried out, ''It is Odysseus, and I knew him not until I
saw the print of the deadly wound which Autolykus healed by
746 LITERATURE.
his wondrous power." Then Odysseus bade her be silent, for
Athene had dulled the ear of Penelope that she might not hear,
and he would not that any should know that the chieftain had
come back to his home.
So all were gone, and Odysseus alone remained in the hall
through the still hours of night. But when the morning came,
the suitors again feasted at the banquet board, and many a time
they reviled the beggar and Telemachus, until Penelope brought
forth the bow which Iphitus, the son of Eurytus, had given to
Odysseus. Then she stood before the chiefs and said, " Who-
ever of you can bend this bow, that man shall be my husband,
and with him I will leave the home which I have loved, and
which I shall still see in my dreams." But when Antinous saw
it, his heart failed him, for he knew that none had ever bent the
bow save Odysseus only, and he warned the suitors that it would
sorel}^ tax their strength. Then Telemachus would have made
trial of the bow, but his father suffered him not. So Leiodes
took it in his hand, and tried in vain to stretch it, till at last he
threw it down in a rage, and said, " Penelope must find some
other husband; for I am not the man." But Antinous reviled
him for his faintheartedness, and made Melanthius bring fat to
anoint the bow and make it supple; yet even thus they strove in
vain to stretch it.
Then Odysseus went out into the courtyard, whither the
cowherd and the swineherd had gone before him, and he said to
them, " Friends, are ye minded to aid Odysseus if he should
suddenly come to his home, or will ye take part with the men
who devour his substance?" And they sware both of them that
they would fight for their master to the death. Then Odysseus
said, " I am that man, who after grievous woes has come back
in the twentieth year to his own land ; and if ye doubt, see here
is the scar of the wound where the boar's tusk pierced my flesh,
when I went to Parnassus in the days of my youth." When
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 747
they saw the scar, they threw their arms round Odysseus, and
they kissed him on his head and his shoulders and wept, until he
said, "Stay, friends, lest any see us and tell the suitors in the
house. And now hearken to me. These men will not let me
take the bow; so do thou, Eumaius, place it in my hands, and
let Philoitius bar the gates of the court-yard." But within the
hall Eurymachus groaned with vexation because he could not
stretch the bow; and he said, '' It is not that I care for Penelope,
for there are many Achaian women as fair as she; but that we
are all so weak in comparison of Odysseus." Then the beggar
besought them that he, too, might try, and see whether the
strength of his youth still remained to him, or whether his long
wanderings had taken away the force of his arm. But Antinous
said, " Old man, wine hath done thee harm; still it is well to
drink yet more than to strive with men who are thy betters."
Then said Penelope, "What dost thou fear, Antinous? Vex
not thyself with the thought that the beggar will lead me away
as his bride, even if he should be able to stretch the bow of
Odysseus." "Nay, lady," he answered, "is is not that; but I
dread lest the Achaians should say, ' The suitors could not
stretch the bow, but there came a wandering beggar, who did
what they strove to do in vain.' "
Then the swineherd took up the bow, but the suitors bade
him lay it down again, until at last Telemachus told Eumaius to
bear it to Odysseus; and as the swineherd placed it in the beg-
gar's hands, Eurykleia shut the doors of the hall and made them
fast with the tackling of a ship. Then, as Odysseus raised the
bow, the thunder pealed in the heaven, and his heart rejoiced
because Zeus had given him a sign of his great victory. Pres-
entl}^ the arrow sped from the string, and Antinous lay dead
upon the floor.
Then the others spake in great wrath, and said, " The vul-
tures shall tear th}^ flesh this day, because thou hast slain the
7^8 LITERATURE.
greatest chief in Ithaka/' But they knew not, as they spake
thus, that the day of the great vengeance was come; and the
voice of Odysseus was heard above the uproar, as he said,
'' Wretches, did ye fancy that I should never stand again in my
own hall? Ye have wasted my substance, ye have sought to
steal my wife from me, ye have feared neither gods nor men, and
this is the day of your doom." The cheeks of the suitors turned
ghastly pale through fear; but Eurymachus alone took courage
and told Odysseus that Antinous only had done the mis-
chief, because he wished to slay Telemachus and become King
in Ithaka in the stead of Odysseus. " Spare, then, the rest, for
they are thy people, and we will pay thee a large ransom." But
Odysseus looked sternly at him, and said, " Not this house full
of silver and gold shall sta}' my hand in the day of my great
vengeance."
Then Eurymachus drew his sword and bade his comrades
fight bravely for their lives; but again the clang of the bow was
heard, and Eurymachus was stretched lifeless on the earth. So
they fell, one after the other, until the floor of the hall was
slippery with blood. But presently the arrows in the quiver of
Odysseus were all spent, and la3nng his bow against the wall, he
raised a great shield on his shoulder and placed a helmet on his
head, and took two spears in his hand. Then Agelaus called to
Melanthius, " Go up to the stair-door and shout to the people,
that they may break into the hall and save us." But Melanthius
said, " It can not be, for it is near the gate of the hall, and one
man may guard it against a hundred. But I will bring you
arms, for I know that Odysseus and his son have stowed them
away in the inner chamber." Hastily he ran thither and brought
forth shields and spears and helmets, and the heart of Odysseus
failed him for fear as he saw the suitors donnins^ their armor and
brandishing the lances. "Who has done this .^" he asked, and
Telemachus answered, "It is my fault, my father. I left the
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. " 749
door ajar, but Eumaius shall go and see whether some of the
women have given this help to the suitors, or whether, as I think,
it be Melanthius." So Eumaius and the cowherd placed them-
selves on one side of the chamber door, and when Melanthius
came forth with more arms for the chieftains, they caught him,
and binding him with stout cords they hoisted him up to the
beams and left him dangling in the air. " Keep guard there,
Melanthius, all night long in thy airy hammock, and when the
golden Morning comes back from the stream of Ocean you will
not fail to see her."
But in the hall the troop of suitors stood facing Odysseus
and Telemachus in deadly rage, and presently Athene stood be-
fore them in the likeness of Mentor. Then all besousrht her
help, and the suitors threatened her, and said, " Be not led
astray. Mentor, by the words of Odysseus, for if you side with
him, we will leave you neither house nor lands, wife nor children,
when we have taken vengeance for the evil deeds of the son of
Laertes." But the wrath of Athene was kindled more fiercely,
and she said, "Where is thy strength, Odysseus? Many a year
the Trojans fell beneath the stroke of thy sword, and by thy
wisdom it was that the Achaians stormed the walls of breezy
Ilion. And now dost thou stand trembling in thine own hall?"
Then the form of Mentor vanished, and they saw a swallow fly
away above the roof tree. In great fear the suitors took council
together, and six of them stood forth and hurled their spears at
Odysseus and Telemachus. But all missed their mark except
Amphimedon and Ktesippus, and these wounded Telemachus on
the wrist and Eumaius on the shoulder.
But once again Athene came, and this time she held aloft
her awful JEgis before the eyes of the suitors, and the hearts of
all fainted for fear, so that they huddled together like cattle
which have heard the lion^s roar, and like cattle were they slain,
and the floor of the hall was floated with blood.
750 LITERATURE.
So was the slaughter ended, and the house of Odysseus was
hushed in a stillness more fearful than the din of battle, for the
work of the great vengeance was accomplished.
But Penelope lay on her couch in a sweet slumber which
Athene had sent to soothe her grief, and she heard not the foot-
steps of Eurykleia as she hastened joyously into, the chamber.
"Rise up, dear child, rise up. Thy heart's desire is come.
Odysseus stands once more in his own home, the suitors are
dead, and none are left to vex thee." But Penelope could not
believe for joy and fear, even when Eurykleia told her of the
mark of the boar's bite which Autolykus and his sons had
healed. " Let us go, dear nurse," she said, " and see the bodies
of the chieftains and the man who has slain them." So she went
down into the hall, and sate down opposite to Odysseus, but she
spake no word, and Odysseus also sat silent. And Telemachus
said to his mother, " Hast thou no welcome for my father who
has borne so many griefs since Zeus took him from his home
twenty long years ago?"
And Penelope said, " My child, I can not speak, for my
heart is as a stone within me; yet if it be indeed Odysseus, there
are secret signs by which we shall know each other." But
when she bade Eurykleia make ready the couch which lay outside
the bridal chamber, Odysseus asked, hastily, " Who has moved
the couch which I wrought with my own hands, when I made
the chamber round the olive tree which stood in the courtyard.^
Scarcely could a mortal man move it, for it was heavy with gold
and ivory and silver, and on it ! spread a bull's hide gleaming
with a purple dye."
Then Penelope wept for joy, as she sprang into his arms;
for now she knew that it was indeed Odysseus who had come
back in the twentieth year. Long time they wept in each
other's arms; but the keen-eyed Athene kept back the bright
and glistening horses of the morning, that the day might not
return too soon.
THE VENGEANCE OF ODYSSEUS. 75 1
Then the fair Eurynome anointed Odysseus, and clothed
him in a royal robe; and Athene brought back all his ancient
beauty as when he went forth in his youth to Ilion. So they
sat together in the light of the blazing torches, and Penelope
heard from Odysseus the story of his griefs and wanderings, and
she told him of her own sorrows, while he was far away in Ilion
avenging the wrongs and woes of Helen. But for all his deep
joy and his calm peace, Odysseus knew that here was not the
place of his rest.
" The time must come," he said, " when I must go to the
land where there is no sea; but the seer who told me of the
things that are to be, said that my last hour should be full of
light, and that I should leave my people happy.
And Penelope said, " Yet we may rejoice, my husband,
that the hateful chiefs are gone who darkened thy house and
devoured thy substance, and that once again I hold thee in my
arms. Twenty years has Zeus grudged me this deep happiness;
but never has my heart swerved from thee, nor could aught stay
thee from coming again to gladden my heart as in the morning
of our life and joy."
^OLOJN.
(636 B. C.)
REJVIEMBFJANCE AFTEF^ DEATH,
Let not a death unwept, unhonor'd, be
The melancholy fate allotted me!
But those who loved me living, when I die
Still fondly keep some cherish'd memory.
75^
LITERATURE.
TF{UE HAPPINE3^.
(By Solon.)
The man that boasts of golden stores,
Of grain, that loads his groaning floors,
Of fields with freshening herbage green.
Where bounding steeds and herds are seen,
I call not happier than the swain,
Whose limbs are sound, whose food is plain,
Whose joys a blooming wife endears.
Whose hours a smiling offspring cheers.
gOPHOCLEg.
Sophocles was born at Athens B. C. 495. His father,
though a poor mechanic, had the discrimination as well as gener-
osity to bestow an excellent education upon his son, whose great
powers began early to unfold themselves, and to attract the
notice of the first citizens of Athens. Before he had attained
his twenty-fifth year he carried off the prize in a dramatic con-
test against his senior, ^^schylus, and his subsequent career cor-
responded to this splendid beginning. He is said to have com-
posed one hundred and twenty tragedies, to have gained the
first prize twenty-four times, and on other occasions to have
ranked second in the Hst of competing poets. So excellent was
his conduct, so majestic his wisdom, so exquisite his poetical
capacities, so rare his skill in all the fine arts, and so uninter-*
rupted his prosperity, that the Greeks regarded him as the pecu-
liar favorite of heaven. He lived in the first city of Greece, and
throughout her best times, commanding an admiration and love
amounting to reverence. He died in extreme old age, without
disease and without suffering, and was mourned with such a sin-
SOPHOCLES. 753
cerity and depth of grief as were manifested at the death of no
other citizen of Athens.
HERODOTUp.
Scarcely more is known of the celebrated historian, Herod-
otus, than of the illustrious poet, Homer. He was born in Asia
Minor about 484 B. C.
After beinir well educated he commenced that course of
patient and observant travel which was to render his name illus-
trious as a philosophic tourist and historian. The shores of the
Hellespont, Scythia, and the Euxine Sea; the Isles of the
^gsean; Syria, Egypt, Palestine, Colchis, the northern parts of
Africa, Ecbatana, and even Babylon were the objects of his
unwearied research. On his return from his travels, after about
twenty years, he settled for some time at Samos, where he wrote
the nine books of his travels in those countries.
The charm of Herodotus' writings consists in the earnest-
ness of a man who describes countries as an eye-witness, and
events as one accustomed to participate in them. The life, the
raciness, the vigor of an adventurer and a wanderer, glow in
every page. He has none of the defining disquisitions that are
born of the closet. He paints history, rather than descants on
it; he throws the colorings of a mind, unconsciously poetic, over
all he describes. Now a soldier— *now a priest — now a patriot —
he is always a poet, if rarely a philosopher. Pie narrates like a
witness, unlike Thucydides, who sums up like a judge. No
writer ever made so beautiful an application of superstitions to
truths. His very credulities have a philosophy of their own;
and modern historians have acted unwisely in disdaining the
occasional repetition even of his fables. For if his truths record
48
754
LITERATURE.
the events — his fables paint the manners and the opinions of the
time; and the last fill up the history, of which events are only
the skeleton.
To account for his frequent use of dialogue, and his dra-
matic effects of narrative, we must remember the tribunal to
which the work of Herodotus was subjected. Every author, un-
consciously to himself, consults the tastes of those he addresses.
No small coteries of scholars, no scrupulous and critical inquirers,
made the ordeal Herodotus underwent. His chronicles were not
dissertations to be coldly pondered over, and skeptically conned;
they were read aloud at solemn festivals to listening thousands;
they were to arrest the curiosity — to amuse the impatience — to
stir the wonder of a lively and motley crowd. Thus the histo-
rian imbibed naturally the spirit of the tale-teller, as he was
driven to embellish his history with the romantic legend — the
awful superstition — the gossipy anecdote — which yet characterize
the stories of the popular and oral fictionist in the bazaars of the
Mussulman, or on the sea-sands of Sicily. Still it has been
rightly said, that a judicious reader is not easily led astra}^ by
Herodotus in important particulars. His descriptions of locali-
ties, of manners and of customs, are singularly correct; and
travelers can yet trace the vestiges of his fidelity.
Few enlightened tourists are there who can visit Egypt,
Greece, and the regions of the East, without being struck by the
accuracy, with the industry, with the patience of Herodotus.
To record all the facts substantiated by travelers, illustrated by
artists, and amplified by learned research, would be almost im-
possible; so abundant, so rich, has this golden mine been found,
that the more its native treasures are explored, the more valu-
able do they appear. The oasis of Siwah, visited by Browne,
Hornemann, Edmonstone, and Minutuoli; the engravings of the
latter, demonstrating the co-identity of the god Ammon and the
god of Thebes; the Egyptain mode of weaving, confirmed by
HERODOTUS. 755
the drawings of Wilkinson and Minutuoli; the fountain of the
sun, visited by Belzoni; one of the stelae or pillars of Sesostris,
seen by Herodotus in Syria, and recognized on the road to Bey-
rout with the hieroglyphic of Remeses still legible; the kneading
of dough, drawn from a sculpture in Thebes, by Wilkinson; the
dress of the lower classes, by the same author; the prodigies of
Egyptian architecture at Edfou; Caillaud's discovery of Meroe
in the depths of Ethiopia; these, and a host of brilliant evi-
dences, center their once divergent rays in one flood of light
upon the temple of genius reared by Herodotus, and display the
goddess of Truth enshrined within.
The following are the main subjects of his nine books, which
were named after the nine muses : —
Book I. Clio. — Transfer of the Lydian Kingdom from
Gyges to Croesus — minority of Cyrus — his overthrow of the
Lydian power — rising greatness of Athens and Lacedaemon.
Book II. Euterpe. — Dissertation on Egypt — Egyptian cus-
toms, and the regal succession of that Empire.
Book III. Thalia. — Achievements of Cambyses — his total
subjugation of Egypt — election of Darius Hystaspes to the Per-
sian throne, then vacant by the assassination of Smerdis, the im-
postor.
Book IV. Melpomene. — Full narrative of the calamitous
expeditions of the Persians against the Scythians in the reign of
Darius Hystaspes.
Book V. Terpsichore. — The political progress of Lace-
daemon, Athens and Corinth — view of their relative resources
during the time of Darius — expulsion of Hippias from Athens.
Book VI. Erate. — Origin of the Kings of Lacedaemon —
causes of Darius' hostility to Greece — first Persian invasion of
Hellas — battle of Marathon.
Book VII. Polyhymnia. — Preparations and grand expedi-
tion of Xerxes into Greece — battle at Thermopylae.
756 LITERATURE.
Book VIII. Urania. — Further progress of the Persian
arms — Athens captured and burned — defeat of the Persians at
the sea-fight of Salaniis.
Book IX. Calliope. — Defeat of the Persians at Plataea —
defeat at the promontory of Mycale, and their complete retreat
within their own territories.
TH£ CROCODILE.
{By Herodotus.)
The following are the peculiarities of the crocodile : During
the winter months they eat nothing; they are four-footed, and
live indifferently on land or in the water. The female lays and
hatches her eggs ashore, passing the greater portion of the da}'^
on dry land, but at night retiring to the river, the water of
which is warmer than the night-air and the dew. Of all known
animals this is the one which from the smallest size grows to be
the greatest, for the egg of the crocodile is but little bigger than
that of the goose, and the young crocodile is in proportion to the
egg, yet when it is full grown, the animal measures frequently
seventeen cubits, and even more. It has the eyes of a pig, teeth
large and tusk-like, of a size proportioned to its frame; unlike
any other animal, it is without a tongue; it can not move its
under-jaw, and in this respect, too, it is singular, being the only
animal in the world which moves the upper-jaw but not the
under. It has strong claws and a scaly skin, impenetrable upon
the back. In the water it is blind, but on land it is very keen of
sight. As it lives chiefly in the river, it has the inside of its
mouth constantly covered with leeches, hence it happens that, while
all the other birds and beasts avoid'it, with the trochilus it lives at
peace, since it owes much to that bird, for the crocodile, when
he leaves the water and comes out upon the land, is in the habit
THE CROCODILE. 757
of lying with his mouth wide open, facing the western breeze;
at such times the trochilus goes into his mouth and devours the
leeches. This benefits the crocodile, who is pleased, and takes
care not to hurt the trochilus.
The crocodile is esteemed sacred by some of the Egyptians,
by others he is treated as an enemy. Those who live near
Thebes, and those who dwell around Lake Mceris, regard them
with especial veneration. In each of these places they keep
one crocodile in particular, who is taught to be tame and tract-
able. They adorn his ears with ear-rings of molten stone or
gold, and put bracelets on his fore-paws, giving him daily a set
portion of bread, with a certain number of victims; and, after
having thus treated him with the greatest possible attention while
alive, they embalm him when he dies and bury him in a sacred
repository. The people of Elephantine, on the other hand, are
so far from considering these animals as sacred that they even eat
their flesh.
The modes of catching the crocodile are many and various.
I shall only describe the one which seems to me most worthy of
mention. They bait a hook with a chine of pork and let the
meat be carried out into the middle of the stream, while the
hunter upon the bank holds a living pig, which he belabors. The
crocodile hears its cries and, making for the sound, encounters
the pork, which he instantly swallows down. The men on the
shore haul, and when they have got him to land, the first thing
the hunter does is to plaster his eyes with mud. This once ac-
complished, the animal is dispatched with ease, otherwise he
gives great trouble.
ygS LITERATURE.
(5y Herodotus.)
The Other Persians were silent, for all feared to raise their
voice against the plan proposed to them. But Artabanus, the
son of Hystaspes, and uncle of Xerxes, trusting to his relation-
ship, was bold to speak: " O King," he said, " it is impossible,
if no more than one opinion is uttered, to make choice of the
best; a man is forced then to follow whatever advice may have
been given him, but if opposite speeches are delivered, then
choice can be exercised. In like manner pure gold is not recog-
nized by itself, but when we test it along with baser ore, we per-
ceive which is the better. I counseled thy father, Darius, who
was my own brother, not to attack the Sc3'ths, a race of people
who had no town in their own land. He thought, however, to
subdue those wandering tribes, and would not listen to me, but
marched an army against them, and ere he returned home lost
many of his bravest warriors. Thou art about, O King, to at-
tack a people far superior to the Scyths, a people distinguished
above others both by land and sea. 'Tis fit, therefore, that I
should tell thee what danger thou incurrest hereby. Thou sayest
that thou wilt bridge the Hellespont, and lead thy troops through
Europe against Greece.
" Now, suppose some disaster befall thee by land or sea, or
by both. It may be even so, for the men are reputed valiant.
Indeed one may measure their prowess from what they have
already done; for when Datis and Artaphernes led their huge
army against Attica, the Athenians singl}- defeated them. But
grant they are not successful on both elements. Still, if they
man their ships, and, defeating us by sea, sail to the Hellespont,
and there destroy our bridge — that, sire, were a fearful hazard.
And here 'tis not by my own mother wit alone that I conjecture
ARTABANUS DISSUADES XERXES. 759
what will happen, but I remember how narrowly we escaped
disaster once, when thy father, alter throwing bridges over the
Thracian Bosphorus and the Ister, marched against the Scythi-
ans, and they tried every sort of prayer to induce the lonians,
who had charge of the bridge over the Ister, to break the pas-
sage. On that day, if Histiaeus, the King of Miletus, had sided
with the other princes, and not set himself to oppose their views,
the empire of the Persians would have come to naught. Surely
a dreadful thing is this even to hear Caid, that the King's fortunes
depended wholl}^ on one man.
" Think, then, no more of incurring so great a danger when
no need presses, but follow the advice I tender. Break up this
meeting, and when thou hast well considered the matter with
thyself, and settled what thou wilt do, declare to us thy resolve.
I know not of aught in the world that so profits a man as taking
good counsel with himself; for even if things fall out against one's
hopes, still one has counseled well, though fortune has made the
counsel of no effect: whereas, if a man counsels ill and luck
follows, he has gotten a windfall, but his counsel is none the less
silly. Seest thou how God with His lightning smites alway the
bigger animals, and will not suffer them to wax insolent, while
those of lesser bulk chafe Him not? How Hkewise His bolts fall
ever on the highest houses and the tallest trees.? So plainly does
He love to bring down everything that exalts itself Thus oft-
times a mighty host is discomfitted by a few men, when God in
His jealousy sends fear or storm from heaven, and they perish in
a way unworthy of them. For God allows no one to have high
thoughts but Himself Again, hurry always brings about disas-
ters, from which huge sufferings are wont to arise; but in delay
lie many advantages, not apparent (it may be) at first sight, but
such as in the course of time are seen of all. Such, then, is my
counsel to thee, O King.
" And thou, Mardonius, son of Gobryas, forbear to speak
760 LITERATURE.
foolishly concerning the Greeks, who are men that ought not to
be lightly esteemed by us. For while thou revilest the Greeks,
thou dost encourage the King to lead his own troops against
them; and this, as it seems to me, is what thou art specially
striving to accomplish. Heaven send thou succeed not to thy
wish! For slander is of all evils the most terrible. In it two
men do wrong, and one man has wrong done to him. The
slanderer does wrong, forasmuch as he abuses a man behind his
back; and the hearer, forasmuch as he believes what he has not
searched into thoroughly. The man slandered in his absence
suffers wrong at the hands of both; for one brings against him a
false charge, and the other thinks him an evil-doer. If, however,
it must needs be that we go to war with this people, at least
allow the King to abide at home in Persia. Then let thee and
me both stake our children on the issue, and do thou choose out
thy men, and taking with thee whatever number of troops thou
likest, lead forth our armies to battle. If things go well for the
King, as thou sayest they will, let me and my children be put to
death; but if they fall out as I prophesy, let thy children suffer,
and thou, too, if thou shalt come back alive. But shouldst thou re-
fuse this wager, and still resolv^e to march an army against Greece,
sure I am that some of those whom thou leavest behind thee
will one day receive the sad tidings that Mardonius has bi ought
a great disaster upon the Persian people, and hes a prey to dogs
and birds somewhere in the land of the Athenians, or else in that
of the Lacedaemonians; unless, indeed, thou shalt have perished
sooner by the way, experiencing in thy own person the might of
those men on whom thou wouldst fain induce the Kins" to make
war."
SOCRATES. 761
Socrates was born at Athens about the middle or latter part
of April, 469 B. C. He commanded more admiration and
reverence than any other individual of ancient or modern times.
By his ability and purity he emerged from a barbaric sophistry
into the purest form of religion that was ever invented by man;
it was nearer like that of Christ than was ever reached by mor-
tal before. The object of his entire philosophy was the attain-
ment of correct ideas concerning moral and religious obliga-
tions.
Although Socrates was the son of a sculptor of limited
means, he was educated according to the manner of the times.
Music and poetry and gymnastic exercises formed the principal
part of the education of an Athenian youth, and in these Socrates
was instructed.
Through the influence of Crito, a wealthy Athenian who
subsequently became an intimate friend and disciple of our phi-
losopher, he was induced to rise into a higher sphere. He then
began the study of physics, mathematics, astronomy, natural phi-
losophy, etc.
Socrates, however, was unable to obtain any satisfactory
knowledge from the philosophers and teachers of his time.
Dissatisfied with the pretended wisdom of the Cosmologists and
Sophists he entirely abandoned all speculative subjects and de-
voted his entire attention to human affairs, and his earnestness as
a social reformer brought upon him increasing odium from the
*' Conservatives " of the day, as well as from that still larger
class whose feelino^s of malice and reveno^e towards those who
expose their follies and their vices, their wicked private customs
and public institutions, can never be appeased but with the death
762
LITERATURE.
of their victim. Accordingly, prejudice, unpopularity and hate
finally prevailed, and two charges were brought against him, one
of not believing in the national deities, and the other of corrupt-
ing the youth. That he did not believe in the idols that most
SOCRATES. 763
of his contemporaries worshiped, is true; but that he corrupted
the youth was as absurd as false, for all his teachings tended ever
to purify them, and lead them in the paths of virtue and truth.
He defended himself, and his defense is a perfect whole, neither
more nor less than what it ought to have been. Proudly con-
scious of his innocence, he sought not to move the pity of his
judges, for he cared not for acquittal, and " exhibited that union
of humility and high-mindedness which is observable in none,
perhaps, with the exception of St. Paul." His speech availed
not, and he was condemned to drink the hemlock. He continued
in prison thirty days before the sentence was executed, and to
this interval we are indebted for that sublime conversation on
the immortality of the soul which Plato has embodied in his
Phaedo.
At length the fatal day arrived, when he had reached his
full three score 3^ears and ten. Refusing all means of escape to
which his friends continually and importunely urged him, he took
the poisoned cup from the hands of the boy who brought it to
him in his prison-chamber, drank it off calmly amid the tears and
sobs of surrounding friends, walked about till the draught had
begun to take effect upon his system, and then laid himself down
upon his bed, and soon breathed his last. Such was the life and
such the death of this great man. It has been felt as the
greatest of all human examples, not only by his own country-
men, but by the whole civilized world.
gOCRATEg AND ARI^TODEjVlup.
{By Socrates.)
We will now relate the manner in which Socrates discoursed
with Aristodemus, surnamed the Little, concerning the Deity.
For, observing that he neither prayed nor sacrificed to the gods.
y64 LITERATURE.
nor yet consulted any oracle, but, on the contrary, ridiculed and
lauffhed at those who did, he said to him:
" Tell me, Aristodemus, is there any man whom you admire
on account of his merit?*"
Aristodemus having answered, " Many^ — " Name some
of them, I pray you."
"I admire," said Aristodemus, " Homer for his epic poetry,
Melanippides for his dithyrambics, Sophocles for tragedy, Poly-
cletes for statuary, and Xeuxis for painting."
" But which seems to you most worthy of admiration, Aris-
todemus— the artist who forms images void of motion and intel-
ligence, or one who hath the skill to produce animals that are
endued, not only with activity, but understanding."
" The latter^ there can be no doubt," replied Aristodemus,
" provided the production was not the effect of chance^ but of
wisdom and contrivance."
" But since there are many things, some of which we can
easily see the use of, while we can not say of others to what pur-
pose they were produced, which of these, Aristodemus, do you
suppose the work of wisdom?"
" It should seem the most reasonable to affirm it of those
whose fitness and utility is so evidently apparent."
" But it is evidently apparent, that He, who at the begin-
ning made man, endued him with senses because they were good
for him; eyes, wherewith to behold whatever was visible; and
ears, to hear whatever was to be heard. For say, Aristodemus,
to what purpose should odors be prepared, if the sense of smell-
ing had been denied? Or why the distinctions of bitter and
sweet, of savory and unsavory, unless a palate had been likewise
given, conveniently placed, to arbitrate between them, and de-
clare the difference? Is not that Providence, Aristodemus, in<a
most eminent manner conspicuous, which, because the eye of
man is so delicate in its contexture, hath therefore prepared eye-
SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 765
lids like doors, whereby to secure it ; which extend of themselves
whenever it is needful, and again close when sleep approaches?
Are not these eyelids provided, as it were, with a fence on the
edge of them, to keep off the wind and guard the eye? Even
the eyebrow itself is not without office, but, as a penthouse, is
prepared to turn off the sweat, which, falling from the forehead,
might enter and annoy that no less tender than astonishing part
of us! Is it not to be admired that the ears should take in
sounds of every sort, and yet are not too much filled by them?
That the fore-teeth of the animal should be formed in such a
manner as evidently best suited for the cutting of its food, and
those on the side for grinding it in pieces? That the mouth,
through which this food is conveyed, should be placed so near
the nose and the eyes, as to prevent the passing, unnoticed^ what-
ever is unfit for nourishment; while Nature, on the contrary,
hath set at a distance, and concealed from the senses, all that
might disgust them? And canst thou still doubt, Aristodemus!
whether a disposition of parts like this should be the work of
chance, or of wisdom and contrivance?'''
" I have no longer any doubt," replied Aristodemus; " and,
indeed, the more I consider it, the more evident it appears to me,
that man must be the masterpiece of some great Artificer, carry-
ing along with it infinite marks of love and favor of Him who
hath thus formed it."
" And what thinkest thou, Aristodemus, of that desire in
the individual which leads to the continuance of the species ? Of
that tenderness and aftection in the female towards her young, so
necessary for its preservation? Of that unremitted love of life,
and dread of dissolution, which take such strong possession of us
from the moment we begin to be?"
" I think of them," answered Aristodemus, " as so many
regular operations of the same great and wise Artist, deliberately
'determining X.o -preserve what He hath once made."
"^66 LITERATURE.
" But, farther (unless thou desirest to ask me questions), see-
ing, Aristodemus, thou thyself art conscious of reason and intel-
ligence, supposest thou there is no intelligence elsewhere? Thou
knowest thy body to be a small part of that wide-extended earth
which thou everywhere beholdest; the moisture contained in it,
thou also knowest to be a small portion of that mighty mass of
waters whereof seas themselves are but a part, while the rest of
the elements contribute, out of their abundance, to thy formation.
It is the soul, then, alone, that intellectual part of us, which is
come to ^kee by some lucky chance, from I know not where. If
so be, there is indeed no intelligence elsewhere; and we must be
forced to confess, that this stupendous universe, with all the vari-
ous bodies contained therein — equally amazing, whether we con-
sider their magnitude or number, whatever their use, whatever
their order — all have been produced, not by intelligence^ but
chancer''
"It is with difficulty that I can suppose otherwise," returned
Aristodemus, " for I behold none of those gods, whom you speak
of as making and governing all things, whereas I see the artists
when at their work here among us."
" Neither yet seest thou thy soul, Aristodemus, which, how-
ever, most assuredly governs thy body; although it may well
seem, by thy manner of talking, that it is chance, and not reason,
which governs thee."
"I do not despise the gods," said Aristodemus; " on the'
contrary, I conceive so highly of their excellence, as to suppose
they stand in no need of either me or of my services."
" Thou mistakest the matter, Aristodemus; the greater mag-
nificence they have shown in their care of thee, so much the more
honor and service thou owest them."
" Be assured," said Aristodemus, " if I once could be per-
suaded the gods took care of man, I should want no monitor to
remind me of my duty."
SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 767
" And canst thou doubt, Aristodemus, if the gods take care
of man? Hath not the glorious privilege of walking upright
been alo?ie bestowed on him, whereby he may, with the better
advantage, survey what is around him, contemplate, with more
ease, those splendid objects which are above, and avoid the
numerous ills and inconveniences which would otherwise befall
him? Other animals, indeed, they have provided with feet, by
which they may remove from one place to another; but to man
they have also given hands ^ with which he can form many things
for his use, and make himself happier than creatures of any
other kind. A tongue hath been bestowed on every other ani-
mal, but what animal, except man, hath the power of forming
words with it, whereby to explain his thoughts, and make them
intelligible to others? And to show that the orods have had re-
gard to his very -pleasures^ they have not limited them, like those
of other animals, to times and seasons, but man is left to indulge
in them whenever not hurtful to him.
"But it is not with respect to the body alone that the gods
have shown themselves thus bountiful to man! Their most ex-
cellent gift is that soul they have infused into him, which so far
surpasses what is elsewhere to be found. For, by what animal,
except man, is even the existence of those gods discovered, who
have -produced^ and still u-phold^ in such regular order, this beau-
tiful and stupendous frame of the universe ? What other species
of creatures are to be found that can serve, that can adore them?
What other animal is able, like man, to provide against the as-
saults of heat and cold, of thirst and hunger? That can lay up
remedies for the time of sickness and improve the strength
nature hath given by a well-proportioned exercise? That can
receive, like him, information and instruction, or so happily keep
in memory what he hath seen, and heard, and learnt? These
things being so, who seeth not that man is, as it were, a god in
the midst of this visible creation ; so far doth he surpass, whether
768 LITERATURE.
in the endowments of soul or boch', all animals whatsoever that
have been produced therein! For, if the body of the ox had been
joined to the mind of iiian^ the acuteness of the latter would
have stood him in small stead, while unable to execute the well-
designed plan ; nor would the human form have been of more use
to the brute, so long as it remained destitute of understanding!
But in thee, Aristodemus, hath been joined to a wonderful soul^
a body no less wonderful, and sayest thou, after ihis^ 'the gods
take no thought for me!' What wouldst thou, then, more to con-
vince thee of their care?"
" I would they should send, and inform me," said Aristod-
emus, " what things I ought of ou^ht not to do in like manner
as thou sayest they frequently do to thee."
"And what then, Aristodemus! Supposest thou, that when
the gods give out some oracle to all the Athenians, they mean
it not for thee? If, by their prodigies, they declare aloud to all
Greece — to all mankind — the things which shall befall them, are
they dumb to thee alone? And art thou the only person whom
they have placed beyond their care? Believest thou they would
have wrought into the mind of man a persuasion of their being
able to make him happy or miserable, if so be they had no such
-poiuerf or would not even man himself, long ere this, have seen
through the gross delusion? How is it, Aristodemus, thou re-
memberest, or remarkest not, that the kingdoms and common-
wealths most renowned as well for their wisdom as antiquity,
are those whose piety and devotion hath been the most observ-
able? And why thinkest thou that the providence of God may
not easily extend itself throughout the whole universe? As,
therefore, among men, we make best trial of the affection and
gratitude of our neighbor, by showing him kindness, and dis-
cover his wisdom, by consulting him in our distress; do thou, in
like manner, behave towards the gods, and, if thou wouldst ex-
perience what their wisdom, and what their love, render thyself
SOCRATES AND ARISTODEMUS. 769
deserving the communication of some of tliose divine secrets
which may not be perpetrated by man, and are imparted to those
alone who consult, who adore, who obey the Deity. Then shalt
thou, my Aristodemus, understand there is a Being whose eye
pierceth throughout all nature, and whose ear is open to every
sound; expended to all places; expending- through all time, and
whose bounty and care can know no other bounds than those
fixed by his own creation!"
By this discourse, and others of the like nature, Socrates
taught his friends that they were not only to forbear whatever
was impious, unjust, or unbecoming before men,' but even, when
alone, they ought to have a regard to their actions; since the
gods have their eyes continually upon. us, and none of our de-
signs can be concealed from them.
EURIPIDE^.
Euripides flourished about 450 B. C. ; was born 480 B. C.
He spent his youth in the highest mental and physical training.
He was a native of Athens, and enjoyed the most glorious days
of her annals, being brought in direct connection with yEschylus
and Sophocles, and in his older da3^s was a pupil of Socrates.
In comparing Euripides and the other two masters in Gre-
cian tragedy, it may be said that he ranks first in tragic represent-
ation and effect; Sophocles first in dramatic symmetry and orna-
ment; ^Eschylus first in poetic vigor and grandeur. -i^sch3'lus
was the most sublime; ^Sophocles the most beautiful; Euripides
the most pathetic. The first displays the lofty intellect; the
second exercises the cultivated taste; the third indulges the feel-
ing heart. Each, as it were, shows a fine piece of sculpture.
