Full text of "A critical history of the language and literature of ancient Greece"

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CRITICAL IIISTOHY

OF THE

LANGUAGE AND LITErvATURE

ANTIENT GREECE.

VOL. I.

London :

A. and G. A. SpoTTiswoonR,
New-street-Squate.

r . - ■* • ' '-^

DEPARTMENTAL
LSBRARY ^,<^.

CRITICAL HISTORY

Ol" TUB

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE

ANTTENT GREECE.

V.Y

WILLIAM MURE

OF CALDWELL.

SECOND EDITION.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
LONGIMAN, BROWN. GREEN, AND LONGINfANS.

1854.

'1 / >

1 7!

PREFACE.

The only material alterations or augmentations that
have been made in this edition, are : First, the in-
corporation in the text, of the few passages annexed
to each volume of the first edition, under the head of
" Additions and Corrections " ; Secondly, the supple-
mentary Appendix N. to Volume III., in reply to
two Appendices to the second volume of Mr. Grote's
History of Greece [3rd edit.], in which opinions ex-
pressed in this work have been controverted. AYith
this exception, the author has not found it necessary
to notice in detail the many, and for the most part
indulgent and judicious criticisms, with which his
labours have been honoured by the press of his own
country.

He cannot however withhold a few remarks on
the fourteen lines of unhandsome and disingenuous
commentary, bestowed on his volumes by Professor
Kitzsch of Kiel, in the preface to a recent work, en-
titled " Sagenpoesie der Griechen " (Kiel, 1852). It
will be proper to apprise the English reader, that
Professor Nitzsch was for many years distinguished
among the scholars of Germany, by his zealous ad-
vocacy of the doctrine as to the Separate authorship
of the Iliad and Odyssey, and that, in his lately
published volume, lie advances a new claim to the

A 3

Vi PREFACE.

considerutioii of tlie classical public, by an equally
zealous ropudiation of that doctrine.

In the passage -of his Preface above referred to ^
he be<^ins by stating: that "he has looked into an
luiglish work entitled a Critical History of Greek
[literature, &c., but has not found occasion to make
any use of its contents." Several reasons suggest
themselves, for this unwilHngness to aid the promul-
gation of that work among his own countrymen.

In the first place, a portion of it is devoted to the
confutation of his once favourite Separatist theory,
and to an exposure of the errors and fallacies of
which he had been guilty in its support.

In the next place, Professor Nitzsch having now
abandoned that theory, and declared his adherence
to the doctrine of a single Homer, on grounds chiefly
borrowed from ^ or anticipated in these pages, it was
quite natural that he should wish his recantation to

* " Gleichzeitig mit dieser Arbeit, kam aus England ein im Ergebniss
desEinen Homer beystimmigesWerk, von William Mure : Critical History
&c., London, 1850. Diesc Schrift hat der Verfasser eingesehen, aber zu
ihrcr Benutzung keine Veranlassung gefunden. Fast nur summarische
iJrtheile begegnen beiden Streitpunkten, und Ton Eingehen in die Natio-
nale Bctrachtung findet sicb aucli bey Mure nichts. AYas dieser dagegen
iiber die Erweisungeu des individuellen Diclitergenius, oder die Home-
rische Kunst bemerkt, hoffe ich genauer characterisirt zu haben. Kann
doch auch gewiss, keine Priifung der fortscbreitenden Poesie wabrbaft
achlsam gcwesen seyn, welche von Diaskene nur die Moglicbkeit zugiebt,
und iiber diese Alterationen durch den rhapsodlscben Vortrag sich so
zweifelmlitbig aiissert wie Mure diess thut." — Vorwort, p. v.

* Sometimes almost to the letter, as we could show by a collation of
individual passages if necessary.

It may not be superfluous here to remark, that Prof. Nitzsch's attention
•was called to this work very shortly after its publication, in the spring of
1 8.50, by a re(|uest on the part of a common friend, that he would review
it for a German periodical with which that friend was connected. This
request, as may be supposed under the circumstances, was not complied
with.

PREFACE. Vll

appear spontaneous, rather than a concession to the
arguments of, we believe, the only modern writer by
Avhom the opinion to which he is now a convert, had
been vindicated in a detailed and comprehensive form.

With the exception accordingly of the short para- .
graph of liis preface here in question, explaining or
affecting to explain the reasons for his contempt of
our volumes, neither they nor their author have
been mentioned, throughout Professor Kitzsch's G80
densely printed pages of diffuse commentary on the
most threadbare subtleties of the Homeric contro-
versy, and amid copious citations of tlie legion of
other critics of every degree of importance or insig-
nificance, who have taken part in it from the time
of AVolf down to the present day.

Professor Nitzsch assigns as his first reason for
considering our labours unworthy of his attention,
that we have not entered into the " national consi-
deration " of the Homeric question. AVc have some
difficulty in apprehending the precise import of this
mysterious phrase, and in particular, wliether it
alludes to the poet's Greek nationality, or to his Ger-
man nationality. We have been the more at a loss,
from observing that a like censure has been pro-
nounced on Hermann, Lachmann, and other eminent
scholars o^ liis own country, whose Homeric nation-
ality of both kinds is certainly more akin to his own
than to ours. It is some consolation at least, in bjDing
subjected to so harsh a censure, to reflect that we
have such distinguished companions in misfortune.

A second reason for his declining any particular
notice of our opinions is : that " in so far as regards
the illustration of Homer's genius and poetical art,
he believes that he has liimself treated that part of

A 4

\iii I'REFACE.

tlie subject in a more satisfactory manner than we
liavc." Nothing can be more natural I It is possible
however tliat other, less partial arbiters, may not be
quite so indulgent towards a writer who, after having
(luring many years maintained that the Iliad and
Odyssey were not by the same poet, — after having ex-
patiated in volumes of subtle disquisition on the diver-
sity of character in the two works, in composition and
style, in historical, geographical, and mj^thological facts
and allusions, in moral and religious doctrine, in notices
of manners and customs, in language and dialect, as
evidence of difference of age, — who after all this
changes his mind, asserts both poems to be by the
same author, and even speaks with a sneer (p. 412.)
of the originators and supporters of his own former
doctrine ! It is possible we repeat, that with these
antecedents of Professor JSTitzsch before their eyes,
less partial judges of his own genius, may question
his being quite so accurate a judge of the genius of
Homer as he himself imagines.

Professor Nitzsch, in the third place, gives the
finishing blow to the author's pretensions to rank as a
Homeric critic, by denying all competency for that
office, to any one who expresses himself so doubtfully
regarding w^hat he calls, in the pedantic jargon of his
own school, the Diaskeue; or, in other words, regardino-
the interpolations or corruptions, to which the orio-i-
nal text of the poet has been subjected by the early
reciters and editors.

It is not true that we have expressed ourselves the
least doubtfully on that subject. Nothing can be more
explicit than the terms in which we have, on nume-
rous occasions, admitted the existence of such ble-
mishes. Our expressions of doubt refer solely to the

rilEFACE. IX

pretensions advanced, by rash and hypercritical com-
mentators, to infallibility in their detection. It is
true that, in regard to such questions, we have at all
times been guided by the spirit of caution and for-
bearance so worthless in the estimation of Professor
Nitzsch ; but the absence of which has always ap-
peared to us the ruling defect of the school to Avhich
he belongs, and the main obstacle to any practical
good resulting from its labours. AVe have never, we
readily admit, arrogated to ourselves the privilege of
discarding at will as nongenuine, all those passages
of either poem which may happen to stand in the
way of some favourite theory or fancy of our own.
For such is the true definition of the practice, which
Professor Xitzsch considers so indispensable to success
in Homeric criticism. No impartial student of the
commentaries of AYolf or Ileyne, of Hermann or
Lachmann, of Payne Knight or Nitzsch, — advocates
respectively of the Pisistratian system, the Digamma
system, the Patchwork system, the Separatist sys-
tem, or any other of the numerous modifications of
conjecture or paradox, which have bewildered the
German brain during the last sixty years, — can fail to
perceive, that the dissecting knife of each successive
experimentalist, has been directed with scrupulous
accuracy to those parts of the Homeric body, on which
it was necessary for the sake of his own particular
theory to operate, whether in the mode of amputa-
tion or otherwise. If these celebrated masters who,
however widely at issue on other points, are united
in zeal for the mutilation of the poems, could have
held a council-general, or congress, on the subject of
'' Diaskeue," and have arrived at some tangible conclu-
sion, as to the precise extent to which the existing

X PKKFACE.

text w:is to be cut up or pared down, even more mer-
ciful critics might have been disposed to pay deference
to their verdict. But when we find one summarily
rejectino- Avhat another as confidently retains ; a third
condemning and ridiculing what a fourth vindicates
and admires; when we find each dashing out with his
pen (like the passing dilettante with his brush, in
the familiar story of the picture exposed to wayfaring
criticism) the to him objectionable passages, until
the whole becomes an undistinguishable mass of blots
and scratches, can any reasonable man look on such
proceedings as based on common sense or sound cri-
ticism ? In the text of this same volume of Pro-
fessor Nitzsch where we are taunted for our over
caution, Hermann and Lachmann, who have carried
the work of destruction somewhat further than him-
self, are smartly attacked for their extravagance, and
their views are denounced as " unintelligible," and
" impossible," and " idle talk," &c. Hermann and
Lachmann again, while each rejecting a great part,
it may better be said the whole of the Iliad, as spurious,
differ widely as to the mode in which the shreds and
patches of Hexameter verse that result from their
labours, are to be distributed amons; the le2:ion of
epic ballad-singers whom they have conjured into
existence for behoof of their theories. In one thino-
however they cordially agree, and that is, in regard-
ing Nitzsch's comparative moderation Avith as great
scorn, as he does our disinclination to mix ourselves
up in what appears to us a most unprofitable dispute.
It would seem however, that Professor Nitzsch's
notion of a competent Homeric critic, in regard
to this all important subject of " the Diaskeue," is,
not that he should agree with Professor Nitzsch as

PREFACE. XI

to what are the spurious parts of the Iliad and
Odyssey, but that he should be prepared at least to
discard large portions of their text as spurious ; no
matter wliether the same as, or different from, the
portions so discarded by Professor Nitzsch himself.
The only parallel case that occurs to us is in the old
French farce of the Freres feroces ; where the candi-
date for admission into a company of freebooters, is
required to bring evidence that he has robbed or
murdered a certain number of travellers, no matter
whether that number should consist, in whole or in
part, of near friends and relatives of other members
of the band.