In ^schylus, it is a naked hero, with all the strength, boldness,
49
770
LITERATURE.
and dignity of olden time. In Sophocles and Euripides, it may
be perhaps the same hero; but with the former, he has put on
the flowing robes, the elegant address-, and the soft urbanity of a
polished age; with the latter, he is yielding to some melancholy
emotion, ever heedless of his posture or gait, and casting his
unvalued drapery negligently about him. They have been com-
pared by an illustration from another art: " The sublime and
daring ^schylus resembles some strong and impregnable castle
situated on a rock, whose martial grandeur awes the beholder —
its battlements defended by heroes, and its gates proudly hung
with trophies. Sophocles appears with splendid dignity, like
some imperial palace of richest architecture; the symmetry of
the parts and the chaste magnificence of the whole delight the
eye and command the approbation of the judgment. The
pathetic and moral Euripides has the solemnity of a Gothic
temple, whose storied windows admit a dim religious light,
enough to show its high embowed roof, and the monuments of
the dead which rise in every part, impressing our minds with
pity and terror as emblems of the uncertain and short duration of
human greatness, and with an awful sense of our own mortality.
ARI^TOPHA|SE^.
Very little is known about the life of Aristophanes. He
was born about 444 B. C, and devoted himself to comic poetry.
He wrote fifty-four plays, of which eleven are extant.
The comedies of Aristophanes are universally regarded as
the standard of Attic writing in its greatest purity. His genius
was vast, versatile, and original, and his knowledge of human
nature surpassed by Homer and Shakspeare alone.
The noble tone of morals, the elevated taste, the sound
ARISTOPHANES. 77 1
political wisdom, the boldness and acuteness of the satire, the
grand object, which is seen throughout, of correcting the follies
of the day, and improving the condition of his country — all these
are features in Aristophanes, which, however disguised, as they
intentionally are, by coarseness and buffoonery, entitle him to the
highest respect from every reader of antiquity. He conde-
scended, indeed, to play the part of jester to the Athenian tyrant.'
But his jests were the vehicles for telling to them the soundest
truths. They were never without a far higher aim than to raise
a momentary laugh. He was no farce writer, but a deep philo-
sophical politician; grieved and ashamed at the condition of his
country, and through the stage, the favorite amusement of
Athenians, aiding to carry on the one great common work,
which Plato proposed in his dialogues, and in which all the bet-
ter and nobler spirits of the time seem to have concurred as by
a confederacy — the reformation of an atrocious democracy.
There is as much system in the comedies of Aristophanes as in
the dialogues of Plato. Every part of a vitiated public mind is
exposed in its turn. Its demagogues in the Knights, its courts
of justice in the Wasps, its foreign policy in the Acharnians, its
tyranny over the allies in the Birds, the state of female society
in the Sysistrate and the Ecclesiazusse, and its corrupt poetical
taste in the Frogs. No one play is without its definite object;
and the state of national education, as the greatest cause of all,
is laid open in the Clouds. Whatever light is thrown, by that
admirable play, upon the character of Socrates, and the position
which he occupies in the Platonic Dialogues — a point, it may be
remarked, on which the greatest mistakes are daily made — it is
chiefly valuable as exhibiting, in a short but very complete anal-
ysis, and by a number of fine Rembrandt-like strokes, not any
of which must be overlooked, all the features of that frightful
school of sophistry, which at that time was engaged systemati-
cally in corrupting the Athenian youth, and against which the
whole battery of Plato was pointedly directed.
772 LITERATURE.
PLATO.
Plato was born in the year 429 B. C, and died when he
was eighty-two years old, on his birthday. He was a pupil of
Socrates, the first and purest of moral philosophers. By the rare
union of a brilliant imagination with a fondness for severe
mathematical studies and profound metaphysical investigations;
by extensive foreign travel ; by familiar intercourse with the most
enlightened men of his time, particularly Socrates, whose in-
structive conversations he attended for eight years, as well as by
the correspondence which he maintained with the Pythagoreans
of Magna Grsecia, this great philosopher came to surpass all
others in the vastness and profoundness of his views, and in the
correctness and eloquence with which he expressed them; while
his pure moral character entitled him to take his place by the
side of Socrates. Socrates once said, " For what higher reward
could a teacher ask than to have such pupils as Xenophon and
Plato.?"
The object of Plato was evidently the noble one of placing
before man a high intellectual, and consequently, by implication,
a high moral standard as the end and object of his aspirations;
to encourage his efforts after the true, the pure, the beautiful,
and the virtuous, knowing that the character would be purified
in the endeavor, and that the consciousness of the progress made,
step by step, would be of itself a reward. The object of science
was, as he taught, the true, the eternal, the immutable, that
which is; in one alone could these attributes be found united —
that is God. Man's duty, then, according to the Platonic sys-
tem is to know God and His attributes, and to aim at being under
the practical influence of this knowledge. This the Christian is
taught, but much more simply and plainly, to know God, and
PLATO. 773
Jesus Christ whom He hath sent, and to propose to himself a
perfect standard, to be perfect even as his Father in heaven is
perfect, and to look forward, by that help which Plato had no
warrant to look for, to attain the perfect measure of the fulness
of Christ. Although Plato believed and taught that man ought
to strive after and devote himself to the contemplation of the
One, the Eternal, the Infinite, he was humbly conscious that no
one could attain to the perfection of such knowledge; that it is
too wonderful and excellent for human powers. Man's incapacity
for apprehending this knowledge he attributed to the soul, during
his present state of existence, being cramped and confined by its
earthly tabernacle.
Plato defined virtue to be the imitation of God, or the free
effort of man to attain to a resemblance to his original, or, in
other terms, a unison and harmony of all our principles and
actions according to reason, whence results the highest degree
of happiness. Evil is opposed to this harmony as a disease of
the soul. Virtue is one^ indeed, but compounded of four ele-
ments— wisdom^ coura^e^ temperance^ and justice. In his prac-
tical philosophy he blended a rigid principle of moral obligation
with a spirit of gentleness and humanity; and education he de-
scribed as a liberal cultivation and moral discipHne of the mind.
Politics he defined to be the application, on a great scale, of the
laws of morality; for a society, being composed of individuals, is
under similar moral obligations, and the end of politics to be
liberty and concord. Beauty he considered to be. the sensible
representation of moral and physical perfection; consequent!}' it
is one with truth and goodness, and inspires love, which leads to
virtue.
Would that many so-called Christian legislators and Chris-
tian people would go to this " heathen " philosopher and learn of
him — learn that to do right is always and ever the highest
safety, the highest expediency, the highest " conservatism," the
highest good! ^^i^-j^^-^^^
.ftjari7BESIT7l
774
LITERATURE.
How beautifully Akenside expresses this: —
" Thus was beauty sent from heaven,
The lovely ministress of truth and good,
In this dark world: for truth and good are onb.
And beauty dwells in them, and they in her.
With like participation. Wherefore, then,
O sons of earth! would ye dissolve the tie?
O wherefore, with a rash, impetuous aim,
Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand
Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene
Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire
Where is the sanction of eternal truth.
Or where the seal of undeceitful good,
To save your search from folly! wanting these,
Lo! beauty withers in your void embrace.
And with the glittering of an idiot's toy
Did fancy mock your vows."
THE PEF(FECT BEAUTY.
iBy Plato.)
" He who aspires to love rightly, ought from his earliest
youth to seek an intercourse with beautiful forms, and first to
make a single form the object of his love, and therein to gene-
rate intellectual excellencies. He ought, then, to consider that
beauty in whatever form it resides is the brother of that beauty
which subsists in another form; and if he ought to pursue that
which is beautiful in form, it would be absurd to imagine that
beauty is not one and the same thing in all forms, and would
therefore remit much of his ardent preference towards one,
through his perception of the multitude of claims upon his love.
In addition, he would consider the beauty which is in souls more
excellent than that which is in form. So that one endowed with
an admirable soul, even though the flower of the form were
THE PERFECT BEAUTY.
775
withered, would suffice him as the object of his love and care,
and the companion with whom he might seek and produce such
conclusions as tend to the improvement of youth; so that it
might be led to observe the beauty ^ind the conformity which
there is in the observation of its duties and the laws, and to es-
teem I'lttle the mere beauty of the outward form. He would
then conduct his pupil to science, so that he might look upon the
PROM ANCIENT SCULPTURING.
loveliness of wisdom; and that contemplating thus the universal
beauty, no longer would he unworthily and meanly enslave him-
self to the attractions of one form in love, nor one subject of
discipline or science, but would turn towards the wide ocean of
intellectual beaut}', and from the sight of the lovely and majestic
forms which it contains, would abundantly bring forth his con-
776 LITERATURE.
ceptions in philosophy; until, strengthened and confirmed, he
should at length steadily contemplate one science which is the
science of this universal beauty.
" Attempt, I entreat you, to mark what I say with as keen
an observation as you can. He who has been disciplined to this
point in love, b}' contemplating beautiful objects gradually, and
in their order, now arriving at the end of all that concerns love,
on a sudden beholds a beauty wonderful in its nature. This is it,
O Socrates, for the sake of which all the former labors were en-
dured. It is eternal, unproduced, indestructible; neither subject
to increase nor decay; not, like other things, partly beautiful and
partly deformed; not at one time beautiful and at another time
not; not beautiful in relation to one thing and deformed in rela-
tion to another; not here beautiful and there deformed; not beau-
tiful in the estimation of one person and deformed in that of
another; nor can this supreme beaut}' be figured to the imagina-
tion like a beautiful face, or beautiful hands, or any portion of
the body, nor like any discourse, nor any science. Nor does it
subsist in any other that lives or is, either in earth, or in heaven,
or in any other place; but it is eternally uniform and consistent,
and monoeidic with itself. All other things are beautiful
through a participation of it, with this condition, that although
they are subject to production and deca}', it never becomes more
or less, or endures any change. When any one, ascending from
a correct system of love, begins to contemplate this supreme
beauty, he already touches the consummation of his labor. For
such as discipline themselves upon this system, or are conducted
by another beginning to ascend through these transitory objects
which are beautiful, towards that which is beauty itself, pro-
ceeding as on steps from the love of one form to that of two,
and from that of two, to that of all forms which are beautiful;
and from beautiful forms to beautiful habits and institutions,
and from institutions to beautiful doctrines: until, from the
THE PERFECT BEAUTY.
777
meditation of many doctrines, they arrive at that which is
nothing else than the doctrine of the supreme beauty itself,
in the knowledge and contemplation of which at length they re-
pose.
" Such a life as this, my dear Socrates," exclaimed the
stranger Prophetess, " spent in the contemplation of the beauti-
ful, is the life for men to live; which, if you chance ever to
experience, you will esteem far beyond gold and rich garments,
and even those lovely persons whom 3^ou and many others now
gaze on with astonishment, and are prepared neither to eat nor
drink so that you may behold and live forever with these objects
of your love! What, then, shall we imagine to be the aspect of
the supreme beauty itself, simple, pure, uncontaminated with the
intermixture of human flesh and colors, and all other idle and
unreal shapes attendant on mortality; the divine, the original,
the supreme, the monoeidic beautiful itself ? What must be the
life of him who dwells with and, gazes on that which it becomes
us all to seek? Think you not that to him alone is accorded the
prerogative of bringing forth, not images and shadows of virtue,
for he is in contact not with a shadow but with reality; with
virtue itself, in the production and nourishment of which he
becomes dear to the gods, and if such a privilege is conceded to
any human being, himself immortal? " — From the Banquet^
translated by the poet Shelley.
THE LA^T HOUF(g Of gOCF(ATE^.
(JSy Plato.)
" When the dead arrive at the place to which their demon
leads them severally, first of all they are judged, as well those
who have lived well and piously, as those who have not. And
those who appear to have passed a middle kind of life, proceed-
778 LITERATURE.
ing to Acheron, and embarking in the vessels they have, on these
arrive at the lake, and there dwell, and when they are purified,
and have suffered punishment for the iniquities they may have
committed, the}'' are set free, and each receives the reward of
his good deeds, according to his deserts; but those who appear
to be incurable, through the magnitude of their offences, either
from having committed many and great sacrileges, or many
unjust and lawless murders, or other similar crimes, these a suit-
able destiny hurls into Tartarus, whence they never come forth.
But those who appear to have been guilty of curable, 3'et great
offences, such as those who through anger have committed any
violence against father or mother, and have lived the remainder
of their life in a state of penitence, or they who have become
homicides in a similar manner, these must fall into Tartarus, but
after they have fallen, and have been there for a year, the wave
casts them forth, the homicides into Cocytus, but the parricides
and matricides into P3^riphlegethon ; but when, being borne along,
they arrive at the Acherusian lake, there they cry out to and
invoke, some those whom they slew, others those whom they
injured, and invoking them, they entreat and implore them to
suffer them to go out into the lake, and to receive them, and if
they persuade them, they go out, and are freed from their suffer-
ings, but if not, they are borne back to Tartarus, and thence
again into the rivers, and they do not cease from suffering this
until they have persuaded those whom they have injured; for
this sentence was imposed upon them by the judges. But those
who are found to have lived an eminently holy life, these are
they, who, being freed and set at large from these regions in the
earth, as from prison, arrive at the pure abode above, and dwell
on the upper parts of the earth. And among these, they who
have sufficiently purified themselves by philosophy shall live
without bodies, throughout all future time, and shall arrive at
habitations yet more beautiful than these, which it is neither easy
to describe, nor at present is there sufficient time for the purpose.
THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 779
" But for the sake of these things which we have described,
we should use every endeavor, Simmias, so as to acquire virtue
and wisdom in this Hfe; for the reward is noble, and the hope
great.
" To affirm positive 1}^, indeed, that these things are exactly
as I have described them, does not become a man of sense; that
however either this, or something of the kind, takes place with
respect to our souls and their habitations — since our soul is cer-
tainly immortal — this appears to me most fitting to be believed,
and worthy the hazard for one who trusts in its reality; for the
hazard is noble, and it is right to allure ourselves with such
things, as with enchantments ; for which reason I have prolonged
my story to such a length. On account of these things, then, a
man ought to be confident about his soul, who during this life
has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the body as
foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do
more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the
acquirement of knowledge, and who having adorned his soul
not with a foreign but its own proper ornament, temperance,
justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth, thus waits for his passage
to Hades, as one who is ready to depart whenever destin}^ shall
summon him. You then," he continued, " Simmias and Cebes,
and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time; but
now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it
is nearly time for me to betake myself to the bath ; for it appears
to me to be better to drink the poison after I have bathed my-
self, and not to trouble the women with washing my dead body."
When he had thus spoken, Crito said, " So be it, Socrates;
but what commands have you to give to these or to me, either
respecting your children, or any other matter, in attending to
which we can most oblige you?"
"What I always say, Crito," he replied, "nothing new;
that by taking care of yourselves you will oblige both me and
y8o LITERATURE.
mine and yourselves, whatever you do, though you should not
now promise it; but if you neglect yourselves, and will not live
as it were in the footprints of what has been now and formerly
said, even though you should promise much at present, and that
earnestly, you will do no good at all."
" We will endeavor then so to do," he said; "but how shall
we bury you?"
"Just as you please," he said, " if only you can catch me,
and I do not escape from you." And at the same time smiling
gently, and looking round on us, he said, "I can not persuade
Crito, my friends, that I am that Socrates who is now conversing
with you, and who methodizes each part of the discourse; but
he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly behold dead, and
asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time since
argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no
longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state
of the blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though
I meant at the same time to console both you and myself. Be
ye, then, my sureties to Crito," he said, " in an obligation con-
trary to that which he made to the judges; for he undertook
that I should remain; but do you be sureties that, when I die, I
shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may more easily
bear it, and when he sees my body either burned or buried, may
not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered some dreadful thing, nor
say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out,
or is buried. For be well assured," he said, " most excellent
Crito, that to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the
thing itself, but likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You
must have a good courage, then, and say that you bury my body,
and bury it in such a manner as is pleasing to you, and as you
think is most agreeable to our laws."
When he had said this, he rose, and went into a chamber
to bathe, and Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for
THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 781
him. We waited, therefore, conversing among ourselves about
what had been said, and considering it again, and sometimes
speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, sin-
cerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we
should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had
bathed, and his children were brought to him, for he had two
little sons and one grown up, and the women belonging to his
family were come, having conversed with them in the presence
of Crito, and giving them such injunctions as he wished, he
directed the women and children to go away, and then returned
to us. And it was now near sunset; for he spent a considerable
time within. But when he came from bathing he sat down, and
did not speak much afterwards. Then the officer of the Eleven
came in, and, standing near him, said, " Socrates, I shall not
have to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they
are angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons,
I bid them drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions
during the time you have been here, I have found to be the most
noble, meek, and excellent man of all that ever came into this
place; and, therefore, I am now well convinced that you will not
be angry with me, for you know who are to blame, but with
them. Now, then, for you know what I came to announce to
you, farewell, and endeavor to bear what is inevitable as easily
as possible." And at the same time, bursting into tears he
turned away and withdrew.
And Socrates, looking after him, said, " And thou, too, fare-
well; we will do as you direct." At the same time turning to
us, he said, " How courteous this man is; during the whole time
I have been here he has visited me, and conversed with me some-
times, and proved the worthiest of men; and now how gener-
ously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him, and
let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not,
let the man pound it."
^82 LITERATURE.
Then Crito said, "But 1 think, Socrates, that the sun is still
on the mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that
others have drank the poison very late, after it had been an-
nounced to them, and have supped and drank freely. Do not
hasten, then, for there is yet time."
Upon this Socrates replied, " These men whom you mention,
Crito, do these things with good reason, for they think they shall
gain by so doing, and I, too, with good reason shall not dp so;
for I think I shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except
to become ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and
sparing of it when none any longer remains. Go, then," he said,
" obey, and do not resist."
Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near.
And the boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came,
bringing with him the man that was to administer the poison,
who brought it ready pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on see-
ing the man, said, "Well, my good friend, as you are skilled in
these matters, what must I do.^"
" Nothing else," he replied, " than, when you have drank it,
walk about until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down;
thus it will do its purpose." And at the same time he held out
the cup to Socrates. And he having received it very cheerfully,
neither trembling, nor changing at all in color or countenance,
but, as he was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, "What
say you of this potion, with respect to making a libation to any
one, is it lawful or not.'*"
" We only pound so much, Socrates," he said, " as we think
sufficient to drink."
" I understand you," he said, " but it is certainly both lawful
and right to pray to the gods that my departure hence thither
may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so may it be." And
as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus far,
most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from
THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES. 783
weeping; but when we saw him drinking, and having finished
the draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself
the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept
for myself, for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune,
in being deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me,
when he could not restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollo-
dorus even before this had not ceased weeping, and then burst-
ing into an agony of grief, weeping and lamenting, he pierced
the heart of every one present, except Socrates himself But
he said, "What are you doing, my admirable friends? I in-
deed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that they
might not commit any foll}^ of this kind. For I have heard that
it is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and
bear up."
When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our
tears. But he, having walked about, when he said that his legs
were growing heavy, laid down on his back; for the man so
directed him. And at the same time he who gave him the poison,
taking hold of him, after a short interval examined his feet and
legs;. and then having pressed his foot hard, he asked if he felt
it; he said that he did not. And after this he pressed his thighs;
and thus going higher, he showed us that he was growing cold
and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that when
the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now
the parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when, un-
covering himself, for he had been covered over, he said, and they
were his last words, "Crito, we owe a cock to yEsculapius; pay
it, therefore, and do not neglect it."
" It shall be done," said Crito, " but consider whether you
have any thing else to say."
To this question he gave no reply, but shortly after he gave
a convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes
were fixed, and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes.
-784 LITERATURE.
This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may
say, the best of all of his time that we have known, and, more-
over, the most wise and just.
DEMOgTHEJSE^.
Demosthenes was born 382 B. C. and died 322 B. C, at
the age of sixty. His father died when he was but seven years
old and left his son a large estate, which was squandered by his
guardians.
Demosthenes, most happily, was forced to depend upon the
resources of his own intellect, and determined to devote his life
to oratory. He chose Isaeus for his master, and though having
a weakly constitution, and an impediment in his speech, yet by
steady, persevering effort, and daily
practice, he brought himself to ad-
dress without embarrassment, and
with complete success, the assembled
multitudes of the Athenian people.
His first attempts at oratory were
made to vindicate his own claims,
and recover the property which his
guardians had appropriated to them-
selves. In this he proved entirely
successful. After this, he displayed
his ability as an orator on several
KOG PHILIP {ofMace^n). p^^ij^ occasions, and succeeded by
the power of his eloquence in preventing the Athenians from
engaging in a war with Persia.
But most of the oratorical efforts of Demosthenes were di-
rected to rouse the Athenians from indolence, and to arm them
DEMOSTHENES. 785
against the insidious designs and ambitious schemes of Philip,
who, in the year 358 B. C, began the attack upon the northern
maritime allies of Athens.
In modern times. Lord Chatham's speech on American
affairs, delivered in the House of Lords, November 18, 1877;
Edmund Burke's, on the " Nabob of Arcot's Debts," delivered
in the House of Commons, February 28, 1785; Fisher Ames', on
the " British Treaty," delivered in our House of Representatives,
April 28, 1796; Daniel Webster's, on the "Public Lands," de-
livered in the United States Senate, 1830, and Charles Sumner's,
on the infamous "Fugitive Slave Bill," delivered in the Senate in
1852, will, for effective, brilliant, and logical eloquence, rank side
by side with the masterly efforts of Demosthenes.
PHILIP AND THE ATHENIAN?.
(Oration of DemottheMs.)
If any one of you, Athenians, think that Philip is hard to
struggle with, considering both the magnitude of the power
already to his hand and the fact that all the strong places are
lost to our state — he thinks rightly enough. But let him take
this into account: that we ourselves, Athenians, once held Pydna,
and Potidaea, and Methone, and all that country — as it were in
our own home-circle; and many of the states now under his
sway were beginning to be self-ruled and free, and preferred to
hold friendly relations with us rather than with him. Now, then,
if Philip had harbored at that time the idea that it was hard to
struggle with the Athenians when they had such strongholds in
his country, while he was destitute of allies — he would have
effected none of those things which he has accomplished, nor
would he have ever acquired so great power. But he at least
knew this well enough, Athenians — that all these strongholds are
50
786 I.ITERATURE.
prizes of war open to each contestant, and that naturally the pos-
sessions of the absent fall to those who are on the spot, and the
opportunities of the careless are seized by those willing to work
and to risk. It has been so in his case, for, possessed by such sen-
timents, he has thoroughly subdued and now holds all places;
some, as one might hold them in his grasp by custom of war;
others, by having made them allies and friends. No wonder; for
all are ready to give their heartfelt adherence to those whom
they see prepared and ready to do what necessity demands.
In like manner, if you, also, Athenians, are now ready to
adopt the same principle (since, alas! you were not before), and
each one of you, throwing away all dissimulation, is ready to show
himself useful to the state, as far as its necessity and his powei
extend; if each is ready to do — the rich to contribute, those of
serviceable age to take the field; in a word, if you choose to be
your own masters, and each individual ceases to do nothing, hop-
ing that his neigiibor will do all for him — you will both regain
your possessions (with heaven's permission) and recover your
opportunities recklessly squandered : you will take vengeance on
HIM.
Do not suppose his present happy fortune immutable — im-
mortal, like a god's; on the other hand, some hate him, others
fear him, Athenians, and envy him, and that, too, in the number
of those who seem on intimate terms with him ; for all those pas-
sions ^that rage in other men, we may assume to be hidden in the
bosoms of those also that surround him. Now, however, all
these passions have crouched before him, having no escape on
account of your laziness and indifference, which, I repeat, you
ought immediately to abandon. For you see the state of things,
Athenians, to what a pitch of arrogance he has come — this man
who gives you no choice to act or to remain quiet, but brags
about and talks words of overwhelming insolence, as they tell us.
He is not such a character as to rest with the possessions which
PHILIP AND THE ATHENIANS. 787
he has conquered, but is always compassing something else, and
at every point hedging us, dallying and supine, in narrower and
narrower circles. When, then, Athenians, when will you do
what you ought? As soon as something happens? As soon,
great Jove ! as necessity compels you ? Why, what does neces-
sity compel you to think now of your deeds? In my opinion,
the most urgent necessity to freemen is the disgrace attendant
upon their public policy.
Or do you prefer — tell me, do you prefer to wander about
here and there, asking in the market-place, " What news? what
news?" What can be newer than that a Macedonian should
crush Athenians in war and lord it over all Greece? " Is Philip
dead?" " No, by Jove, but he's sick." What difference is it to
you? what difference? For if anything should happen to him,
370U would quickly raise up another Philip, if you manage your
public affairs as you now do. For not so much to his own
strength as to your laziness does he owe his present aggrandize-
ment.
Yet even if anything should happen to him, and fortune
begin to favor us (for she has always cared for us more kindly
than we for ourselves) ; you know that by being nearer to them
you could assert your power over all these disordered posses-
sions, and could dictate what terms you might choose; but as
you now act, if some chance should give you Amphipolis, you
could not take it, so lacking are you in your preparations and
zeal.
JVlEASUREg TO F^Egl^T PHILIP.
(Oration of Demosthenes.)
Let any one now come forward and tell me by whose con-
trivance but ours Philip has grown strong. Well, sir, this looks
bad, but things at hame are better. What proof can be ad-
•788 LITERATURE.
duced? The parapets that are whitewashed? The roads that
are repaired? fountains and fooleries? Look at the men of
whose statesmanship these are the fruits. They have risen from
beggary to opulence, or from obscurity to honor; some have
made their private houses more splendid than the public build-
ings, and in proportion as the state has declined, their fortunes
have been exalted.
What has produced these results? How is it that all went
prosperously then, and now goes wrong? Because anciently the
people, having the courage to be soldiers, controlled the states-
men, and disposed of all emoluments ; any of the rest was happy to
receive from the people his share of honor, office, or advantage.
Now, contrariwise, the statesmen dispose of emoluments;
through them everything is done; you, the people, enervated,
stripped of treasure and allies, are become as underlings and
hangers-on, happy if these persons dole you out show-money or
send 3'ou paltry beeves; and, the unmanliest part of all, you are
grateful for receiving your own. They, cooping you in the city,
lead you to your pleasures, and make you tame and submissive
to their hands. It is impossible, I say, to have a high and noble
spirit, while you are engaged in petty and mean employments;
whatever be the pursuits of men, their characters must be
similar. By Ceres, I should not wonder if I, for mentioning
these things, suffered more from your resentment than the men
who have brought them to pass. For even liberty of speech
you allow not on all subjects; I marvel indeed you have allowed
it here.
Would you but even now, renouncing these practices, per-
form military service and act worthily of yourselves; would you
employ these domestic superfluities as a means to gain advantage
abroad; perhaps, Athenians, perhaps you might gain some solid
and important advantage, and be rid of these perquisites, which
are like the diet ordered by physicians for the sick. As that
MEASURES TO RESIST PHILIP., 789
neither imparts strength, nor suffers the patient to die, so your
allowances are not enough to be of substantial benefit, nor yet
permit you to reject them and turn to something else. Thus do
they increase the general apathy. What? I shall be asked,
mean you stipendiary service? Yes, and forthwith the same ar-
rangement for all, Athenians, that each, taking his dividend from
the public, may be what the state requires. Is peace to be had?
You are better at home, under no compulsion to act dishonor-
ably from indigence. Is there such an emergency as the present ?
Better to be a soldier, as you ought, in your country's cause,
maintained by those very allowances. Is any one of you beyond
the military age? What he now irregularly takes without doing
service, let him take by just regulation, superintending and trans-
acting needful business. Thus, without derogating from or
adding to our political system, only removing some irregularity,
I bring it into order, establishing a uniform rule for receiving
money, for serving in war, for sitting on juries, for doing what
each, according to his age, can do, and what occasion requires.
I never advise we should give to idlers the wages of the diligent,
or sit at leisure, passive and helpless, to hear that such a one's
mercenaries are victorious, as we now do. Not that I blame
any one who does you a service; I only call upon you, Athenians,
to perform upon your own account those duties for which you
honor strangers, and not to surrender that post of dignity which,
won through many glorious dangers, your ancestors have be-
queathed.
I have said nearly all that I think necessary. I trust you
will adopt that course which is best for the country and your-
selves.
790
LITERATURE.
FOP^MJER ATHENIA|N^ DEgCFJIBED.
(By Demosthenes.)
\
I ask you, Athenians, to see how it was in the time of your
ancestors; for by domestic (not foreign) examples you may
learn your lesson of duty. Themistocles who commanded in
the sea-fight at Salamis, and Miltiades who led at Marathon, and
many others, who performed services unlike the generals of the
present day — assuredly they were not set up in brass nor over-
valued by our forefathers, who honored them, but only as persons
on a level with themselves. Your forefathers, O my countrymen,
surrendered not their part to any of those glories. There is no
man who will attribute the victory of Salamis to Themistocles,
but to the Athenians; nor the battle of Marathon to Miltiades,
but to the republic. But now people say that Timotheus took
Corcyra, and Iphicrates cut otf the Spartan division, and Cha-
brias won the naval victory at Naxos; for 3^ou seem to resign
the merit of these actions, by the extravagance of the honors
which you have bestowed on their account upon each of the
commanders.
So wisely did the Athenians of that day confer political
rewards; so improperly do you. But how the rewards of for-
eigners.^ To Menon the Pharsalian, who gave twelve talents in
money for the war at Eion by Amphipolis, and assisted them
with two hundred horsemen of his own retainers, the Athenians
then voted not the freedom of their city, but only granted im-
munity from imposts. And in earlier times to Perdiccas, who
reigned in Macedonia during the invasion of the Barbarian —
when he had destroyed the Persians who retreated from Plataea
after their defeat, and completed the disaster of the King — they
voted not the freedom of their city, but only granted immunity
from imposts; doubtless esteeming their country to be of high
FORMER ATHENIANS DESCRIBED. 79 1
value, honor, and dignity, surpassing all possible obligation. But
now, ye men of Athens, ye adopt the vilest of mankind, menials
and the sons of menials, to be your citizens, receiving a price as
for any other salable commodity. And you have fallen into such
a practice, not because your natures are inferior to your ancestors,
but because they were in a condition to think highly of them^
selves, while from you, men of Athens, this power is taken away.
It can never be, methinks, that your spirit is generous and noble,
while you are engaged in petty and mean employments; no more
than you can be abject and mean-spirited, while your actions are
honorable and glorious. Whatever be the pursuits of men their
sentiments must necessarily be similar.
Mark what a summary view may be taken of the deeds
performed by your ancestors and by 3'ou. Possibly from such
comparison you may rise superior to yourselves. They for a
period of five and forty years took the lead of the Greeks by
general consent, and carried up more than ten thousand talents
into the citadel; and many glorious trophies they erected for
victories by land and sea, wherein even yet we take a pride.
And remember, they erected these, not merely that we may sur-
vey them with admiration, but, also, that we may emulate the
virtues of the dedicators. Such was' their conduct: but for ours
— fallen as we have on a solitude manifest to you all — look if it
bears any resemblance. Have not more than fifteen hundred
talents been lavished ineffectually on the distressed people of
Greece.'' Have not all private fortunes, the revenues of the
state, the contributions from our allies, been squandered .'^ Have
not the allies, whom we gained in the war, been lost recently in
the peace? But forsooth, in these respects onl}^ was it better
anciently than now, in other respects worse. Very far from
that! L,et us examine what instances you please. The edifices
which they left, the ornaments of the city in temples, harbors,
and the like, were so magnificent and beautiful, that room is not
792 LITERATURE.
left for any succeeding generation to surpass them; yonder gate-
way, the Parthenon, docks, porticos, and others structures, which
they adorned the city withal and bequeathed to us. The private
houses of the men in power were so modest and in accordance
with the name of the constitution, that if any one knows the
style of house which Themistocles occupied, or Cimon, or Aris-
tides, or Miltiades, and the illustrious of that day, he perceives
it to be no grander than that of the neighbors. But now, ye
men of Athens — as regards public measures — our government is
content to furnish roads, fountains, whitewashing, and trumpery;
not that I blame the authors of these works; far otherwise; I
blame you, if you suppose that such measures are all 3'ou have
to execute. As regards individual conduct — your men in office
have (some of them) made their private houses, not only more
ostentatious than the multitude, but more splendid than the pub-
lic buildings; others are farming land which they have purchased
of such an extent as once they never hoped for in a dream.
The cause of this difference is, that formerly the people
were lords and masters of all; any individual citizen was glad to
receive from them his share of honor, office, or profit. Now, on
the contrary, these persons are the disposers of emoluments;
everything is done by their agency; the people are treated as
underlings and dependents, and you are happy to take what these
men allow you for your portion.
OFJATION Of\ THE CROWN.
{By Dem»ithei>es.)
Let me begin, men of Athens, by imploring, of all the
Heavenly Powers, that the same kindly sentiments which I have,
throughout my public life, cherished towards this country and
ORATION ON THE CROWN. 793
each one of you, may now by 3"ou be shown towards me in the
present contest! In two respects my adversary plainly has the
advantage of me. First, we have not the same interests at
stake; it is by no means the same thing for me to forfeit your
esteem, and for ^schines, an unprovoked volunteer, to fail in his
impeachment. My other disadvantage is, the natural proneness
of men to lend a pleased attention to invective and accusation,
but to give little heed to him whose theme is his own vindica-
tion. To my adversary, therefore, falls the part which ministers
to your gratification, while to me there is only left that which,
I may almost say, is distasteful to all. And yet, if I do not
speak of myself and my own conduct, I shall appear defenseless
against his charges, and without proof that my honors were well
earned. This, therefore, I must do; but it shall be with modera-
tion. And bear in mind that the blame of my dwelling on per-
sonal topics must justly rest upon him who has instituted this
personal impeachment.
At least, my judges, you will admit that this question con-
cerns me as much as Ctesiphon, and justifies on my part an equal
anxiety. To be stripped of any possession, and more especially
by an enemy, is grievous to bear, but to be robbed of your con-
fidence and esteem — of all possessions the most precious — is
indeed intolerable. Such, then, being my stake in this cause, I
conjure you all to give ear to my defense against these charges,
with that impartiality which the laws enjoin — those laws first
given by Solon, and which he fixed, not only by engraving them
on brazen tables, but by the sanction of the oaths you take
when sitting in judgment; because he perceived that, the
accuser being armed with the advantage of speaking first, the
accused can have no chance of resisting his charges, unless you,
his judges, keeping the oath sworn before Heaven, shall receive
with favor the defense which comes last, and, lending an equal
ear to both parties, shall thus make up your minds upon the
whole of the case.
794
LITERATURE.
CICERO.
Cicero, taken all in all, for his eloquence, for his learning,
for his true patriotism, for the profound and ennobling views he
has left us in his critical, oratorical and philosophical writings, as
well as for his purity in all the domestic relations of life, in the
midst of almost universal profligacy, stands forth upon the
page of history as one of the very brightest names the ancients
have left us. He was probably distinguished most as an
orator, in which character he is most generally known, though
as a general scholar and statesman he was almost without a peer.
He was born on the third of January, io6 B. C. His father was
a member of the Equestrian order, and lived in easy circum-
stances near Arpinum, but afterwards removed to Rome for the
purpose of educating his sons, Marcus and Quintus. 'The very
best teachers were procured for them. Almost immediately
after his schooling he was promoted, and rose from one station
of honor and distinction to another.
It may be doubted whether any individual ever rose to
power by more virtuous and truly honorable conduct, and the
integrity of his public life was only equaled by the purity of his
private morals. But as his history is taught to our school boys
and his orations read in their original language, we will not
lengthen our remarks. The following are his works. They are
numerous and diversified, but may be arranged under five separate
heads: • i. Philosophical Works. 2. Speeches. 3. Corres-
pondence. 4. Poems. 5. Historical and Miscellaneous Works.
The following are the most important:
First, his Philosophical Works, i. De Inventione Rhe-
iorica, "On the Rhetorical Art;" intended to exhibit, in a com-
pendious form, all that are most valuable in the works of the
AUGUSTUS c^sAR. (Found at Pompeii.)
,795
796 LITERATURE.
Grecian rhetoricians. 2. De PartUione Oratoria Dialogus^
" A Dialogue on the several Divisions of Rhetoric," a sort of
catechism of rhetoric. 3. De Oratore^ "On the True Orator,"
a systematic work on the art of oratory. This is one of his
most brilliant efforts, and so accurately finished in its minute
parts, that it may be regarded as a masterpiece of skill in all
that relates to the graces of style and composition. 4. Brutus:
de Claris Oratoribus. This is in the form of a dialogue, and
contains a complete critical history of Roman eloquence. 5.
Orator^ " The Orator," addressed to Marcus Brutus, giving his
views as to what constitutes a perfect orator. 6. De Republican
" On the Republic," in six books, designed to show the best form
of government and the duty of the citizen; but a considerable
portion of this is lost. 7. De Officiis; a treatise on moral obliga-
tions, viewed not so much with reference to a metaphysical in-
vestigation of the basis on which they rest, as to the practical
business of the world, and the intercourse of social and political
life. This is one of his most precious legacies. 8, De Finibus
Bonorum et Malorutn^ " On the Ends of Good and Evil," a
series of dialogues dedicated to M. Brutus, in which the opinions
of the Grecian schools, especially of the Epicureans, the Stoics,
and the Peripatetics, on the Supreme Good, the Sutmnum
Bonum^ that is, xhQfinis^ "the end."
IJ^VECTIVE AQAI^gT CATILINE.
{By Cicero.)
How long, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience? How
long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career.^ To what ex-
treme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou nothing daunted
by the nightly watch, posted to secure the Palatium ? Nothing,
INVECTIVE AGAINST CATILINE. 797
by the city guards ! Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens ?
Nothing, by the assembling of the senate in this fortified place?
Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou
not that all thy plots are exposed? — that thy wretched conspir-
acy is laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the senate? —
that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the
night before; the place of meeting, the company convoked, the
measures concerted? Alas, the times! Alas, the public morals!
The senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the
traitor lives! Lives? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in coun-
cil; takes part in our deliberations; and, with his measuring eye,
marks out each man of us for slaughter! And we, all this while,
strenuous that we are, think we have amply discharged our duty
to the state, if we but shun this madman's sword and fury!
Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to have ordered
thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head the ruin thou
hast been meditating against others! There was that virtue
once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held more execrable
than the deadHest foe. We have a law still, Catiline, for thee.
Think not that we are powerless because forbearing. We have
a decree — though it rests among our archives like a sword in its
scabbard — ^a decree by which thy life would be made to pay
the forfeit of thy crimes. And, should I order thee to be in-
stantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt whether all
good men would not think it done rather too late, than any man
too cruelly. But, for good reasons, I will yet defer the blow,
long since deserved. Then will I doom thee, when no man is
found so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall confess
that it was justly dealt. While there is one man that dares
defend thee, live! But thou shalt live so beset, so surrounded,
so scrutinized, by the vigilant guards that I have placed around
thee, that thou shalt not stir a foot against the Republic without
my knowledge. There shall be eyes to detect thy slightest
798
LITERATURE.
movement, and ears to catch thy wariest whisper, of which
thou shalt not dream. The darkness of night shall not cover
thy tieason — the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baf-
fled on all sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noon-day, what
canst thou now have in view.^ Proceed, plot, conspire, as thou
wilt ; there is nothing you can contrive, nothing you can propose,
nothing you can attempt which I shall not know, hear, and
promptly understand. Thou shalt soon be made aware that I
am even more active in providing for the preservation of the
state than thou in plotting its destruction ! — First Oration.
EXPULSION Of CATILINE FROM ROJVIE.
(By Cicero.)
At length, Romans, we are rid of Catiline! We have
driven him forth, drunk with fury, breathing mischief, threaten-
ing to revisit us with fire and sword. He is gone; he is fled; he
has escaped; he has broken away. No longer, within the very
walls of the city, shall he plot her ruin. We have forced him
from secret plots into open rebellion. The bad citizen is now
the avowed traitor. His flight is the confession of his treason!
Would that his attendants had not been so few! Be speedy, ye
companions of his dissolute pleasures; be speedy, and you may
overtake him before night, on the Aurelian road. Let him not
languish, deprived of your society. Haste to join the congenial
crew that compose his army; his army, I say — for who doubts
that the army under Manlius expect Catiline for their leader?
And such an army! Outcasts from honor, and fugitives from
debt; gamblers and felons; miscreants, whose dreams are of
rapine, murder, and conflagration!
Against these gallant troops of your adversary, prepare, O
Romans, your garrisons and armies; and first to that maimed
EXPULSION OF CATILINE FROM ROME. 799
and battered gladiator oppose your consuls and generals; next,
against that miserable, outcast horde, lead forth the strength and
flower of all Italy! On the one side, chastity contends; on the
other wantonness; here purity, there pollution; here integrity,
there treachery; here piety, there profaneness; here constancy,
there rage; here honesty, there baseness; here continence, there
lust; in short, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, struggle
with iniquity, luxury, cowardice, rashness; ever}^ virtue with
every vice; and, lastly, the contest lies between well-grounded
hope and absolute despair. In such a conflict, were even human
aid to fail, would not the immortal gods empower such conspicu-
ous virtue to triumph over such complicated vice.-*^ — Second Ora-
tion.
THE TYF(ANT PR/ETOF} DENOUNCED.
{By Cicero.)
An opinion has long prevailed, fathers, that, in public prose-
cutions, men of wealth, however clearly convicted, are always
safe. This opinion, so injurious to your order, so detrimental to
the state, is now in your power to refute. A man is on trial
before you who is rich, and who hopes his riches will compass
his acquittal, but whose life and actions are sufficient condemna-
tion in the eyes of all candid men. I speak of Caius Verres,
who, if he now receive not the sentence h-is crimes deserve, it
shall not be through the lack of a criminal or of a prosecutor,
but through the failure of the ministers of justice to do their
duty. Passing over the shameful irregularities of his youth,
what does the qusestorship of Verres exhibit but one continued
scene of villainies.^ The public treasure squandered, a Consul
stripped and betrayed, an army deserted and reduced to want,
a province robbed, the civil and religious rights of a people
8oO LITERATURE.
trampled on! But his prsetorship in Sicily has crowned his
career of wickedness, and completed the lasting monument of his
infamy. His decisions have violated all law, all precedent, all
right. His extortions from the industrious poor have been be-
yond computation. Our most faithful allies have been treated as
enemies. Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death
with tortures. Men the most worthy have been condemned and
banished without a hearing, while the most atrocious criminals
have, with money, purchased exemption from the punishment
due to their guilt.
I ask now, Verres, what have you to advance against these
charges.'' Art thou not the tyrant praetor, who, at no greater
distance than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, dared to
put to an infamous death, on the cross, that ill-fated and innocent
citizen, Publius Gavius Cosanus.^ And what was his offense .f*
He had declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his
country against your brutal persecutions ! For this, when about
to embark for home, he was seized, brought before you, charged
with being a spy, scourged and tortured. In vain did he ex-
claim: " I am a Roman citizen! I have served under Lucius
Pretius, who is now at Panormus, and who will attest my inno-
cence!" Deaf to all remonstrance, remorseless, thirsting fo'
innocent blood, you ordered the savage punishment to be in-
flicted! While the sacred words, " I am a Roman citizen," were
on his lips — words which, in the remotest regions, are a pass-
port to protection — you ordered him to death, to a death upon
the cross!
O liberty! O sound once delightful to every Roman ear!
O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! once sacred — now
trampled on! Is it come to this.^ Shall an inferior magistrate
— a governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people
— in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, tor-
ture, and put to an infamous death, a Roman citizen.^ Shall
THE TYRANT PR^TOR DENOUNCED. 8oi
neither the cries of innocence expiring in agony, the tears of
pitying spectators, the majesty of the Roman commonwealth,
nor the fear of the justice of this country, restrain the merciless
monster, who, in the confidence of his riches, strikes at the very
root of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance? And shall this
man escape? Fathers, it must not be! It must not be, unless
you would undermine the very foundations of social safety,
strangle justice, and call down anarchy, massacre and ruin on
the commonwealth. — Oration against Verves.
ADVANTAQEg OF AQE.
(By Cicero.)
Indeed, old age is so far from being necessarily a state of
languor and inactivity, that it generally continues to exert itself
in that sort of occupation which was the favorite object of its
pursuit in more vigorous years. I will add, that instances might
be produced of men who, in this period of life, have successfull}^
applied themselves even to the acquisition of some art of science
to which they were before entirely strangers. Thus Solon in
one of his poems, written when he was advanced in years, glories
that "he learned something every day he lived." And old as I
myself am, it is but lately that I acquired a knowledge of the
Greek language; to which I applied with the more zeal and dili-
gence, as I had long entertained an earnest desire of becoming
acquainted with the writings and characters of those excellent
men, to whose examples I have occasionally appealed in the
course of our present conversation. Thus, Socrates, too, in his
old age, learned to play upon the lyre, an art which the ancients
did not deem unworthy of their application. If I have not fol-
lowed the philosopher's example in this instance (which, indeed,
51
8o2 LITERATURE.
I very much regret), I have spared, however, no pains to make
myself master of the Greek language and learning.
Inestimable, too, are the advantages of old age, if we con-
template it in another point of view; if we consider it as deliver-
ing us from the tyranny of lust and ambition; from the angry
and contentious passions; from every inordinate and irrational
desire; in a word, as teaching us to retire within ourselves, and
look for happiness in our own bosoms. If to these moral bene-
fits naturally resulting from length of days be added that sweet
food of the mind which is gathered in the fields of science, I
know not any season of life that is passed more agreeably than
the learned leisure of a virtuous old age.
IMJVIOI^TALITY OF THE 30UL.
(By Cteero)
And now, among the different sentiments of the philosophers
concerning the consequences of our final dissolution, may I not
venture to declare my own? and the rather, as the nearer death
advances towards me, the more clearly I seem to discern its real
nature.
I am well convinced, then, that my dear departed friends,
your two illustrious fathers, are so far from having ceased to
live, that the state they now enjoy can alone with propriety be
called life. The soul, during her confinement within this prison
of the body, is doomed by fate to undergo a severe penance; for
her native seat is in heaven, and it is with reluctance that she is
forced down from those celestial mansions into these lower re-
gions, where all is foreign and repugnant to her divine nature.
But the gods, I am persuaded, have thus widely disseminated
immortal spirits, and clothed them with human bodies, that there
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 803
might be a race of intelligent creatures, not only to have domin-
ion over this, our earth, but to contemplate the host of heaven,
and imitate in their moral conduct the same beautiful order and
uniformity so conspicuous in those splendid orbs. This opinion
I am induced to embrace, not only as agreeable to the best de-
ductions of reason, but in just deference, also, to the authority
of the noblest and most distinguished philosophers. And I am
further confirmed in my belief of the soul's immortality by the
discourse which Socrates — whom the oracle of Apollo pro-
nounced to be the wisest of men — held upon this subject just
before his death. In a word, when I consider the facukies with
which the human mind is endued; its amazing celerity; its won-
derful power in recollecting past events, and sagacity in discern-
ing future; together with its numberless discoveries in the several
arts and sciences, I feel a conscious conviction that this active,
comprehensive principle can not possibly be of a mortal nature.
And as this unceasing activity of the soul derives its energy
from its own intrinsic and essential powers, without receiving it
from any foreign or external impulse, it necessaril}^ follows (as it
is absurd to suppose the soul would desert itself) that this ac-
tivity must continue forever. But farther; as the soul is evi-
dently a simple, uncompounded substance, without any dissimilar
parts or heterogeneous mixture, it can not, therefore, be divided;
consequently, it can not perish. I might add, that the facility
and expedition with which j^outh are taught to acquire number-
less very difficult arts, is a strong presumption that the soul pos-
sessed a considerable portion of knowledge before it entered into
the human form, and that what seems to be received from in-
struction is, in fact, no other than a reminiscence or recollection
of its former ideas. This, at least, is the opinion of Plato.
8o4 LITERATURE.
JULIU? CAZ:pAF{.
Julius Caesar was born on the 12th of July, 100 B. C. As
to his intellectual character, Caesar was gifted by nature with the
most varied talents, and was distinguished by an extraordinary
genius, and by attainments in very diversified pursuits. He
was, at one and the same time, a general, a statesman, a law-
giver, a jurist, an orator, a poet, an historian, a philologer, a
mathematician, and an architect. He seemed equall}^ fitted to
excel in all, and has given proofs that he would surpass most
men in any subject to which he should devote the energies
of his great mind; and Middleton says he was the only man in
Rome capable of rivaling Cicero as an orator. During his
whole busy life he found time for literary pursuits, and always
took pleasure in the society and conversation of men of learning.
Caesar wrote many works on different subjects, but they are
now all lost but his " Commentaries." These relate the history
of the first seven years of the Gallic War in seven books, and the
Civil War down to the commencement of the Alexandrine in
three books. The purity of his Latin, and the clearness and
beauty of his style have rendered his " Commentaries " a most
popular and desirable text book for students of the Latin lan-
guage.
A most important change was introduced by him in the
reformation of the calendar, which was not only of vast import-
ance to his country and to the civilized world, but its benefits
have extended to the present day. What consummate folly,
then, to say nothing of the wickedness, was displayed by the
conspirators who put him to death; for instead of the wise, the
noble, the magnanimous, they exalted to supreme power one of
the basest men in all Rome — Augustus, who, as one of the sec-
JULIUS C^SAR.
805
ond Triumvirate, consented to the murder of his intimate and
noble friend, Cicero.
JULIUS c^sAR. {From aa Ancient Sculpturing.)
THE QEF^MAN
{By Julius Ccesar.)
The Germans differ much from these usages, for they have
neither Druids to preside over sacred offices, nor do they pay
great regard to sacrifices. They rank in the number of the
gods those alone whom they behold, and by whose instrumental-
ity they are obviously benefited, namely, the sun, fire, and the
moon; they have not heard of the other deities even by report.
8o6 LITERATURE.
Their whole life is occupied in hunting and in the pursuits of the
military art; from childhood they devote themselves to fatigue
and hardships. Those who have remained chaste for the longest
time receive the greatest commendation among their people;
they think that by this the growth is promoted, by this the phys-
ical powers are increased and the sinews are strengthened.
They do noc pay much attention to agriculture, and a large
portion of their food consists in milk, cheese, and flesh; nor has
any one a fixed quantity of land or his own individual limits ; but
the magistrates and the leading men each year apportion to the
tribes and families, who have united together, as much land as,
and in the place which, they think proper, and the year after
compel them to remove elsewhere. For this enactment they
advance many reasons — lest seduced by long-continued custom,
they may exchange their ardor in the waging of war for agri-
culture; lest they may be anxious to acquire extensive estates,
and the more powerful drive the weaker from their possessions;
lest they construct their houses with too great a desire to avoid
cold and heat; lest the desire of wealth spring up, from which
cause divisions and discords arise; and that they may keep the
common people in a contented state of mind, when each sees his
own means placed on an equality with those of the most power-
ful.
It is the greatest glory to the several states to have as wide
deserts as possible around them, their frontiers having been laid
waste. They consider this the real evidence of their prowess,
that their neighbors shall be driven out of their lands and aban-
don them, and that no one dare settle near them; at the same
time they think that they shall be on that account the more
secure, because they have removed the apprehension of a sudden
incursion. When a state either repels war waged against it, or
wages it against another, magistrates are chosen to preside over
that war with such authority that they have power of life and
THE GERMANS. 807
death. In peace there is no common magistrate, but the chiefs
of provinces and cantons administer justice and determine con-
troversies among their own people. Robberies which are com-
mitted beyond the boundaries of each state bear no infamy, and
they avow that these are committed for the purpose of disciplin-
ing their youth and of preventing sloth. And when any of their
chiefs has said in an assembly " that he will be their leader, let
those who are willing to follow give in their names," they who
approve of both the enterprise and the man arise and promise
their assistance and are applauded by the people; such of them
as have not followed him are accounted in the number of desert-
ers and traitors, and confidence in all matters is afterwards re-
fused them. To injure guests they regard as impious; they
defend from wrong those who have come to them for any purpose
whatever, and esteem them inviolable; to them the houses of all
are open and maintenance is freely supplied
BATTLE Of PHAR^ALIA.
{By Julius Ccesar.)
There was so much space left between the two lines as suf-
ficed for the onset of the hostile armies ; but Pompey had ordered
his soldiers to await Caesar's attack, and not to advance from
their position, or suffer their line to be put into disorder. And
he is said to have done this by the advice of Caius Triarius, that
the impetuosity of the charge of Caesar's soldiers might be
checked, and their line broken, and that Pompey's troops, re-
maining in their ranks, might attack them while in disorder; and
he thought that the javelins would fall with less force if the
soldiers were kept in their ground, than if they met them in their
course; at the same time he trusted that Caisar's soldiers, after
8o8 LITERATURE.
running over double the usual ground, would become weary and
exhausted by the fatigue. But to me Pompey seems to have
acted without sufficient reason; tor there is a certain impetuosity
of spirit and an alacrity implanted by nature in the hearts of all
men, which is inflamed by a desire to meet the foe. This a gen-
eral should endeavor not to repress, but to increase; nor was it a
vain institution of our ancestors that the trumpets should sound
on all sides, and a general shout be raised; by which they im-
agined that the enemy were struck with terror, and their own
arm}'^ inspired with courage. '
But our men, when the signal was given, rushed forward
with their javelins ready to be launched, but perceiving that
Pompey 's men did not run to meet their charge, having acquired
experience by custom, and being practiced in former battles,
the}' of their own accord repressed their speed, and halted
almost midway, that they might not come up with the enemy
when their strength was exhausted, and after a short respite they
again renewed their course, and threw their javelins, and in-
stantly drew their swords, as Caesar had ordered them. Nor
did Pompey's men fail in this crisis, for they received our jave-
lins, stood our charge, and maintained their ranks; and having
launched their javelins, had recourse to their swords. At the
same time Pompey's horse, according to their orders, rushed out
at once from his left wing, and his whole host of archers poured
after them. Our cavalry did not withstand their charge, but gave
ground a little, upon which Pompey's horse pressed them more
vigorously, and began to file off in troops, and flank our army.
When Caesar perceived this, he gave the signal to his fourth line,
which he had formed of the six cohorts. They instantly rushed
forward and charged Pompey's horse with such fur}' that not a
man of them stood; but all wheeling about, not only quitted
their post, but galloped forward to seek a refuge in the highest
mountains. By their retreat the archers and slingers, being left
BATTLE OF PHARSALIA. 809
destitute and defenseless, were all cut to pieces. The cohorts,
pursuing their success, wheeled about upon Pompey's left wing,
whilst his infantry still continued to make battle, and attacked
them in the rear.
At the same time Caesar ordered his third line to advance,
which till then had not been engaged, but had kept their post.
Thus, new and fresh troops having come to the assistance of the
fatigued, and others having made an attack on their rear, Pom-
pey's men were not able to maintain their ground, but all fled,
nor was Caesar deceived in his opinion that the victory, as he
had declared in his speech to his soldiers, must have its begin-
ning from those six cohorts, which he had placed as a fourth line
to oppose the horse. For by them the cavalr}- were routed; by
them the archers and slingers were cut to pieces; by them the
left wing of Pompey's army was surrounded, and obliged to be
the first to flee. But when Pompey saw his cavalry routed, and
that part of his army on which he reposed his greatest hopes
thrown into confusion, despairing of the rest, he quitted the field,
and retreated straightway on horseback to his camp, and calling
to the centurions, whom he had placed to guard the praetorian
gate, with a loud voice, that the soldiers might hear: " Secure
the camp," says he; "defend it with diligence, if any danger
should threaten it ; I will visit the other gates, and encourage the
guards of the camp." Having thus said, he retired into his tent
in utter despair, yet anxiously waiting the issue.
Caesar having forced the Pompeians to flee into their en-
trenchment, and thinking that he ought not to allow them any
respite to recover from their fright, exhorted his soldiers to
take advantage of fortune's kindness, and to attack the camp.
Though they were fatigued by the intense heat, for the battle
had continued till mid-day, yet, being prepared to undergo any
labor, they cheerfully obeyed his command. The camp was
bravely defended by the cohorts which had been left to guard it,
8lO LITERATURE.
but with much more spirit by the Thracians and foreign auxil-
iaries. For the soldiers who had fled tor refuge to it from the
field of battle, affrighted and exhausted by fatigue, having
thrown away their arms and military standards, had their
thoughts more engaged on their further escape than on the de-
fense of the camp. Nor could the troops who were posted on
the battlements long withstand the immense number of our darts,
but fainting under their wounds, quitted the place, and under the
conduct of their centurions and tribunes, fled, without stopping,
to the high mountains which joined the camp.
In Pompey's camp you might see arbors in which tables
were laid; a large quantity of plate set out; the floors of the
tents covered with fresh sods; the tents of Lucius Lentulus and
others shaded with ivy; and many other things which were
proofs of excessive luxury, and a confidence of victory; so that
it might readily be inferred, that they had no apprehensions of
the issue of the day, as they indulged themselves in unnecessary
pleasures, and yet upbraided with luxury Caesar's army, dis-
tressed and sutferi ng troops, who had always been in want of
common necessaries. Pompey, as soon as our men had forced
the trenches, mounting his horse, and stripping off* his general's
habit, went hastily out of the back gate of the camp, and gal-
loped with all speed to Larissa. Nor did he stop there, but
with the same dispatch, collecting a few of his flying troops, and
halting neither day nor night, he arrived at the sea-side, attended
by only thirty horses, and went on board a victualing barque,
often complaining, as we have been told, that he had been so
deceived in his expectation, that he was almost persuaded that
he had been betrayed by those from whom he had expected vic-
tory, as they began the flight.
VIRGIL. 8ll
VIF{QIL.
Virgil was born October 15, 70 B. C, and died 19 B. C.
His father was an opulent farmer, and gave his son a liberal
Greek and Latin education. His principal works were the
Georgica and the ^neid. The Georgica (Georgics), or "Agri-
cultural Poems," is a didactic poem in four books, dedicated to
Maecenas. In the first book lie treats of the cultivation of the
soil; in the second, of fruit trees; in the third, of horses and
other cattle, and in the fourth, of bees. It gives us the most
finished specimen of the Latin hexameter which we have. It is
acknowledged by scholars to stand at the head of all Virgil's
works, and is certainly the most elaborate and extraordinary in-
stance of power in embellishing a most barren subject which
human genius has ever afforded. The commonest precepts of
farming are delivered with an elegance which could scarcely be
attained by a poet who should endeavor to clothe in verse the
sublimest maxims of philosophy.
At what time Virgil projected the ^^neid is uncertain, but
from a very early age he appears to have had a strong desire of
composing an epic poem which would be an enduring monument
of his fame. And he has succeeded, for this poem is ranked as
one of the great epics of the world. It is divided into twelve
books, and originates from an old Roman tradition that ^neas
and his company of Trojans settled in Italy, and founded the
Roman nation.
PRAIgE op RUf^AL LIFE.
(By Virgil.)
Thrice happy swains! whom genuine pleasures bless,
If they but knew and felt their happiness!
8l2 LITERATURE.
From wars and discord far, and public strife,
Earth with salubrious fruits supports their life;
Tho' high-arch'd domes, tho' marble halls they want,
And columns cased in gold and elephant,
In awful ranks where brazen statues stand,
The polish'd works of Grecia's skillful hand;
Nor dazzling palace view, whose portals proud
Each morning vomit out the cringing crowd;
Nor wear the tissu'd garment's cumb'rous pride,
Nor seek soft wool in Syrian purple dy'd,
Nor with fantastic luxury defile
The native sweetness of the liquid oil;
Yet calm content, secure from guilty cares.
Yet home-felt pleasure, peace, and rest, are theirs;
Leisure and ease, in groves, and cooling vales.
Grottoes, and bubbling brooks, and darksome dales;
The lowing oxen, and the bleating sheep.
And under branching trees delicious sleep!
There forests, lawns, and haunts of beasts abound,
There youth is temperate, and laborious found;
There altars and the righteous gods are fear'd.
And aged sires by duteous sons rever'd.
There Justice linger'd ere she fled mankind,
And left some traces of her reign behind!
Georgics II. Warton.
EJVlPLOYMEJNTg OF THE BEE.
{By Virgil.)
If all things with great we may compare.
Such are the bees, and such their busy care:
Studious of honey, each in his degree.
The youthful swain, the grave, experienced bee;
That in the field; this in affairs of state,
Employed at home, abides within the gate,
To fortify the combs, to build the wall.
EMPLOYMENT OF THE BEE-
«i3
To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall:
But late at night, with weary pinions come
VIKGIL AND HOKACE.
The laboring youth, and heavy laden home.
Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies,
8i4 LITERATURE.
The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs:
He spoils the saffron flowers, he sips the blues
Of violets, wilding blooms, and willow dews.
Their toil is common, common is their sleep;
They shake their wings when morn begins to peep;
Rush through the city gates without delay,
Nor ends their work but with declining day:
Then, having spent the last remains of light,
They give their bodies due repose at night;
When hollow murmurs of their evening bells
Dismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells.
Georgics lY. Dry den.
PUNI^HIVIENT3 IN HELL.
{By Virgil.)
Now to the left, JEneas darts his eyes,
Where lofty walls with tripple ramparts rise.
There rolls swift Phlegethon, with thund'ring sound,
His broken rocks, and whirls his surges round.
On mighty columns rais'd, sublime are hung
The massy gates, impenetrably strong.
In vain would men, in vain would gods essay,
To hew the beams of adamant away.
Here rose an iron tow'r; before the gate.
By night and day, a wakeful fury sate.
The pale Tisiphone; a robe she wore.
With all the pomp of horror, dy'd in gore.
Here the loud scourge and louder voice of pain,
The crashing fetter, and the ratt'ling chain.
Strike the great hero with the frightful sound,
The hoarse, rough, mingled din, that thunders round:
Oh! whence that peal of groans? what pains are those?
What crimes could merit such stupendous woes?
Thus she — brave guardian of the Trojan state,
None that are pure must pass that dreadful gate.
PUNISHMENTS IN HELL. 815
When plac'd by Hecat o'erAvernus' woods,
I learnt the secrets of those dire abodes,
With all the tortures of the vengeful gods.
Here Rhadamanthus holds his awful reign,
Hears and condemns the trembling impious train.
Those hidden crimes the wretch till death supprest.
With mingled joy and horror in his breast.
The stern dread judge commands him to display,
And lays the guilty secrets bare to-day;
Her lash Tisiphone that moment shakes;
The ghost she scourges with a thousand snakes;
Then to her aid, with many a thund'ring yell,
Calls her dire sisters from the gulfs of hell.
Near by the mighty Tityus I beheld.
Earth's mighty giant son, stretch'd o'er the infernal field;
He cover'd nine large acres as he lay.
While with fierce screams a vulture tore away
His liver for her food, and scoop'd the smoking prey;
Plunged deep her bloody beak, nor plunig'd in vain,
For still the fruitful fibres spring again,
Swell, and renew th' enormous monster's pain.
She dwells forever in his roomy breast,
Nor gives the roaring fiend a moment's rest;
But still th' immortal prey supplies th' immortal feast.
Need I the Lapiths' horrid pains relate,
Ixion's torments, or Perithous' fate?
On high a tottering rocky fragment spreads.
Projects in air, and trembles o'er their heads.
Stretch'd on the couch, they see with longing eyes
In regal pomp successive banquets rise,
While lucid columns, glorious to behold.
Support th' imperial canopies of gold.
The queen of furies, a tremendous guest.
Sits by their side, and guards the tempting feast.
Which if they touch, her dreadful torch she rears.
Flames in their eyes, and thunders in their ears.
They that on earth had low pursuits in view.
Their brethren hated, or their parents slew.
And, still more numerous, those who swelled their store.
8l6 LITERATURE.
But ne'er relieved their kindred or the poor;
Or in a cause unrighteous fought and bled;
Or perish'd in the foul adulterous bed;
Or broke the ties of faith with base deceit;
Imprison'd deep their destin'd torments wait.
But what their torments seek not thou to know,
Or the (lire sentence of their endless wo.
Some roll a stone, rebounding down the hill,
Some hang suspended on the whirling wheel;
There Theseus groans in pain that ne'er expire,
Chain'd down forever in a chair of fire.
There Phlegyas feels unutterable wo.
And roars incessant thro' the shades below;
Be just, ye mortals! by these torments aw'd,
These dreadful torments, not to scorn a god.
This wretch his country to a tyrant sold.
And barter'd glorious liberty for gold.
Laws for a bribe he past, but past in vain,
For those same laws a bribe repeal'd again.
To some enormous crimes they all aspir'd;
All feel the torments that those crimes requir'd!
Had I a hundred mouths a hundred tongues,
A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs.
Not half the mighty scene could I disclose,
Repeat their crimes, or count their dreadful woes!
^neid VI. Pitt.
HORACE.
Horace was bom 65 B. C. and died 8 B. C, His father
gave him a g(jod education. About the age of seventeen he lost
his father, and afterwards his property was confiscated. He
had to write for hvQSiCL— Pauper tas ijupulit audax ut versus
facerem— and in so doing gained much reputation, and sufficient
means to purchase the place of scribe in the Quaestor's office.
HORACE. 817
He now made his acquaintance with Virgil and Varius, and by
them was introduced to that munificent patron of scholars,
Maecenas, who gave to our poet a place next to his heart, while
he, in return, is never weary of acknowledging how much he
owes to his illustrious friend.
The following happy remarks on the Roman Satirists are
by Professor Sanborn, formerly Professor of Latin in Dartmouth
College, and now in the University of St. Louis: " The princi-
pal Roman Satirists were Horace, Juvenal and Persius. Horace
is merry; Persius serious; Juvenal indignant. Thus, wit, philoso-
phy and lofty scorn mark their respective pages. The satire of
Horace was playful and good natured. His arrows were always
dipped in oil. He was a fine specimen of an accomplished gen-
tleman. His sentiments were evidently modified by his asso-
ciates. He was an Epicurean and a stoic by turns. He com-
mended and ridiculed both sects. He practiced economy and
praised liberalit}'. He lived temperate, and sang the praises of
festivity. He was the favorite of the court and paid for its
patronage in compliments and panegyrics, unsurpassed in delicacy
of sentiment and beauty of expression. Horace is every man's
companion. Pie has a word of advice and admonition for all.
His criticisms constitute most approved canons of the rhetori-
cian; his sage reflections adorn the page of the moralist; his
humor and wit give point and force to the satirist, and his gravtir
maxims are not despised by the Christian philosopher. Juvenal
is fierce and denunciator3^ His characteristics are energy,
force, and indignation; his weapons are irony, wit and sarcasm;
he is a decided character, and you must yield and submit, or
resist. His denunciations of vice are startling. He hated the
Greeks, the aristocracy and woman with intense hatred. No
author has written with such terrible bitterness of the sex. Un-
like other satirists, he never relents. His arrow is ever on the
string, and whatever wears the guise of woman is his game.
52
Sl8 LITERATURE.
The most celebrated of the modern imitators of Horace and
Juvenal are Swift and Pope."
The Odes, Satires and Epistles are his chief productions.
TO LICIJNIUp.
{By Horace.)
Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach
So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse Fortune's power;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treacherous shore.
He that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Embittering all his state.
The tallest pines feel most the power
Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tower
Comes heaviest to the ground;
Tlie bolts that spare the mountain's side.
His cloud-capt eminence divide.
And spread the ruin round.
The well-in form'd philosopher
Rejoices with an wholesome fear,
And hopes, in spite of pain;
If Winter l)ellow from the north.
Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth,
And Nature laughs again.
TO LICINIUS. 819
"What if thine heaven be overcast?
The dark appearance will not last;
Expect a brighter sky;
The god, that strings the silver bow,
Awakes sometimes the Muses, too.
And lays his arrows by.
If hindrances obstruct thy way.
Thy magnanimity display,
And let thy strength be seen;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvas in.
Cowper.
TO PYF(F^HA.
(By Horace.)
What youth, O Pyrrha! blooming fair,
With rose-twined wreath and perfumed hair,
Woos thee beneath yon grotto's shade.
Urgent in prayer and amorous glance?
For whom dost thou thy tresses braid,
Simple in thine elegance?
Alas! full soon shall he deplore
Thy broken faith, thy altered mien:
Like one astonished at the roar
Of breakers on a leeward shore,
Whom gentle airs and skies serene
Had tempted on the treacherous deep.
So he thy perfidy shall weep
Who now enjoys thee fair and kind,
But dreams not of the shifting wind.
Thrice wretched they, deluded and betrayed,
Who trust thy glittering smile and Siren tongue!
I have escaped the shipwreck, and have hung
820 LITERATURE.
In Neptune*s fane my dripping vest displayed
With votive tablet on his altar laid,
Thanking the sea-god for his timely aid.
Lord Ravensworth,
SENECA.
Seneca was born 7 B. C. and died 65 A. D. His writings
were of a philosophical nature. His character was much
doubted. His great misfortune was to have known Nero, who
ordered him to be put to death, to which he merely replied that
he who had murdered his brother and his mother could not be
expected to spare his teacher. He had been absent from Rome
some time, and when he returned to visit his mother in the
country, he was spied, and Nero sent a squad of armed men
to the house to ask him to choose the manner of his death.
His fame rests on his numerous writings, which, with all their
faults, have great merits. His principal works, which are of
a philosophical character, are essays "On Anger," "On
Consolation," " On Providence," " On Tranquillity of Mind,"
"On the Firmness of the Wise Man," "On Clemency,"
"On the Brevity of Human Life," "On a Happy Life,"
etc., together with " Epistles of Lucilius," one hundred and
twenty-four in number. Besides these, there are extant ten
tragedies attributed to him, entitled, Hercules Furens^ ThyesteSy
Thebais or Phoenissce^ Hippolytus or Ph(xdray CEdipus^
Troades or Hecuba^ Medea^ Aframemnon^ Hercules CEtceus
and Octavia. These were never intended for the stasfe, but
were designed for reading or recitation, after the Roman
fashion. They contain many striking passages, and have some
merits as poems.
HAPPINESS FOUNDED ON WISDOM. 82 1
HAPPI]NE^? FOUNDED ON WISDOJVI.
(By Seneca.)
Taking it for granted that human ha-ppiness is founded upon
-wisdom and virtue^ we shall treat of these two points in order
as they He, and Jirs^ of ivisdom; not in the latitude of its vari-
ous operations, but only as it has a regard to good life and the
happiness of mankind.
Wisdom is a right understanding; a faculty of discerning
good from evil; what is to be chosen, and what rejected; a judg-
ment grounded upon the value of things, and not the common
opinion of them; an equality of force and strength of resolution.
It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it takes us up with the
contemplation of the works of nature, and makes us invincible
by either good or evil fortune. It is large and spacious, and re-
quires a great deal of room to work in; it ransacks heaven and
earth; it has for its object things past and to come, transitory and
eternal. It examines all the circumstances of time; "what it is,
when it began, and how long it will continue;" and so for the
mind; "whence it came; what it is; when it begins; how long it
lasts ; whether or no it passes from one form to another, or serves
only one, and wanders when it leaves us; where it abides in the
state of separation, and what the action of it; what use it makes
of its liberty; whether or no it retains the memory of things
past, and comes to the knowledge of itself'"' It is the habit of
a perfect mind and the perfection of humanity, raised as high as
nature can carry it. It differs from -philosophy^ as avarice and
money; the one desires, and the other is desired; the one is the
effect and the reward of the other. To be wise is the use of
wisdom, as seeing is the use of eyes and well-speaking the use
of eloquence. He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay,
the very beginning of wisdom makes life easy to us. Neither
822 LITERATURE.
is it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by
daily meditation, and so bring a good will to a good habit.
And we must practice what we preach, for philosophy is not a
subject for popular ostentation, nor does it rest in words, but in
things. It is not an entertainment taken up for delight, or to
give a taste to leisure, but it fashions the mind, governs our ac-
tions, tells us what we are to do, and what not. It sits at the
helm, and guides us through all hazards; nay, we can not be
safe without it, for every hour gives us occasion to make use of
it. It informs us in all the duties of life, piety to our parents,
faith to our friends, charity to the miserable, judgment in coun-
sel ; it gives us peace^ hy fearing nothing, and riches^ by coveting
nothing.