But the crowning proof of the rottenness of this
system, as regards at least Professor Nitzsch's appli-
cation of it, is to be found in the fact, that after
having, some twenty years ago, in the exercise of
this heaven-born faculty (Divination, as he himself
defines it) of discerning sameness or diversity in epic
authorship, proved, to his own satisfaction at least,
in a voluminous treatise, that the Iliad and Odyssey
were by different poets, — he now, in a still more
ponderous dissertation, rejects his former doctrine and
arguments as false or fallacious, and maintains in a
most authoritative tone, the very opinions which he
formerly condemned and controverted. We have no
Avish to be severe on so valuable a convert to views,
the establishment of which we have so ffreatlv at
heart. In justice to ourselves however, we must
appeal to the impartial public, whether our method
be not, of the two, the one best justified by its practical
results. The " National consideration " by which we
have been guided, and our mode of dealing with the
doubtful portions of the text, have led us, from the

Xii TREFACK.

commencement of our Homeric researches, to the
steady maintenance of truths, to which the " National
consideration" of Professor Nitzsch, and his intuitive
perception of " Diaskeuc," have blinded him during
tlie best years of his life. The question at issue really
lies between rashness and recantation on the one
Iiand, and caution and consistency on the other.

Nor must it be overlooked, that Professor Nitzsch's
abandonment of his wider range of Separatist heresy,
has brought in its train a like abjuration of several
subordinate points of heterodoxy, to which he till
lately subscribed. Omega of the Iliad for example,
formerly condemned by him, has now, also mainly on
grounds anticipated in our pages, been admitted to
its just Homeric rights, and place in the original
poem. Let us hope that he may yet live to produce,
after another interval of twenty years, another volume
of some 700 pages, in which other portions of either
poem, such as the eighth book of the Odyssey or the
tenth of the Iliad may, on the same infallible autho-
rity, be relieved from the stigma of illegitimacy
which, for the present, it is still his pleasure should
attach to them.^

The wonderful part of the matter is, that an

' We may take this opportunity of noticing an additional argument in
favour of the original connexion of the tenth book with the rest of the
poem, which has been communicated to us by an ingenious correspondent,
the Rev. Mr. Blake of Stobo, too late unfortunately to be available in the
part of our text on which it properly bears. In the first nine books of
the poem, there is no allusion to any special military connexion or com-
radeship between Ulysses and Diomed. The subject of the tenth book
hinges essentially on the formation of that comradeship. In the ensuing
battle accordingly, of the eleventh book, these two heroes are found (v.
312. sqq.), still conjointly and in partnership, stemming the adverse tide
of war.

The same ingenious communication also, in a series of Illustrative details
which we should gladly see in type, places in a striking light the poetical
value, or even necessity, (more briefly alluded to in this volume p. 265.

TREFACE. xiii

author who has committed himself to so marvellous
an extent, in the application of a favourite method of
criticism in the gross, should still continue gravely to
boast of the excellence of that method, and of his
own peculiar skill in its management in detail. After
having been so widely at fault in regard to two entire
poems, he not only invites us to repose implicit confi-
dence in his gift of inspiration, when brought to bear
on individual passages of their text, but exultingly
contrasts the rash spirit of adventure to which he
owes the disasters of his previous voyage, with tlie
caution and forbearance that have guided others in
safety through the same dangerous course of navi-
gation.

Of all qualifications for an office, the meanest is
one which every body possesses. It would have been
quite as easy for us as for Professor Nitzsch, to dis-
card on all occasions as interpolations, such portions
of either poem as did not happen to square with our
own views. We might also, if ambitious of dis-
tinction in so questionable an arena of polemical
gymnastics, have amused ourselves and wearied our
readers, as he habitually does, by diffuse speculations
on the nongenuine character of this or that verse or
passage. Our reasons for avoiding, in as far as pos-
sible, such pedantic discussions, have been explained
in several parts of this history, to tlie satisfaction we
believe of that portion of our readers who unite
common sense to the other qualifications of compe-
tent critics. And it would have been more to the
purpose, and to his own credit, had Professor Nitzsch

sq.) of the tenth book, with its brilliant and cheering exploits, to account
for the change of feeling in the army between the ninth and eleventh
books, from despondency at the close of the one, to cheerful hope and
confidence at the commencement of the other.

xiv PREFACE.

lairly mot iiiul combated those reasons, instead of
indiilgin.i;- in supercilious taunts at our forbearance,
such as could hardly fail to recoil upon himself.

In objecting however, to the manner in which
he lias abjured his late errors, we, in common
with every true admirer of Homer, hail the fact
of his conversion with sincere pleasure. We should
be doing injustice to Professor Nitzsch, were we
not to admit, that his elaborate support of the
Separatist theory, and the influence of his casuistical
arguments in blinding the eyes of less critical stu-
dents to its fallacy, had placed him, for some time
past, in the position of chief bulwark or champion of
the old Wolfian heresy in the land of its birth. The
other more licentious modifications of that heresy,
which we have characterised above as the Patchwork
and Pisistratian systems, and which he himself com-
bats under the collective definition of the Little-
lay theory, had long proved more than a surfeit, even
to the proverbially capacious German appetite for
literary paradox. In regard to them, a new genera-
tion had arisen which knew not Wolf or Heyne. The
efforts even of such veteran giants in polemical
casuistry as Hermann and Lachmann, were found
insufficient to stem the tide of returning common
sense ; nor, on their late removal from the scene, does
their mantle appear to have fallen on any worthy
successor. Professor Nitzsch's surrender of the re-
maining stronghold of error, with the defence of
which he had specially charged himself, will, it is
hoped, form the closing act of a controversy, so little
crcdil)le to the taste or the judgement of the present
enlightened ajje.

Caldwell, Oct. 1854.

adyertise:\[ent to the eii^st edition.

As the first Cook of this History is in itself of
a more or less introductory nature, it has been
thought advisable to avoid any undue accumulation
of preliminary matter, by comprising in the opening
chapter the greater part of those observations -which
would, in ordinary cases, be embodied in the preface
to a Avork of this description. The remarks here
subjoined relate merely to the arrangement of cer-
tain subordinate details of the text.

In the citation of authorities, it has been the
Author's object to preserve a middle course, between
that mcagreness which presumes a degree of confi-
dence in his own accuracy, such as he has no right to
expect on the part of tlie reader, and that profusion
of references, which tends rather to bewilder than to
assist the student, in attempting to form his own
judgement by an appeal to original sources. As a
general rule, the vouchers for each fact or opinion
have been limited to the text of one or two standard
authors ; reference being frequently made at the same
time, for the benefit of those who may desire a more
copious array of authorities, to other modern works
in which they have been given in greater abundance.
Occasionally however, where importance might seem
. to attach to the number as well as the value of the
testimonies on any particular point, they have been
quoted at greater detail on the margin of the Author's
own page.

The autient classics have usually been cited ac-
cording to the books, chapters, or other similar sub-
divisions of their text. In the case however of some,
especially the more voluminous of those authors,
such as Plato, Strabo, Plutarch, the references, in

xvi ADVERTISEMENT TO

conformity Avith what is still in these instances the
usual practice, have frequently been made to the
pai^cs of the earlier standard editions. The numbers
of those pages, as tlie critical student is aware, have
been, as a general rule, noted by subsequent editors
opposite to the corresponding subdivisions of the text,
on the side margin of the pages of their own editions.
In the citation of the Attic dramatists and of Pin-
dar, poets whose metrical forms have afforded scope
for much variety of arrangement to modern editors,
the references are made to the text of the Leipzig
Pocket Classics (Tauchnitz), unless where it is other-
wise stated in the citation itself.^ It could hardly
happen but that, in the numerical details of so large
a body of references, errors would occasionally find
place. Every passage quoted has, however, been
carefully verified in the original work ; even there-
fore should the citation itself be at fault, the text
appealed to will not be difficult to find, by aid of the
copious indices with which editions of the classics
are usually provided.

The Author cannot rate too highly his obligations
to the zeal and industry of those, chiefly German, phi-
lologers, whose valuable collections of " Fragments,"
have done so much of late to mitigate the calamity
sustained by the modern public, in the loss of the
entire works which have supplied material for the
labours of these meritorious scholars. Without the
aid of their collections, the composition of several
of the Author's own chapters, offering, as they do, a
reconstruction as much as a history of the works to
which they are devoted, would scarcely have been prac-
ticable. The most complete repertory, of the fragmen ts
of epic literature treated in the second Book, especiallv
of the Cyclic poems, and of those comprised under the

* In regard to Diogenes Laertius, an author very frequently quoted
in parts of this history, it may be proper to remark, that, in the first two
volumes, his text has been cited according to the chapters and sections
of the edition of Tauchnitz ; in the last volume, according to the para-
graphs of the older editions.

THE FIRST EDITION. XVU

title of Miscellaneous epic poems, is that of Diintzer.
The occasional errors of its text have been checked, or
its cleiiciencies made good, by the compilation em-
bodied in Clinton's Fasti Ilellenici ; by that of Marck-
schefFel, for Enmelus, Cina^thon, and the Naupactica ;
by those of Miiller and Wiillner for the Epic cycle ; and
by that of Leutsch for the Thebais. The best col-
lection of the Fragments of flesiod is that appended
to the same work of ]\Iarckscheffel ; a work containing
a large mass both of valuable information and of
sound criticism, on the various subjects of which it
treats. The citation consequently of the Fragments
of " Hesiod," and of the other poets in the compilation
of MarckschefFel, will be made according to the num-
bers of his arrangement ; in the citations of the Cyclic
poems, and of the Miscellaneous epic poems, the num-
bers will be understood to be those of Diintzer ; unless
where, in either case, a different collection is named.

In respect to the Lyric poets, the compilations of
Gaisford, Schneidewin, and Bergk, with the separate
publications of Welcker, Liebel, Kleine, jMatthia?, Xeue,
and Bach ^, devoted to the remains of Alcinan, Archi-
lochus, Stesichorus, Alcoius, Sappho, and other au-
thors of this period, leave probably little to desire or to
hope, short of the discovery of the entire compositions
of these illustrious poets. In the chapters devoted to
their lives and works, the particular collection pre-
ferred as the standard text-book in each individual
case will be specified.

In order to avoid that interruption of the just con-
tinuity of historical narrative, which would result
from an accumulation, either in the body of the work
or in the marginal notes, of the many illustrative or
controversial details which are more or less indispen-
sable to the full treatment of a subject of this nature,

' [To this list may now be added the Lyra Gmjca of [Mr. J. Donaldson,
(Ediiil). 1854) ; which, as a selection, with its biographical notices and
commentary, forms a valuable compendium for the young student.]

VOL. I. a

Xvlii ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.

the Autlior lias preferred annexing the greater por-
tion of such matter in the form of Appendices to his

volumes.

In the quotations of specimen passages from the
lyric poets, translations of the texts quoted have
been subjoined. This has been done with the hope,
in wliich tlie Author cannot venture to feel very
sanguine, of securing, even among non-Hellenist
readers, some small addition to the very slender
share of publicity or popularity now enjoyed^ by
what is, beyond all comparison, the most brilliant
period of Grecian or of European lyric poetry. In
the quotations from the Iliad and Odyssey on the
other hand, the Greek text alone has been given. It
could hardly, under any circumstances, have been
proper or necessary to supply the reader with versions
of passages cited from poems so universally familiar,
through the medium of classical modern translations,
to all well-educated persons. Nor, in the present
case, would the peculiar kind of illustration which the
Author had in view, in his often copious extracts
from those poems, have been in any great degree
promoted by an equally copious supply of English
versions.

In his translations from the Lj^ric poets, he has done
his best to embody the letter as well as the spirit of
the original. Where however, as sometimes hap-
pened, it did not appear that these two objects could
be combined, he has considered it more desirable to
attempt, by a free paraphrase, to convey to the mind
of the reader unversed in the oriiiinal toncrue, a real
nnpression of the genius of the passage and of its
author, than by a rigid adherence to turns of Greek
idiomatic thought or phraseology, to run the risk of
rendering what is spirited and expressive in the one
language, pointless or unintelligible in the other.

February 20th, 1850.

CONTEx\TS

THE FIRST YOLU^ME.

Preface - - - - - - . - Page v

Advertisement to the First Edition .... w

BOOK I.

INTRODUCTION. — MYTHICAL PERIOD.
CHAPTER I.

PLAN AND PROrOSED EXTENT OF THE WORK.

1. History of literature neglected as a branch of popular composition. —
2. Advantages of its better cultivation. — 3, Eras or periods of Grecian
literature. Just limits of the subject. — 4. Characteristics of its earlier
stages. " Homeric question." Poetical period - - Page 1

CHAP. II.

HISTORICAL VALUE OF GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND.

1. Distinctive characteristics of mythology and of history. — 2. Greek
mythical legend, how far founded on fact. Arguments on the affirmative
side. — 3. Analogy of authentic history. — 4. Arguments on the ne-
gative side. Hero worship. — 5. Human apotheosis peculiar to Gra?co-
Pelasgic superstition. — 6. Bearings of the custom on the present
question. — 7. Homer's cycle of heroic legend. — 8. Eponyme heroes.
Mythical chronology - - - - - -14

CHAP. III.

PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

1. Oritjin and affinities of the Greek nation and laufruaire. Pelas"i;ui3.
— 2. HcUi, Hellas, and Hellenes. — 3. Hellene, as a common title of

a 2

,^^ CONTENTS.

the Greek nation, later than the Dorian conquest. — 4. Greek tribes
specially claiming a rdasgic origin in later -times. — 5. Relation be-
tween the Pelasgic and Hellenic tongues. — 6. Views of Herodotus.—
7. Their vagueness. - 8. Pelasgiaus of Italy. Grsci. — 9. Macedonia.
Asia Minor." Islands ----- Page 36

CHAP. IV.

FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE GREEK. LANGUAGE.

1. Let^ends of Egyptian and Phoenician settlement in Greece. — 2. Philo-
logical objections to the Egyptian legend. — 3. Historical objections. —
4.°Greek prejudices concerning Egypt.— 5. Phoenician legend. His-
torical and philological evidences in its favour. — G. The Phoenician
alphabet. — 7. Its adoption by the Greeks. — 8. Modifications it under-
went. Vowels. — 9. Error of the popular doctrine on the subject.
Greek numerals. Modes of writing - - - - 65

CHAP. V.

STRUCTURE AND GENIUS OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

1. Influence of soil, climate, and national character on language. —

2. Principle of formation common to the Indo-Teutonie tongues. —

3. Contrast of the Semitic and Chinese. — 4. Characteristic properties
of the Greek branch of the Indo-Teutonic stem - - - 89

CHAP. VI.

EARLY CULTURE OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

1. Social condition of Greece during the heroic age. Its influence on
the language. — 2. Pelopldan era. — 3. -S^olian colonies. Dorian
conquest. Ionian colonies. Subsequent distinction of dialects. —
4. Their respective characteristics. — 5. Pervading Influence of the
Homeric dialect. — 6. The literary culture of the separate dialects, a
peculiarity of the Greek language. — 7. Appropriation of different
dialects to different styles of composition. — 8. Artificial formation of
new dialects for new styles. — 9. Ultimate ascendancy of the Attic
dialect. Sicilian Doric ----._ io2

CHAP. vn.

ORIGINAL GENIUS OF GRECIAN LITERATURE.'

1. Unity of genius between the Greek nation and its language. — 2.
Essential diSerence In the origin of Hellenic and of modern literary

CONTENTS. XXI

culture. — 3. Advantages on the side of the Greeks. — 4. Originality
and fertility of Greek inventive genius. — 5. Fundamental principles
of ideal excellence in Greek composition. — 6. Classical and Romantic
schools of modern composition. — 7. Superior extent and variety of
modern literary culture - ^ - - Page 127

CIIAr. VIII.

MTTiriCAL rOETS AND WOKKS.

. Origin and early cultivation of the art of poetry. — 2. Thrace and
Thracians of the mythical age. Pieria. Daulia. Helicon. Nysa. —
3. Legendary minstrels. Amphion. — 4. Orpheus. Philammon. Tlia-
myris. — 5. Eumolpus. Musaeus. Pamphos. Linus. — 6. Olcn.
Olympus. — 7. Fabulous minstrelsy of Greece chiefly connected with
the rites of Demeter and Dionysus. Early ascendancy of ^'Eolian
genius. Accredited works of the mythical period - - 145

BOOK 11.

POIiTICAL PERIOD. — EPIC POETRY.
CHAP. L

INTRODUCTION.

1. Characteristics of the poetical period. Epic and Lyric styles alone
cultivated. — 2. Their definition and origin. — 3. AVorks comprised
under each head. — 4. Proposed mode of treatment - - 1C8

CHAP. II.

nOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. HISTORY OF THE POEMS.

1. Homer, Hesiod, and the Cyclic poets. Miscellaneous Epic poems. —
2. Origin and Definition of the Homeric epopee. — 3. Earliest notices
of the Iliad and Odyssey : Hesiod, Chest of Cypselus, Archilochus,
Tyrta2us, Ilomerida?, Xenophanes. — 4. Public recital, or rhapsodism.