There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man from
discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tempers it; if
bad, he masters it; if he has an estate, he will exercise his virtue
in plenty, if none, in poverty; if he can not do it in his country,
he will doit in banishment; if he has no command, he will do the
office of a common soldier. Some people have the skill of re-
claiming the fiercest of beasts: 'they will make a lion embrace
his keeper, a tiger kiss him, and an elephant kneel to him. This
is the case of a wise man in the extremest difficulties; let them
be never so terrible in themselves, when they come to him once,
they are perfectly tame. They that ascribe the invention of til-
lage, architecture, navigation, etc., to wise men, may perchance
be in the right, that they were invented by wise men; but they
were not invented by wise men, as wise men; for wisdom does
not teach our fingers, but our minds: fiddling and dancing, arms
and fortifications, were the works of luxury and discord; but
wisdom instructs us in the way of nature, and in the arts of unity
and concord; not in the instruments, but in the government of
life; nor to make us live only, but to live happily. She teaches
us what things are good, what evil, and what only appear so ; and
HAPPINESS FOUNDED ON WISDOM. 823
to distinguish betwixt true greatness and tumor. She clears our
minds of dross and vanity ; she raises up our thoughts to heaven,
and carries them down to hell; she discourses on the nature of
the soul, the powers and faculties of it; the first principles of
things; the order of providence: she exalts us from things cor-
poreal to things incorporeal ; and retrieves the truth of all : she
searches nature, gives laws to life; and tells us, "that it is not
enough to know God unless we obey Him." She looks upon all
accidents as acts of providence; sets a true value upon things;
delivers us from false opinions, and condemns all pleasures that
are attended with repentance. She allows nothing to be good
that will not be so forever ; no man to be happy but he that needs
no other happiness than what he has within himself; no man to
be great or powerful, that is not master of himself; — and this is
the felicity of human life ; a felicity that can neither be corrupted
nor extinguished.
AQAINpT RA^H JUDQJVIENT.
{By Seneca.)
It is good for every man to fortify himself on his weak side ;
and if he loves his peace, he must not be inquisitive and harken
to tale-bearers; for the man that is over-curious to hear and see
everything, multiplies troubles to himself; for a man does not feel
what he does not know. He that is listening after private dis-
course, and what people say of him, shall never be at peace.
How many things that are innocent in themselves, are made in-
jurious yet by misconstruction? Wherefore some things we
are to pause upon, others to laugh at, and others again to pardon.
Or if we can not avoid the sense of indignities, let us, however,
shun the open profession of it; which may be easily done, as ap-
824
LITERATURE.
pears by many examples of those who have suppressed their
anger, under the awe of a greater fear. It is a good caution not
to beHeve anything until you are very certain of it; for many
probable things prove false, and a short time will make evidence
of the undoubted truth. We are prone to believe many things
which we are unwilling to hear, and so we conclude, and take up
a prejudice before we can judge.
Never condemn a friend unheard; or
without letting him know his accuser,
or his crime. It is a common thing to
say, " Do not tell that you had it from
me; for if you do, I will deny it; and
never tell you anything again." By
which means friends are set together
by the ears, and the informer slips his
neck out of the collar. Admit no
KucMD. stories, upon these terms; for it is an
unjust thing to believe in private, and be angry openly. He that
delivers himself up to guess and conjecture, runs a great hazard ;
for there can be no suspicion without some probable grounds; so
that without much candor and simplicity, and making the best
of everything, there is no living in society with mankind. Some
things that offend us we have by report; others we see or hear.
In the first case, let us not be too credulous; some people frame
stories that may deceive us; others only tell us what they hear,
and are deceived themselves ; some make it their sport to do ill
offices; others do them onl}^ to receive thanks; there are some
that would part the dearest friends in the world ; others love to do
mischief, and stand off aloof to see what comes of it. If it be
a small matter, I would have witnesses; but if it be a greater, I
would have it upon oath, and allow time to the accused, and
counsel, too, and hear it over and over again.
THE EQUALITY OF MAN. 825
THE EQUALITY Of JVlAf^.
{By Seneca.)
It is not well done to be still murmuring against nature and
fortune, as if it were their unkindness that makes you incon-
siderable, when it is only by your own weakness that you make
yourself so; for it is virtue, not pedigree, that renders a man
either valuable or happy. Philosophy does not either reject or
choose any man for his quality. Socrates was no -patrician^
Cleanthes but an under - gar dener j neither did Plato dignify
philosophy by his birth, but by his goodness. All these worthy
men are our -pi'ogenitors^ if we will but do ourselves the honor
to become their disciples. The original of all mankind was the
same, and it is only a clear conscience that makes any man
noble, for that derives even from heaven itself It is the saying
of a great man, that if we could trace our descents we should
find all slaves to come from princes and all princes from slaves.
But fortune has turned all things topsy-turvy, in a long story of
revolutions. It is most certain that our beginning had nothing
before it, and our ancestors were some of them splendid, others
sordid, as it happened. We have lost the memorials of our ex-
traction; and, in truth, it matters not whence we come, but
whither we go. Nor is it any more to our honor the glory
of our predecessors, than it is to their shame the wickedness of
their posterity. We are all of us composed of the same ele-
ments; why should we, then, value ourselves upon our nobility of
blood, as if we were not all of us equal, if we could but recover
our evidence? But when we can carry it no farther, the herald
provides us some hero to supply the place of an illustrious
original, and there is the rise of arms and families. For a man
to spend his life in pursuit of a title, that serves only when he
dies, to furnish out an epitaph., is below a wise man's business.
826 LITERATURE.
ALL THINQ3 OF(DERED BY QOD.
(By Seneca.)
Every man knows without telling, that this wonderful fabric
of the universe is not without a Governor, and that a constant
"order can not be the work of chance, for the parts would then fall
foul one upon another. The motions of the stars, and their in-
fluences, are acted by the command of an eternal decree. It is
by the dictate of an Almighty Power, that the heavy body of
the earth hangs in balance. Whence come the revolutions of
the seasons and the flux of the rivers? the wonderful virtue of
the smallest seeds? as an oak to arise from an acorn. To say
nothing of those things that seem to be most irregular and un-
certain; as clouds, rain, thunder, the eruptions of fire out of
mountains, earthquakes, and those tumultuary motions in the
lower region of the air, which have their ordinate causes, and so
have those things, too, which appear to us more admirable be-
cause les^ frequent; as scalding fountains and new islands started
out of the sea; or what shall we say of the ebbing and flowing
out of the ocean, the constant times and measures of the tides^
according to the changes of the moon that influences most
bodies; but this needs not, for it is not that we doubt of provi-
dence, but complain of it. And it were a good office to recon-
cile mankind to the gods, who are undoubtedly best to the best.
It is against nature that good should hurt good. A good man
is not only the friend of God, but the very image, the disciple^
and the imitator of Him, and a true child of his heavenly Father.
He is true to himself, and acts with constancy and resolution.
PLUTARCH. 827
PLUTARCH.
Plutarch was born A. D. 90, in Chseronea, a city of Boeotia.
To him we are indebted for so many of the lives of the philoso-
phers, poets, orators and generals of antiquity. No book has
been more generally sought after or read with greater avidity
than " Plutarch's Lives." However ancient, either Greek or
Latin, none has received such a universal popularity. But the
character of Plutarch himself, not less than his method of writ-
ing biography, explains his universal popularity, and gives its
special charm and value to his book. He was a man of large
and generous nature, of strong feeling, of refined tastes, of quick
perceptions. His mind had been cultivated in the acquisition of
the best learning of his times, and was disciplined by the study
of books as well as of men. He deserves the title of philoso-
pher ; but his philosophy was of a practical rather than a specula-
tive character — though he was versed in the wisest doctrines of
the great masters of ancient thought, and in some of his moral
works shows himself their not unworthy follower. Above all,
he was a man of cheerful and genial temper. A lover of justice
and of liberty, his sympathies are always on the side of what is
right, noble and honorable.
He was educated at Delphi and improved himself by the
advantages of foreign travel. On his return he was employed
by his country on an embassy to Rome, where he opened a
school for youth, employing all his leisure time at that capital of
the world and chief seat of erudition in acquiring those vast
stores of learning which he afterwards read for the delight and
instruction of mankind. "It must be borne in mind," he says,
" that my design is not to write histories, but lives. And the
most glorious exploits do not always furnish us with the clearest
828 LITERATURE.
discoveries of virtue or vice in men; sometimes a matter of less
moment, an expression or a jest, informs us better of their char-
acters and inclinations than the most famous sieges, the greatest
armaments, or the bloodiest battles whatsoever. Therefore, as
portrait-painters are more exact in the lines and features of the
face, in which the character is seen, than in the other parts of
the body, so I must be allowed to give my more particular at-
tention to the marks and indications of the souls of men; and,
while I endeavor by these to portray their lives, may be free to
leave more weighty matters and great battles to be treated by
others."
THE HORRIBLE PF(O^CRIPTION^ OF ^YLLA.
{By Plutarch.)
Sylla being thus wholly bent upon slaughter, and filling the
city with executions without number or limit, many wholly un-
interested persons falling a sacrifice to private enmity, through
his permission and indulgence to his friends, Caius Metellus, one
of the younger men, made bold in the senate to ask him what
end there was of these evils, and at what point he might be ex-
pected to stop? " We do not ask you," said he, " to pardon any
whom you have resolved to destroy, but to free from doubt those
whom you are pleased to save." Sylla answering, that he knew
not as yet whom to spare, " Why, then," said he, " tell us whom
you will punish." This Sylla said he would do. These last
words, some authors say, were spoken not by Metellus, but by
Afidus, one of Sylla's fawning companions. Immediately upon
this, without communicating with any of the magistrates, Sylla
proscribed eighty persons, and notwithstanding the general in-
dignation, after one day's respite he posted two hundred and
PROSCRIPTION OF SYLLA. 829
twenty more, and on the third, again, as many. In an address
to the people on this occasion, he told them he had put up as
many names as he could think of; those that had escaped his
memory he would publish at a future time. He issued an edict
likewise, making death the punishment of humanity, proscribing
any who should dare to receive and cherish a proscribed person,
without exception to brother, son, or parents. And to him who
should slay any one proscribed person, he ordained two talents
reward, even were it a slave who had killed his master, or a son
his father. And what was thought most unjust of all, he caused
the attainder to pass upon their sons, and son's sons, and made
open sale of all their property. Nor did the proscription prevail
only at Rome, but throughout all the cities of Italy the effusion
of blood was such, that neither sanctuary of the gods, nor hearth
of hospitality, nor ancestral home escaped. Men were butchered
in the embraces of their wives, children in the arms of their
mothers. Those who perished through public animosity, or pri-
vate enmity, were nothing in comparison of the numbers of those
who suffered for their riches. Even the murderers began to say,
that "his fine house killed this man, a garden that, a third, his
hot baths." Quintus Aurelius, a quiet, peaceable man, and one
who thought all his part in the common calamity consisted in
condoling with the misfortunes of others, coming into the forum
to read the list, and finding himself among the proscribed, cried
out, " Woe is me, my Alban farm has informed against me/"
He had not gone far, before he was dispatched by a ruffian, sent
on that errand.
830 LITERATURE.
DEjVlO^THEJ^E^ AND CICEF(0 COMPAF(ED.
(By Plutarch.)
Omitting an exact comparison of the respective faculties in
speaking of Demosthenes and Cicero, yet this much seems lit to
be said; that Demosthenes, to make himself a master in rhetoric,
applied all the faculties he had, natural or acquired, wholly that
way; that he far surpassed in force and strength of eloquence all
his cotemporaries in political and judicial speaking, in grandeur
and majesty all the panegyrical orators, and in accuracy and
science all the logicians and rhetoricans of his day ; that Cicero
was highly educated, and by his diligent study became a most
accomplished general scholar in all these branches, having left
behind him numerous philosophical treatises of his own on
Academic principles; as, indeed, even in his written speeches,
both political and judicial, we see him continually trying to show
his learning by the way. And one may discover the different
temper of each of them in their speeches. For Demosthenes'
oratory was without all embellishment and jesting, wholly com-
posed for real effect and seriousness ; not smelling of the lamp, as
Pytheas scoffingly said, but of the temperance, thoughtful ness,
austerity, and grave earnestness of his temper. Whereas Cicero's
love for mockery often ran him into scurrility; and in his love of
laughing away serious arguments in judicial cases by jests and
facetious remarks, with a view to the advantage of his clients, he
paid too little regard to what was decent. Indeed, Cicero was
by natural temper very much disposed to mirth and pleasantry,
and always appeared with a smiling and serene countenance.
But Demosthenes had constant care and thoughtfulness in his look,
and a serious anxiety, which he seldom, if ever, set aside, and,
therefore, was accounted by his enemies, as he himself confessed,
morose and ill-mannered.
DEMOSTHENES AND CICERO COMPARED.
831
Also, it is very evident, out of their several writings, that
Demosthenes never touched upon his own praises but decently
and without offense when there was need of it, and for some
weightier end ; but, upon other occasions, modestly and sparingly.
But Cicero's immeasurable boasting
of himself in his orations argues him
guilty of an uncontrollable appetite for
distinction, his cry being evermore
that arms should give place to the
ofown, and the soldier's laurel to the
tongue. And at last we find him ex-
tolling not only his deeds and actions,
but his orations, also, as well those that
were only spoken, as those that were
pubhshed. * *
The power of persuading and
governing the people did, indeed,
equally belong to both, so that those
who had armies and camps at com- Alexander severus.
mand stood in need of their assistance. But what are thought
and commonly said most to demonstrate and try the tempers of
men, namely, authority and place, by moving every passion, and
discovering every frailty, these are things which Demosthenes
never received; nor was he ever in a position to give such proof
of himself, having never obtained any eminent office, nor led an}^
of those armies into the field against Philip which he raised by
his eloquence. Cicero, on the other hand, was sent quaestor into
Sicily, and proconsul into Cilicia and Cappadocia, at a time when
avarice was at the height, and the commanders and governors
who were employed abroad, as though they thought it a mean
thing to steal, set themselves to seize by open force; so that it
seemed no heinous matter to take bribes, but he that did it most
moderately was in good esteem. And yet he, at this time, gave
832 LITERATURE.
the most abundant proofs alike of his contempt of riches and of
his humanity and good nature. And at Rome, when he was
created consul in name, but indeed received sovereign and dicta-
torial authority against Catiline and his conspirators, he attested
the truth of Plato's prediction, that then the miseries of states
would be at an end, when by a happy fortune supreme power,
wisdom and justice should be united in one. * *
Finally, Cicero's death excites our pity; for an old man to
be miserably carried up and down by his servants, flying and
hiding himself from that death which was, in the course of na-
ture, so near at hand, and yet at last to be murdered. Demos-
thenes, though he seemed at first a little to supplicate, yet, by
his preparing and keeping the poison by him, demands our ad-
miration; and still more admirable was his using it. When
the temple of the god no longer afforded him a sanctuary, he
took refuge, as it were, at a mightier altar, freeing himself
from arms and soldiers, and laughing to scorn the cruelty of
Antipater.
[This seems to have been Plutarch's views of suicide, and,
in fact, the spirit of the age in which he lived. From the stand-
point of the philosophy of our day, suicide manifests nothing but
a weakness and very generally insanity.]
'^
yi
^
834 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
the base with a podium, or supporting wall of masonry, as at the
Cocumella at Vulci, and in the Regulini-Galassi tomb. The
Lydians adopted a similar improvement in the tomb of Alyattes,
near Sardis. The pyramid, which is but a further development
in stone of this form cf sepulture, is not peculiar to Egypt alone,
it has been adopted in several other countries. Examples of
subterranean tombs are to be found in Egypt, Etruria, Greece.
Those of Egypt and Etruria afford instances of extraordinary-
labor bestowed in excavating and constructing these subterranean
abodes of the dead. The great reverence paid by the Egyp-
tians to the bodies of their ancestors, and their careful preserva-
tion of them by embalmment, necessitated a great number and
vast extent of tombs. The Egyptians called their earthly dwell-
ings inns, because men stay there but a brief while; the tombs
of the departed they called everlasting mansions, because the dead
dwelt in them forever.
The pyramids were tombs. These monuments were the
last abode of the Kings of the early dynasties. They are to be
met with in Lower Egypt alone. The Theban Kings and their
subjects erected no pyramids, and none of their tombs are struc-
tural. In Upper Egypt numerous excavations from the living
rock in the mountains of the Thebaid received their mortal re-
mains. Nothing can exceed the magnificence and care with
which these tombs of the Kings were excavated and decorated.
It appears to have been the custom with their Kings, so soon as
they ascended the throne, to begin preparing their final resting
place. The excavation seems to have gone on uninterruptedly,
year by year, the painting and adornment being finished as it
progressed, till the hand of death ended the King's reign, and
simultaneously the works of his tomb. The tomb thus became
an index of the length of a King's reign as well as of his magnifi-
cence. Their entrance, carefully closed, was frequently indicated
by a facade cut on the side of the hill. A number of passages,
836 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
sometimes intersected by deep wells and large halls, finally led,
frequently by concealed entrances, to the large chamber where
was the sarcophagus, generally of granite, basalt, or alabaster.
The sides of the entire excavation, as well as the roof, were
covered with paintings, colored sculptures, and hieroglyphic in-
scriptions in which the name of the deceased King was fre-
quently repeated. We generally find represented in them the
funeral ceremonies, the procession, the visit of the soul of the
deceased to the principal divinities, its offerings to each of them,
lastly, its presentation by the god who protected it to the su-
preme god of the Amenti, the under-world or Kades. The
splendor of these works, and the richness and variety of their
ornamentation, exceed all conception; the figures, though in
great number, are sometimes of colossal size; frequently scenes
of civil life are mingled with funeral representations; the labors
of agriculture, domestic occupations, musicians, dances, and
furniture of wonderful richness and elegance, are also figured on
them; on th^' ceiling are generally astronomical or astrological
subjects. Several tombs of the Kings of the eighteenth dynasty
and subsequent dynasties have been found in the valley of Biban-
el-Molouk on the western side of the plain of Thebes. One of
the most splendid of these is that opened by Belzoni, and now
known as that of Osirei Menepthah, of the nineteenth dynasty.
A sloping passage leads to a chamber which has been called
" The Hall of Beauty."
Forcing his way farther on, Belzoni found as a termination
to a series of chambers a large vaulted hall which contained the
sarcophagus which held the body of the monarch, now in Sir
John Soane's Museum. The entire extent of this succession of
chambers and passages is hollowed to a length of 320 feet into
the heart of the rock, and they are profusely covered with the
paintings and hieroglyphics, usually found in those sepulchral
chambers. The tombs of the other Kings, Remeses III. and
BURYING ACCORDING TO RANK. 837
Remeses Miamun, exhibit similar series of passages and cham-
bers, covered with paintings and sculptures, in endless variety, some
representing the deepest mysteries of the Egyptian religion ; but,
as Mr. Fergusson says, like all the tombs, the}' depend for their
magnificence more on the paintings that adorn the walls than on
anything which can strictly be called architecture. One of the
tombs at Biban-el Molouk is 862 feet in length without reckoning
the lateral chambers; the total area of excavation is 23,809, oc-
cupying an acre and a quarter of space for one chamber.
Private individuals were buried according to their rank and
fortune. Their tombs, also excavated from the living rock, con-
sisted of one or of several chambers ornamented with paintings
and sculptures; the last contained the sarcophagus and the
mummy. According to Sir G. Wilkinson, the tombs were the
property of the priests, and a sufficient number being always kept
ready, the purchase was made at the shortest notice, nothing be-
ing requisite to complete even the sculptures or inscriptions but
the insertion of the deceased's name and a few statements re-
specting his family and profession. The numerous subjects repre-
senting agricultural scenes, the trades of the people, in short, the
various occupations of the Egyptians, varying only in their details
and the mode of their execution, were figured in these tombs, and
were intended as a short epitome of human life, which suited
equally every future occupant. The tombs at Beni Hassan are
even of an earlier date than those of Thebes. Among these the
tomb of a monarch or provincial governor is of the age of Osir-
tasen I. The walls of this tomb are covered with a series of
representations, setting forth the ordinary occupations and daily
avocations of the deceased, thus illustrating the manners and cus-
toms of the Egytians of that age. These representations are a
sort of epitome of life, or the career of man, previous to his ad-
mission to the mansions of the dead. They were therefore
intended to show that the deceased had carefully and duly ful-
838 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS
filled and performed all the duties and avocations which his
situation in life and the reverence due to the gods required. In
the cemeteries of Gizeh and Sakkara are tombs o*' the time of
Nephercheres, sixth King of the second dynasty, probably the
most ancient in Egypt. Around the great pyramid are numerous
tombs of different periods; among them are the tombs of the
princes, and other members of the family or time of Khufu.
One of the most interesting is that known as CampbelPs tomb,
of the supposed date of about 660 B. C. It contained a tomb
built up in its center, covered by three stones as struts, over
which was a semicircular arch of brick. Near it, also, are several
tombs of private individuals, who were mostly priests of Mem-
phis. Many of these have false entrances, and several have
pits with their mouths at the top of the tomb. The walls are
covered with the usual paintings representing the ordinary occu-
pations of the deceased.
Mummies. — The origin of the process of embalming has been
variously accounted for. The real origin appears to be this : it was
a part of the religious belief of the Egyptians that, as a reward of
a well-spent and virtuous life, their bodies after death should
exist and remain undecayed forever in their tombs, for we find
in the " Book of the Dead " the following inscription placed over
the spirits who have found favor in the eyes of the Gieat God:
" The bodies which they have forsaken shall slee-p forever in
their sepulchres, while they rejoice in the presence of God most
high." This inscription evidently shows a belief in a separate
eternity for soul and body; of an eternal existence of the body
in the tomb, and of the soul in the presence of God. The soul
was supposed to exist as long as the body existed. Hence the
necessity of embalming the body as a means to insure its eternal
existence. Some have considered that the want of ground for
cemeteries, and also the excavations made in the mountains for
the extraction of materials employed in the immense buildings
MUMMIES. 839
of Egypt, compelled them to have recourse to the expedient of
mummification. Others consider the custom arose rather from
a sanitary regulation for the benefit of the living. According to
Mr. Gliddon, mummification preceded, in all probability, the
building of the pyramids and tombs, because vestiges of mum-
mies have been found in the oldest of these, and, in fact, the first
mummies were buried in the sand before the Egyptians possessed
the necessary tools for excavating sepulchres in the rock. The
earliest mode of mummification was extremely simple; the bodies
were prepared with natron, or dried in ovens, and wrapped in
woolen cloth. At a later period every provincial temple was
provided with an establishment for the purpose of mummification.
The bodies were delivered to the priests to be embalmed, and
after seventy days restored to their friends, to be carried to the
place of deposit. The mode of embalming depended on the
rank and position of the deceased. There were three modes of
embalming; the first is said to have cost a talent of silver (about
$1,250); the second, 22 minae ($300); the third was extremely
cheap. The process is thus described by Herodotus; — " In Eg3^pt
certain persons are appointed b}^ law to exercise this art as their
peculiar business, and when a dead body is brought them the}^
produce patterns of mummies in wood, imitated in painting. In
preparing the body according to the most expensive mode, they
commence by extracting the brain from the nostrils by a curved
hook, partly cleansing the head by these means, and partly by
pouring in certain drugs; then making an incision in the side
with a sharp Ethiopian stone (black flint), they draw out the in-
testines through the aperture. Having cleansed and washed them
with palm wine, they cover them with pounded aromatics, and
afterwards filling the cavity with powder of pure myrrh, cassia,
and other fragrant substances, frankincense excepted, they sew it
up again. This being done, they salt the body, keeping it in
natron during seventy days, to which period they are strictly
840 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
confined. When the seventy days are over, they wash the body,
and wrap it up entirely in bands of fine linen smeared on the
inner side with gum. The relatives then take away the body,
and have a wooden case made in the form of a man, in which
they deposit it ; and when fastened up they keep it in a room in _
their house, placing it upright against the wall. (This style of
mummy was supposed to represent the deceased in the form of
Osiris.) This is the most costly mode of embalming.
" For those who choose the middle kind, on account of the
expense, they prepare the body as follows: — They fill syringes
with oil of cedar, and inject this into the abdomen without
making any incision or removing the bowels; and, taking care
that the liquid shall not escape, they keep it in salt during the
specified number of days. The cedar-oil is then taken out, and
such is its streno:th that it brings with it the bowels and all the
inside in a state of dissolution. The natron also dissolves the
flesh, so that nothing remains but the skin and bones. This
process being over, they restore the bod}^ without any further
operation.
" The third kind of embalming is only adapted for the poor.
In this they merely cleanse the body by an injection of syrmaea,
and salt it during seventy days, after which it is returned to the
friends who brous^ht it."
Sir G. Wilkinson gives some further information with regard
to the more expensive mode of embalming. The body, having
been prepared with the proper spices and drugs, was enveloped
in linen bandages sometimes 1,000 yards in length. It was then
enclosed in a cartonage fitting close to the mummied body,
which was richly painted and covered in front with a network
of beads and bugles arranged in a tasteful form, the face being
laid over with a thick gold leaf, and the eyes made of enamel.
The three or four cases which successively covered the cartonage
were ornamented in like manner with painting and gilding, and
MUMMIES.
841
the whole was enclosed in a sarcophagus of wood or stone, pro-
fufiely charged with painting or sculpture. These cases, as well
as the cartonage, varied in
style and richness, according
to the expense incurred by
the friends of the deceased.
The bodies thus embalmed
were generally of priests of
various grades. Sometimes
the skin itself was covered
with gold leaf; sometimes
the whole body, the face, or
eyelids; sometimes the nails
alone. In many instances
the body or the cartonage
was beautified in an expen-
sive manner, and the outer
cases were little ornament-
ed; but some preferred the
external show of rich cases
and sarcophagi. Some
mummies have been found
with the face covered by a
mask of cloth fitting closely
to it, and overlaid with a
coating of composition, so
painted as to resemble the
deceased, and to have the
appearance of flesh. These,
according to Sir G. Wilkin-
son, are probably of a Greek
epoch. Greek mummies usually differed from those of the
Egyptians in the manner of disposing the bandages of the arms
842 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
and legs. No Egyptian is found with the limbs bandaged sepa-
rately, as those ot" Greek mummies. On the breast was frequently
placed a scarabaeus in immediate contact with the flesh. These
scarabsei, when of stone, had their extended wings made of lead
or silver. On the cartonage and case, in a corresponding situa-
tion above, the same emblem was also placed, to indicate the
protecting influence of the Deity. The subjects painted upon the
cartonage were the four genii of Amenti, and various emblems
belons'inor to deities connected with the dead. A lono^ line of hie-
roglyphics extending down the front usually contained the name
and quality of the deceased, and the offerings presented by him to
the gods; and transverse bands frequently repeated the former,
with similar donations to other deities. On the breast was
placed the figure of Netpe, with expanded wings, protecting the
deceased; sacred arks, boats, and other things were arranged in
different compartments, and Osiris, Isis, Anubis, and other
deities, were frequently introduced. In some instances Isis was
represented throwing her arms round the feet of the mummy,
with this appropriate legend: "I embrace th}^ feet." A plaited
beard was attached to the chin when the mummy was that of a
man; the absence of this appendage indicated the mummy of a
woman.
Mummy Cases and Sarcophaorz. — The outer case of the
mummy was either of wood — sycamore or cedar — or of stone.
When of wood it had a flat or circular summit, sometimes with
a stout square pillar rising at each angle. The whole was richly
painted, and some of an older age frequently had a door repre-
sented near one of the corners. At one end was the figure of
Isis, at the other Nepthys, and the top was painted with bands
or fancy devices. In others, the lid represented the curving top
of the ordinary Egyptian canopy. The stone coffins, usually
called sarcophagi, were of oblong shape, having flat straight
sides, like a box, with a curved or pointed lid. Sometimes the
MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI.
843
figure of the deceased was represented upon the latter in relief,
like that of the Queen of Amasis in the British Museum; and
some were in the form of a King's name or oval. Others were
made in the shape of the mummied body, whether of basalt,
granite, slate, or limestone, specimens of which are met with
in the British Museum. These cases were deposited in the sepul-
chral chambers. Various offerings were placed near them, and
sometimes the instruments of the profession of the deceased.
COFFIN OF ALABASTER. {Features of the deceased Sculptured)
Near them vrere also placed vases and small figures of the de-
ceased, of wood or vitrified earthenware. In Sir John Soane's
museum is the sarcophagus of Seti I. (Menephtha) B. C. 1322,
cut out of a single block of Oriental alabaster. It is profusely
covered with hieroglyphics, and scenes on it depict the passage
of the sun through the hours of the night. It was found by
Belzoni in his tomb in the Biban-el-molouk. The sarcophagus
now in the British Museum was formerly supposed to have
been the identical sarcophagus which contained the body of
Alexander the Great. The hieroglyphic name, which has been
8^4 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
read upon the monument, proves it to be that of Nectanebo I.,
of the thirtieth dynasty, who reigned from B. C. 381 to 363. Its
material is a breccia from a quarry near Thebes, and is remark-
able for its hardness. A remarkable rectangular-shaped coffin
of whinstone was that of Menkare, the Mycerinus of the Greeks,
and the builder of the third pyramid; this interesting relic was
found by Colonel Vyse in the sepulchral chambers of the third
pyramid, but was unfortunately lost at sea while on its way to
Ensrland. The remains of the cedar-coffin of this monarch are
in the British Museum. Many beautiful sarcophagi are in the
Vatican at Rome.
The vases, generally named canopi, from their resemblance
to certain vases made by the Romans to imitate the Egyptian
taste, but inadmissible in its application to any Egyptian vase,
were four in number, of ditferent materials, according to the
rank of the deceased, and were placed near his coffin in the
tomb. Some were of common limestone, the most costly were
of Oriental alabaster. These four vases form a complete series;
the principal intestines of the mummy were placed in them, em-
balmed in spices and various substances, and rolled up in linen,
each containing a separate portion. They were supposed to be-
long to the four genii of Amenti, whose heads and names they
bore. The vase with a cover, representing the human head of
Amset, held the stomach and large intestines; that with the
cynocephalus head of Hapi contained the small intestines; in
that belonging to the jackal-headed Tuautmutf were the lungs
and heart; and for the vase of the hawk-headed Kabhsenuf
were reserved the gall-bladder and liver. On the sides of the
vases were several columns of hieroglyphics, which expressed
the adoration of the deceased to each of the four deities whose
symbols adorned the covers, and which gave the name of the
deceased.
Small figures, called shahti^ offered through respect for the
MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI. 845
dead, are to be ibund in great numbers in the tombs. They
were images of Osiris, whose form the deceased was supposed
to assume, and who thence was called the Osirian. They are in
several shapes, sometimes in that of the deceased, standing in
the dress of the period, but more generall}' in the shape of a
mummy, the body swathed in bandages, from which the hands
come out, holding a hoe, hab^ and pick-ax, and the cord of a
square basket, slung on the left shoulder, or nape of the neck.
The head attire of the deceased is either that of the period or
dignity, and in the case of monarchs accompanied by the urseus,
emblem of royalty. Some figures hold the emblem of life, ankJi^
and of stability, tat^ or a whip, khu. They are generally of
wood, or vitrified earthenware. The name and quality of the
deceased are found on all those in the same tomb, and thrown
on the ground round the sarcophagus. They usually bear in
hieroglyphics the sixth chapter of the funeral ritual. Some are
found with a blank space left for the name of the deceased,
which leads one to think that the relations and friends procured
these figures from dealers; the funeral formula, with a list ot
the customary p«-esentations of offerings for his soul to Osiris
were already on them; nothing was wanting but the name of
the deceased; this being added, they were then evidently offered
as testimonies of respect by the relations and friends of the
deceased, perhaps at the funeral, and then collected and placed
in the tomb. Sometimes these small figures were placed in
painted cases divided into compartments. These cases were
about two feet long and one foot high.
Manuscripts on papyrus, of various lengths, have been found
on some mummies. These rolls of papyrus are found in the cof
fins, or under the swathings of the mummies, between the legs,
on the breast, or under the arms. Some are enclosed in a cylin-
drical case. The papyrus of the Museum of Turin is sixty-six
feet long, that at Paris is twenty-two feet long; others are of dif-
846 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
ferent lengths, down to two or three feet. That of Turin may
be considered as complete. On all, the upper part of the page
is occupied by a line of figures of the divinities which the soul
visits in succession; the rest is tilled with perpendicular columns
of hieroglyphics, which are pra3'ers which the soul addresses to
each divinity; towards the end of the manuscript is painted the
judgment scene ; the great god Osiris is on his throne ; at his feet
is an enormous female crocodile, its mouth open; behind is the
divine balance, surmounted by a cynocephalus emblem of
univ^ersal justice; the good and bad actions of the soul are
weighed in his presence. Horus examines the plummet, and
Thoth records the sentence; standing close by is the soul of the
deceased in its corporeal form, conducted by the two goddesses,
Truth and Justice, before the great judge of the dead. The
name of Ritual of the Dead has been given by Egyptologists to
these papyri, but in reality they bear the title of " The Book of
the Manifestation to Light." A copy of this, more or less com-
plete, according to the fortune of the deceased, was deposited in
the case of every mumm}^ The book was revised under the
twent3'-sixth dynasty, and then assumed its final definite form.
But many parts of it are of the highest antiquity. The whole
series of pilgrimages which the soul, separated from the body,
was believed to accomplish in the various divisions of the lower
regions, are related in this book. It contained also a collection
of prayers for the use of the deceased in the other world, and of
magical formulae intended to secure the preservation of the
mummy from decay, and to prevent its possession by an evil
spirit, till the ultimate return of the soul of the deceased. Many
of these rituals are also found written, not in hieroglyphics, but
in hieratic characters, which are an abbreviated form of hiero-
glyphic signs. Papyri with hieroglyphics are nearly always
divided by ruled lines into narrow vertical columns of an inch or
less in breadth, in which the hieroglyphic signs are arranged one
MUMMY CASES AND SARCOPHAGI.
847
under the other. Sometimes the papyri are found written in the
enchorial character. Several manuscripts in Greek on papyrus
have been also discovered in Egypt ; they are, however, of a late
date, and relate to the sale of lands; many have been discovered
referring to lands and possessions about Thebes, one of which
has been given in full on page 245.
DISCOVERED TOMB WITH ITS TREASURES. (At Pompeii.)
Roman Tombs. — Before commencing our description of the
tombs which line the way as the visitor approaches Pompeii,
and seem to prepare him for that funeral silence which reigns in
the long-lost city, the more remarkable for its contrast with the
gay and festive style of decoration which still characterizes the
remains which surround him, it is our intention, as we have done
848 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
in other instances, to give some general information upon the
subject which we are about to treat in detail, for the benefit of
those among our readers to whom the forms of Roman burial
and the expressions of Roman sorrow are unfamiliar.
Great, absurdly great among the uneducated, as is the
importance attached to a due performance of the rites of burial
in the present day, it is as nothing compared to the interest
which was felt on this subject by the Romans; and not by them
only, but by other nations of antiquity, with whose manners we
have nothing to do here. The Romans indeed had a good
reason for this anxiety, for they believed, in common with the
Greeks, that if the body remained unentombed, the soul wan-
dered for a hundred years on the hither side of the Styx, alone
and desponding, unable to gain admission to its final resting-place,
whether among the happy or the miserable. If, therefore, any
person perished at sea, or otherwise under such circumstances
that his body could not be found, a cenotaph ^ or empty tomb,
was erected by his surviving friends, which served as well for his
passport over the Stygian ferry as if his body had been burnt or
committed to the earth with due ceremonies. Hence it became
a religious duty, not rashly to be neglected, to scatter earth over
any unburied body which men chanced to see, for even so slight
a sepulchre as this was held sufficient to appease the scruples of
the infernal gods. The reader, if there be any readers of Latin
to whom these superstitions are unfamiliar, may refer to the
sixth book of the ^neid, line 325, and to a remarkable ode of
Horace, the 28th of the first book, which turns entirely upon this
subject. Burial, therefore, was a matter ef considerable im-
portance.
When death approached, the nearest relative hung over the
dying person, endeavoring to inhale his last breath, in a fond
belief that the anima, the living principle, departed at that
moment, and by that passage from the body. Hence the
ROMAN TOMBS. 849
phrases, aniviam in -primo ore tenere^ sfiritum excipere^ and the
like. It is curious to observe how an estabHshed form of expres-
sion holds its ground. Here are we, after the lapse of eighteen
hundred years, still talking of receiving a dying
friend's last breath, as if we really meant what
we say. After death the body was washed
and anointed by persons called pollinctores ;
then laid out on a bier, the feet to the door,
to t3'pify its approaching departure, dressed in
the best attire which it had formerly owned.
The bier was often decked with leaves and
flowers, a simple and touching tribute of affection, which is of
the heart, and speaks to it, and therefore has maintained its
ground in every age and region, unaffected by the constant
changes in customs merely arbitrary and conventional.
In the early ages of Rome the rites of burial and burning
seem to have been alike in use. Afterwards the former seems
{for the matter is not very clear) to have prevailed, until
towards the close of the seventh century of the city, after the
death of Sylla, who is said to have been the first of the patrician
Cornelii who was burnt. Thenceforward corpses were almost
universally consumed b}^ fire until the establishment of Christian-
ity, when the old fashion was brought up again, burning being
violently opposed by the fathers of the church, probably on
account of its intimate connection with Pagan associations and
superstitions. Seven da3^s, we are told, elapsed between death
and the funeral; on the eighth the corpse was committed to the
flames; on the ninth the ashes were deposited in the sepulchre.