— 5. Early variations or corruptions of the text. Efforts to check or
correct them. " Civic editions." Antimachus. Aristotle. — G.Alexan-
drian grammarians and their editions. — 7. " Chorizontes" or Sepa-
ratists. Crates. School of Pergamus. Division of the text into books.
Later grammarians. — 8. Modern history of the poems. Yico. Wolf.

— 9. Subsequent vicissitudes of the Homeric question - - 1 7G

Xxii CONTENTS.

CHAP. III.

HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. HISTORICAL DATA.

1. Authorities concerning Pisistratus and his compilation. — 2. Varieties
of theory on the subject. — 3. Silence of the earlier classics. Argu-
luent from the Cyclic poems. — 4. What were the poems of " Homer "
"collected and arranged" by Pisistratus.— 5. Just estimate of his
Uomeric labours ... - - Page 203

CHAP. IV.

HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. INTERNAL DATA.

1. Present state of the Homeric question. — 2. Internal evidence of two
kinds. Bearings of each on the case of Homer. — 3. Analysis of the
poems. General rules for its guidance. — 4. Similarity and discrepancy
of style ; their relative value as sources of internal evidence. —
5. Consistency in the poet's portraiture of character. — 6. State of
society which produced the poems. — 7. Antiquity of the Homeric
epopee. Ilii-persis of Demodocus. — 8. Subdivision of the following
analysis _-■---- 220

CHAP. V.

HOMER. ILIAD. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT.

1. Analytical epitome of the text. — 2. " Aristea of Diomed." — 3. Se-
cession of Achilles. Construction of the rampart. Jove's interdict
against divine interference. — 4. First and last books ; Parallel of. —
5. Second book, or Catalogue. — 6. Tenth book, or Dolonea - 241

CHAP. VI.

HOMER. ILI.\D. UNITY OF THE ACTION.

1. Principle of poetical unity as exemplified in the Iliad. — 2. Simplicity
of the plot, and of its range of characters — 3. Character of Achilles the
main poetical feature of the work. —4. Quarrel of Achilles and Ao-a-
memnon. — 5. Course of the action during the secession of Achilles.
National partialities of Homer. Obduracy of Achilles. — «. Relaxa-
tion of his wrath. Defects and advantages of the crisis.- 7. Adapta-
tion of the characters of Achilles and Patroclus to each other. —
8. Revulsion of feeling. Grief and remorse of Achilles. Ferocity of
Achilles. — 9. Softer features of his character. Interview with Priam.
— 10. Moral scope and tendency of the Iliad. — 11. Amplification of
the subject. Episodes. Definition of the term. — 12. Characteristics
of Homer's episodes. — 13. Contrast with those of Virgil - 268

C0NTE2JTS. XXlll

ciiAr. vii.

HOMER, CHARACTERS OF THE ILIAD.

1. Supplementary remarks on the character of Achilles. — 2. His oratory.
Deputation of Agamemnon. — 3. Consistency in the details of Homer's
<loIineation. — 4. Character of Agamemnon. — 5. His oratory. Ate. —
fi. Character of Diomed. — 7. Ilis oratory. — 8. Character of Menehius-
Parallel of the Odyssey. — 9. Character of Xestor. — 10. His oratory.
— II. Character of Aj ax. — 12. His oratory — 1 3. Distinctive features
of Greek and of Trojan national character. — 14. Character of Priam.
Its defects. — 15. Its virtues. — 16. Character of Hector. — 17. His
oratory. — 18. Character of iEneas. — 19. Character of Hecuba. Fu-
neral dirae of Hector. — 20. Characters of Paris and Helen. Page 305

CHAP. YIII.

HOMER. ODTSSET. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT.

1. Analytical epitome of the text. — 2. Plan of the poem contrasted with
that of the Iliad. — 3. Apologue of Alcinolis. — 4. Voyage of Tele-
machus. Noenion. Pineus Clytides. — 5. Melanthius and Melantho
The seer Theocly menus. — 6. Pervading influence of Apollo - 364

CHAP. IX.

HOMER. ODTSSET. UNITT OF THE ACTION. CHARACTERS.

1 . Comparative genius of the two poems. Tripartite distribution of the
action of the Odyssey. — 2. Character of Ulysses. — 3. Its degradation
by the lati;r organs of Epic tradition. Its comic ingredient. — 4. Voy-
age of Ulysses. The Cicouians. Character of the hero's comrades.
The Lotophagi. — 5. The Cyclops. -3Eolus. The L^estrygonians. Circe.
The "Necromancy." The Sirens. — 6. Scheriaand the Phjeacians. Nau-
sicaa. — 7. Alcinoiis and his court. — 8. Ulysses in Ithaca. — 9. Cha-
racter of Telcmachus. — 10. His oratory. — 11. Character of the suitors.
Antinoiis. Eurymachus. Amphinomus. Liodes. — 12. Oratory of
the suitors. — 13. Theoclymenus the seer. Impressive scene. TI.e
catastrophe. — 14. Parallel characters of Penelope and Andromache. —
15. Eumffius the swineherd. ^Melanthius the goatherd. Euryclea. ]\Ie-
lantho. Irus the beggar. Eurylochus. Menelaus. Nestor. Helen - 388

CHAP. X.

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODTSSET. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT.

1. Incongruity of historical details a common feature of prolonged cj'ic
narratives. — 2. Example from the Odyssey. — 3. Anomaly a charac-
teristic feature of great original genius. — 4. Other sources of anomaly

XXIV CONTENTS.

in poetical works. — 5. Journey of Telemachus. Analogy of the Attic
drama. — 6. Other discordances of the Odyssey. Eurylochus in the isle
of Circe. — 7. Variations in the personal narrative of the disguised
Ulysses. — 8. His dialogue with the Cyclops. With Eumseus. Trans-
actions in Scheria. — 9. Return of Telemachus from Sparta. Chrono-
logy of the Odyssey. — 10. Discordances of the Iliad. Fortification
of the camp. Secession of Achilles. — 11. Duel of Hector and Ajax.
The Gods in Ethiopia. The sleep of Agamemnon, The arms of Pa-
troclus - - - - - - - Page 438

CHAP. XI.

HOMER. ILIAB AND ODTSSEY. DIVINE MECHANISM.

1. Doctrine of divine interposition in human affairs as embodied by
Homer. — 2. Human personification of the divine agency. — 3. Scheme
of divine management in the poems. — 4. Characters of the Deities. —
5. Agency of Apollo. Neptune. The River Gods. Vulcan. Mi-
nerva. Divine instigation to crime. — 6. Poetical defects of Homer's
divine mechanism. — 7. The Gods in their relation to each other.
Domestic brawls in Olympus. — 8. Divination. Dreams. Omens. —
9. Of Homer's own belief in their efficacy. His doctrine of a future
state. — 10. His divine mechanism compared with that of modern
poetry. — 11. His doctrine of human apotheosis. — 12. Of allegory in
Lis divine mechanism ------ 468

APPENDIX.

App. a. On a peculiarity in the treatment of Homer's text by
critics of the Wolfian school ----- 50.5

App. B. On the supposed Vulgate, or Editio princeps of Homer,
by Pisistratus - - - - - _ -506

App. C. Supplementary remarks on the Unity of mechanical struc-
ture in the Iliad ---__. 597

App. D. Supplementary remarks on the relation of the Catalogue
to the rest of the poem - - - - . 508

App. E. On the Phroacians of the Odyssey; their race and country 510

App. F. On the " self-contradictions " of Virgil, Milton, Cer-
vantes, Walter Scott, and other popular authors, as compared
with those of Homer -----. 512

Ai>p. G. Supplementary remark on the Chronology of the Iliad - 517

CRITICiVL HISTORY,

•&c.

BOOK I.

INTRODUCTION. —MYTHICAL PERIOD.

CHAPTER I.

PLAN AND PROPOSED EXTENT OF THE WORK.

1. HISTORY OF LITERATURE NEGLECTED AS A BRANCH OF POPULAR COSIPO-

SITION. 2. ADVANTAGES OF ITS BETTER CULTIVATION. 3. ERAS OR

PERIODS OF GRECIAN LITERATURE. JUST LIMITS OF THE SUBJECT.

4. CHARACTERISTICS OF ITS EARLIER STAGES. '* HOMERIC QUESTION."
POETICAL PERIOD.

1. A PROMINENT feature of distinction between the
early more genial stages of literary culture, and those
of its maturity or decay, is the tendency of the human
mind, in the former periods to produce for itself, in
the latter to speculate on the works of others. This
remark may indeed only appear strictly applicable to
a state of society in which the origin and early progress
of intellectual pursuit can be traced to the spontaneous
efforts of native genius. The case is somewhat dif-
ferent where the first advances in the arts of civilised
life have been made under the guidance of foreign or
antient models. Hence among the nations of modern
Europe, whose civilisation is founded on the ruins of

VOL. I. B

2 PLAN AND PROPOSED Book I.

that Of Classical antiquity, scholastic or grammatical
science has invariably preceded ov aeconn.an.cd the
rise of taste for original composition. Even e^,
however, in regard to the properly national depart-
:::::of 'letters,"the principle involved in the distinc
tion above drawn will be found to hold good. W bat-
ever ^eal may have been displayed during our own
Jiddle ages by the learned men of Italy, France, o
kn<^land, as commentators of the ant.ent c assies it
was not until the art of composition m the native
lan<^uages of those countries had reached a certam
staSe of maturity, that the productions of their native
autliors supplied any add for the labours of profes-
sional grammarians. , „ T, „„1
In Greece, the fountain head of all European cul-
ture no such causes intervened to obstruct or de-
ran4 the natural course of events. Her literature
was" in all its branches, a plant of indigenous growth,
indebted to no foreign aid for its nurture or im-
provement. Its noblest monuments emanate from a
period long prior to the existence of scientific gram-
mar or criticism ; the rise of which arts as a distinct
order of pursuit, in the Alexandrian schools, was si-
multaneous with the decline or extinction of creative

"emus.

Histo^ of Upon the same principle may partly be explained,
literature ^^^^^^ among tlie various branches of historical lite-
st h.Sch ^,^^^^^,Q one1)f the last to be cultivated should be the
""""" history of literature itself. This may, indeed, be
considered as in some degree the necessary, as well
as the natural, course of things. As events must
have happened before they can be recorded, so works
must have been written, and the art of composing
them carried to some degree of perfection, before its

neglected

of popular

composi

tion.

Cii. T. § 1. EXTENT OF THE WORK. 3

vicissitudes can become a subject of curious investi-
gation. The inclilFerence, however, which many na-
tions have shown to a department of letters so at-
tractive in itself, and so valuable in its results, can
but partially be explained by any such cause. Lite-
rary history may, in truth, be ranked not only
among the last, but the least cultivated branches of
composition, both in antient and modern times. That
the Greeks themselves should have shown so great an
indifference to its value appears the more remarkable,
when we consider the infinite number of channels in
which, during their latter days, their over-exuberant
genius found vent, and the vohnninous library of
works which it produced in the kindred class of
subjects. Yet, among their legion of commentators
and grammarians, there is no record of a historian of
literature in the wider sense. Similar was the case
wath the Romans. It was hardly, indeed, to be
expected, that a people so dependant for their pro-
gress in art and science on the models supplied by
the Greeks, should open up for themselves any broad
path of learned pursuit not previously trodden by
their masters Nor, on turning to our own common-
wealth of letters, will it be found that this branch of
composition, though not so entirely overlooked, has
received the attention due to its claims. The litera-
ture of most European nations, that of our own
country for example, has long since arrived at a
stage which offers materials sufficiently varied and
extensive for a great historical undertaking ; j^et wc
possess no complete national work of this description,
and few other countries can boast of one entitled
to the rank vrhich it ought to possess in a national
library.

B 2

4 1>LAN AND PROrOSED Book I.

In rooui-a to modern languages, the apparent ano-
maly may admit, in so far, of explanation or apology,
that it is but as yesterday that, in ^onn---- j; ^^
those of classical antiquity, even the earhest cultivated
amono- the former has furnished an adequate subject
for enlarged historical treatment. Long before our
own course of intellectual activity commenced, that
of the Greeks had terminated ; and their whole ricli
and valuable, though imperfect, bequest of hterary
materials has now been for centuries in the hands ot
the modern public. Considering, therefore, the large
share of general attention which the monuments ot
Hellenic genius have attracted ever since the revival
of learning in Europe; how dependant our own
progress has been on the models which they supply ;
and°the extraordinary amount of labour which has
been and continues to be bestowed, often, it might
almost be said, wasted, on the subordinate depart-
inents of speculative arch^Eology ; it may appear even
still more surprising that no complete history of
Grecian literature should have been produced in any
modern tongue, than that the Greeks themselves
should have failed to bequeath one.
Advantages 2. It wcre foreign to the present object, to speculate
Sauon' on the causes of this want of labourers in so fair and
fertile a field. The advantages, however, derivable
from its better cultivation are numerous and obvious.
Every one must perceive how greatly the power of
appreciating a work depends on a familiarity with
the spirit, not only of the age which produced it, but
of that which preceded or followed ; on an insight
into the habits of the author, the circumstances in
which he composed, the models he studied, or the
school to which he belonged. The investigation of

Cii. I. § 2. EXTENT or THE WOKK. 5

these points is tlie province of tlie literary historian.
Nor must we overlook the value of his more limited
branch of the art, in its bearings on the wider pro-
vince of civil history. If an accurate knowledge of
the political state of any period be requisite in order
to appreciate its polite learning, no less essential is
a familiarity with its classical productions to a just
estimate of the course or causes of political events.
It is true that literature reflects, but it is equally
true that it always influences, and often regulates,
the moral and political destinies of nations. Even
admitting, however, that the literary department of
history may not be the most practically useful, it is
not, or ought not certainly to bo, the least attractive.
The aspect under which the political annals of so-
ciety exhibit human character is often most offensive,
tcndinof to lower rather than to raise the estimate of
our species. How often are the greatest events
brought about by worthless or insignificant agents,
or perhaps, to all appearance, the result of accident.
How often will the exercise of a very ordinary ca-
pacity, combined with vice and selfishness, be seen
triumphing, by the mere favour of circumstances,
over the best-directed efforts of virtue and patriotism.
The task of the literary historian, on the other hand,
is to portray humanity solely or chiefly under its
amiable and ornamental features. The proper ma-
terials with which he has to deal are wit and genius.
Dulness and mediocrity are, by the fundamental rules
of his art, debarred from honourable distinction; and
if vice be admitted to a share, it is only when ac-
companied by the fascinations of genius or learning.

The present work has been undertaken with the
hope of supplying the existing void in our national

PLAN AND PROPOSED

Book I.

iEras or
periods of
Grecian
literature.

library, in respect to that period of European culture
which has furnished the standards of taste and models
of excellence to all succeeding ages.

3 The literature of Greece classes itself almost
spontaneously under six heads or periods, offenng to
the historian an equally apt arrangement of his sub-

''^T The first, or Mythical period, comprises the
orio'in and early culture of the nation and its Ian-
guao-e, with the legendary notices of those fabulous
heroes and sages, to whom popular belief ascribed
the first advances in elegant art or science, but ot
whose existence or influence no authentic monuments

have been preserved. . ^ r

II The second, or Poetical period, extends from
the epoch of the earhest authenticated productions
of Greek poetical genius, through those ages m which
poetry continued to be the only cultivated branch of
composition, and terminates about the fifty-fourth

Olympiad (b.c. 560).

III. The third, or Attic period, commences with
the rise of the Attic drama and of prose literature,
and closes with the estabhshment of the Macedonian
ascendancy, and the consequent extinction of repub-
lican freedom in Greece.

IV The fourth, or Alexandrian period, may be
dated from the foundation of Alexandria, and ends
with the fall of the Gr^eco-Egyptian empire.

V. Tlie fifth, or Roman period, succeeds, and ex-
tends to the foundation of Constantinople.

VI. The sixth, or Byzantine period, comprises the
remainincr ages of- the decay and corruption of antient
civilisatio^'n, until the final extinction of the classical
Greek as a living language.

Cii. I. § 3. EXTENT or THE WORK. 7

The strict order of tins arrangement has only been
infringed in the following pages in so far as certain
heads of subject, though properly belonging to one
period, might comprehend matter connected with,
or common to, others. The inquiry, for example,
into the Original genius of the Greek language and
of Grecian literature, while embodying much of what
may seem to appertain to later stages of their history,
has been connected with the first, or Mythical period.
It offers a general summary of the principles on
which the whole subject will be treated ; and, as
proceeding upon data more or less familiar to the
classical scholar, can hardly be said to anticipate the
results of subsequent investigation.

That the author should be destined to complete his Just limits
undertaking upon the extended plan above laid down ^^^^^ ^^^'
is what the most sanguine anticipations of long life,
health, leisure, or other requisites for the task, can
hardly entitle liim to hope. It may here, however,
be proper to obviate a misapprehension apt to arise
as to the scope and limits of any such work, and
calculated to convey a still more serious impression
of its extent or difficulty than the reality justifies.
The literature of Greece comprehends, no doubt, in
the wider sense, her philosophy and science, as well
as her poetry, history, and drama. A place conse-
quently belongs, among her authors, to Hippocrates
and Euclid, as well as to Homer and Herodotus.
The authors and works, however, of the former class
supply subject for the history of science rather than
of letters. Their value consists chiefly, if not solely,
in the depth and soundness of their speculative
doctrines, upon which the mere literary censor is
under but little obligation to pronounce judgment.

B 4

stages.