This probably refers only to the fiinerals of the great, where
much splendor and extent of preparation was required, and
especially those public funerals (^funera indictivd) to which the
whole people were bidden by voice of crier, the ceremony being
often closed by theatrical and gladiatorial exhibitions, and a
54
850 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
sumptuous banquet. But we have no intention to narrate the
pomp which accompanied the princely nobles of Rome to the
tomb: it is enough for our purpose to explain the usages of
private life, to which the Street of Tombs owes its origin and its
interest.
In the older times funerals were celebrated at night because
the rites of religion were celebrated by day; and it was pollu-
tion for the ministers, or for anything connected with worship of
the deities of the upper world, even to see, much more to touch,,
anything connected with death. From this nightly solemniza-
tion many of the words connected with this subject are derived.
Those who bore the bier were called originally VesperoneSy.
thence Vespillones^ from Vesper a^ evening; and the very term
funus is derived by grammarians, a fiinalibus^ from the rope
torches coated with wax or tallow which continued to be used
long after the necessity for using them ceased. This practice,,
now far more than two thousand 3'ears old, is still retained in the
Roman Church, with many other ceremonies borrowed from
heathen rites. St. Chrysostom assures us that it is not of
modern revival, and gives a beautiful reason for its being re-
tained. "Tell me," he says, "what mean those brilliant lamps .^
Do we not go forth with the dead on their way rejoicing, as
with men who have fought their fight } "
The corpse being placed upon a litter or bier, the former
being used by the wealthy, the latter by the poor, was carried
out preceded by instrumental musicians, and female singers, who-
chanted the dirge. These hired attendants, whose noisy sorrow
was as genuine as the dumb grief of our mutes, were succeeded,
if the deceased were noble, or distinguished by personal exploits,
by numerous couches containing the family effigies of his ances-
tors, each by itself, that the length of his lineage might be the
more conspicuous; by the images of such nations as he had con-
quered, such cities as he had taken; by the spoils which he had
ROMAN TOMBS. 85 1
won; by the ensigns of the magistracies which he had filled; but
if the fasces were among them these were borne reversed. Then
came the slaves whom he had emancipated (and often with a
view to this post-mortem magnificence, a master emancipated
great numbers of them), wearing hats in token of their manu-
mission. Behind the corpse came the nearest relations, profuse
in the display of grief as far as it can be shown by weeping,
howling, beating the breasts arid cheeks, and tearing the hair,
which was laid, as a last tribute of affection, on the breast of the
deceased, to be consumed with him. To shave the head was
also a sign of mourning. It is a curious inversion of the ordinary
customs of life, that the sons of the deceased mourned with the
head covered, the daughters with it bare.
With this attendance the body was borne to the place of
burial, being usually carried through the Forum, where, if the
deceased had been a person of any eminence, a funeral oration
was spoken from the rostra in his honor. The place of burial
was without the city, in almost ever}' instance. By the twelve
tables it was enacted that no one should be burned or buried
within the city; and as this wholesome law fell into disuse, it
was from time to time revived and enforced. The reasons for
its establishment were twofold, religious and civil. To the
former head belongs the reason, already assigned for a different
observance, that the very sight of things connected with death
brought pollution on things consecrated to the gods of the
upper world. So far was this carried that the priest of Jupi-
ter might not even enter any place where there was a tomb,
or so much as hear the funeral pipes; nay, his wife, the Flaminica,
might not wear shoes made of the hide of an ox which had died
a natural death, because all things which had died spontaneously
were of ill omen. Besides, it was an ill omen to any one to come
upon a tomb unawares. Another reason was that the public
convenience might not be interrupted by private rites, since no
852 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
tombs could be removed without sacrilege when once established,
unless by the state, upon sufficient cause. The civil reasons are
to be sought in the unwholesome exhalations of large burying-
grounds, and the danger of fire from burning funeral piles in the
neighborhood of houses. It is not meant, however, that there
were no tombs within the city. Some appear to have been in-
cluded by the gradual extension of the walls; others were estab-
lished in those intervals when the law of the twelve . tables fell,
^s we have said, into desuetude; nor does it appear that these
^were destro3^ed, nor their contents removed. Thus both the
Claud ian and the Cincian clans had sepulchres in Rome, the
former under the Capitol.
^*
ARTICLES FOUND IN A TOMB
If the family were of sufficient consequence to have a patri-
monial tomb the deceased was laid in it;, if he had none such,
and was wealthy, he usually constructed a tomb upon his prop-
erty during life, or bought a piece of ground for the purpose.
If possible the tomb was always placed near a road. Hence the
usual form of inscription, Stste, Viator (Stay, Traveler), con-
tinually used in churches by those small wits who thought that
nothing could be good English which was not half Latin, and
forgot that in our country the traveler must have stayed already
to visit the sexton before he can possibly do so in compliance
with the advice of the monument. For the poor there were
public burial-grounds, called futiculi, a futeis, from the trenches
ready dug to receive bodies. Such was the ground at the
ROMAN TOMBS. 853
Esquiline gate, which Augustus gave Maecenas for his gardens.
Public tombs were also granted by the state to eminent men, an
honor in early times conferred on few. These grants were
usually made in the Campus Martins, where no one could legally
be buried without a decree of the senate in his favor. It ap-
pears from the inscriptions found in the Street of Tombs, at
Pompeii, that much, if not the whole of the ground on which
those tombs are built, was public property, the property of the
corporation, as we should now say; and that the sites of many
perhaps of all, were either purchased or granted by the de-
curions, or municipal senate, in gratitude tor obligations received.
Sometimes the body was burned at the place where it was
to be entombed, which, when the pile and sepulchre were thus
joined, was called bitstum; sometimes the sepulchre was at a
distance from the place of burning, which was then called
ustrina. The words hustum and septclchriim^ therefore, though
often loosely used as synonymous, are not in fact so, the latter
being involved in, but by no means comprehending the former.
The pile was ordered to be built of rough wood, unpolished b}'
the ax. Pitch was added to quicken the flames, and cypress,
the aromatic scent of which was useful to overpower the stench
of the burning body. The funeral piles of great men were of
immense size and splendidly adorned; and all classes appear to
have indulged their vanity in this respect to the utmost of their
means, so that a small and unattended pyre is mentioned as the
mark of an insignificant or friendless person. The body was
placed on it in the litter or bier; the nearest relation present then
opened the eyes, which it had been the duty of the same person
to close immediately after death, and set fire to the wood with
averted face, in testimony that he performed that office not of
good will, but of necessity. As the combustion proceeded, vari-
ous offerings were cast into the flames. The manes were be-
lieved to love blood; animals, therefore, especially those which
854 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
they had loved while alive, were killed and thrown upon the
pile, as horses, dogs and doves, besides the beasts commonly
used in sacrifice, as sheep and oxen. Human beings, especially
prisoners ol' war, were sometimes put to death, though not in
the later times of the republic. The most costly robes and
arms of the deceased, especially trophies taken in warfare, were
also devoted in his honor, and the blaze was fed by the costly
oils and gums of the East. The body being reduced to ashes,
these were then quenched with wine, and collected by the nearest
relation; after which, if the grief were real, they were again
bedewed with tears ; if not, wine or unguents answered the pur-
pose equally well. The whole ceremony is described in a few
lines by Tibullus:
There, while the fire lies smouldering on the ground,
My bones, the all of me, can then be found.
Arrayed in mourning robes, the sorrowing pair
Shall gather all around with pious care;
With ruddy wine the relics sprinkle o'er,
And snowj' milk on them collected pour.
Then with fair linen cloths the moisture dry,
Liurned in some cold marble tomb to lie.
With them enclose the spices, sweets, and gums,
And all that from the rich Arabia comes,
And what Assyria's wealthy confines send,
And tears, sad offering, to my memory lend.
Eleg. in. 2-17.
The ashes thus collected were then finally deposited in the
urn, which was made of different materials, according to the
quality of the dead; usuall}' of clay or glass, but sometimes of
marble, bronze, and even the precious metals. The ceremony
thus over, the praefica gave the word, IHcet (the contracted
form of Ire licet, It is lawful to go), and the bystanders
departed, having been thrice sprinkled with a branch of olive
or laurel dipped in water, to purify them from the pollution which
ROMAN TOMBS. 855
they had contracted, and repeating thrice the words, Vale^ or
Salve^ words of frequent occurrence in monumental inscriptions,
as in one of beautiful simpHcity which we quote:
" Farewell, most happy soul of Caia Oppia. We shall
follow thee in such order as may be appointed by nature. Fare-
well, sweetest mother."
The distinction between cenotaphs and tombs has been
already explained. Cenotaphs, however, were of two sorts:
those erected to persons already duly buried, which were merely
honorary, and those erected to the unburied dead, which had a
religious end and efficacy. This evasion of the penal laws
against lying unburied was chiefly serviceable to persons ship-
wrecked or slain in war; but all came in for the benefit of it
whose bodies could not be found or identified. When a cenotaph
of the latter class was erected sacrifices were offered, the names
of the deceased were thrice invoked with a loud voice, as if to
summon them to their new abode, and the cenotaph was hallowed
with the same privileges as if the ashes of the deceased reposed
within it.
The heir, however, had not discharged his last duty when
he had laid the body of his predecessor in the tomb; there were
still due solemn rites, and those of an expensive character.
The Romans loved to keep alive the memory of their dead,
showing therein a constancy of affection which does them honor;
and not only immediately after the funeral, but at stated periods
from time to time, they celebrated feasts and offered sacrifices
and libations to them. The month of February was especially
set apart for doing honor to the manes, having obtained that
distinction in virtue of being, in old times, the last month of the
year. Private iuneral feasts were also celebrated on the ninth
day after death, and indeed at any time, except on those days
which were marked as unlucky, because some great public calam-
ity had befallen upon them. Besides these feasts, the dead
856 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
were honored with sacrifices, which were offered to the manes,
and with games; but the latter belong more to those splendid
public funerals which we have professed not to describe. The
inferiae consisted principall}'' of libations, for which were used
water, milk, wine, but especially blood, the smell of which was
thought peculiarly palatable to the ghosts. Perfumes and flowers
were also thrown upon the tomb; and the inexpediency of wast-
ing rich wines and precious oils on a cold stone and dead body,
when they might be employed in comforting the living, was a
favorite subject with the bons vivans of the age. It was with
the same design to crown it with garlands, and to honor it with
libations, that Electra and Orestes met and recognized each other
at their father's tomb. Roses were in especial request for this
service, and lilies also:
Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring,
Mixed with the purple roses of the Spring;
Let me with funeral flowers his body strow,
This gift which parents to their children owe,
This unavailing gift at least I may bestow.
Dryden^ uEn. vi. 883.
Inscriptions. — Before entering upon a description of the
catacombs, we will speak of the inscriptions of the ancients. Most
of the tombs are really Egyptian, and no nation has left so many
inscriptions as the Egyptian. All its monuments are covered
with them. Its temples, palaces, tombs, isolated monuments,
present an infinite number of inscriptions in hieroglyphic, hieratic,
and demotic characters. The Egyptians rarely executed a statue,
or figured representation, without inscribing by its side its name
or subject. This name is invariably found by the side of each
divinity, personage, or individual. In each painted scene, on each
sculptured figure, an inscription, more or less extensive, explains
its subject.
The characters used by the Egyptians were of three kinds —
T
INSCRIPTIONS. 857
hieroglyphic, hieratic, and demotic. The latter has been also
termed enchorial^ or popular. The first was • • •
doubtless a system of representational signs, or =f^ ** g
picture writing — the earliest form of writing, in
the first stage of its development; the hieratic is ui
an abbreviated form of the hieroglyphic; the de- ^ J J J
motic, a simplified form of the hieratic, and a near | | j ^— ^
approach towards the alphabetic system. ^ ^ ^
Hieroglyphics (styled by the Egyptians skhai
en neter tiir — writing of sacred words) are com- V V /
posed of signs representing objects of the physical hieroglyphics.
world, as animals, plants, stars, man and his different members^
and various objects. They are pure or linear, the latter being a
reduction of the former. The pure were always sculptured or
painted. The linear were generally used in the earlier papyri,
containing funeral rituals.
They have been divided into four classes: — i. Representa-
tional or ikonographic; 2, Symbolic or tropical; 3, Enigmatic;
4, Phonetic. From the examination of hieroglyphic inscriptions
of different ages, it is evident that these four classes of symbols
were used promiscuously, according to the pleasure and con-
venience of the artist.
1. Ikonographic, representational, or imitative hieroglyphics,
are those that present the images of the things expressed, as the
sun's disk to signify the sun, the crescent to signify the moon.
These may be styled pure hieroglyphics.
2. The symbolical, or tropical (by Bunsen termed ideo-
graphic), substituted one object for another, to which it bore an
analogy, as heaven and a star expressed night; a leg in a trap,
deceit; two arms stretched towards heaven expressed the word
offering; a censer with some grains of incense, adoration; a bee
was made to signify Lower Egypt; the fore-quarters of a lion,
strength; a crocodile, darkness. The following hieroglyphics
858 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
were on the triumph Hall Thothmes III., and mean, after trans-
lating:
" I went: I order that you reduce and crush all the high
officers of Tsahi. I cast them together with all their possessions
at thy feet."
This kind of character appears to have been particularly
invented for the expression of abstract ideas, especially belong-
ing to religion or the royal power. These are the characters
generally alluded to by the ancients when they speak of hiero-
glyphics, and are the most difficult of interpretation.
3. Enigmatic are those in which an emblematic figure is put
in lieu of the one intended to be represented, as a hawk for the
sun; a seated figure with a curved beard, for a god. These three
kinds were either used a/one, or in company with the phoneti-
cally written word they represented. Thus: i. The word Ra,
sun, might be written in letters only, or be also followed by the
ikonograph, the solar disk (which if alone would still have the
same meaning — Ra, the sun). So, too, the word " moon," Aah,
was followed by the crescent. In these cases the sign so following
the phonetic word has been called a terminative, from its serving
to determine the meaning of what preceded it. We give here
a few words translated :
^u^yijJS^X'^o
" In your transformation as golden sperbe you have accom-
plished it."
2. In the same manner, the tropical hieroglyphics might be
alone or in company with the word written phonetically; and the
expression " to write," skhai^ might be followed or not by its
INSCRIPTIONS. 859
tropical hieroglyphic, the "pen and inkstand," as its determina-
tive sign. 3. The emblematic figure, a hawk-headed god, bear-
ing the disk, signiiying the "sun," might also be alone, or after
the name " Ra " written phonetically, as a determinative sign;
and as a general rule the determinative followed, instead of pre-
^-^.-..^^- Qi - , <f , ceding the names. Determina-
g ' \ r •* *^ ^ tives are 01 two kinds — ideo-
grams, and generic determinatives: the first were the pictures of
the object spoken of; the second, conventional symbols of the
class of notions expressed by the word.
4. Phonetic. Phonetic characters or signs were those ex-
pressive of sounds. They are either purely alphabetic or
syllabic. All the other Egyptian phonetic signs have syllabic
values, which are resolvable into combinations of the letters of
the alphabet. This phonetic principle being admitted, the num-
bers of figures used to represent a sound might have been in-
creased almost without limit, and any hieroglyphic might stand
for the first letter of its name. So copious an alphabet would
have been a continual source of error. The characters, there-
fore, thus applied, were soon fixed, and the Egyptians practically
confined themselves to particular hieroglyphics in writing cer-
tain words.
IW^U^a4t5t
" Out of bad comes good."
Hieroglyphic writing was emplo3'ed on monuments of all
kinds, on temples as well as on the smallest figures, and on
bricks used for building purposes. On the most ancient monu-
ments this writing is absolutely the same as on the most recent
Egyptian work. Out of Egypt there is scarcely a single exam-
ple of a graphic system identically the same during a period of
over two thousand years. The hieroglyphic characters were
either engraved in relief, or sunk below the surface on the public
86o TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
monuments, and objects of hard materials suited for the glyptic
art. The hieroglyphics on the monuments are either sculptured
and plain, or decorated with colors. The colored are divided
into two distinct classes, the monochromatic of one simple tone,
and the polychromatic, or those which rendered with more or
less fidelity the color of the object they were intended to depict.
The hieroglyphic figures were arranged in vertical columns or
horizontal lines, and grouped together as circumstances re-
quired, so as to leave no spaces unnecessarily vacant. They
were written from right to left, or from left to right. The order
in which the characters were to be read, was shown by the
direction in which the figures are placed, as their heads are in-
variably turned towards the reader. A single line of hiero-
glyphics— the dedication of a temple or of any other monument,
for example — proceeds sometimes one half from left to right,
and the other half from right to left; but in this case a sign,
such as the sacred tau, or an obelisk, which has no particular
direction, is placed in the middle of the inscription, and it is from
that sign that the two halves of the inscription take each an op-
posite direction.
The period when hieroglyphics — the oldest Egyptian char-
acters— were first used, is uncertain. They are found in the
Great Pyramid of the time of the fourth dynasty, and had evi-
dently been invented long before, having already assumed a
cursive style.* This shows them to be far older than any other
known writing; and the written documents of the ancient
languages of Asia, the Sanskrit and the Zend, are of a recent
time compared with those of Egypt, even if the date of the Rig-
Veda in the fifteenth century B. C. be proved. Manetho shows
that the invention of writino: was known in the reigrn of Athoth
*The most ancient hieroglyphs, according to M. Pierret, -which can be seen in an
European museum, are those on the statues of Sefa and Nesa in the Louvre; they date
from a period anterior to the fourth dynasty. The lintel of the door of the tomb of one
of the priests of Senat, fifth King of the second dynasty in the Ashmolean Library,
Oxford, exhibits, however, hieroglyphs of an earlier date.
INSCRIPTIONS. 86 1
(the son and successor of Menes), the second King of Egypt,
when he ascribes to him tlie writing of the anatomical books,
and tradition assigned to it a still earlier origin. At all events,
hieroglyphics, and the use of the papyrus, with the usual reed
pen, are shown to have been common when the pyramids were
built, and their style in the sculptures proves that they were
then a very old invention. In hieroglyphics of the earliest
periods there were fewer phonetic characters than in after ages,
these periods being nearer to the original picture-writing. The
number of signs also varied at different times; but they may
be reckoned at from 900 to i ,000. Various new characters were
added at subsequent periods, and a still greater number were intro-
duced under the Ptolemies and Caisars, which are not found in the
early monuments ; some, again, of the older times, fell into disuse.
Hieratic is an abbreviated form of the hierogl3^phic ; thus
each hieroglyphic sign — ikonographic, symbolic, or phonetic —
has its abridged hieratic form, and this abridged form has the
same import as the sign itself of which it is a reduced copy. It
was written from right to left, and was the character used by the
priests and sacred scribes, whence its name. It was invented at
least as early as the ninth dynasty (4,240 years ago), and fell into
disuse when the demotic had been introduced. The hieratic
writing was generally used for manuscripts, and is also found on
the cases of mummies, and on isolated stones and tablets. Long
inscriptions have been written on them with a brush. Inscrip-
tions of this kind are also found on buildings, written or engraved
by ancient travelers. But its most important use was in the his-
torical papyri, and the registers of the temples. Most valuable
information respecting the chronology and numeric S37stems of
the Egyptians has been derived from them.
Demotic, or enchorial, is composed of signs derived from the
hieratic, and is a simplified form of it, but from which figurative
or ikonographic signs arc generally excluded, and but few sym-
862
TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
-■^1
^/T
bolical signs, relative to religion alone, are retained ; signs nearly
approaching the alphabetic are chiefly met with in this third kind
of writing. It was invariably written, like the hieratic, from,
right to left. It is thus evident that the Egyptians, strictly
speaking, had but one system of writing, composed of three kinds
of signs, the second and third being regularly deduced from the
first, and all three governed by the same fundamental principles.
The demotic was reserved for general use among the Egyptians r
decrees and other public acts, contracts, some funeral stelae, and
private transactions, were written in demotic.
The intermediate text of the Rosetta inscription
is of this kind. It is not quite certain when the
demotic first came into use, but it was at least
as earl 3^ as the reign of Psammetichus II., of
the twenty-sixth dynasty (B. C. 604); and it had
therefore long been employed when Herodotus
visited Egypt. Soon after its invention it was
adopted for all ordinary purposes.
The chief objects of interest in the study of
an Egyptian inscription are its historical indica-
tions. These are found in the names of Kings
or of chiel oflScers, and in the dates they con-
tain. The names of Kings are always enclosed
in an oval called cartouche. An oval contains
either the royal title or praenomen, or the proper
name or nomen of the King:.
The dates which are found with these royal
legends are also of great importance in an his-
torical point of view, and monuments which bear
any numerical indications are exceedingly rare.
These numerical indications are either the age
KGYPTiAN PILLAR, of thc dcccascd on a funeral tablet, or the num-
ber of different consecrated objects which he has offered to the
gods, or the date of an event mentioned in the inscription.
mm
\^A
'm
INSCRIPTIONS. 863
Dates, properly so called, are the most interesting to collect; they
are expressed in hieroglyphic cyphers, single lines expressing the
number of units up to nine, when an arbitrary sign represents 10,
another 100, and another 10,000.
The most celebrated Egyptian inscriptions are those of the
Rosetta stone. This stone, a tablet of black basalt, contains
three inscriptions, one in hieroglyphics, another in demotic or
enchorial, and a third in the Greek language. The inscriptions
are to the same purport in each, and are a decree of the priest-
hood of Memphis, in honor of Ptolemy Epiphanes, about the
year B. C. 196. " Ptolemy is there styled King of Upper and
Lower Egypt, Son of the gods Philopatores, approved by Pthah,
to whom Ra has given victory, a living image of Amun, son
of Ra, Ptolemy Immortal, beloved by Pthah, God Epiphanes,
most gracious. In the date of the decree we are told the names
of the priests of Alexander, of the gods Soteres, of the gods
Adelphi, of the gods Euergetae, of the gods Philopatores, of the
god Epiphanes himself, of Berenice Euergetis, of Arsinoe Phila-
delphus, and of Arsinoe Philopator. The preamble mentions
with gratitude the services of the King, or rather of his wise
minister, Aristomenes, and the enactment orders that the statue
of the King shall be worshipped in every temple of Egypt, and
be carried out in the processions with those of the gods of the
country, and lastly that the decree is to be carv^ed at the foot
of every statue of the King in sacred, in common and in Greek
writing " (Sharpe). It is now in the British Museum. This
stone is remarkable for having led to the discovery of the sys-
tem pursued by the Egyptians in their monumental writing, and
for having furnished a key to its interpretation, Dr. Young
giving the first hints by establishing the phonetic value of the
hieroglyphic signs, which were followed up and carried out by
Champollion.
Another important and much more ancient inscription is the
864 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
tablet of Abydos in the British Museum, It was discovered by
Mr. Banks in a chamber of the temple of Abydos, in 1818. It
is now greatly disfigured, but when perfect it represented an
offering made by Remeses XL, of the nineteenth dynasty, to his
predecessors on the throne of Egypt. The tablet is of fine lime-
stone, and originall}^ contained the names of fifty-two Kings
disposed in the two upper lines, twenty-six in each line, and a
third or lower line with the name and prsenomen of Remeses II.
or III. repeated twenty-six times. On the upper line, beginning
from the right hand, are the names of monarchs anterior to the
twelfth dynasty. The names in the second line are those of
monarchs of the twelfth and the eighteenth or nineteenth dynas-
ties. The King Remeses II. piobably stood on the right hand
of the tablet, and on the other is the lower part of a figure of
Osiris. The lateral inscription is the speech of the deceased
King to " their son " Remeses II.
The tablet of Karnac, now in one of the halls of the Biblio-
theque at Paris, was discovered b}' Burton in a chamber situated
in the southeast angle of the temple- palace of Thebes, and was
published by its discoverer in his "Excerpta Hieroglj'phica."
The chamber itself was fully described by Rosellini in his
"Monumenti Storici." The Kings are in two rows, overlooked
each of them by a large figure of Thothmes III., the fifth King
of the eighteenth dynasty. In the row to the left of the en-
trance are thirty-one names, and in that to the right are thirty,
all of them predecessors of Thothmes. The Theban Kings who
ruled in Upper Egypt during the usurpation of the H3'ksos in-
vaders are also exhibited among the lists. Over the head of
each King is his oval, containing his royal titles.
A most valuable tablet of Kings has been lately discovered
by M. Mariette in a tomb near Memphis, that of a priest who
lived under Remeses II., and was called Tunar-i. It contains
two rows of Kings' names, each twenty-nine in number. Six
INSCRIPTIONS. 865
have been wholly obliterated out of the upper row, and five out
of the lower row. The upper row contains the names of Rem-
eses II. and his predecessors, who seem all meant for Kings of
Upper Egypt, or Kings of Memphis who ruled over Upper
Egypt, while the names in the lower row seem meant for con-
temporaneous High Priests of Memphis, some or all of whom
may have called themselves Kings of Lower Egypt. The result
of the comparison of this tablet with other authorities, namely,
Manetho, Eratosthenes, and the tablet of Abydos, is supposed
by some to contradict the longer views of chronology held by
Bunsen, Lepsius and others. Thus, reading the list of names
backwards from Remeses II. to Amosis, the first of the eigh-
teenth dynasty, this tablet, like the tablet of Abydos, immedi-
ately jumps to the Kings of Manetho 's twelfth dynasty; thus
arguing that the intermediate five dynasties mentioned by Mane-
tho must have been reigning contemporaneously with the others,
and add no length of time to a table of chronology. There is
also a further omission in this tablet of four more dynasties.
This tablet would thus seem to confirm the views of the oppo-
nents of the longer chronology of Bunsen and others, by striking
out from the long chronology two periods amounting together to
1,536 years. But a complete counterpart of the tablet of Mem-
phis has been recently found at Abydos by M. Mariette, fuU}^
confirming the chronology of Manetho, and bearing out the
views of Bunsen and Lepsius. The Moniteur publishes a letter
from M. Mariette, containing the following statement: — "At
Abydos I have discovered a magnificent counterpart of the tablet
of Sakharah. Seti I., accompanied by his son, subsequently Rem-
eses II. (Sesostris), presents an offering to seventy-six Kings
drawn up in line before him. Menes (the first King of the first
dynasty on Manetho^s list) is at their head. From Menes to
Seti I., this formidable list passes through nearly all the dynas-
ties. The first six are represented therein. We are next intro-
55
S66 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
duced to sovereigns still unknown to us, belonging to the obscure
period which extends from the end of the sixth to the beginning
of the eleventh. From the eleventh to the eighteenth the new
table follows the beaten track, which it does not quit again dur-
ing the reign of Thothmes, Amenophis, and the first Remeses.
If in this new list everything is not absolutely new, we at least
find in it a valuable confirmation of Manetho's list, and in the
present state of science we can hardly expect more. Whatever
confirms Manetho gives us confidence in our own efforts, even as
whatever contradicts it weakens the results we obtain. The new
tablet of Abydos is, moreover, the completest and best preserved
monument we possess in this respect. Its style is splendid, and
there is not a single cartouche or oval wanting. It has been
found enjjraved on one of the walls of a small chamber in the
large temple of Abydos."
An important stone bearing a Greek inscription with equiv-
alent Egyptian hieroglyphics has been discovered by Professor
Lepsius, at San, the former Tanis, the chief scene of the grand
architectural undertakings of Remeses II. The Greek inscrip-
tion consists of seventy -six lines, in the most perfect preservation^
dating from the time of Ptolemy Euergetes I. (B. C. 238). The
hieroglyphical inscription has thirty-seven lines. It was also
found that a demotic inscription was ordered to be added by the
priests, on a stone or brass stele, in the sacred writing of the
Egyptians and in Greek characters; this is unfortunately want-
ing. The contents of the inscription are of great interest. It is
dated the ninth year the seventh Apellaeus — seventeen Tybi, of
tlie reign of Euergetes I. The priests of Egypt came together
in Canopus to celebrate the birthday of Euergetes, on the fifth
Dios, and his assumption of the royal honor on the twenty-eighth
of the same month, when the}'- passed the decree here published.
They enumerate all the good deeds of the King, amongst them
the merit of having recovered in a military expedition the sacred
INSCRIPTIONS.
867
images carried off in former times by the Persians, and order
great honors to be paid in reward for his services. This tablet
of calcareous stone with a rounded top, is about seven feet high,
and is completely covered by the inscription. The discovery of
this stone is of the greatest importance for hieroglyphical studies.
We may mention here another
inscribed tablet, the celebrated Isiac
table in the Museum at Turin. It is
a tablet in bronze, covered with Egyp-
tian figures or hieroglyphics engraved
or sunk, the outlines being filled with
silvering, forming a kind of niello.
It was one of the first objects that ex-
cited an interest in the interpretation
of hieroglyphics, and elicited learned
solutions from Kircher and others.
It is now considered to be one of those
pseudo-Egyptian productions so ex-
tensively fabricated during the reign
of Hadrian.
The Egyptian obelisks also pre-
sent important inscriptions. Of these
the most ancient is that of Heliopolis.
We have selected these few ex-
amples of Egyptian inscriptions for
their celebrity. Almost every Egyp-
tian monument, of whatever period,
temples, statues, tablets, small statues,
were inscribed with hieroglyphic in-
scriptions, all generally executed with great care and finish.
The Egyptian edifices were also covered with religious or his-
torical tableaux, sculptured and painted on all the walls ; it has
been estimated that in one single temple there existed no less
EGYPTIAN COLUMN.
07 THS -^
868 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
than 30,000 square feet of sculpture, and at the sides of these
tableaux were innumerable inscriptions, equally composed of
ingeniously grouped figurative signs, in explanation of the sub-
jects, and combining with them far more happily than if they
had been the finest alphabetical characters in the world.
Their study would require more than a lifetime, and we
have only space to give a few general hints.
We have a ir.uch more accurate knowledge of Greek in-
scriptions than we have of Egyptian palseography. The Greek
alphabet, and all its variations, as well as the language, customs,
and history of that illustrious people, are better known to us.
Greek inscriptions lead us back to those glorious periods of the
Greek people when their heroes and writers made themselves
immortal by their illustrious deeds and writings. What emo-
tions must arise in the breast of the archaeologist who finds in a
marble worn by time the funereal monument placed by Athens,
twenty-three centuries ago, over the grave of its warriors who
died before Potidsea.
"'Their souls high heaven received; their bodies gained,
In Potidasa's plains, this hallowed tomb.
Their foes unnumbered fell: a few remained
Saved by their ramparts from the general doom.
The victor city mourns her heroes slain,
Foremost in fight, they for her glory died.'
The most important monumental inscription which presents
Greek records, illustrating and establishing the chronology of
Greek history, is the Parian chronicle, now preserved among the
Arundelian marbles at Oxford. It was so called from the sup-
position of its having been made in the Island of Paros, B. C.
263. In its perfect state it was a square tablet, of coarse mar-
ble, five inches thick; and when Selden first inspected it it
measured three feet seven inches by two feet seven inches. On
this stone were engraved some of the principal events in the
INSCRIPTIONS. 869
history of ancient Greece, forming a compendium of chronology
during a series of 1,318 years, which commenced with the reign
of Cecrops, the first King of Athens, B. C. 1582, and ended
with the archonship of Diognetus. It was deciphered and pub-
Hshed by the learned Selden in 1628. It makes no mention of
Olympiads, and reckons backwards from the time then present
by years.
Particular attention should be paid, in the interpretation of
Greek inscriptions, to distinguish the numerous titles of magis-
trates of every order, of public officers of different ranks, the
names of gods and of nations, those of towns, and the tribes of a
city; the prescribed formulas for different kinds of monuments;
the text of decrees, letters, etc., which are given or cited in
analogous texts ; the names of monuments, such as stelae, tablets,
cippi, etc., the indication of places, or parts belonging to those
places, where they ought to be set up or deposited, such as a
temple or vestibule, a court or peristyle, public square, etc. ; those
at whose cost it was set up, the entire city or a curia, the public
treasure, or a private fund, the names and surnames of public or
private individuals; prerogatives or favors granted, such as the
right of asylum, of hospitality, of citizenship; the punishments
pronounced against those who should destroy or mutilate the
monument; the conditions of treaties and alliances; the indica-
tions of weights, moneys and measures.
Another early example of a commemorative inscription of
which the date can also be positively fixed is that latel}^ discovered
by Dr. Frick on the bronze serpent with the three heads, now at
Constantinople, which supported the golden tripod which was
dedicated, as Herodotus states, to Apollo b}- the allied Greeks
as a tenth of the Persian spoils at Platsea, and which was placed
near the altar at Delphi. On this monument, as we learn from
Thuc3'dides, Pausanias, regent of Sparta, inscribed an arrogant
distich, in which he commemorates the victory in his own name
870 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
as general in chief, hardly mentioning the allied forces who
gained it. This epigram was subsequently erased by the
Lacedaemonians, who substituted it for an inscription enumerat-
ing the various Hellenic states who had taken a part in repulsing
the Persian invaders. The inscription contains exactly what the
statements of Thucydides and Herodotus would lead us to ex-
pect; the names of those Greek states which took an active part
in the defeat of the Persians. Thirty-one names have been de-
ciphered, and there seem to be traces of three more. The first
three names in the list are the Lacedaemonians, Athenians, Corin-
thians. The remainder are nearly identical with those inscribed
on the statue of Zeus at Olympia, as they are given by Pausanias.
The names of the several states seem to be arranged on the
serpent generally according to their relative importance, and also
with some regard to their geographical distribution. The states
of continental Greece are enumerated first; then the islanders
and outlying colonies in the north and west. It is supposed the
present inscription was placed on the serpent B. C. 476.
The dedicatory inscriptions on the statues at Branchidae prob-
ably range fi-om B. C. 580-520. The famous Sigean inscrip-
tion, brought from the Troad to England in the last century, is
now admitted to be not a pseudo-archaic imitation, as Bockh
maintained, but a genuine specimen of Greek writing in Asia
Minor, contemporary, or nearly so, with the Branchidae inscrip
tions. Kirchhotf considers it not later than Olympiad 69 (B.
C. 504-500).
A most interesting inscription of the archaic period is the
celebrated bronze tablet, which Sir William Gell obtained from
Olympia, and on which is engraved a treaty between the Eleans
and Heraeans. The terms of this specimen of ancient diplomacy
are singularly concise. Kirchhofi" places this inscription before
Olympiad 75 (B. C. 480); Bockh assigns it to a much earlier date.
In any case, we may regard this as the oldest extant treaty in
INSCRIPTIONS. 871
the Greek language. It must have been originally fixed on the
wall of some temple at Olympia.
A series of Athenian records on marble has been found in-
scribed on the wall of the Parthenon, while others have been
put together out of many fragments extracted from the ruins on
the Acropolis and from excavations at Athens. Of the public
records preserved in these inscriptions, the following are the
most important classes: the tribute lists, the treasure lists, and
the public accounts.
An interesting inscription has been lately brought to light
in the diggings on the Athenian Acropolis. It is the treaty-stone
between Athens and Chalcis. The inscription is of the days of
Pericles, and records the terms on which Chalcis in Euboea was
again received as an Athenian dependency or subject ally after
its revolt and recovery in B. C. 445. The event is recorded in
Thucydides. The inscription is in Attic Greek, but the spelling
is archaic.
Funeral monuments usually bear an inscription which gives
the names and titles of the deceased, his country, his age, the
names of his father and of his mother, his titles and his services,
liis distinguished qualities and his virtues. Frequently a
funereal inscription contains only the names of the deceased,
that of his country, and acclamations and votive formulae gener-
ally terminate it.
The Sigean marble is one of the most celebrated palseo-
graphical monuments in existence. It is written in the most
ancient Greek characters, and in the Boustrophedon manner.
The purport of the inscription, which in sense is twice repeated,
on the upper and lower part of the stone, is to record the presen-
tation of three vessels for the use of the Prytaneum, or Town
Hall of the Sigeans. The upper and lower inscriptions, in com-
mon letters, read thus:
The first inscription is thus translated: " I am the gift of
872 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
Phanodicus, the son of Hermocrates, of Proconnesus; he gave a
vase (a crater), a stand or support for it, and a strainer, to the
Sigeans for the Prytaneum." The second, which says, " I also
am the gift of Phanodicus," repeating the substance of the
former inscription, adds, " if any mischance happens to me, the
Sigeans are to mend me. yEsop and his brethren made me."
The lower inscription is the more ancient. It is now nearly
obliterated. Kirchhoff considers it to be not later than Ol3-m-
piad 69 B. C. (504-500).
The Athenian People erects this Statue of Socrates^ the Son of
Socrates of Thoricus.
"The Sons of Athens, Socrates, from thee
Imbibed the lessons of the Muse divine;
Hence this thy meed of wisdom: prompt are we
To render grace for grace, our love for thine."
WordsvoortKs Athens.
To Perpenna the Roman,
of Consular dignity, the Senate and People of Syracuse.
A man by whose wise counsels this city of Syracuse hath
breathed from its labors, and seen the hour of repose. For
these services the best of its citizens have erected to him an
image of marble, but they preserve that of his wisdom in their
breasts.
Museum of Syracuse.
On a Gateway at NiccEa ( Translation) :
" The very splendid, and large, and good city of the Nicse-
ans [erects] this wall for the autocrat Caesar Marcus Aurelius
Claudius, the pious, the fortunate, august, of Tribunitial author-
ity, second time Proconsul, father of his country, and for the
Sacred Senate, and the people of the Romans, in the time of the
illustrious Consular Velleius Macrinus, Legate and Lieutenant
of the august Caesar Antoninus, the splendid orator." — A. D.
269.
^HE j^ATACOJVlBp.
The catacombs, or under-ground cemeteries, are among the
most stupendous wonders of antiquity, and have ever since their
discovery excited the keenest interest of archaeologists.
The cut on page 875 is a plan of the catacombs of Rome.
These alone were years ago computed to be 590 miles in length,
while Mr. Marchi, in the light of more recent investigations and
new discoveries has calculated their length to be between 800
and 900 miles, and, that in the sepulchral enclosures of their vast
hollows between 6,000,000 and 7,000,000 of the human race
have been entombed. Most of the catacombs are situated
from fifty to seventy-five feet below the surface of the earth, not
a ray of natural light can penetrate the dense blackness of night
which everywhere abounds. Woe to the man whose boldness
leads him to venture alone into these dark depths! So extensive
and so intricate are the corridors and passages that he must be
irrevocably lost and miserably perish in this endless labyrinth.
Even the most experienced guides, with burning torches in hand,
would rather follow only thoroughly explored passages, and care
not to leave well-beaten tracks.
The passages are from six to twelve feet high and have an
Average width of from three to six feet. In the tufa rock of
which their walls are composed niches are hollowed out, one
873
874
TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
above the other, in which the dead were laid, from three to six
persons having been placed on each side. All the passages and
galleries have these ghastly linings, and most of them end their
long and dreary course in a chamber, as the reader may observe
on examining the cuts below.
These chambers are often of large dimensions, and were
originally adorned with great splendor and high art. They
were the tombs of wealthy and noble families, who spared neither
labor nor money in beautifying their final habitations. The
walls and ceilings were
exquisitely sculptured and
painted by the most gifted
artists of the age. Sar-
cophagi or coffins of
bronze, of porphyry and
and other rare marbles
contained the bodies of
the dead. On their mas-
sive lids and sides were
carved the forms and features of those lying within, so that even
to-day we are in possession of fine and accurate portraits of
ancient people. Around the sarcophagi were placed rich vases
of gold, drinking cups of silver, and many other valuable treas-
ures dear to the departed when alive. Statues of bronze and
marble were ranged about in lavish array and gleamed under
the soft light which fell from quaint lamps of precious metals,
curious in shape and wrought with elaborate skill.
In the Roman Campagna there were forty-three catacombs,
whose names are recorded in inscriptions, in martyrologies, and
in the Pontifical Registers used b}'^ Anastasius, since republished,
with additions, in various forms, and repeated in substance by
Baronius in his Annals, and Panvinius in his treatise on the Cem-
eteries. Aringhi reckons on the number at fifty-six, and from
SECTIONS OF CATACOMBS WITH CHAMBERS.
876 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS
the account of Signor de Rossi it appears that the number is
now reckoned at about sixty. The number of ge?ieral cemeter-
ies is not so large.
The original entrances to the catacombs were in man}' in-
stances by subterranean roads or corridors, sometimes called
streets. These corridors, which served as entrances to and pas-
sages in the burial-places, were originally old sand-pit roads,
from which the Pozzolana sand had been extracted ; when this
bed of sand is extracted, the entrance is usually closed. The
soft bed of Pozzolana sand was, however, not generally used for
interments, but the harder bed under it, called "tufa granulare.'"
The different horizontal layers or beds of tufa vary ver}' much
in hardness and also in thickness.
Although these catacombs may not be the finest cemeteries,
yet the use of these would be infinitel}' preferable to the recent
Roman practice of throwing the bodies of all persons, whose
families can not afford to buy a piece of land in perpetuity, into
a pit, in the same manner as the ancient Romans did the bodies
of their slaves.
There are three hundred aud eighty pits provided in the
burial ground of S. Lorenzo, one of which was opened every
night. All the bodies brought for interment that day or night
were thrown into it, after being first stripped to the skin by the
ofl[icials; and then hot lime was thrown upon them, that they
might be thoroughly decayed before the year came round. The
mouth of the pit was closed with lime grouting, so that no
effluvium could escape, and this covering was not broken until
the pit was wanted to be used again.
These corridors or passages of the sand-pits from which the
Pozzolana sand had been excavated are larofe enouofh to admit a
horse and cart; these were frequently the entrances to the cata-
combs, the corridors of which are usually by the side of or under
those of the arenaricB^ or sand-pits, and are only just large
INSCRIPTIONS. 877
enough for a man, or two men with a body, to pass along; the
height varies from hve to seven or eight feet, or more, according
to the thickness of the bed of tufa. In the catacomb of S.
Hermes, part of the wide sand-pit road has been reduced to one-
third of its width, by building up brick walls on each side with
loculi in them.
There is in general, at present, no communication between
one catacomb and another; each occupies a separate hill or ris-
ing ground in the Campagna, and is separated from the others
by the intervening valleys. When the first tier of tombs ex-
tended to the edges of the hill, a second was made under it, and
then sometimes a third, or more. The manner in which the
rock is excavated in a number of corridors twisting in all direc-
tions, in order to make room for the largest possible number of
bodies, is thus accounted for. The plan of the catacomb, of S.
Priscilla is a good illustration of this. It would have been
hardly safe to have excavated the rock to any greater extent.
The lowest corridors are frequently below the level of the val-
leys, and there may have been originally passages from one to
the other, so that one entrance to S. Calixtus may have been
through S. Sebastian's. The peculiarly dry and drying nature
of the sandstone, or tufa rock, in which these tombs are exca-
vated, made them admirably calculated for the purpose. These
catacombs were the public cemeteries of Christian Rome for
several centuries, and it would have been well for the health of
the city if they could always have continued so. Unfortunately
after the siege of Rome by the Goths, in the time of Justinian,
when some of the catacombs were rifled of their contents, the
use of these excellent burying places was discontinued.
That the arenaria were considered as burying places in the
time of Nero is evident from his exclamations of horror at the
idea of being taken there alive for the purpose of concealment.
The sand-pits are also mentioned by Cicero in his Oration for
878
TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
Cluentius, where he 5.13-8 that the j^oiing Asinius, a citizen of
noble family, was inveigled into one of them and murdered.
This shows they were in use before the Christian era, and
there is every reason to believe that they have been in use ever
since 1 i m e-
mortar came
^ into use, which
is believed to
"-3>i_"_^~~,.«£r — »_- have been many
STONE COFFIN. ceuturics before
that period. The celebrated Pozzolana sand makes the best
mortar in the world, from its gritt}^ nature. This valuable sand
is found to an}' extent nearly all over the Campagna of Rome,
in horizontal beds or layers between the beds of tufa; some of
the tufa itself, which is sandstone, may be scraped into this sand,
but it is easier to take it as ready provided by nature. People
once accustomed to the use of this sand can not do without it,
and hundreds of carts filled with it may be seen daily traversing
the Campagna, conveying it either to Rome, or to Ostia, or to
Porto, for exportation. The horizontal laj^ers or beds of this
sand are not usually more than six feet thick, although they ex-
tend at a certain level over the whole surface of the country. It
is therefore excavated in horizontal corridors, with various
branches, extending for many miles, undermining the whole sur-
face of the soil, but not in large or deep pits, so that the name
of sand-pit is rather deceitful to American people, who com-
monly imagine it to be always a large and deep pit to which
these roads lead only; this is not always the case, the roads them-
selves being excavated in the layer of sand, and frequently them-
selves the sand-pits. Sometimes there are different layers of
sand at different levels, and in some cases there may be two
sand-pit roads one over the other, with the bed of hard tufa be-
tween them.
INSCRIPTIONS. 879
We are told in the Acta Sanctorum that one of the punish-
ments inflicted on the Christians by the Emperor Maximinus in
the sixth persecution, A. D. 35, was digging sand and stone.
The martyrs, Ciriacus and Sisinnus are especially mentioned as
ordered to be strictly guarded, and compelled to dig sand and to
carry it on their own shoulders.
Some of the catacombs were evidently made under tombs
by the side of the road, and in that of S. Calixtus there are re-
mains of the tomb
on the surface of
the ground. The
burial-chapels of the
fourth century com-
STONE COFFIN WITH OPEN SIDE. moulv fouud ovcr a
catacomb probably replace earlier tombs. The church of S.
Urban is now considered to have been a family tomb of the first
century, made into a church long afterwards.
Many inscriptions are preserved relating to the preservation
of a tomb with the land belonging to it in perpetuity, and they
frequentl37^ mention the number of feet along the road and in the
field. Their size varies enormously. Horace mentions one that
was 1,000 feet by 300 feet. The inscription of one dug up in the
Via Labicana gives 1,800 feet by 500 feet; another was only
twenty-four feet by fifteen feet, and another sixteen feet square.
In the case of one of the larger tombs belonging to a family that
became Christian, it was easy for them to make a catacomb
under it and allow their fellow-Christians to be buried there, or
to sell portions of the large space for separate vaults. Many
vaults of sixteen feet square might be made in the space of 1,800
feet long by 500 feet wide, as the one on the Via Labicana. If
the adjoining field belonged to the same family, the catacomb
might be extended as far as the family property itself extended.
This is the most probable explanation of the -prcedium of the
tJHIVBRSITT]
88o TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
Lady Lucina and other Christian martyrs. They were heiresses
to whom such a tomb and meadow belonged. When the space
was limited, three or four stories were excavated in succession,
one under the other, as we see in many instances.
The measurements of Michele de Rossi coincide with this
in a remarkable manner. He finds the area of each separate
catacomb to be respectively loo, 125, 150, 180 and 250 feet.
None of these spaces are at all too large for the area commonly
left round a tomb of importance, and the family property of
this area would extend to any depth. Each cemetery was com-
plete in itself, but sometimes connected with others by subter-
ranean roads.
These tombs were protected by special laws, and the area
in which the tomb stood was included with it. The area was
often of considerable extent, and was intended for the burial-
place of succeeding generations of the family to whom it be-
longed. The tombs of the period of the early empire were by
no means exclusivel}' for the colurnharia for cinerary urns. The
instances in which there are both places for bodies and urns are
perhaps more numerous than those for urns only. The fine
sarcophagi now found in museums, or applied to all sorts of uses,
as water-troughs, vases for flowers, and various other purposes,
were all originally in tombs, and generally in tombs in which
there were also columbaria for cinerary urns. Some Pagan
tombs on the Via Latina have catacombs for the interment of
bodies under them, and often bodies were put in them.
The custom of burning the bodies was never universal, and
lasted only for a certain period; the custom of burying bodies
came in again soon after the Christian era, and probably was
influenced by the strong feeling which sprung up among the
Christians on this subject. The sumptuous painted chambers in
the upper part oi the tombs of the first and second centuries on
the Via Latina were evidentl}' imitated b}^ the poor in the cata-
V INSIDE VlJiW OF CATACOMBS
aal
882 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
combs in the fourth and fifth centuries and later; but there is no
evidence of any Scriptural or religious subjects for paintings be-
fore the time of Constantine. The character of the paintings is
almost universally later, and the few that are early are not Chris-
tian nor Scriptural.
It might very well happen that some members of the family
were Christians and others were not, and this would account for
the mixture of Pagan tombs with Christian ones in the same
catacombs. The subterranean sand-pit roads frequently run
parallel to the high roads at a little distance from them, and such
a road passing at the back of the subterranean cemetry or cata-
comb would be very convenient to Christians in time of
persecution. The part of these roads which came within the
limits of the cemetery would naturally be used for burial places,
-also, as we see that they were distinctly in the case of S. Hermes,
and nearly with equal certainty in other cases. In ordinary
times, there was no necessity for secrecy. The bodies of Chris-
tian martyrs were given up for the purpose of burial to those
who applied for them.
The catacombs of SS. Saturnius and Thraso, the entrance
to which is in the gardens of the Villa Gangalani, about a
mile from Rome, on the Via Salaria, are stated to have formed
part of the great catacomb of S. Priscilla, the entrance to which
is about a quarter of a mile farther from Rome, on the same
road. On descending into that of S. Saturninus by a steep flight
of steps of modern appearance, but perhaps restored only, we
soon pass under the road and hear carriages passing overhead ;
we then continue to descend to the depth of about fifty feet,
divided into five corridors, only four of which can at present be
seen; but we pass the entrance to the fifth on one of the stair-
cases, and see the opening to it. The two lower corridors of this
catacomb have tombs or cubicula on the sides; a few of these
are painted, and the vault of the corridor in front of them, also.
CATACOMBS. 883
The sandstone in which this catacomb is made is more than
usually hard, for which reason apparently there are only three of
the side chapels for family burying places, and few of the arched
tombs ; most of the recesses for graves are merely parallelograms
just large enough to contain the body, or two bodies side by
side, one behind the other, the recess being excavated to a suffi-
cient depth for that purpose, and some of these have the slabs
covering the openings left in their places. The skeletons are
allowed to remain in several of the tombs where the slab has
been removed and left open. One of the chapels has remains of
paintings of the fourth century in a very decayed state. The
other two chapels are connected by a short passage; they have
evidently been family burying places, a second added when the
first was full. The passage is made through the principal tomb
of the first chapel, the body previously interred there was prob-
ably removed to the inner chapel when that was made. The
painted chapel is in the upper corridor, the double one in the lowest.
In descending from the garden, the two upper corridors
have tombs on the sides, and are regular catacombs; the third is
an arenarium^ or sand-pit, without tombs, and large enough for
a horse and cart to pass along, as in the ordinary sand-pits.
There must have been another entrance to this, and it is said to
have been half a mile off, which is not improbable, judging by
other sand-pits, both those now in use and others that are closed,
some of which are known to be more than a mile long, and with
the different branch galleries, the corridors altogether often ex-
tend several miles. These galleries are large and wide enough
for a horse and cart, but not for two to pass, sidings being made
at intervals for that purpose. The passages in the catacombs
vary much both in height and in width, but are seldom more
than three feet wide. The chapels also vary in size, but none of
them would hold more than fifty people; those in the present
catacomb are small.
884
TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
That each of these chapels was the burial-place of a family,
and was considered as private property, is evident from the re-
mains of a door at the entrance of several of them, as in the
catacomb of S. Priscilla. In one of these, the stone corbel, with
the hole for the pivot to work in, remains in its place ; the lower
stone, with the corresponding hole, has been moved, but is lying
on the floor in an adjoining chapel.
Another door has been made to
slide up and down like a portcullis
or a modern sash-window, as we
see by the groove remaining on
both sides. This is close to a
luminaria^ or well for admitting
light and air, and it seems quite
possible that it really was a window,
or that the upper part was made to
slide down to admit the light and
air from the luminaria. If this
was the burial-place of Priscilla, the
paintings were probably renewed in
the restoration by John I., A. D. 523. The lower part of the
wall is faced with stucco paneled with oblong panels, colored in
imitation of different kinds of marble; the stucco is about an
inch thick, like slabs of marble, and the divisions between the
panels are sunk to that depth, as if each panel had been painted
before it was placed and fixed to the walls like marble slabs.
There are some long narrow slips of white stucco lying about,
which seem to have been fitted into the hollow g-rooves between
the slabs. The vaults in this catacomb are in many parts sup-
ported by brick arches; in one place, at a crossing, are four small
low brick arches, the character of which agrees with the period
of the restoration in the sixth centur}^; the mortar between the
bricks or tiles is about the same thickness as the tiles themselves,
LAMPS FOUKD IN THE (CATACOMBS.
CATACOMBS. 885
which are rather more than an inch thick, so that there are five
tiles to a foot, including the mortar between them. These brick
arches are not subsequent repairs, but part of the original con-
struction to carry the vault. The arenarium^ or sand-pit gallery,
through which the present entrance is made, has evidently been
used as a subterranean road. A branch of an aqueduct running
along the side of this is part of an extensive system of irriga-
tion carried on throughout all this district, the water having been
brought from the Aqua Virgo, which passed in this direction.
It was probably part of the original line of the Aqueduct, which
has been altered in the portion near to Rome; this has not been
traced out to any considerable extent, but Signor de Rossi has
found many remains and indications of it. The sand-pit roads,
or arenaria^ ran for miles parallel to the high roads, and were
probably used by the carters in preference to the open roads in
hot weather, as they are always cool.
Christian Inscriptions are all funereal, and are for the most
part found in the catacombs, or subterranean cemeteries. The
word cemetery is derived from a Greek word, meaning " a sleep-
ing place," hence the frequent formulae in the Christian epitaphs,
" dormit in pace," he sleeps in peace; " dormitio Elpidis," the
sleeping place of Elpis; " cubiculum Aurelise," the sleeping
chamber of Aurelia. The term catacomb was applied to these
subterranean cemeteries at a much later period. The practice
of subterranean burial among the early Christians was evidently
derived from the Jewish custom of burying the dead in excavated
sepulchres, and thus may have been adopted by the early Jewish
converts. The Roman Jews had a very early catacomb of their
own, in the Monte Verde, contiguous to their place of abode, in
the Trasteverine quarter of Rome. This subterranean mode of
sepulture is undoubtedly of Egyptian origin. It is generally sup-
posed that the early Christians used for their burial places the
excavations made by the Romans for procuring stone and cement
886 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
for building purposes. This is an erroneous view. Recent geo-
logical observations on the soil of the Agro Romano have shown
that the surface of the Campagna consists of volcanic rocks of
different natures and ages. The earliest of the series, the tufa
lithoide, was constantly employed from the earliest ages in the
buildings of the city, as attested by the massive blocks of the
Cloaca Maxima, the tabularium of the Capitol, and the walls of
Romulus ; the second, or tufa granolare, which though it has just
consistency enough to retain the form given to it by the excava-
tor, can not be hewn or extracted in blocks; and the pozzolana,
which has been extensively used in all ages for mortar or Roman
cement. The tufa lithoide and the pozzolana were thus alone
used for building purposes by the Romans, and the catacombs
are never found excavated in these. The catacombs were hewn
only in the tufa granolare, and were consequently excavated ex-
pressly for burials by the early Christians. The Christian archi-
tects carefully avoided the massive strata of the tufa lithoide,
and we believe it is ascertained that all the known catacombs
are driven exclusively along the courses of the tufa granolare.
With equal care these subterranean engineers avoided the layers
of pozzolana, which would have rendered their work insecure,
and in which no permanent rock tomb could have been con-
structed. Thus we arrive at the curious fact, that in making the
catacombs the excavators carefully avoided the strata of hard
stone and the strata of soft stone, used respectively for building
and for mortar, and selected that course of medium hardness
which was best adapted to their peculiar purpose. The early
Christian tomb inscriptions are characterized by symbols and
formulae peculiar to the Christian creed ; the idea of another life,
a life beyond the grave, usually prevails in them.
The symbols found in connection with the funereal inscrip-
tions are of three kinds; the larger proportion of these refer to
the profession of Christianity, its doctrines and its graces. A
CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 887
second class, of a partly secular desciiption, only indicate the
trades of the deceased, and the remainder represent proper
names: thus a lion must be read as a proper name, Leo; an ass,
Onager; a dragon, Dracontius. Of the first kind the most
usually met with is the monogram of Christ. The other symbols
generally in use are the ship, the emblem of the church; the
fish, the emblem of Christ, the palm, the symbol of martyr-
dom. The anchor represented hope in immortality; the dove,
peace; the stag reminded the faithful of the pious aspiration of
the Psalmist; the horse was the emblem of strength in the faith;
the hunted hare, of persecution; the peacock and the phcenix
stood for signs of the resurrection. Christ, as the good pastor,
was also introduced in the epitaph. Even personages of the
Pagan mythology were introduced, which the Christians em-
ployed in a concealed sense, as Orpheus, enchanting the wild
beasts with the music (see page 701) of his lyre, was the secret
symbol of Christ as the civilizer of men leading all nations to
the faith. Ulysses, fastened to the mast of his ship, was sup-
posed to present some faint resemblance to the crucifixion.
In classifying the Roman inscriptions, M. de Rossi has
adopted the following divisions. The first comprises those in-
scriptions only which contain some express note of time, and are
therefore susceptible of exact chronological arrangement. The
second comprises the select inscriptions, viz. : first, sacred and
historical ones, and next those which, either by testimony, by
forms, or by symbols, illustrate the doctrines, the worship, or the
morals of the Christians. The third, the purely topographical,
assigns each inscription its proper place among the ancient
localities of Rome. This comprises also inscriptions of unknown
or uncertain locality, as well as inscriptions of spurious origin or
doubtful authenticity.
In considering^ the chronoloo:ical arrang^ements of ChristiaR
inscriptions, it is important to keep in view that in the earlier
888 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
centuries the Chiristians kept note of time either by the years of
the bishop, or by some of the civil forms which prevailed in the
various countries in vt^hich they resided. In Rome the common
date was that of the consular year. The common use of the
Christian era as a note of time began, as is well known, later
than the sixth century, at which M. de Rossi's series terminates.
In M. de Rossi's collection one inscription bears date from the
year A. D. 107, and another from iii. Of the period from the
year 204, in which the next inscription with a date occurs, till the
peace of the church in 312, twenty-eight dated inscriptions have
been found; after the peace of the church the number of dated
inscriptions increases rapidly. Between the accession of Con-
stantine and the close of the fourth century, his collection con-
tains 450 dated inscriptions, and the fifth century presents about
the same number; but in the sixth, the number again declines,
that century producing little more than 200.
In those cases where no note of time is marked, M. de
Rossi has availed himself of other chronological indications and
tests, founded on the language, on the st3'le, on the names, and
on the material execution of the inscription, in determining the
date. Out of the 11,000 extant Roman inscriptions anterior to
the seventh century, M. de Rossi finds chronological evidence of
the date of no fewer than 1374.
There are also varieties in inflection, such as "spiritu sancta "
for "spiritu sancto," " pauperorum,""for "pauperum," " vocitus"
for " vocatus," " requiescent " for " requiescunt," etc.
There are also new or unusual terms, or new familiar words
in new or unusual meanings, such as " pausavit, rested, bisomus,
trisomus, quadrisomus," holding two, three, four bodies; compar
and conpar (husband and wife); fecit for QgiX.^ passed ; "percepit,"
received, scil. baptism, as also "consecutus est," in the same
sense, etc.
Sometimes Latin is written in Greek characters and some-
times Greek in Latin.
CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 889
The age is expressed by "vixit,'' or "vixit in sseculo,
*' annos " (or " annis " " menses," " dies " (or " diebus ") ,
with the number of hours sometimes stated. Sometimes " qui
luit " stands for " vixit;" sometimes neither is expressed, and we
have the form in the genitive, " sal. annorum," etc.
Frequently the time passed in married life is mentioned, and
we find such phrases as "vixit mecum, duravit mecum, vixit in
conjugio, fecit mecum, fecit in conjugio, fecit cum compare,"
with a precise statement of the number of years, etc., and often
with some expression marking the happiness of the couple's
married life.
The epithets applied to the deceased indicate strong affec-
tion, and the eulogies are sometimes extravagant.
The occupation or position in life is stated, with the proper
titles, in many dated Christian epitaphs. But the}^ are all, it is
supposed, later than the time of Constantine.
The same designations of the place of burial and of the
tomb are found in both Christian and Pagan epitaphs.
Acclamations or expressions of good wishes or prayers to or
for the deceased frequently occur in the inscriptions.
The letters also of these inscriptions are usually very irregu-
lar. They are from half an inch to four inches in height, colored
in the incision with a pigment resembling Venetian red. The
sense, too, of the inscriptions is not always very obvious. An
extreme simplicity of language and sentiment is the prevailing
characteristic of the earlier inscriptions. But, on the other hand,
exaggerated examples of the opposite style are occasionally met
with.
Another peculiarity in these Christian inscriptions is the
disuse of the three names usually assumed by the Romans. M.
de Rossi has given twenty inscriptions with the names complete,
prior to Constantine. Of these, no fewer than seventeen have
praenomina, whereas after Constantine prsenomina may be said
entirely to disappear.
890 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
The year is usually indicated by the names of the consuls.
The abbreviation COS for " consulibus '' was in use up to the
middle of the third century, when COSS, CONS, and CONSS
began to be adopted; COS is very seldom found during the
fourth century, and almost never in the fifth or sixth; COSS fell
into disuse about the first quarter of the fifth century, and after
that CONS was used; in the time of Diocletian with S for one
consul and SS for two. At the same time CC. SS. CS were
introduced, but they were very rarely used in the fifth, and there
is scarcely an example of them in the sixth. From about the
middle of the fourth century CONS began to be placed before in-
stead of after the names, and this usage became the prevalent
custom in the fifth and sixth.
At the date of the discovery of the Roman catacombs, the
whole body of known Christian inscriptions collected from all
parts of Italy fell far short of a thousand in number. Of these,
too, not a single one was of subterranean origin, and not dated
earlier than A. D. 553. At present the Christian inscriptions of
Rome on catacombs alone, and anterior to the sixth century,
considerably exceed 1 1 ,00 They have been carefully removed
from the cemeteries, and are now systematically arranged by M.
de Rossi, on the walls of the Christian museum, recently formed
by order of Pius IX., in the Lateran Palace. A large number
of these inscriptions are also inserted in the walls of the Galleria
Lapidaria in the Vatican.
ZA^V{ IN^CRIPTIONp.
VG. VESPASIANO III COS
IAN A. D. 71.
This fragment has been received as a part of a Christian
epitaph by Reggi, Marini and de Rossi. It is the most ancient
of all such as bear dates.
EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 89 1
SERVILIA. ANNORVM. XIII
PIS. ET BOL. COSS.
Servilia, aged thirteen, died in the consulate of Piso and
Bolanus. A. D. iii.
TEMPORE. ADRIA.NI. IMPERATORIS. MARVIS. ADOLESCENS DVX.
MILITVM. QVI SATIS. VIXI T DVM VITAM PRO CHO CVM. SANGVINE
CONSVNSIT. IN. PACE. TANDEM QUIEVIT. BENE MERENTES CVM.
LACRIMIS. ET. METV. POSVERVNT. I. D. VI.
"In the time of the Emperor Adrian, Marius, a young mili-
tary officer who had lived long enough, when with blood he gave
up his life for Christ. At length he rested in peace. The well-
deserving set up this with tears and in fear, on the 6th before
the ides." A. D. 130.
ALEXANDER MORTVVS NON EST SED VIVIT SVPER ASTRA ET CORPVS
IN HOCTVMVLO QVIESCIT VITAM EXPLEVITSVB ANTONINO IMP"
QVIVBI MVLTVM BENE FITII ANTEVENIRE PRAEVIDERET PROGRATIA
ODIVM REDDIDIT GENVA ENIM FLECTENS VERO DEO SACRIFICATVRVS
AD 8VPPLICIA DVCITVRO TEMPORA INFAVSTA QVIBVS INTER SACRA
ET VOTA NE IN CAVERNIS QVIDEM SALVARI POSSIMVS QVID MISERIVS
VITA SED QVID MISERIVS IN MORTE CVM AB AMICIS ET PARENTIBVS
SEPELIRI NEQVEANT TANDEM IN COELO CORVSCANT PARVM VIXIT
QVI
VIXIT IV. X. TEM.
" In Christ. Alexander is not dead, but lives beyond the
stars, and his body rests in this tomb. He lived under the Em-
peror Antoninus, who, foreseeing that great benefit would result
from his services, returned evil for good. For, while on his
knees, and about to sacrifice to the true God, he was led away
to execution. O, sad times! in which sacred rites and prayers,
even in caverns, afford no protection to us. What can be more
wretched than such a life.^ and what than such a death? when
they could not be buried by their friends and relations. At
892 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
length they sparkle in heaven. He has scarcely lived who has
lived in Christian times." A. D. 160.
From the Cejnetery of St. Callisto.
AVRELIA DULCISSIMA PILIA QVAE
DE. SAECVLO RECESSIT VIXIT ANN. XV. M. IIII.
SEVERO ET QVINTIN COSS.
" Aurelia; our sweetest daughter, who departed from the
world. She lived fifteen years and four months. Severus and
Quintinus being consuls." A. D. 325.
Consule Claudio et Paterno, nonis Novembribus, die
Veneris, luna XXIV, Leuces filiae Severae carissimse posuit et
spiritui sancto tuo. Mortua annorum LV et mensium XI
dierum X.
" In the consulship of Claudius and Paternus, on the nones
of November, on Friday, the 24th day of the moon, Leuce
erected (this memorial) to her very dear daughter, and to thy
holy spirit. She (died at the age) of fifty-five years, an(3 eleven
months, (and) ten days." A. D. 269.
D. M.
P. LIBERIO VICXIT
ANN N. V MENSES N. Ill
DIES N. VIII R. ANICIO
FAVSTO ET VI RIO GALLO
COSS
" Publius Liberio lived five years, three months, and eight
days. He retired (from this world) in the consulship of Ani-
cius Faustus and Virius Gallus." A. D. 298.
B. M.
CVBICVLVM. AVRELIAE. MARTIN AE. CASTISSIMAE ADQVE. PVDI-
CIS8IMAE FEMINAE QVE FECIT. IN. COIVGIO. ANN. XXIII. D. Xlllf.
BENE MERENTI. QVE VIXIT. ANN. XL. M. XI. D. XIII. DEPOSITIO EIS
DIE. III. NONAS. OCT NEPOTIANO. ET FACVNDO. CONNS. IN PACE
CHRISTIAN INSCRIPTIONS. 893
" To the well-deserving.
The chamber of Aurelia Martina, my wife, most chaste and
modest, who lived in wedlock twenty-three 3^ears and fourteen
days. To the well-deserving one, who lived forty years, eleven
months, and thirteen days. Her burial was on the third nones
of October. Nepotianus and Facundus being consuls." In
peace. A. D. 336.
Galleria Lapidaria. Vatican.
Another in Greek characters:
" Here lies Euterpe, the companion of the Muses, having
lived simply and piously, and irreproachably for fifteen years,
twenty-two days, and three months. She died on the fifth day
before the calends of December, in consulship of our lords, for
the tenth time, and for the third time {i. e., in the Consulship of
Constantine, for the tenth time, and Julian for the third time)."
A. D. 360.
ROMANO. NEOFITO
BENEMERENTI QVI VI
XIT. ANNOS. VIII. DXV.
REQVIESCIT IN PACE DN
FL. GRATIANO. AVG. II. ET.
PETRONIO PROBO. CS.
" To Romanus, the neophyte, the well-deserving, who lived
eight years, fifteen days. He rests in the peace of the Lord.
Flavins and Gratianus and Petronius Probus beings consuls."
HIC QVIESCIT ANCILLA DEI QVE DE
8VA OMNIO POSSIDIT DOMVM ISTA
QVEM AMICE DEFLEN SOLACIVMQ REQVIRVNT.
PRO HVNC VNVM ORA SVBOLEM QVEM SVPERIS.
TITEM REQVISTI ETERNA REQVIEM FELICITA.
S. CAVSA MANBIS IIIIX. KALENDAS OTOBRIS
CVCVRBITINVS ET ABVMDANTIVS HIC SIMVL QVIESCIT
DD. NN. GRATIANO V. ET TEODOSIO. AAGG.
894 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
Hie quiescit ancilla Dei, quae de suis omnibus possidet
domum istam, quam amicae deflent solaciumque requirunt. Pro
hac una ora subole, quam superstitem reliquisti. ^Eterna in
requie felicitatis causa manebis, XIV. kalendis Octobris, Cucur
bitinus et Abumdantius hie simul quieseunti. DDNN Gratiano
V et Theodosio Augustis (Consulibus).
"Here rests a handmaid of God, who out of all her riehes
now possesses but this one house, whom her friends bewail, and
seek in vain for eonsolation. Oh pray for this one remaining
daughter, whom thou hast left behind! Thou wilt remain in the
eternal repose of happiness. On the 14 of the Calends of Octo-
ber. Curcurbitinus and Abumdantius rest here together. In
the consulship of our Lords Gratian (V.) and Theodosius Em-
perors." A. D. 380.
HIC POSITA EST ANIMA DVLCES
INNOCA SAPIENS ET PVLCHRA NOMINE
QUIRIACE QVE VIXIT ANNOS. III. M III. DVIII.
DP IN PACE IIII. ID. IAN. CONSS. DN. TEVDOSIO.
AVG. II ET MEROBAVDE. VC. III.
Hie posita est anima dulees (dulcis) innoca (innocua),
sapiens et pulchra, nomine Quiriace, quae vixit annos III., menses
III., dies VIII. Deposita in pace, IV. Idus Januarias, Consulibus
Domino nostro Teudosio (Theodoric) Augusto II. et Merobaude
Vire Clarissimo III.
" Here has been laid a sweet spirit, guileless, wise and beau-
tiful, by name Quiriace, who lived three years, three months,
and eight days. Buried in peace, in the fourth day before the
Ides of January, in the consulship of our Lord Theodorius Au-
gustus, for the second time, and Merobaudes, a most distinguished
man, for the third time." A. D. 388.
EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 895
PERPETVAM SEDEM NVTRITOR POSSIDES IPSE
HIC MERITVS FINEM MAGNIS DEFVNCTE PERICLIS
HIC REQVIEM FELIX SVMIS COGENTIBVS ANNIS
HIC POSITVS PAPAS ANTIMIOO VIXIT ANNI8 LXX
DEPOSITVS DOMINO NOSTRO ARCADIO II ET FL.RVFINO VVCCSS NONAS
NOBEMB.
" You, our nursing father, occupy a perpetual seat, being
dead, and deserving an end of your great dangers. Here happy,
you find rest, bowed down with years. Here Hes the tutor,
Antimio, who lived seventy years. Buried on the nones of
November; our Lords Arcadius for the second time, and Flavius
Rufinus being consuls." A. D. 392.
Galleria Lapidaria.
HIC PEQVIESCET IN SOMNO PACIS
MALA QVI VIXIT ANNOS XXXVIII. M. V. DV.
ACCEPTA APVT DE IV. IDVS IVNIAS AETIO CONL.
Hie requiescet (requiescit) in somno pacis. Mala qui (quae)
vixit annos XXXVIII. menses V. dies V. Accepta aput (apud)
De(um) IV idus Junias. Actio Consule.
" Here rests in the sleep of peace Mala, who lived thirty-
eight years, five months, five days. Received before God, on
the fourth day before the Ides of June, in the consulship of
Aetius." A. D. 432.
LEVIVAE CONIVNX PETROKIA FORMA PV DORIS
HIS MEA DEPONENS SEDIBVS OSSA LOCO
PARCITE VOS LACRIMIS DVLCES CVM CONIVGE NATAE
VIVENTEMQVE DEO CREDITE FLERE NEFAS
DP IN PACE III NON OCTOBRIS FESTO VC. CONSS.
" Petronia, a priest's wife, the type of modesty. In this
place I la}^ my bones; spare your tears, dear husband and daugh-
ters, and believe that it is forbidden to weep for one who lives in
God. Buried in peace on the 3d nones of October, in the con-
sulate of Festus." A. D. 472.
896 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
IN PACE
AVRELIO. FELICI QVl BIXIT CVM COIVCE
ANNOS X. VIII DVLCIS. IN COIVGIO
BONE MEMORIE BIXIT. ANNOS. L V
RAPTVS ETERNE DOMVS. XII KAL. lENV ARIAS.
" In peace
To Aurelius Felix, who lived with his wife eighteen years
in sweetest wedlock. Of good memory. He lived fifty-five
years. Snatched away eternally on the twelfth kalend of Janu-
ary."
IRENE IN PACE. ARETVSA IN DEO
'' Irene sleeps in peace.'' " Aretusa sleeps in God."
"Valeria sleeps in peace."
ZOTICVS HIC AD DORMIENDVM.
" Zoticus laid here to sleep."
DOMITI ANUS ANIMA SIMPLEX
DORMIT IN PACE.
"Domitianus, a simple soul, sleeps in peace."
NICEFORVS ANIMA
DVLCIS IN REFRIGERIO.