8 PLAN AND PKOPOSED Book I.

Those peculiarities of composition or style, which in
the more popular branches of writing are the chief
objects of critical animadversion, here assume a se-
condary importance. Hence, by the received cour-
tesy in such cases, the historian of literature, if not
altoo-ether free from the obli2;ation to admit such
works among his materials, is, at the most, bound to
devote to them but a limited share of attention.
Character- 4. But, cvcu witli this restriction, the subject is one
eariier° ^ ^ of formidable extent, and encumbered with difficulties,
the nature of which can be rightly appreciated by
those alone who have ventured closely to grapple
with them. All inquiry into the history of a lan-
guage must be based on a previous acquaintance with
that of the people by whom it is spoken. In our
own state of society, where the political vicissitudes
of each nation, from the period of its first settlement
in its present seats, are matter of comparative no-
toriety, the historian finds this primary head of
investigation already so far prepared to his hand, as
to coalesce easily with the general course of his
subject. In primeval Greece it is involved in deej)
obscurity, and an apparently inextricable maze of
controversy. That fabulous uncertainty in which
the remote annals of every people are more or less
enveloped, here assumes the form of the most com-
plicated system of figurative mythology ever devised
by the liveliest fancy or the most subtle ingenuity.
Nor in the case of the Greeks, as in that of most
other nations, is this darkness confined to their bar-
barous ages. It extends over a period in which they
had already made great advances, not only in all the
elementary arts of life, but in the refinement of their
language and in elegant composition. The obscurity

Cn. I. § 4. EXTENT OF THE WORK. 9

may even be said to increase, rather than diminish,
as we enter upon that ostensibly more real and
practical age, when individual M'orks and authors
present themselves in tangible forms to the con-
templation. In the modern republic of letters, the
appearance of those great masters whose creations
form in after times the standards of excellence, co-
incides Avith a forward sta^'c of civilisation and
well-defined epochs of history. In Greece, not only
the period at which they flourished, the place of
their birth, and the circumstances of their lives, are
unknown, but tlieir very existence has been called in
question. In the present age, more especially, the
energies of many eminent critics have been exhausted
in attempts to prove their individual personality to
be illusive, and the supposed monuments of their
genius but elaborate specimens of the book-making
artifice of a comparatively recent period.

Another question of vital importance in tlie history
not only of Greek but of universal literature, is that
relative to the introduction and early use of alpha-
betic writing. Of this branch of inquiry it may be
said as of those above noticed, that in proportion as
it is simple and easily dispatched in the annals of
modern culture, it is here obscure and enigmatical.
It has, with the last and present generation of
scholars, been commonlv embraced under the siniile
head familiarly called " the Homeric question." That
arrangement, however, will here, for reasons to be
assigned in their proper place, be set aside, and to
each subject will be allotted its own separate share of
attention.

On turning to the Homeric question itself, in the iio
more restricted sense, when we consider the learnina', ''""^"^"*

meric

10 PLAN AND PROPOSED Look I.

ingenuity, and voluminous nature of the works de-
voted to its treatment during the last half-century,
all, it might seem, that could now be required of the
general historian were, according to the usual prac-
tice in such cases, to condense the materials at his
disposal into a few concise and comprehensive chap-
ters. With every respect, however, for the zeal
and ability of those researches, we have found them
still far from supplying even the elementary data for
a final adjustment of the more delicate points at issue.
In regard especially to one, and that the most
important head of the whole subject, the internal evi-
dence of the poems, despite the universal admission
that from tins source solely or chiefly can we hope
for any real light on the obscurities of their history,
we look in vain for any analysis of their text upon
such enlarged and impartial principles as alone can
insure distinct historical results. Every step, indeed,
in the progress of our own investigations, by the deeper
insight afforded into the beauties, the peculiarities,
even the blemishes, which reflect the entire genius of )
" Homer," has tended more and more to the conviction
that, if they have ever been fully appreciated, they j
have not hitherto been critically analysed or illus- \
trated as they deserve, for the benefit of those who V
may themselves have less leisure or industry for (
such an undertaking. The analysis^ therefore, of
the Iliad and Odyssey, which will occupy so large a
portion of the second book of this work, seemed,
even apart from its bearings on controversial points,

^ Its necessity and importance have been pointedly and eloquently
enforced by Sir E. Bulwer (Athens, i. viii. 6.). Such an opinion comes
with still greater authority from one of the chiefs of the popular litera-
ture of the day, than from a professional scholar.

Cu. 1. §4. EXTENT OF THE WORK. 11

in itself a desirable contribution to the history of
literature. Xo one who rightly estimates the spirit
Avhich animates those poems, tlie principles of their
structure, or the characteristic properties of their
style, can fail to perceive their boundless influence on
the whole subsequent destinies of elegant culture
in Greece and Europe. Homer is the father, not
only of all classical poetry, but of all elegant com-
j)osition. The family resemblance, in its various
forms and degrees, can be clearly traced through
every succeeding generation down to the present
day. With his own countrymen he was the undis-
puted fountain head of excellence : his supremacy
was equally acknowledged by their Italian neigh-
bours; and by the joint influence and authority
of the two races has been extended, directly or in-
directly, over the civilised world. Homer is, as it
were, the heart from which the life-blood has circu-
lated, bv however intricate a maze of arteries and
veins, to the most distant extremities of the entire
body of polite learning. A thorough insight, there-
fore, into the nicer mechanism of his works, is not
;rnerely indispensable to any clear apprehension of
their author's genius, or of the circumstances under
Avhich they were composed : it supplies at the same
time a complete code of those elementary laws, by
the observance of which the art of composition has
j been matured and carried to perfection, and, in so
/ far, a test of the degree in which Homer's successors
in every age may have emulated his excellence or
been influenced by his example.

The period comprised in the volumes now offered Poetical
' to the public terminates about the first dawn of that ^'*^""'"
Athenian ascendancy in every branch of art and

12 PLAN AND PROPOSED Book I.

science wliich constitutes, in familiar estimation, the
most brilliant era of classical antiquity. Their con-
tents may therefore appear to offer comparatively
limited sources of interest to the scholar of the
present clay. It must be remembered, however, that
the inferior celebrity now enjoyed by these early
authors, as compared with their successors of the Attic
period, is in no degree attributable to any inferiority
of merit on the part of the former. The difference is
to be sought solely or chiefly in the circumstance,
that, while so many masterpieces of the Attic poets
and their contemporaries have been preserved, the
works of earlier date which have survived theravasfes
of time and barbarism amount, if we except the poems
of " Homer " and " Hesiod," to little more, even in the
case of the most favoured authors, than a stock of
remains just sufficient, by their own excellence, to
embitter our regret for the loss of the entire body
to which they belonged. Yet the list of names
represented by these remains comprehends, in regard
more especially to the lyric branches of poetical com-
position, a greater number of authors for whom the
excellence of their entire works procured from the;
native public the highest award of fame and popularity
than is to be found in the whole subsequent annals of
classical literature. Among these names it may
suffice to mention that of Archilochus, alone, among
the successors of Homer, classed by the native critics
as his rival in brilliancy and variety of genius ; that
of Sappho, equally supreme in the tender departments
of lyric song ; those of Alcteus, Tyrtteus, Stesichorus.
Weighed against these five names alone, those of the
most illustrious lyric poets of succeeding ages, Simo-
nides, Anacreon, even Pindar, are light in the scale.

Cii. I. §4. EXTENT OF THE WORK. 13

If to tliese great lyric masters be added, togetlier
with Homer and Hesiod, the variety of miscella-
neous poets, epic, genealogical, satirical, mystic, and
didactic, of whose styles of composition several seem
to have been exclusively proper to this period, it
may claim to rank as one of the most fertile, as well
as brilliant and original, in the annals of Grecian
literature. The personal biographies also of many
of these authors, of Archilochus, Tyrtoaus, Alca3us,
Sappho, E2")imenides, and othei'S, possess a peculiar
interest, as well from the eccentric features and
broad lights and shadows of human character which
they exhibit, as from the vital connexion in many
cases between the destinies of the men and those of
their native commonwealths, or of the Hellenic nation
at large.

From these various considerations, it has been an
especial object with the author to exhibit both the
literary and biographical features of this less familiar
part of his subject in the fullest and clearest light
which the existing materials for its treatment were
calculated to supj)ly.

IIISTORICAL VALUE OF

Book I.

CHAP. II.

HISTORICAL VALUE OF GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND.

1. DISTINCTIVE CHARACTEniSTICS OF JITTHOLOGT AND OF HISTORY. 2. GREEK

MTTHICAX, LEGEND, HOW FAR FOUNDED ON FACT. ARGUMENTS ON THE

AFFIRMATIVE SIDB. 3. ANALOGY OF AUTHENTIC HISTORY. 4. ARGUMENTS

ON THE NEGATIVE SIDE. HERO WORSHIP. 5. HUMAN APOTHEOSIS PECULIAR

TO GR^CO-PBLASGIC SUPERSTITION. 6. BEARINGS OF THE CUSTOM ON THE

PRESENT QUESTION. 7. HOMER's CYCLE OF HEROIC LEGEND. 8. EPONYME

HEROES. MYTHICAL CHRONOLOGY.

Distinctive 1. The liistory of every language is inseparable from
SillTor' that of the people by whom it is spoken. Nations
mythology may, Indeed, be subiected to momentous revolutions

and history. -^ ' m i i • i •

without any sensible change m their mother-tongue :
but a language can rarely, if ever, undergo vital al-
teration, unless in connexion with some parallel vi-
cissitude of political destiny. It is in that earliest
period of society to which attention is here more
immediately directed, that, in the case of the Greeks,
importance mainly attaches to this connexion ; an
importance, unfortunately, much enhanced by tha
obscurity in which the subject is involved. A want;
of classical authorities cannot, indeed, be pleaded.
The difficulty lies rather in the shadowy unsub-
stantial nature of the copious mass at our disposal ;
still more, perhaps, in the variety of opinions as to ,
the mode in which the historian may be entitled to
avail himself of their aid. It becomes, therefore, in
some measure necessary, before entering on any such
inquiry, to offer some explanation of the principles
on which it will be conducted, and of the author's
views as to the nature and value of the existing data
for its guidance.

Cu. 11. §1. GllEEK ]\rYTIIICAL LEGEXD. 15

That the voluminous body of popular Greek tra-
dition, which avowedly forms the sole existing record
of this primitive age, is essentially fabulous and
legendary, will not be disputed by any intelligent
scholar of the present day. To pronounce, however,
as has been done in certain modern schools, the
whole of that tradition, both iu its substance and in
its details, to be altogether false and visionary, ap-
pears a stretch of paradox little less extreme than
that of the old sect of mythologers, who assumed the
entire succession of gods and heroes to have been
mortal kings, warriors, or sages, and the adventures
recorded of them to present, under allegorical dis-
guise, the real facts of primeval history. Any ela-
borate analysis of the comparative merits of these
conflicting theories, or of the intermediate views
promulgated in the wide field of controversy which
they open up, were beyond the present purpose. A
few general definitions will, however, be necessary,
in order to explain, and it is hoped with the majority
of readers, to justify, the position which has here
been taken up on the debatable ground.

The mythology of any people, in the wider sense
of the term, embraces the whole body of national
tradition, emanating from those remote ages when the
spirit of accurate inquiry was yet dormant, and arti-
ficial aids to the transmission of knowledge were
unknown or imperfect. In such a state of society,
both historical events and religious doctrines are
communicated throucjh the medium of the imascination
rather than of the reason, in an ornamental or exag-
gerated form, often under the disguise of symbol or
allegory.

History, on the other hand, while exclusively

16 HISTORICAL VALUE OF Boon I.

occupied in recording facts, presents, or professes to
present them in their substantial reality.

It is more easy, however, to apprehend the differ-
ence between mythology and history, than to dis-
tinguish where, in the annals of any people, the one
terminates and the other commences. As it is the
blending of truth and fiction, of the real and ideal,
which forms the distinctive feature of genuine na-
tional legend, so it is in the gradual ascendancy of
the one over the other, with the advance of intellectual
culture, that the transition from mythology to his-
tory takes place. A purely mythical period might,
perhaps, be most nearly defined : that in which the
art of writing is unknown, or so little practised, that
memory constitutes the sole means of transmitting
knowledge. The habit of recording events in writing
miglit, with similar propriety, be described as the
characteristic of authentic history. This, however,
becomes a theoretical rather than a practical dis-
tinction, where, as in the case here immediately in
point, so much uncertainty exists as to the epoch
when the art of writing was first introduced, or the
extent to which it may have been cultivated in early
times. There can also be no doubt that written re-
cords of contemporaneous events may abound at
periods when the more popular and generally accre-
dited annals are embodied in essentially mythical
forms : nor is it less certain, on the other hand, that
even professional prose writers of history, in semibar-
barous ages, often give little more than the substance
of the vulgar legends, in a more methodical perhaps,
but scarcely more authentic form than the poeticaL
authorities from whom they borrow. '

That alone can be considered as a strictly histo-
rical period, in which the art of writing, and the'

Cii. II. §1. GUEEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 17

materials for its exercise, are universally prevalent,
and the course of events, by its means, is habitually
and systematically recorded. Such a state of things
can first be recognised in Greece about the time of
the Persian war.

In reckoning back from this fully enlightened
epoch, in the history of any people, towards their re-
mote mythical ages, or rather in reckoning from their
mythical ages down to the fully enlightened era,
there must occur a point where light begins to pre-
vail over darkness ; where, in the blending above
described of the real and the fictitious element of
tradition, the former, which in the end acquires the
complete mastery, first begins to gain the ascendant.
This line of distinction is perhaps more clearly
marked in Greece than in most other countries, by
the Dorian conquest of Peloponnesus, and the en-
suinjT final settlement of the dominant Hellenic races
in the seats which they afterwards permanently oc-
cupied. The rude patriarchal polity and martial
habits of the previous generations were now gra-
dually superseded by a taste for civil rights and
constitutional government ; and the first gleams of
authentic history appear in the more general prac-
tice of recording important events in writing. There
seems, indeed, plausible ground of belief, that dates
and genealogies, however meagre and imperfect, were
so recorded during the whole or the greater part of
this period.^ Hence, too, may be explained why the
epoch of the Dorian conquest closes the heroic age
of Greece ; or, in other words, why the subjects of
heroic celebration have been, by a standard law of
Greek poetical literature, selected exclusively from

• Sec Book III. Cb. vli. § i».
VOL. I. C

IIISTOKICAL VALUE OF

Book I.

Greek my-
thical le-
gend, how
far founded
on fact.

tlic antecedent era. This may be attributed partly,
perhaps, to the superior brilliancy of its events and
achievements ; chiefly, however, to the greater scope
which its obscurity held out to the license of fable
and poetical embellishment.

2. From the epoch, therefore, of the Dorian settle-
ment down to the Persian war, Greek tradition pre-
sents, with whatever alloy of fiction, a more or less
connected series of facts : beyond the former epoch,
its details, at least, are altogether fabulous and poet-
ical. Hence a wide discrepancy of opinion exists, as
to the degree of credit to which they may be entitled.
The old, and still the more generally received, doc-
trine is, that these heroic adventures, in so far as
offered to us in human form or substance, embody,
however vaguely, certain fundamental truths of early
history. This view, however, has been repudiated
in some recent schools of mythological interpretation,
and all reality has been denied either to facts or per-
sons prior to the Dorian conquest.^ Events, it is
admitted, must have happened, and heroes must have
lived, before that date ; " but the received traditions
concerning them offer," it is maintained, "merely
the shadow, not the substance, of men or thino:s
The legend of Troy, for example, is at the most but

^ See K. O. Milller, Prolegomena zu einer wissenscbaftlicben Mytho-
logie, and other authorities accumuhxted by Grote, Ilist. of Gr. vol. i.
ch. xvi. ; with his own elaborate commentary on the same subject. To
most of what is urged by these authors, as to the error of the old prag-
matical mode of interpretation, we readily subscribe. But the rigid line
of dogmatical distinction which they would draw between history and
fiction, appeal's no less liable to the charge of f\xllacy and hypercriticism.
There is certainly no argument urged by them against a substratum of
fact in the legend of Troy, which would not, if consistently followed
out in principle, as completely disprove the existence of Charlemagne as
that of Priam and Asiamemnon.

Cu. II. §2. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 19

a dim reflexion of the fact that early warfixre existed
between the tribes of the western and those of the
eastern coast of the yE2:a}an. The vicissitudes of
the contest, as worked np in the Plomeric poems, are
but types of human conduct or destiny ; and tlie
chiefs and heroes celebrated represent the tutelar
deities Avorshipped by those primeval barbarous war-
riors."

For the better elucidation of this subtle question,
recourse must be liad to tliose first principles of
human nature in which all popular tradition has its
origin ; and which, as operating in every state of so-
ciety, and forming the foundation of all history, of all
poetry, and by consequence of all literature, would
here, apart from any secondary considerations, de-
mand a certain share of attention.

The disposition to preserve the memor}^ of past
events, of tlie great actions of our forefathers, or of
the benefits conferred by them on posterity, is a spe-
cies of rational instinct forming, perhaps, the chief
distinction between man in his rudest state and the
brute creation. This disposition is, accordingly, found
to prevail more generally, like other instincts, in a
primitive than in a civilised state of society, in pro-
portion as in the former the cares of the present are
less numerous, and the imagination is more free to
dwell on the past ; more, consequently, among a pas-
toral than a commercial people, more in the peasant
than in the artisan. In different nations, its in-
fluence will be found much in the scale of their
mental capacities. Among the Negroes and North
American Indians, races inferior in intellectual power
to those of Europe and Asia, it seems to be compara-
tively torpid. In the Indo-Germanic family of man-

c 2

20 HISTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

kind, especially the Greek or Pelasgic branch of that
family, it has been most powerfully implanted, and
most extensively developed.

To the same source from which the legends of a
simple people derive their permanence, may be traced
the mode in which they are embodied. The same
veneration for the great men of past ages which
impels their descendants to celebrate their actions,
also creates a disposition to exaggerate and embellish
them. This tendency to exaggerate, when reduced
to system, is called mythology ; the tendency to em-
bellish is called poetry. Not only was the subject
to be ennobled, but tlie language to be raised above
that of ordinary life, by combining elegance and
dignity of expression Avith the harmonious flow of
metrical numbers. Metre was also required to assist
the memory, and, in the absence or imperfection of
other technical aids, to secure to these primitive at-
tempts at historical composition, what was in fact
their original object, permanent preservation.
Arguments If this vicw of the risc and genius of legendary
flrmative" liistory be correct, the advocate of the older more
popular opinion might argue that " the leading tra-
ditions of heroic Greece, the wars of Troy and Thebes
for example, fulfil the conditions above laid down for
the blending of the poetical and the real in their com-
position. It cannot reasonably be doubted, that
martial enterprises were undertaken by primitive
Peloponnesian and Thessalian chiefs, and that they
fought and acted mucli as Agamemnon and Achilles
fight and act in the Iliad : and it is at least as pro-
bable that their wars were waged in the country
where Homer decribes them, as elsewhere. Nor,
therefore, is it easy to see why the descendants of

side.