" Nicephorus, a sweet soul, in a place of refreshment.^
inscriptions from the catacombs. 897
primitivs in pace qvi post
mvltas. angvstias fortissimvs martyr
et. vixit. annos p. m. xxxviii conivg. svg
perdvlcissimo benemerenti fecit.
" Primitius in peace: a most valiant martyr after many tor-
ments. Aged 38. His wife raised this to her dearest well-
deserving husband."
LANNVS XPI. MARTIR HIC REQVIESCIT.
SVB DIOCLIZIANO PASSVS.
" Lannus, a martyr of Christ, rests here. He suffered
under Diocletian."
NABIRA IN PACE ANIMA DVLCIS
QVI BIXIT ANNOS XVI. M. V
ANIMA MELEIEA
TITVLV FACTV
A PARENTES
" Navira in peace; a sweet soul who lived sixteen years and
five months; a soul sweet as honey: this epitaph was made by
her parents."
SEVERO FILIO DVL
CISSIMO LAVRENTIV8
PATER BENEMERENTI QVI BI
XIT ANN. nil. ME. VIII. DIES. V.
ACCERSITVS AB ANGELIS VII. IDVS. lANVA.
" Laurence to his sweetest son Severus, borne away by
angels on the 7th ides of January."
MACVS PVER INNOCENS
ESSE lAMINTER INNOCENTIS COEPISTI.
QVAM STAVILES TIVI HAEC VITA EST
QVAM TELETVM EXCIP ET MATER ECLESIAE DEOC
MVNDO REVERTENTEM COMPREMATVR PECTORVM
GEMITVS STRVATVR FLETVS OCVLORVM.
" Macus (or Marcus) an innocent boy. You have already
begun to be among the innocent ones. How enduring is such a
57
898 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
life to you! How gladly will your mother, the church of God,
receive you, returning to this world! Let us restrain our sighs
and cease from weeping."
Galleria Lapidarta.
PAX
• HIC MIHI SEMPER DOLOR E HIT IN AEVO
ET TVVM BENERABILEM BVLTVM LICEAT VIDERE SOPORE
CONIVNX ALBANAQVE MIHI SEMPER CASTA PVDICA
RELICTVM ME TVO GREMIO QVEROR.
QVOD MIHI SANCTVM TE DEDERAT DIVINITVS AVTOR
RELICTIS TVIS lACES IN PACE SOPORE
MERITA RESVRGIS TEMPORALIS TIBI DATA REQVETIO
QVE VIXIT ANNIS XLV. MENV. DIES XIII
DEPOSITA IN PACE FECIT PLACVS MARITVS
Peace.
" This grief will always weigh upon me : may it be granted
me to behold in sleep your revered countenance. My wife,
Albana, always chaste and modest, I grieve, deprived of your
support, for our Divine Author gave you to me as a sacred
(boon). You, well-deserving one, haying left your (relations),
lie in peace — in sleep — you will arise — a temporary rest is
granted you. She lived forty-five years, five months, and thir-
teen days. Buried in peace. Placus, her husband, made this."
Galleria Lapidarta.
CHURCH OF S. SEBASTIAN " IN CATACUMBIS."
I. Inscription of Pope Damasus in Honor of S.
EUTYCHIUS, THE MaRTYR, IN TWELVE VERSES (on the left
hand on entering the church). These inscriptions are very
numerous in the catacombs, and all of this beautiful calligraphy,
and usually in Latin verse, not without elegance of style, though
the construction of the sentences is sometimes not clear. Dama-
sus restored all the catacombs, after they had been damaged
during the persecution under Julian the Apostate.
EARLY INSCRIPTIONS. 899
EVTYCHIVS . MARTYR . CRVDELIA . IVSSA . TYRANNI
CAKNIFICVMQ . VIAS . PARITER . TVNC . MILLE . NOCENDI
VINCeRE . QVOD . POTVIT . MONSTRAVIT . GLORIA . CHRISTi
CARCeRIS . INLVVIEM . SEQVITVR . NOVA . POENA . PER . ARTVS
TESTARVM . FRAGMENTA . PARANT . NE . SOMNVS . ADIRET
BISSENI . TRANSIERE . DIES . ALIMENTA . NEGANTVR
MITTITVR . IN . BARATHRUM . SANCtVS . LAV AT . OMNIA . SANGvIS
VVLNERA . QVAE . INTVLERAT . MORTIS . METVENDA . T0TESTA8
NOCTE . SOPORIFERA . TVRBANT . INSOMNIA . MENTEM
OSTENDIT . LATEBRA . INSONTIS . QVAE . MEMBRA . TENERET
QVAERITVR . INVENTV8 . COLITVR . FOVET . OMNIA . PRESTAN8
EXPRESSIT . DAMASV8 . MERITVM . VENERARE . SEPVLChQVM f
"That Eutychius, the Martyr, was able to overcome the
cruel orders of the tyrant, and equally at that time the execu-
tioners' thousand ways of torment, the glory of Christ shewed.
A new punishment follows the filth of the prison. They provide
breaking of tiles on his limbs, to prevent sleep approaching.
Twice six days passed, food is refused. The saint is thrown
into a pit, blood bedews all the wounds which the dread power
of death had caused. In night, which usually brings sleep,
sleeplessness troubles his mind. The place of concealment which
held the limbs of the innocent, manifested them(.^). He is
sought for, being found he is reverenced, he benefits all things.
Damasus shewed forth his exceeding merit; venerate his tomb."
2. Another Inscription in the same Catacomb
Church (over a door on the right-hand side, looking towards
the altar).
VISITET . HIC . PIA . MENS . SCTORVM . BVSTA . FREQVENTER
IN . CRISTO . QVORVM . GLORIA . PERPES . ERIT
HIC . EST . CEMETERIV . BEAT! . CHALIXTI . PAPE . ET . MARTIRIS
INCLITI . QVICVQVE . ILLVD . COTRICTVS . ET . COFESSVS . INGRESSVS
FVERIT . PLENAM . REMISSIONE . O^NIV . PECTORV . SVORV . OBTINEBIT
PER . MERITA . GLORIOSA. . CENTV . SEPTVAGINTA . QVATVOR . MILIV
SCTORV . MARTIRV . QVORV . IBI . CORPORA . IN . PACE. SEPVLTA . 8VT
VNA . CV . . QVADRAGINTA . SEX . PON^IFICIBVS . BEATIS . QVI . OMNES
EX . MAGNA . TRIBVLATIONE . VENERVT . ET . VT . HEREDES . IN . DOMO
DOMINI . PIERET . MORTIS . SVPPLICIVM . PRO . CRISTI . NOMINE
PERTVLERVNT
900 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
" Here let the pious mind often visit the tombs of the saints,
Whose glory will be everlasting in Christ."
" Here is the cemetery of the blessed Calixtiis, renowned
Pope and Martyr. Whoever shall have' entered it contrite and
after confession, shall obtain full remission of all his sins, through
the glorious merits of 174,000 martyr saints, whose bodies are
buried here in peace, together with forty-six blessed pontiffs, who
all came out of great tribulation, and suffered the punishment of
death for Christ's name, that they might become heirs in the
Lord's house."
PAIJNTINQ^.
If the tombs of the early martyrs, before " the peace of
the church," were commonly decorated with paintings at all,
which is not probable, it is almost certain that some of those
paintings have been renewed at various subsequent periods.
The best monuments of the first three centuries are the tomb-
stones with inscriptions and small simple emblems incised upon
them.
It is difficult to decide by the, art of drawing only between
the end of the third and the beginning of the fourth century.
But this art was in the height of perfection in the first century,
in the second it was still very good, in the third it had begun to
decline, but not so rapidl}'^ as to justify the assumption that the
very bad drawings in the catacombs belong to that period, with
the exception of those already mentioned as not Christian. The
drawing of the figures in the mosaic pictures in the vault of S.
Constantia, which are of the first half of the fourth century, are
decidedly better than any of the Scriptural subjects in the cata-
combs. The mosaic pictures of the fifth century on the sides of
PAINTINGS. 901
the nave of S. Maria Maggiore, published by Ciampini, are much
more Hke them.
S. Pauhnus, bishop of Nola, writing in the fifth century,
says that he had painted a catacomb,yc>r the -pil^rims^ and gives
his reasons for doing so. He thought good to enHven the whole
temple of S. Felix, in order that these colored representations
might arrest the attention of the rustics, and prevent their drink-
ing too much at the feasts. The temple here evidently means
the tomb or crypt in which the commemorative feasts were held,
and were represented by paintings. His expressions im})ly that
such paintings were not then a received custom.
That the painted vaults in the catacombs were used for
feasts on various occasions in the same manner as the painted
chambers in the Pagan tombs, is evident from the manner in
which several writers of the fourth and fifth centuries mention
them; in addition to the letters of Paulinus of Nola and S.
Augustine, and the hymns of Prudentius, there is also a remark-
able passage in a sermon of Theodoret on the Martyrs (written
about A. D. 450):
" Our Lord God leads His own even after death into the
temples for your Gods, and renders them vain and empty; but
to these [Martyrs] He renders the honors previously paid to
them. For your dail}'^ food and your sacred and other feasts of
Peter, Paul, and Thomas, and Sergius and Marcellinus, and
Leontius, and Antoninus, and Mauricius, and other martyrs, the
solemnities are performed; and in place of the old base pomp
and obscene words and acts, their modest festivities are cele-
brated, not with drunkenness and obscene and ludicrous exhibi-
tions, but with hearing divine songs and holy sermons, and
prayers and praises adorned with tears. When, therefore, 3^ou
would dilate on the honor of the martyrs, what use is there in
sifting them? Fly, my friends, the error of demons, and under
their guidance seize upon the road that leads to God, and wel-
902 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
come their presence with holy songs, as the way is to eternal
life."
Bosio enumerates six cuhicula or family burial-chapels in the
cemetery or catacomb of Priscilla, and thirteen arched tombs
with paintings. These pictures, of which he gives engravings,
were far more perfect in his time than they are now. His en-
gravings are good for the period when they were executed; but
it was a time when all drawing was bad, slovenly, and incorrect,
so that the general idea only of the picture is all we can expect.
The costume and ornaments do not indicate any very early
period of art, but rather a time when it had declined consider-
ably. Costume in Rome, as in the East generally, was far more
stationary and less subject to changes than in the West, and
these may be as early as the fourth or fifth century, but can
hardly be earlier. Several of the martyrs buried in the Via
Salaria suffered in the tenth persecution under Diocletian, called
the great persecution, about the 3'ear 300: the decorations of
their tombs, therefore, can not be earlier than tKe fourth century,
and many of them have been restored or renewed at subsequent
times. John I., A. D. 523, is recorded to have renewed the
cemetery of Priscilla, and this probably means that he renewed
the paintings in the style of his own time, as the greater part of
the paintings now remaining are of the character of that period.
On comparing the costumes of the figures in this catacomb
with those in the illuminations of the celebrated manuscript of
Terence, usually attributed to the seventh or eighth century,
and which can hardly be earlier than the fifth, we see at once
that the long flowing robe was the ordinary costume of the
period, and that the narrow scarf of black ribbon hanging over
the shoulders, with the ends reaching nearly to the ground, was
the usual badge of a servant. This seems to have been adopted
as part of the costume of a Christian going to pray to God,
whether ii\ a church or chapel or any other place, emblematical
PAINTINGS. 903
of the yoke of Christ, as Durandus says. The surplice and
stole of the priest of the Anglican Church is a more close copy
of this ancient costume than any now worn in the Roman church.
The rich cope, cape, or cloak was the dress of the Roman sena-
tor and of the Pagan priests; it was probably adopted by the
Bishop of Rome when he assumed the title and office of Pontifex
Maximus, and after a time the custom was followed by other
bishops and priests of his communion.
A valuable work on the ancient glass vases found in the
catacombs was published by F. Buonarotti in Florence, nearly
simultaneously with the work of Boldetti on the catacombs, and
of Fabretti on the inscriptions found in them. This is the foun-
dation of all the subsequent works on the subject; the figures
are badly drawn and engraved, according to the fashion of the
period, but many of the later works are not much better. The
subjects are generally the same as in the paintings on the walls:
the Good Shepherd, more numerous than any other; Adam and
Eve, Moses striking the Rock, Noah and the Ark, the raising of
Lazarus, Peter and Paul, generally busts — these are very
numerous. Both the style of drawing and the character of the
inscriptions indicate late dates and frequent copying from the
same t37pe. In one are three figures, S. Peter, S. Paul, with S.
Laurence seated between them. S. Agnes occurs frequently,
always drawn as in the usual type of the eighth century. Other
busts are evidently portraits of persons interred. In some are
the father, mother and child; — one has the name of Cerontius;
another of two busts, Cericia and Sottacus;' — another is a family
§roup, father, mother and four children; the name is partly
904 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
broken off . . . . n . . . bvsvistris, p. z. remains. — Abraham
-with a drawn sword in his hand, and Isaac with his eyes bound,
kneeling at his feet, with the ram. A tall female figure with the
hands uplifted in prayer; the inscription is petrvs pavlvs ane,
possibly for Agnes. Another similar subject consists of two
figures seated facing each other; 'over the left hand figure the
name Cristvs, over the right hand one istefanvs. Several
of the subjects are distinctly Pagan; others are evidently from
the Jews' catacomb, as two lions guarding the ark, and under
them two of the seven-branched candlesticks, with leaves and
vases and palm-branch.
g. CALIXTU?.
This is one of the earliest of the catacombs ; it is mentioned
at a very early period as a burying-place then in use, not as
being then just made. Michele de Rossi, in the course of his
investigations in this catacomb, found a brick staircase and some
brick loculi^ evidently an alteration of and addition to the orig-
inal catacombs, and the stamps on these bricks were those of
Matcus Aurelius, A. D. 1 61-180. This staircase is in the lower
part of the catacomb, made for the purpose of enlarging it, and
seems to show that the ground had been used as a cemetery in
the first century. The original part was probably made before
there were any Christians to be buried. Although the staircase
is later, and the bricks used again, they were probably found on
the spot.
Calixtus is said to have been entrusted with the government
of the clergy, and set over the cemete?y by Zephyrinus his prede-
cessor, before he became bishop or pope. This expression, over
the cemetery^ seems to prove that the whole of the catacombs
S. CALIXTUS. 905
f
were considered as one cemetery, and that he had the general
superintendence of the burial of the Christians.
This is the catacomb usually exhibited to strangers and now
used for pilgrimages; its present state is very uninteresting to
the archaeologist. The upper part of it nearest to the entrance
has been so much restored that it has lost all archaeological im-
portance. This portion of the catacomb is illuminated on cer-
tain occasions, and is employed to excite the devotion of the
faithful. A low mass is said at an altar fitted up in the ceme-
tery chapel of S. Caecilia, on the anniversary of her martyrdom,
and this part of the catacomb on that occasion is illuminated
with candles.
The other parts are in the usual state, stripped of nearly
every inscription, and the graves empty. The earliest inscrip-
tion from this catacomb, of ascertained date, is of A. D. 268 or
279; it is dated by the names of the consuls, which would apply
to either of these two dates. One important inscription of
Bishop Damasus is preserved, and is valuable in many ways; it
shows that the cemetery chapel, in which it was found, was made
in his time, and the slab of marble on which it is engraved has a
Pagan inscription on the back of it, evidently proving that it was
used merely as a slab of marble, without reference to that inscrip-
tion. It shows for what purpose some of the Pagan inscriptions
found in the catacombs may have been brought there. Two small
and very curious tombstones, consisting of mosaic pictures said to
have been taken from this catacomb, are now preserved in the sac-
rist}'^ of the church of S. Maria in Trastevere. They were for
some centuries in the nave, built into one of the piers; but during
the restorations made in 1868-76, they were removed and built
into the wall of the sacristy. One represents a landscape, with
building in the style of the third century, and a harbor or a lake
with a vessel, and fishermen dragging in a great net, evidently
intended for the miraculous draught of fishes. This is an ex-
go6
TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
tremely curious mosaic picture, the probable date of which is the
beginning of the fourth century. The other small mosaic repre-
sents birds of various kinds, and is much earlier than the view of
the harbor, perhaps as early as the first century. Possibly the birds
were intended to be symbolical of the souls of the faithful. These
are engraved by Ciampini in his work on Mosaics. Some of the
original paintings [Bosio gives, on eight plates, engravings of a
PAINTED CEILING.
number of vases and lamps found in this catacomb, several views
of ciihiada^ and upwards of seventy paintings. The same subjects
have been repeated by Perret and Signor de Rossi.] remain in
the lower part of this catacomb that have not been restored, and
these are of the usual subjects: Daniel and the two lions, Moses
striking the rock, the raising of Lazarus, etc.
S. CALIXTUS. 907'
THE LAPT gUPPER.
S. CALIXTUS.
This painting has more the appearance of being really in-
tended for the Last Supper than most of the paintings of this
class. The central figure has a certain dignity about it. Upon
the round plates on the table are fishes, and the eight baskets are
full of bread. It may be a Christian painting of a bad period,
and intended to commemorate some of our Lord's miracles.
The principal lines on the edges of the dresses have been re-
newed. This painting is under an arco-solium in the chapel of
the Sacraments, the burial-place of the Bishops of Rome in the
third century. AH the paintings in that part of this great cata-
comb that is usually open to the public, and in which masses are
said on certain occasions, have long been said by well-informed
persons to have been restored within the last twenty years, but
this is now denied by the Roman Catholic authdrities.
An engraving of this painting is given by Bosio in the sixth
arco-solium of this catacomb, p. 523; he calls it Christ and the
Apostles. It is also given by Perret in the modern French
style, vol. i. p. 28; and by Dr. Northcote in plate xiii., much
embellished by color and improved by the skill of modern artists.
g. PONTIANUg.
The Baptistery, with the Baptism of Christ painted on the
wall, over the arch. He is represented standing in the River
Jordan up to His waist in water, in which fishes are swimming,
and at which a hart is drinking; the Holy Dove is over His
head. S. John Baptist is standing on the bank, and pouring
water on His head, or perhaps only holding out his hand .to
JUHIVBESITY]
tmr
9o8 TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
touch it. On the opposite side is another figure in a white dress,
hiding his face. All the three figures have the nimbus.
AN AGAPE.
An Agape, or love-feast, is a common subject of the paint-
ings in the catacombs, and sometimes seems to be evidently a
representation of the family gatherings that were held on the
anniversaries in these tombs, in the same manner as they were
in the painted tombs in the Via Latina or the Via Appia. These
paintings are often supposed to be the Last Supper, and some-
times may be so, but the one before us can hardly be intended
for Christ and his Apostles.
CHRIST AND THE CHURCH.
These two figures, one on either side of a small table, on
which are two dishes, one with a fish upon it and the other with
bread, are supposed to repiesent our Lord after the Resurrection,
and the Christian Church in the form of a woman, with the
hands uplifted in the Oriental attitude of pra3'er, such as is
usually called in the catacombs an Orante. This explanation is
of course conjectural onl}^, but seems not improbable. Th^
painting is so much damaged that it is difficult to tell to what
period it belongs. A part of this great catacomb is as early as
the second century. In this passage stravit ma}' mean covering
the walls with slabs of porphyry also, as well as the floor. It is
evident that in several instances the word -platonia is applied by
Anastasius to a chapel lined with marble plates for inscriptions,
as at S. Sebastian's.
HEAD OF CHRIST IN AN AUREOLE. MARY, MOTHER OF
CHRIST, AND MARY MAGDALENE. ST. MARK,
ST. PAUL AND ST. PETER.
This cemetery or catacomb is on the western side of
the Tiber, about half a mile beyond the Porta Portuensis, on
the road to Porto, but on the hill above, and on a higher
" -jii^hiJ^^^J
mm
mm
^
WF
wA iiiiuin)iiMLi]iuih>.i
•^lO TOMBS AND CATACOMBS.
level than the road in what is now a vineyard. The soil in
which this catacomb is made is quite different from the others;
instead of the granular tufa, or volcanic sand, which is the soil
generally used for them near the Via Appia and the Via Ardea-
tina, this is an alluvial soil formed by the action of water on the
bank of the Tiber. Whether from this cause, or from some
others that have not been explained, the paintings in this cata-
comb are far more perfect than those in any other; they are the
most celebrated and the most popular, and those that have been
more often engraved and published than any others.
The picture of the head of Christ is a very fine one, in an
aureole or circular nimbus, with the cross on it, called also a
cruciform nimbus. This head has been many times engraved
and published, and it is amusing to compare those commonly
sold in the shops of Rome with the original as shown in the
photograph. These will illustrate the manner in which the
clever modern artists have improved upon the originals; it is
difficult to understand that they are intended for the same pic-
ture.
The figures of the three saints, St. Paul, St. Peter, and St.
Mark, are painted on the ceiling, while Mary, the Mother of
Christ, and Mary Magdalene are over and on the left side of the
iiead of Christ.
nvjii <)f jm ?ffw
It may seem j)resumptuous for us to undertake to write
upon this subject. "It is to paint the sun with charcoal,'' for the
most scholastic divine to give his reflections on the Word of God.
With the most devout feeling of the infinite value of such an
article or the great evil which might result from the complexity
of its appearance, we have concluded that nothing but the most
reverential feeling of the sacredness of the subject can secure us
from falling into dangers not to be lightly regarded, not merely
in regard to facts, but in respect also to comments and reflections ;
but with this caution such an article may be rendered eminently
edifying and interesting.
Why should we conclude this work, in this age of infidelity,
without at least stating what was known of the Bible? Why
should we not bring the " cloud of witnesses " of the ruins we
have already described? The discovery of the Assyrian and
Babylonian historic records running contemporaneously with
Scripture narratives have afforded innumerable points of proof.
From the ruins of Nineveh and the Valley of the Nile; from the
slabs and bas-reliefs of Sennacherib and the tombs, the cata-
combs with their i,ioo Christian inscriptions, and the monuments
of Pharaoh; from the rolls of Chaldee paraphrasts and Syrian
versionists; from the cells and libraries of monastic scribes and
the dry and dusty labors of scholars and antiquarians, the
91 T
912
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
skepticism of history has almost been silenced by the vivid
reproductions of the ancient and eastern world.
An attentive perusal of the present volume will afford many
illustrations of these remarks. Knowing that the substance of
the narrative is drawn from sources of indisputable authority, the
reader can have no anxiety respecting the truth of the facts
recorded. He will, therefore, be able to resign himself alto-
gether to the gracious influence which such a history is calcu-
lated to exercise on the mind.
The assistance which the reader will derive from a well-
arranged narrative of these sublime events will be found of
importance, not only as exciting attention to facts, otherwise less
noticed, but as habituating him, in perusing the divine originals,
to arrange and classify the several portions of the history for
himself. When this ability is acquired, the mind will have a
readier command over the materials of reflection, and the several
arguments on which the proof of heavenly truth is founded will
be seen with greater distinctness, and appreciated with a more
practical feeling of their strength and value.
With the assistance of the many scholarly productions on
this matter, why should we not at least set the Bible side by side
with Homer, Herodotus, Virgil, Horace, and others, which have
already taken quite a space in the present work. The Scripture
surely contains, independently of a divine origin, more true suh-
limity^ more exquisite beauty^ purer morality^ mc^re important
history^ and finer strains both of poetry and eloquence^ than
could be collected within the same compass from all other books
that were ever composed in any age or in any idiom.
The Bible accords in a wonderful manner with universal
history. There is nothing more common in history than the
recognition of a God. Sacred and profane history alike involve
this principle. The fictions of the poets respecting the different
ages of the world coincide with Scripture facts. The first,
ACCORDANCE WITH ANCIENT WRITINGS. 913
or Golden Age, is described as a paradisiacal state, feebly
representing the bliss of the first pair in Eden, Gen. ii. And the
second, or Iron Age, described in the fiction of Pandora and her
fatal box of evils, which overspread the earth, is in accordance
with the history of the introduction of evil into the world,
Gen. iii. The celebrated Vossius shows, with great ingenuity,
the similitude there is between the history of Moses and the
lable of Bacchus. The cosmogony of the ancient Phoenicians is
evidently similar to the account of creation given by Moses,
and a like assertion may be made respecting the ancient Greek
philosophy. Travel north, south, east and west, and you find
the period employed in creation used as a measure of time,
though no natural changes point it out as a measure, as is the
case with the month and year. Consult the heathen classics, the
records of our Scythian ancestors, the superstitions of Eg3'pt, of
the Indies, both East and West, and, indeed, of all the varied
forms in which superstition has presented herself, and in one or
in all you meet with evidences of a universal flood, of man's fall,
of the serpent having been the instrument in it, of propitiatory
sacrifices, of the expectation of a great deliverer. The long
lives of men in the early ages of the world are mentioned by
Berosus, Manetho, Hiromus and Helanicus, as also by Hesoid
and many other writers quoted by Josephus, and afterwards by
Servius, in his notes on Virgil. Pausanius, Philostratus, Pliny
and several other writers give us accounts of the remains of
gigantic bodies which have been found in the earth, serving in
some degree to confirm Moses' account of the antediluvian
giants. Berosus, the Chaldean historian, quoted by Josephus,
and Abidenus by Eusebius, Plutarch, Lucian, Molo, Nicholas
Damascenus, as well as man}' of the heathen poets, mention the
deluge; and some traditions respecting it are to be found among
the Americans and Chinese; not to mention what some modern
travelers have fabulously related concerning some ruins of the
58
914
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
ark, said to remain on Mount Ararat, and to have been seen
there a few centuries ago. Alexander Polyphistor quotes Arta-
panus and Eupolemus, as mentioning the Tower of Babel; and
the former speaks of it as built by Belus. Strabo, Tacitus,
Pliny, etc., give us an account of the destruction of Sodom and
Gomorrah and the neighboring cities, in the main agreeable to
that of Moses. Herodotus, Diodorus, Strabo, etc., mention cir-
cumcision as a rite used by several of those nations into which,
according to Moses, Abraham traveled, or which were descended
from him. Berosus, and several others, make express and
honorable mention of Abraham and some of his family. Eupo-
lemus and Dius, as quoted by Eusebius and Grotius, mention
many remarkable circumstances of David and Solomon, agree-
ing with the Old Testament story. As for the mention of
Nebuchadnezzar, and some of the succeeding kings of Bab3'lon,
as well as of Cyrus and his successors, it is so common in
ancient writers, as not to need a more particular notice of it.
And very many passages of the Old Testament are mentioned
by Celsus, and objections to Christianity formed upon them. Is
not all this in favor of the credibility of the Old Testament.'*
And with respect to the New Testament, we have the testimony
of Tacitus and Suetonius to the existence of Jesus Christ, the
Founder of the Christian religion, and to His crucifixion in the
reign of Tiberius, and during the procuratorship of Pontius
Pilate, the time in which the evangelists place that event.
Porphyry, also, though an inveterate enemy to Christianity, not
only allowed that there was such a person as Christ, but honored
Him as a most wise and pious man, translated into heaven as
being approved by the gods; and accordingly quotes some
oracles, referring both to His sufferings and virtues, with their
subsequent rewards. Celsus, likewise, an Epicurean philosopher,
full of enmity to the Christian religion, mentions numberless
circumstances in the history of Christ, indeed so many, that an
ACCORDANCE WITH ANCIENT WRITINGS. . 915
abstract of the Christian history might almost be taken from the
very fragments of his book preserved by Origen, and never
pretends to dispute His real existence, or the truth of the facts
recorded of Him. Hierocles, a man of learning and a magis-
trate, who wrote against the Christians, speaks of Jesus as
extolled by the Christians as a god; mentions Peter and Paul by
name; and refers both to the Gospels and to the Epistles. The
Emperor Julian, in the fourth century, called "Apostate," writes
of the birth of Jesus in the reign of Augustus; bears witness to
the genuineness and authenticity of the Gospels, and the Acts of
the Apostles; and allows that Jesus Christ wrought miracles.
He aimed to overthrow the ChristiaTi religion, but has confirmed
it. The slaughter of the infants at Bethlehem is attested by
Macrobius; the darkness at the crucifixion is recorded by
Phlegon, and quoted by Origen. The manners and worship of
the primitive Christians are distinctly named by Pliny. The
great dearth throughout the Roman world, foretold by Agabus,
in the reign of Claudius (Acts xi. 28), is attested by Suetonius,
Dion, Josephus, and others. The expulsion of the Jews from
Rome by Claudius (Acts xviii. 2) was occasioned, says Suetonius,
by the insurrection they had made about Chrestus, which is his
way of spelling Christ. It has been repeatedly proved, with
laborious research, and profuse erudition, that vestiges of all the
principal doctrines of the Christian religion are to be found in the
monuments, writings, or mythologies of all nations and ages.
And the principal facts contained in the Gospels are confirmed
by monuments of great fame subsisting in every Christian
country at this very day. For instance, baptism in the name
of the Father, Son and H0I3' Ghost, the rite by which from the
beginning men have been initiated into the Church of Christ,
and the profession of Christianity. The Lord's Supper, cele-
brated in memory of the dying love of Christ. And the stated
observation of the first day of the week, in honor of Christ's
9i6
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
resurrection from the dead. Who can say, and prove, that this
is not evidential ot the truth and credibility of the New Testa-
FRIBZE FROM THE ARCH OF TITUS.
ment.? What but inspiration could have produced such internal
harmony, and such external accordance.'*
NO BOOK PRODUCED BY CHANCE. 917
Of the monuments, none is more striking than the
Arch of Titus. This celebrated structure was erected by the
Senate and the people of Rome in estimation of the services of
Titus in conquering the Jews. It is probable that the monument
w^as completed after the death of Titus. It consists of a single
arch of Grecian marble, of exquisite proportions, with fluted col-
umns on each side. The frieze, which gives it special interest and
value, is on the right-hand side passing under the arch going
towards the Coliseum. It represents the triumphal procession of
captive Jews, the silver trumpets, the tables of shew-bread, and
the golden candlestick, with its seven branches. The candlestick
itself is said to have been thrown into the Tiber from the Milvina
Bridge, on the occasion of the battle between Maxentius and
Constantine. Should the proposal to turn the course of the
Tiber be carried into effect it is not impossible that this precious
relic may yet be recovered.
No booh was ever produced by chance. Every volume in
the world is indebted for its existence to some being or beings.
And the Bible, we are assured, could not but have had an intelli-
gent author. But within the rano^e of intelligfence there exist
only bad beings, good beings, and God. Hence, among these
must be found whatever originates in intelligence, for this classi-
fication includes all beings that are intelligent. Now that bad
beings — wicked men and infernal spirits — could not have origi-
' nated a book so full of goodness, is a reasonable opinion; for it
bears no resemblance to such an origin. It commands all duty,
forbids all sin, and pronounces the heaviest penalties against all
unholy conduct; and as darkness can not originate light, so
neither can evil originate good. Nor would it help the matter
to suppose that good beings — pious men and holy angels — were
the contrivers of these well-arranged records; for they neither
could nor would write a book, ascribing their own inventions to
divine inspiration; especially as such forgeries are most severely
pi 8 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
reprobated in every part of it. As therefore God is the only
remaining being within the range of intelligence to whom the
Scriptures can be reasonably ascribed, they must, of necessity,
have been written by Him. And, indeed, the Bible is a work as
much exceeding every effort of mei^e man as the sun surpasses
those scanty illuminations by which his splendor is imitated, or
his absence supplied.
We are now conducted, by fair and consecutive reasoning,
to our last general proposition, which is this : God 'was the author
of the Bible.
By the Bible we mean, of course, both the Old and New
Testaments. " The two Testaments," says one, " ma}' be
likened to the double-doors of the Temple — the Old is the New
infolded — the New is the Old unfolded." The New Testa-
ment distinctly recognizes the Old as a revelation from God;
and, referring to the Canon as received by the Jews, declares the
books of which it consists genuine and credible. And by God
being the author of the Bible we mean that it was "given by
inspiration of Him." It may be necessary here to define certain
terms which either have been, or may be, hereafter, emploj'ed in
this essay. And these are: — Scripture; Testament; Inspiration;
Gospel; Christianity; and Religion. Scripture, from scriptura,
signifies writing — applied by way of eminence to what is written
in the Bible. Testament, from testamentum, a deed or will; but
according to another rendering the appropriate name of the Bible
is, the Old and New Covenants; namely, the Mosaic and the
Christian. Inspiration, from spiro, signifies I breathe. " By the
divine inspiration of the Holy Scriptures," says an able writer,
" I mean, such an immediate and complete discover}', by the
Holy Spirit to the minds of the sacred penmen, of these things
which could not have been otherwise known, and such an effec-
tual superintendency as to those matters of which they might be
informed or by other means, as entirely to preserve them from
GOD THE AUTHOR. 919
all error, in every particular which could in the least affect any
of the doctrines or commandments contained in their writings."
Gospel, from god, good, and spell, a history, a narrative, or mes-
sage; and which denotes good news, glad tidings, news from
God — applied emphatically to the book which contains the recital
of our Saviour's life, miracles, death, and so on. Christianity,
from christianitas, signifies the religion of Christians. And
Religion, from religare, signifies to tie or bind, because by true
religion the soul is tied or bound, as it were, to God and His
service. These things being premised, we shall be justified in
proceeding to establish our proposition; namely, that God was
the author of the Bible. And we hold this to be demonstrable.
From its great antiquity. It is acknowledged to be the
oldest book in the world. Its records embrace the creation of
the world, the origin of man, the introduction of evil, the fall
and recovery of our race; and it contains the only rational ac-
count ever given of these momentous matters. We can trace
the Bible to the time of the Caesars, beyond that to the transla-
tion of the Septuagint, and beyond that we can carry the proof
up to the separation of the Jews and Samaritans ; we can ascend
up to the time when we discover that the law must have been
given by a person called Moses to a people in the wilderness, at
a time when idolatry was universal, and just as we have the facts
recorded in the nineteenth and twentieth chapters of the book of
Exodus. And if Moses did not get the law from God, the get-
ting it at all — the having it then as it is — is just as great a miracle
as its coming from God Himself; and you may take your choice
of the miracles — for the one is as great a miracle as the other
Tatian, one of the Greek fathers, tells us, that " Though Homer
was before all poets, philosophers, and historians, and was the
most ancient of all profane writers, yet Moses was more ancient
than Homer himself." Tertullian, another celebrated writer of
the second century, speaks to the same effect. " The Pagans
920 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
themselves have not denied that the books of Moses were extant
many ages before the states and cities of Greece; before their
temples and gods; and also before the beginning of Greek let-
ters." He moreover adds, " Moses lived five hundred years
before Homer's time; and the other prophets who came a long
time after Moses were yet more ancient than any of the wise
men, lawgivers, and philosophers of Greece. And as the writ-
ings of Homer were a pattern to them, so in like manner he fol-
lowed the writings of the prophets, as they were then known and
spread abroad in the world." And the excellent and learned Sir
W. Jones, adverting to the same point, remarked, " The antiq-
uity of these writings no man doubts."
From its uncorrupted preservation. Though it has been
hated and held in utter detestation by thousands, yet it has been
preserved amidst all the revolutions of time, and handed down
from generation to generation, even until now. And that it is in
all essential points the same as it came originally from the hands
of its authors, we have the most satisfactory evidence that can
be required. "With regard to the Old Testament," says the
late learned William Greenfield, " the original manuscripts were
long preserved among the Jews, who were always remarkable
for being most faithful guardians of their sacred books, which
they transcribed repeatedly, and compared most carefully with
the originals, of which they even numbered the words and let-
ters. That the Jews have neither mutilated nor corrupted these
writings is fully proved by the silence of the prophets as well as
of Christ and His apostles, who, though they bring many heavy
charges against them, never once accuse them of corrupting one
of their sacred writings; and also by the agreement, in every
essential point, of all the versions and manuscripts, amounting to
nearly 1,150, which are now extant, and which furnishes a clear
proof of their uncorrupted preservation.
One of the most wonderful and ancient of these is the Pen-
THE PENTATEUCH.
921
tateuch, as represented in the cut below. Mr. Mills says of it:
" The roll itself is of what we would ' call parchment, but of a
PENTATEUCH, WRITTEN 3200 YEARS AGO.
material much older than that, written in columns twelve inches
deep and seven and a half wide. The writing is in a fair hand
922
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
but not nearly so large or beautiful as the book copies which I
had previously examined. The writing being rather small each
column contains from seventy to seventy-two lines. The name
of the scribe is written in a kind of acrostic, and forms part of
the text, running through three columns and is found in the book
of Deuteronomy. It was the work of the great grandson of
Aaron, as indicated in the writing. The roll has all the appear-
ance of a very high antiquity, and is wonderfully well preserved,
considering its venerable age.