Ch. ir. §3. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 21

tliosG chiefs should not have represented their ac-
tions poetically speaking, as they were performed,
and called the heroes by their own n;unes, rather
than by other fictitious titles. Although, in remote
periods of antiquity, pure fiction may gradually usurp
the place of traditional history, the case here in ques-
tion is one of those where such a change is least likely
to have happened. Admitting the first commence-
ment of authentic record to coincide with the Dorian
conquest of Southern Greece, and the main facts of
that revolution to be historical, it must be remem-
bered that the o-eneration celebrated in the Iliad is
represented in the same accounts as scarcely a degree
removed from that by which the same Dorian con-
quest was achieved. It is surely far from probable
that truth should so suddenly take the place of fic-
tion ; that the heroes who figure in Greek legend
should be allegorical personages up to the moment
when the Dorians crossed into Peloponnesus, and
should then at once be converted into real kings and
warriors."

3. The want of direct historical light on the le- Analogy of

T 1 r> /^ 1 • authentic

gendary annals oi Greece may, perhaps, in some history,
degree be supplied by the analogy of corresponding
periods in modern times, on which that light shines
more clearly. In our own middle ages, lines of
authentic chronicle and of fabulous tradition are
frequently observed running parallel to each other,
without, however, any appearance of the former exer-
cising an influence on the latter, either in supplying
its facts or correcting its fictions. If in tliese cases
the substance of the leading events of the prose
record is found universally or generally embodied
under the usual mythical disguise in the poetical

c 3

22 niSTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

legend, we licavc a fair ground of inference, that in
otlicr cases, where no such direct evidence exists,
poetical tradition may comprise real as well as figu-
rative matter. There can be no doubt that this
correspondence between poetry and history is com-
monty, if not invariably, perceptible, where oppor-
tunity occurs for tracing it, in the genuine heroic
legend of a people in a state of society similar to
that described in the Iliad. The examples supplied
by the epic minstrelsy of the modern middle ages
are numerous and obvious. The poetical legends of
Etzel and Dieterich, in the Teutonic, and of Beowulf,
Hengst, and Horsa, in the Saxon romance ; of the
Cid in the Spanish ; or of Chevy Chase and Otter-
burn in our own border chivalry, are, in their origin
and essence, as little connected with authentic history
in the technical sense, as are the poems of Homer.
Another case, perhaps still more in point, is that
of the Servian heroic songs ^, between which and
the Homeric poems analogy has frequently been
traced in illustration of other speculative points of
Homeric criticism. To these examples might be
added the ballads of primeval Rome, the mythical
details of which Niebuhr, no very indulgent au-
thority in such cases, has shown to have been worked
up, from the age of Servius downwards, on the same
kernel of authentic record which has supplied ma-
terial for his own critical history. Had the parallel
letter of monkish or pontifical chronicle, which in
each of these cases establishes the connexion between
fact and fable, been swept away, the element of truth
in the poems would not the less remain. And does

1 Ranke, Hist, of Servia, Mrs. Kerr's Transl. 2nd ed. p. 80. sqq.

Ch. II. § 3, GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 23

not tlie law of liistorical analogy justify the converse
of the rule ? Had the Iliad been composed in an age
when some barbarous chronicler, native or foreign,
some Jornandes or Paulus Diaconus, had possessed
the means of transmittinir in doiro-erel prose the main
facts which that poem embodies, might we not now
possibly be as well satisfied of the existence of Priam
and Agamemnon, as of that of Attila, the Cid ^, and
Percy Hotspur ?

There are also plausible grounds for assuming tlie
basis of fact to be broader and more solid, both as to
persons and events, in the Hellenic and Latin, than
in the Teutonic or Scandinavian minstrelsies, to which
appeal is usually made in illustration of this question
by the more sceptical school of commentators.^ The
mythology where Attila, Theodoric and Beowulf
figure as prominent characters, extending over a
wide expanse of countrj^ and a great variety of races,
afforded a corresponding scope for the corruption of
pure tradition, or the license of popular fiction.
The reverse was the case in Greece and Latium,

' The poem and liero of the Cid offer, perhaps, the nearest parallel,
in some respects a very close one, to the Iliad and Achilles of Homer.
The Cid is pronounced by Southey the oldest and best epic poem in the
Spanish language. Its origin, like that of the Iliad, is involved in deep
obscurity. Its adventures are highly mythological. Yet the real exist-
ence of its hero, and the substratum of history in its action, are beyond
the reach of controversy. Conf. Ticknor, Hist, of Span. Lit. vol. r.
p. 11. sqq.

- The romances of chivalry, to which appeal is often also preferred
in the same quarters, such as Pai-sival, Sangrcal, or Amadis de Gaule,
fictions for the most part of fantastical sophists of the corrupt middle
age of modern literature, can hardly claim to rank as popidar legend at
all, still less form a criterion for estimating that embodied in the Homeric
poems. One might as reasonably adopt the Pilgrim's Progress or Gulli-
ver's Travels as a test of the veracious clement in the ballads of Chevy
Chase and Otterburn.

c 4

2 4 HISTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

narrow regions, with a limited population of the
same race, and united by a powerful bond of national
feeling. The finer taste and more accurate genius
by Avhich early Greek literature is distinguished,
would also counteract the tendency to such extra-
vagant exaggeration of facts, or substitution of per-
sons as the parallel course of real history enables
us to detect in the " romantic " cycle of epic tradition.
The Iliad and Odyssey afford a striking illustration
of the distinction above drawn. In spite of their co-
pious ingredient of supernatural mechanism, and its
officious interference with human freedom of action,
whoever peruses those poems in an impartial spirit,
must be sensible of a greater tone of reality in the por-
tions of their narrative which profess to be real, than
in any modern composition of the same nature. Allow-
ance may also, perhaj)s, be made for the different state
of art and civilisation. It is diffi.cult to class the
men Avho erected or inhabited the noble structures
of Mycenae, and who certainly preceded the Dorian
conquest, in the same rank of mythical nonentity as
the barbarous seraidasmons who fio;ure in Northern
romance : we feel as if the existence of the former
ought to have been as intimately associated with
their residence, even in the popular legend, as that
of the Egyptian kings with their pyramids and
palaces. As further evidence of the ingredient of
truth in the legend of the Trojan war, might be
urged the vital connexion, in the w^ay of cause and
effect, between that event and so important a chajDter
in the real history of Greece as the colonisation of
Asia Minor; a connexion, partly immediate, partly
indirect, through the Dorian occupation of the mo-
ther-country, which latter event, in every version of

Cu. 11. § 4. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 25

the legend, is but a few generations removed from the
conquest of the Troad.^

To the above evidence, derived from individual
cases of historical parallel, another more general ar-
gument may be added from the same source. There
is scarcely a people of historical times, but can boast
of some real series of heroic adventure, around which
the poetical sympathies of later generations are
fondly concentrated. The Christian races, as a body,
look back to their crusades or sacred wars, as their
common repertory of chivalrous exploit or epic
celebration, with the same feelings as the Hellenes
looked back to the siege of Troy. In this wider
range, therefore, of common heroic adventure, as in
other more local instances already quoted, the really
national subjects of minstrelsy are acknowledged
to rest, in our own state of society, on some soHd
foundation of events and characters. Xone, how-
ever, of the nations of modern Europe can claim to
surpass, or even equal, the Hellenes, in zeal for the
memory of their great men and glorious achieve-
ments. It is the more difficult therefore to believe,
as the modern theory relative to the Greek heroic
aire assumes, that these same Hellenes should, alone
among nations under similar circumstances, have
bestowed their whole stock of chivalrous sympathy
on an entirely fictitious set of persons and enter-
prises, and adopted as the basis of their histor}^
geography, and genealogy, the events of a war which
never took place, and the destinies of heroes who
never existed.

4. Thus far the light of authentic history seems to Arguments

^ Sec further, Cook ii. Cli. xviii. § 7.

2G HISTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

on tho m-- fjiYQiQ. tliG populai' mode of interpretation. From
ihro-'''" the same source, however, are derived some of the
Nvorshu.. ^^^^^^ plausible arguments on the other side. " A
certain amount of the supernatural may, it is said,
be conceded, as the usual characteristic of all heroic
leo-end, even when founded on fact. But upon no
sound principle of historical analooy can we reconcile
with a human personality those divine attributes, and
that immediate descent from, and connexion with,
the popular deities, which form the common privilege
of the Greek heroes ; still less can we explain the fact
of the more distinguished among them having been
themselves worshipped as gods in the national pan-
theon. The true explanation of these divine attri-
butes oiFers itself obviously in the parallel mythology
of the Teutonic romances ; in which are frequently
found fifjurino', as real kino-s and warriors. beino;s
whom the subsidiary light of history proves to have
been originally gods, transformed in the fable into
men. The same law of historical analogy, therefore,
to which appeal has just been made, warrants the
inference, as to the heroes of Troy, that the divine
element of their nature w^as the groundwork on which
their human personality was afterwards engrafted."
In order to test the validity of this conclusion, it will
be necessary once more to revert to first principles.

The value of all historical analogy, as a means of
critical illustration, must depend on a right estimate
of the special circumstances by which the cases sup-
plying the parallel may happen to be distinguished.
In the present instance, for example, no appeal could
properly be made to the theological element of Teu-
tonic fable in elucidation of the Greek heroic mytho-
logy, unless on the understanding that the funda-
mental principles of the two systems of Paganism were

C«. ir. §4. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 27

the same