" One of the halves of the metal cylinder is very curious and
deserves more attention than it has received at the hands of
BibHcal archaeologists. It is of silver, about two feet and six
inches long, by ten or twelve inches in diameter, and is covered
with embossed work with a descriptive legend attached to each
portion. It proves to be the Tabernacle of the Wilderness.
" In fact, the constant reading of the sacred books, which
were at once the rule of their faith and of their political consti-
tution, in public and private; the numerous copies of the original
as well as of the Septuagint version, which was widely spread
over the world ; the various sects and parties into which the Jews
were divided after their canon was closed, as well as their disper-
sion into every part of the globe, concurred to render any at-
tempt at fabrication impossible before the time of Christ, and
after that period, the same books being in the hands of the
Christians, they would instantly have detected the fraud of
the Jews if they had endeavored to accomplish such a design,
while the silence of the Jews, who would not have failed to
notice the attempt if it had been made, is a clear proof that they
were not corrupted by the Christians.
" Equally satisfactory is the evidence for the integrity and
incorruptness of the New Testament. The multiplication of
copies, both of the original and of translations into a variety of
languages, which were read, not only in private, but publicly in
PRESERVATION OF THE SCRIPTURES 923
the religious assemblies of the early Christians; the reverence of
the Christians for these writings; the variety of sects and here-
sies which soon arose in the Christian Church, each of whom
appealed to the Scriptures for the truth of their doctrines,
rendered any material alteration in the sacred books utterly
impossible; while the silence of their acutest enemies, who would
most assuredly have charged them with the attempt if it had
been made, and the agreement of all the manuscripts and ver-
sions extant, are positive proofs of the integrity and incorruptness
of the New Testament; which are further attested by the
agreement with it of all the quotations which occur in the
writings of the Christians from the earliest age to the present
time. In fact, so far from there having been any gross adulter-
ation in the Sacred Volumes, the best and most able critics have
proved that, even in lesser matters, the Holy Scriptures of the
New Testament have suffered less from the injuries of time and
the errors of transcribers than any other ancient writings what-
ever; and that the very worst manuscript extant would not
pervert one article of our faith, nor destroy one moral precept."
Add to this the testimony of the British Critic. " Not one
syllable penned by eight obscure authors of the Scriptures of the
New Testament, received by the Church as canonical at the
death of John, has been lost in the course of eighteen centuries.
Yet of the historical works of Tacitus half at least are wanting;
out of the one hundred and forty-four books of Livy only thirty-
five exist; the collections of Atticus have entirely perished; the
orations of Hortensius are known onl}^ through the allusions' of
his rival; and the literary fame of the great dictator survives
but in two narratives, one of which has sometimes been doubted.
'Where is the wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the dis-
puter of this world? ' May it not be the power of God which,
amidst this wreck of eloquence and learning, has preserved un-
mutilated, even to these later days, the simple and unstudied
924
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
compositions of the illiterate Galileans — the impassioned but
rugged addresses of the tent-maker of Cilicia?" Dr. Adam
Clarke, no mean judge, pronounced by the late Rev. Robert
Hall to have been "■ an ocean of learning," said, " I have
diligently examined the question, and I can conscientiously say
that we have the Sacred Oracles, at least in essential sum and
substance, as they were delivered by God to Moses and the
prophets; and to the Church of Christ by Jesus, His evangelists
and apostles; and that nothing in the various readings of the
Hebrew and Greek manuscripts can be found to strengthen any
error in doctrine or obliquity in moral practice. All is sale and
sound — all is pure and holy." And the judicious Selden, whom
Grotius calls "the glor}'^ of the English nation," in his " Table
Talk," speaking of the Bible, says, " The English translation of
the Bible is the best translation in the world, and renders the
sense of the original best; taking in for the English translation
the Bishop's Bible as well as King James'. The translators in
King James' time took an excellent way. That part of the
Bible was given to him who was most excellent in such a tongue,
and then they met together, and one read the translation, the
others holding in their hands some Bible, either of the learned
tongues, or French, Spanish, or Italian, etc. If they found any
fault they spoke, if not he read on."*
From its imftortant discoveries. It makes discoveries to
man on the most momentous subjects, which natural reason
never could have made. One of the ancients said, " The Bible
is the history of God." It reveals all that is needful to be known
of the existence, nature, perfections, relations, mind and will of
God. It discloses the whole history of man — opening with his
creation, continuing with his present state, and closing with his
eternal destiny. It lays open the amazing love of God to man,
the plan of redemption, the means of salvation and the cleansing
* King Jame8' Bible is that now commonly used in this country and Grea» Britain.
ITS IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES. 925
nature of the blood of Christ. It furnishes answers to the most
interesting and perplexing questions ever suggested to man by
himself, or propounded to him by his fellow-beings; and thus
supplies him with that information which no other volume can
impart. It points a second life, unveils eternity, and speaks of
the resurrection of the body — the immortality of the soul — a
judgment to come — a heaven, the gift of redeeming love — and a
hell, the dire desert of sin. In one word, it is God's heart
opened to man — a map of heaven — an infallible rule of life — an
immovable ground of hope — an everlasting spring of consolation
— and the only sure guide to eternal life and happiness. A fine
old writer beautifully remarks, " What is there not in the holy
Scriptures? Are we poor? There is a treasury of riches? Are
we sick? There is a shop of soul-medicines. Are we fainting?
There is a cabinet of cordials. Are we Christless? There is
the star that leads to Christ. Are we Christians? There are
the bands that keep in Christ. Are we afflicted? There is our
solace. Are we persecuted ? There is our protection. Are we
deserted? There is our recovery. Are we tempted? There
are our sword and victory. Are we young? There is our
beauty. Are we old? There is our wisdom. While we live,
here is the rule of our conversation; when we die, here is the
hope of our gloritication. So that I may say with Tertullian, 'I
adore the fullness of the Scripture.' Oh blessed Scriptures!
Who can know them and not love them? Who can love them
and not delight to meditate in them night and day? Who can
meditate in them and not desire to love them, love to desire
them, and both desire and love to understand them? This is
the Book of books, as David said of Goliah's sword, ' There's
none like that.' " The Bible is, indeed, what that great philos-
opher, the Honorable Robert Boyle, called it, "that matchless
book. "We have often thought that the sublime descriptions which
it gives of God, the humbling and exalting doctrines which it
926 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
reveals, and the high-toned morality which it inculcates, are
of themselves proofs decisive of its divine authority. For, cer-
tainly, there is nothing like them in the most admired productions
of the most celebrated authors, either in ancient or modern
times.
From its -peculiar style. How remarkably simple and
plain! No histories were ever so plainly related as those of the
Bible: no precepts were ever so clear, or promises less ambigu-
ous. How wonderfully grand and sublime! Whenever the
matter requires it, the style is
*' Like the ladder in the Patriarch's dream,
Its foot on earth, its height beyond the skies."
Witness many of the Psalms ; the book of Job ; the prophets,
especially, Isaiah xl. and xliii.; and the Apocalypse. And how
astonishingly concise and expressive! The sacred writers never
burden their subject with a load of words. They express them-
selves in words few, and well-chosen — "in comely dress, without
the paint of art." Witness the Proverbs; i Cor. xiii., etc.
" Let there be light," is noticed by the great critic Longinus,
as a truly lofty expression. And the style of Scripture has
awakened the attention even of infidels. Rousseau was struck
with the majesty of the Scriptures. His eloquent eulogium on
the Gospel and its author is well known. Dr. Tillotson observes:
" The descriptions which Virgil makes of the Elysian Fields and
the Infernal Regions fall infinitely short of the majesty of the
holy Scriptures when describing heaven and hell, so that in com-
parison they are childish and trifling;" and yet, perhaps, he had
the most regular and best governed imagination of any man, and
observed the greatest decorum in his descriptions. " There are
I know," said the elegant Joseph Addison, " men of heavy tem-
per and without genius, who can read the words of Scripture
with as much indifference as they do other papers; however, I
will not despair to bring men of wit into a love and admiration
ITS HARMONY. 927
of the sacred writings, and, old as I am, I promise myself to see
the day when it shall be as much the fashion among men of
politeness, to admire a rapture of St. Paul's, as a fine expression
of Virgil or Homer; and to see a well-dressed young man pro-
duce an evangelist out of his pocket, and be no more out of
countenance than if it were a classic printed by Elzevir."
From its internal harmofiy. Though written at different
periods, by persons residing in different parts of the earth, and
by persons whose natural abilities, education, habits, employ-
ments, etc., were exceedingly varied, yet where is there any real
contradiction? The sacred writers exactly coincide in the exhi-
bition they give us of God; of man; of sin and salvation; of this
world and the next; and, in short, of all things connected with
our duty, safety, interest, and comfort. They all were evidently
of the same judgment, aimed to establish the same principles,
and applied them to the same practical purposes. They could
not write by concert — comparing notes, etc., for they lived in
different times and places; and yet the exact coincidence that is
perceived among them, by the diligent student, is most astonish-
ing, and can not be accounted for on any rational principles
without admitting that they " wrote as they were moved by the
Holy Ghost."
"Whence, but from heaven, should men, unskilled in arts,
In different nations born,, and different parts,
Weave such agreeing truths; or how. or why
Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie?
Unasked their pains; ungrateful their advice;
Starving their gains, and martyrdom their prize."
Frovi its striking; i7}if>artiality. The amanuenses or pen-
men of the Holy Ghost for the Scriptures were not contemptible
or ordinary, but incomparable and extraordinary persons. As
Moses, " the meekest man on earth," the peculiar favorite of
God, with whom God "talked face to face;" the None-such of
928 TRUTH OF THE BIBIiE.
all the prophets in Israel. Samuel, the mighty man in prayer.
David the King, "that man after God's own heart." King
Solomon, that "wisest of all the Kings," whom God honored
with the building of the Temple. Daniel, in whom was found
" an excellent spirit," and great dexterity in " expounding
secrets and mysteries." John, " the disciple whom Jesus loved "
above all the rest, who " leaned on Jesus' breast." Paul, " who
was caught up into the third heavens," " whose writings," saith
Chrysostom, " like a wall of adamant, compass about, or surround
all the churches." In a word, " all of them holy men of God,
moved by the Holy Ghost." The moral character of the sacred
penmen is above suspicion: their greatest enemies have never
attempted to throw the least stain upon their characters. Many
of them were actually present at the scenes which they describe;
eye-witnesses of the facts, and ear-witnesses of the discourses
which they describe. They could not, therefore, be deceived
themselves: nor could they have the least inducement to deceive
others. They honestly record their own mistakes and faults,
as well as the other particulars of the story. Every candid per-
son must admit that the Scriptures are remarkable for faithful-
ness of narrative, and that, contrary to the practice of other his-
tories, they do not conceal the faults of the persons they describe.
The faults of Abraham and Jacob are detailed, as well as their
virtues; and the incredulity of Thomas, and the defection of
Peter, are not concealed, but faithfully recorded. The apostles,
especially, seem everywhere to forget that they are writing of
themselves, and appear not at all solicitous about their own repu-
tation, but only that they might represent facts just as they were,
whatever might be the consequences. Hence they readily con-
fess, not only the meanness of their original employments, and
the scandals of their former life, but their prejudices, follies,
faults, unbelief, cowardice, ambition, rash zeal, foolish conten-
tions, etc. How faithful is the pen of inspiration — here truth
ITS IMPARTIALITY. qZQ)
with impartial hand dips her pencil, now in brighter, now in
darker colors, and thus draws her characters to the very life.
Dr. Beattie justl}- says. " The style of the Gospel bears intrin-
sic evidence of its truth. We find there no appearance of arti-
fice or party spirit; no attempt to exaggerate on the one hand, or
depreciate on the other; no remarks thrown in to anticipate ob-
jections, nothing of that caution which never fails to distinguish
the testimony of those who are conscious of imposture; no
endeavor to reconcile the reader's mind to what may be extra-
ordinary in the narrative; all is fair, candid, and simple." And
we number this among the proofs of the Divine authority of the
Bible.
From its stupendous miracles. Miracle, from miraculum, a
wonder, a prodigy. " A miracle," says Home, " is a sensible
suspension or controlment of, or deviation from-, the known laws
of nature." It is a signal act of Divine Omnipotence, that which
no other being but God can do. Miracles flow from Divine
power, and are the proper evidence of a Divine mission. The
reality of the miracles recorded in Scripture, wrought by Christ,
and by prophets and apostles, may be proved by the number and
variety — their being performed publicly^ and not in a corner —
before enemies as well as before friends — instantaneously ^ and
and not by degrees — and independent of all second causes — were
such as all men could examine and judge of — and all served an
important end^ worthy of a Divine author: viz., to establish
Divine truth. How superior the miracles wrought by Moses
and Aaron to those wrought by the wise men and the sorcerers,
and the magicians of Egypt ! Witness the transformation of the
rod. Exodus vii. 10-12 — the production of the annoying vermin
lice — Exodus viii. 16-19 — ^^^ plague of darkness. Exodus x.
22-24 — th^ dividing of the Red Sea, Exodus xiv. 21-31. These
bear all the characters of true miracles. And how far above
the pretended supernatural doings of Mohammed, and the alleged
59
92>^
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
Pao-an and Romish miracles, were the wonderful deeds of Christ
and His apostles ! For example, our Saviour stilled the tempest,
calmed the ruffled ocean, walked upon the sea, fed the famished
multitude, opened the eyes of the blind, unstopped the ears of
the deaf, healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, cast out devils,
raised the dead, and restored Himself to Hfe; and His apostles
healed the lame, cast out a spirit of divination, gave the Holy
Ghost, restored the dead to life, etc. Every ingenuous mind
must see in these all the characters of real miracles. Ponder
Matt. xi. 2-6; and John xiv. ii. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and
ruler among the Jews, was so struck with the extraordinary-
character of our Lord's miracles that he came to Him, saying,
" Rabbi," excellent master, " we know that Thou art a teacher
come from God: for no man can do these miracles that Thou
doest, except God be with Him." And miracles we think, with
Nicodemus, show that a prophet or religious teacher comes from
God, because God would not work a miracle in attestation of a
falsehood, or to encourage a false teacher. When, therefore, a
miracle is wrought in confirmation of anything, or as evidence
of anything, we know that the thing is true, because God has
given to it His testimony. Every real miracle is a work of God,
done by His permission, and with His concurrence; it is there-
fore, emphatically, the testimony of God. And that greatest of
miracles, the resurrection of our Lord Himself from the dead,
crowns the whole, and clearl}' attests the Divinit}' of the Bible,
and the truth of the Christian religion.
From its 'wonderful -pr&phecies. Prophecy is a declaration
of something to come; a prediction of future events. It is the
foretelling of such future things as were be3'ond the reach of
human sagacity, and which, therefore, none but God could
re\*"eal. What mere man can foretell the events of to-morrow?
Who can say what shall transpire in ages to come? This is the
sole prerogative of God, who alone knows the end from the
ITS PROPHECIES. 93 1
be2"innin£r. Now the Bible abounds with predictions which
were uttered long before their actual fulfillment, and which no
human sagacity or foresight could possibly conjecture or foretell.
Take the first gospel promise given — the seed of the woman to
bruise the serpent's head; and remember that this promise was
delivered at least four thousand years before its fulfillment. The
celebrated prediction of Jacob (Gen. xlix. lo) was uttered
between sixteen and seventeen hundred years before it took
place. Moses declared the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans,
etc. (Deut. xxviii, 49, etc.), fifteen centuries previously. In the
first book of Kings (chap. xiii. 2, 3) there is a prophecy con-
cerning Josiah by name, three hundred and thirty-one years;
and in Isaiah (xlv. i) concerning Cyrus, one hundred years,
before either of them were born. According to the predictions
of the prophets Nineveh has been desolated (Nahum i. i, 2, 3);
Babylon swept with the bosom of destruction (Isaiah xiii. 14);
Tyre become a place for the spreading of nets (Ezekiel xxvi.
4, 5); Egypt the basest of the kingdoms, etc. (Ezekiel xxix.
14, 15). Daniel distinctly predicted the overthrow, in succession,
of the four great empires of antiquity — the Babylonian, the
Persian, the Grecian and the Roman, all of which has taken
place. Not only are the leading features of the character of
Christ delineated with the faithfulness of history hundreds of
years before He appeared, but there is scarcely an incident in
His life which prophecy has overlooked. And according to the
predictions of the New Testament we see Jerusalem in ruins;
the Temple not rebuilt; the Jews scattered, but not destroyed;
the conversion of the nations to Christianity; the many anti-
christian corruptions of the Gospel; the idolatry, tyranny and
persecution of the Roman hierarchy, etc. What prescience does
all this imply — prescience no where to be found but in God!
" Let now the infidel or the skeptical reader meditate thoroughly
and soberly on these predictions. The priority of the records to
932 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
the events admits of no question. The completion is obvious to
every competent enquirer. Here, then, are facts. We are
called upon to account for those facts on rational and adequate
principles. Is human foresight equal to the task.'* Enthusiasm?
Conjecture.'* Chance.^ Political contrivance.? If none of these,
neither any other principle that may be devised by man's
sagacity, can account for the facts; then true philosophy, as well
as true religion, will ascribe them to the inspiration of the
Almighty. Every effect must have a cause." Prophecy is a
species of perpetual miracle. And the prophecies of Scripture
do not come short of the fullest demonstration which the case
will admit of, that the books that contain them are the unerring
word of God.
From its holy tendency. It came immediately from God,
and leads immediately to Him. It bears on it the stamp and
impression of Deity; and is, emphatically and really, " the power
of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." It contains
the most excellent precepts — the most weighty exhortations —
and the most precious promises. The Bible teaches us the best
way of living; the noblest way of suffering; and the most com-
fortable way of dying. The word of God, accompanied by His
Spirit, conveys strength to the weak, wisdom to the simple,
comfort to the sorrowful, light to those who are in darkness, and
life to the dead. It introduces the infinite God as speaking in a
manner worthy of Himself; with simplicity, majesty and authority.
// places before us the most important doctrines. For ex-
ample, the doctrine of the Trinity of persons or substances in
the Unity of the Godhead — the proper, supreme, and eternal
divinity of Christ — the personality, divinity, and offices of the
Holy Spirit — the great works of creation ' and providence — the
fall of man from the mortal image of God — the necessity, nature,
and extent of redemption — repentance toward God, and faith
toward the Lord Jesus Christ — ^justification through the blood of
ITS AIMS, 933
the cross — the witness of the Spirit in the soul of beHevers —
regeneration by the Spirit of God — holiness in heart and life —
the resurrection of the dead — the general judgment — and the
eternity of future rewards and punishmentSo
// inculcates the highest morality. The love of God, and
the love of our neighbor — the doing to others as we would they
should do to us — the forgiving of our enemies — the living
" soberly " — in the use of food, apparel, and all things relating
to ourselves, " righteously " — in the performance of all duties
towards our neighbors, and " godly " — worshiping God in a
right manner — the checking of all impurity of thought and de-
sire— the rendering of honor to whom honor, and tribute to
whom tribute, is due — the cultivation of humility, meekness,
gentleness, placability, disinterestedness, truth, justice, benefi-
cence, charit}^, and other virtues — and the avoidance of pride,
discontent, despair, revenge, cruelty, oppression, contention, adul-
tery, suicide, and other vices and crimes which injure mankind.
J t preserves from all error. It is an infallible rule of judg-
ment and of practice, and clearly teaches what we ought to
believe and what we ought to do — it enlightens the mind, informs
the judgment, instructs the heart, and saves from those " faults
in the life," which "breed errors in the brain." All error — false
judgment of things, or assent unto falsehood — springs from
ignorance of the Scriptures, Mark xii. 24; John vii. 17; 2 Tim.
iii. 13-17.
It promotes holiness and -peace here^ as well as leads to
happiness and heaven hereafter. " Wherewithal shall a young
man cleanse his way?." Psalm cxix. 9, 103-105. " The law of
the Lord is perfect, converting the soul," Psalm xix. 7-11.
What an eulogy is this on the perfection of the sacred writings!
the perfection of their utility — their certainty — their purity —
their value — their comforts — their peace — and their sweetness.
And this eulogy was pronounced by a prophet, a poet, and a
king — no common assemblage.
934 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
It secures to the lover of it^ in a rich degree^ the Divine
favor. " Thus saith the Lord, the heaven is my throne, and
the earth is my footstool; but to this man will I look, even to
him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my
word/' " Such a heart," says Matthew Henry, " is a living
temple of God; He dwells there, and it is the place of His rest;
it is like heaven and earth, His throne and His footstool."
And it furnishes the most -powerful motives to the practice
of its precepts. For its rewards are such as " eye hath not
seen, nor ear heard;" and its threats are eminently calculated to
terrify offenders. The Bible ever3'where abounds with an in-
tenseness of zeal for the Divine glory, and with a depth of self-
renunciation on the part of the writers. And what a contrast
does it, in this respect, exhibit to all other productions of author-
ship! In Scripture, God is all in all: in other writings, man is
always a prominent, and generally the sole claimant of praise
and admiration. And no man can attentively peruse the sacred
volume without being awe-struck. For O how solemn and
inspiring! and how admirably calculated to restrain from sin,
and to sublimate the views and feelings! We say, therefore,
that no man can diligently read the Scriptures without becoming
a wiser and better man. The celebrated John Locke, whose
pure philosophy taught him to adore its source, said, with his
dying lips, when tendering his advice to a young nobleman,
" Study the Holy Scriptures, especially the New Testament; for
therein are contained the words of eternal life: it hath God for
its author — salvation for its end — and truth, without any mixture
of error, for its matter."
" It sweetly cheers our drooping hearts,
In this dark vale of tears."
It does more —
" It sheds a lustre all abroad,
And points the path to bliss and heaven."
ITS AIMS.
935
" 'Tis for our light and guidance given." And O what a
source of light, and strength and peace! How it clears the
SHI8HAK AND HIS CAPTIVES ON SCULPTURED WALL AT KAKNAC.
understanding, and fills the soul with sweet delight! How it
quickens our in^Jctive powers, and sets all our wandering foot-
936
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
Steps right ! And how its promises rejoice our hearts, and its
precepts direct our lives!
*• A glory gilds the sacred page,
Majestic like the sun;
It gives a light to every age,
It gives, but borrows none."
Ah! there are no words comparable to the Scriptures.
None containing doctrines so useful — commands so reasonable
— arguments so powerful. The lines
of Scripture are richer than the mines
of gold. How evidently suited to a
sinful, sinning race! and how delight-
fully framed for the perfection of
human happiness! What proofs of a
Divine original! Show, if you can,
in all this world, any one book of all
that ever was produced in any age or
nation, like the Bible. Ay, the Bible
came from God; and it bears a moral
resemblance to Him from whom it
came. God is holy, just, and good ;
and the Bible is also holy in its nature,
just in its requirements, and good in
its provisions and tendency.
From its beneficial effects. It
has wrought wonders in all ages, in
all places, on all persons, and in all pos-
sible varieties of human life. Chris-
tianity— the religion of the Bible — portrait of rehoboam.
has taught the great lessons of devotion, self government, and
benevolence. It has diffused and preserved literature — abated
illiberal prejudices — produced humility, forgiveness of injuries,
regard to truth, justice, and honesty, firmness under persecution,
ITS EFFECTS. 937
patience under worldly afflictions, and calmness and resignation
at the approach of death — discouraged fornication, polygamy,
adultery, divorces, suicide, and duels — checked infanticide, cruel
sports, the violence of war, the vices of Kings and the assaults
of princes — and rendered its sincere professors true, honest, just,
pure, lovely, and of good report. It has improved the condition
of females — reclaimed dissolute men — abolished human sacrifices
— prevented assassinations of princes, and revolutions in states
— encouraged hospitality to strangers — founded charitable insti-
tutions— emancipated slaves — abated the rigors of servitude —
redeemed captives — relieved prisoners — protected widows and
orphans — softened into tenderness and tears the hearts of despots
— and given stability to thrones, wisdom to human laws, and pro-
tection to the people. Has it not done more for the honor of the
prince and the weal of the subject than any other system ?
It has been a blessing" to every country into -which it has
been introduced. It has been a blessing to Britain. It has en-
wrapped in graceful robes the once naked inhabitants of this
great country: it has built cities, cultivated forests, reared our
temples, regulated our institutions, and rendered the country both
powerful and happy. America has found in it her freedom and
her peace. The wrongs of Africa have been mitigated and
removed by its justice and generosity. Asia, and the isles of
the sea, are waiting for its light and healing. In every Pagan
country where it has prevailed, it has abolished idolatry, with
its sanguinary and polluted rites; raised the standard of moral-
ity, and thus improved the manners of the people; and diffused
far and wide the choicest blessings of heaven — freedom to the
captive, light to the blind, comfort to the distressed, hope to the
despairing, and life to the dying. Ask the people of New Zea-
land, of Taheita, of Tonga, cannibals, infanticides, murderers of
whole islands, what it has done for the salvation of their souls.
It is at once the desire of all nations, and the glor}- of all lands.
QoB TRUTH OF THE BIBLE
A nd it has produced the most happy effects on multitudes
of men. It has enlightened the most ignorant; softened the most
hardened; reclaimed the most profligate; converted the most es-
tranged; purified the most polluted; exalted the most degraded;
and plucked the most endangered from hell to heaven. What
was it that transformed the persecuting and blaspheming Saul
into a kind and devoted man? It was religion. What was it
which brought the woman who was a sinner to bathe the feet of
Jesus with her tears, and to wipe them with the hairs of her head.^
It was religion. What was it which produced the faith of Abra-
ham, the meekness of Moses, the patience of Job, the wisdom of
Solomon, the placability of Joseph, the penitence and zeal of
David, the gentleness of Stephen, the boldness of the prophets,
the undaunted zeal of Paul, the heroism of Peter, and the sweet
temper of " the beloved disciple.?" It was religion. What was
it which produced such purity of life, and gave such majesty in
death, in the cases of Grotius, Selden, Salmasius, Hale, Paschal,
Boyle, Locke, Newton, Boerhave, Addison, Maclaurin, Lyttle-
ton, and a thousand others.? It was religion.
Even men who labored to erase out of the mind all respect
for religion have acknowledged the importance and expediency
of it. Bayle admits religion to be useful if men acted agreeably
to its principles; and Voltaire says, expressly, that religion is
necessary in every fixed community; the laws are a curb upon
open crimes, and religion on those that are private. " No relig-
ion," says Bolingbroke, " ever appeared in the world whose
natural tendency was so much directed to promote the peace and
happiness of mankind as the Christian. The system of religion
recorded by the evangelists is a complete system to all the pur-
poses of true religion, natural or revealed. The Gospel ot
Christ is one continued lesson of the strictest morality, justice,
benevolence, and universal charity .... Supposing Chris-
tianity to have been purely an human invention, it had been the
ITS EFFECTS. 939
most amiable, and the most useful invention that was ever im-
posed on mankind for their good." Hume acknowledges, that,
" the disbelief in futurity loosens, in a great measure, the ties of
morality, and may be supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the
peace of civil society.'' Rousseau acknowledges, that, "if all
were perfect Christians, individuals would do their duty, the peo-
ple would be obedient to the laws, the chiefs just, the magistrates
incorrupt, the soldiers would despise death, and there would be
neither vanity nor luxury in such a state." Gibbon admits, that
the gospel, or the church, discouraged suicide, advanced erudi-
tion, checked oppression, promoted the manumission of slaves,
and softened the ferocit}' of barbarous nations ; that fierce nations
received at the same time the lessons of faith and humanity, and
that, in the most corrupt state of Christianity, the barbarians
might learn justice from the law, and mercy from the gospel.
" To impute crimes to Christianity," says the celebrated King
of Prussia, " is the act of a novice." His word may fairly be
taken for such an assertion. And yet these unbelievers have
been so vile and perverse as to decry a system which they ac-
knowledge to be useful. How ungrateful! How reprehensible!
Collect now the thoughts scattered under this branch of the sub-
ject, and be honest — heartily believe, and openly acknowledge,
that God was the author of the Bible. What but a superhuman,
a truly divine influence breathing in the Scriptures, can account
for the energy and beneficence of their moral tendencies?
From its freneral reception. Vast numbers of wise and
good men, through many generations and in different countries,
have agreed in receiving the Bible as a revelation from God.
Many of them have been noted for seriousness, erudition, pene-
tration, and impartiality in judging of men and things. We
might refer to Alfred, " replete with soul — the light of a be-
nighted age" — to Charles V., Emperor of Germany — to Gus-
tavus Adolphus, the renowned King of Sweden; to Selden, the
940 TRUTH OF THE BIBLE,
learned and laborious lawyer and antiquary — to Bacon, " the
briofht morninof star of science '^ — to Usher, the well-known arch-
bishop of Armagh — to Newton, " the sun whose beams have
irradiated the world '^ — to Boyle, celebrated for genius and erudi-
tion— to Milton, the prince of poets — to Locke, the man of pro-
found thought — to Jones, one of the brightest geniuses and most
distinguished scholars of the eighteenth century — and to many
other deathless names. And if the evidence of the truth of the
Bible satisfied men of such high intellectual capacity, ought it
not to satisfy us? We do not wish to insinuate that we ought
to believe in the Divinity of the Scriptures merely because they
believed it. But we do mean to say that we ought not rashly
to conclude against that which they received. They are ac-
knowledged authorities in other cases; then why not in this."* If
we can place reliance upon them in their philosophical inquiries,
why not in their religious ones.'* Surely the infidels of the pres-
ent day, so far inferior to the believers of the former days, ought
to express themselves with more modesty upon this important
subject, and to hesitate before they openly profess their opposi-
tion to that book of religion and morals which has received the
countenance of such honorable names as those which have been
mentioned.
On the subject of the propagation of Christianity it has
been eloquently said : " In spite of violent and accumulated oppo-
sition it diffused its blessings among the cities of Asia and the
islands of Greece; over the deserts of Arabia and the European
continent! From the hill of Calvary it speedily found its way
to imperial Rome, gathering fresh laurels as it progressed, until
it entered the palace and waved its banner over the proud dwel-
ling of Caesar! With all the influence of priests and kings
against it, and all the terrors of the gibbet or the flames, it
rapidly overspread the extensive Roman empire and reached
Britain, the little isle of the sea. With a power divine it
ITS GENERAL RECEPTION. 94I
achieved a triumph over mental and moral obliquity, surpassing
all that the philosoph}^ of Greece or Rome could boast; and still
will it conquer, until the sun in the heavens shall not look down
on a single human being destitute of the knowledge of Jesus
Christ." And the Rev. Robert Hall, whom to mention is to
praise, remarked: "We see Christianity as yet but in its infancy.
It has not already reached the great ends it is intended to answer
and to which it is constantly advancing. At present it is but a
grain of mustard seed and seems to bring forth a tender and
weakly crop, but be assured it is of God's own right hand
planting, and He will never suffer it to perish. It will soon
stretch its branches to the river and its shades to the ends of the
earth. The weary will repose themselves under it, the hungry
will partake of its fruits, and its leaves will be for the healing of
the nations. Those who profess the name of Jesus will delight
in contemplating the increase and grandeur of His kingdom.
'He must reign until' He hath put all enemies under His feet.'
The leligion of Jesus is not the religion of one age or of one
nation. It is a train of light first put in motion by God, and
which will continue to move and to spread till it has filled the
whole earth with its glory. Its blessings will descend and its
influence will be felt to the latest generations. Uninterrupted in
its course, and boundless in its extent, it will not be limited by
time or space. The earth is too narrow for the display of its
effects and the accomplishment of its purposes. It points for-
ward to an eternity. The great Redeemer will again appear
upon the earth as the judge and ruler of it; will send forth His
angels and gather His elect from the four winds; will abolish sin
and death; will place the righteous forever in the presence of
his God, of their God, of his Father, and their father."
" As the waters the depth of the blue ocean cover,
So fully shall God among mortals be known;
His word, like the sunbeams, shall range the world over,
The globe His vast temple, and mercy His throne.''
942
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
Christianity, though not persecuting, has been bitterly per-
secuted ; yet it has triumphed — and triumphed, too, in spite of all
its foes. Like Moses' bush, it was unconsumable by fire; and
rose up amid the flames and prospered. And like the eagle —
the imperial bird of storms — it will continue securely to soar
amid every tempest. All attempts to impede its progress will be
as powerless and vain as attempts to drive back the flowing tide
with the point of a needle. When infidels can grasp the winds
in their fists, hush the voice of the thunder by the breath of their
mouth, suspend the succession of the seasons by their nod, and
extinguish the light of the sun by a veil, then, and not till then,
can they arrest the progress of truth or invalidate the verities of
the Bible. Unwise and unhappy men! they are but plowing
the air — striking with a straw — writing on the surface of the
water — and seeking figs where only brambles grow.
And compare not the propagation of Mohammedanism with
the propagation of Christianity; for it is useless, if not absurd.
Suffice it to say that the former was propagated by fanaticism,
falsehood, pandering to the passions, promising a voluptuous
paradise, and the frequent use of the sword; but the latter by
sanity, truth, restraining the passions, promising a pure and holy
heaven, and the use of no other sword but the sword of the
Spirit, that is, the word of God. Christianity came — saw — and
conquered. And all her victories have been bloodless — of untold
advantage to the vanquished themselves. They have desolated
no country — produced no tears but to wipe them away — and
broken no hearts but to heal them. Now to what is all this
to be attributed? Can we reasonably ascribe the general re-
ception of the Bible and the consequent spread of Christianity to
anything short of divine power.? Is it not unprecedented?
*' Could any books," says an able writer, " have undergone so
fearful and prolonged an ordeal and achieved so spotless and
perfect a triumph, unless they had been given and watched over
by the Deity? "
PERSECUTED BUT NOT PERSECUTING. 943
Frofn its innumerable martyrs. " If a person," says Dr.
Jortin, " lays down his life for the name of Christ, or for what
he takes to be the reHgion of Christ, when he might prolong his
days by renouncing his faith, he must stand for a martyr in every
reasonable man's calendar, though he may have been much mis-
taken in some of his opinions." It has been calculated that since
Christianity arose, not less than fifty millions of martyrs have laid
down their lives for its sake. Some were venerable for years;
others were in the bloom of life; and not a few were of the
weaker sex. They were, for the most part, well-instructed per-
sons. Many were learned and respectable men; neither factious
in their principles nor violent in their passions. They were
neither wild in their notions, nor foolishly prodigal of their lives.
This may safely be affirmed of such men as Polycarp and Igna-
tius, Jerome and Huss, Latimer and Cranmer, Ridley and
Hooper, Philpot and Bradford, Lambert and Saunders, and
many others. Yet these so valued the Bible, that, rather than
renounce it, and relinquish the hopes it inspired, they yielded
their bodies to be burnt, or otherwise tormented, and " rejoiced
and clapped their hands in flames," or the like. " All that a
man hath will he give for his life." All account life sweet and
precious. No man of sense and understanding will sacrifice his
life, when he can preserve it, but for some deeply rooted convic-
tion of truth or duty. In this view. Christian martyrs are
entitled to our respect and esteem. For, they gave the strongest
proof of sincerity of their faith: and no suspicion of fraud can
reasonably be entertained against them. " We conclude," says
Dr. Jortin, " that they were assisted by God, who alleviated their
pain, and gave them not only resignation and patience, but exul-
tation and joy. And this wonderful behavior of the former
Christians may justly be accounted a proof of the truth of the
Bible, and our holy religion, and we should deserve to be blamed
and despised if we parted with it, and gave it up tamely on
944
TRUTH OF THE BIBLE.
account of a few objections." '' No man," observes Dr. Beattie,
"ever laid down his life for the honor of Jupiter, Neptune, or
Apollo; but how many thousands have sealed their Christian
testimony with their blood!" What a moral victory! And
whence but from heaven such a religion, having such attestation?
Other arguments might be added tending to demonstrate
the truth of our proposition; but surely, enough have been pro-
duced to establish the authority of the Bible on an immovable
basis. - Forever, O Lord, Thy word is settled in heaven. I
esteem all Thy precepts concerning all things to be right- and I
hate every false way." " All flesh is as grass, and airthe glory
of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the
flower thereof falleth away; but the word of the Lord endureth
fore^er. And this is the word which by the Gospel is preached
vjnto you."
•' The proudest works of Genius shall decay,
And Reason's brightest lustre fade away;
The Sophist's art, the Poet's boldest flight,
Shall sink in darkness, and conclude in nijht;
But Faith triumphant over Time shall stand,
Shall grasp the Sacred Volume in her hand;'
Back to its source the heavenly gift convey,
Then ia the flood of Glory melt away."
THE END.
'•^
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
BERKELEY
Return to desk from which borrowed.
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
APa Id ms
LIBRARY USE
•
JUN 1 4 1954
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OCT 8 1984
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY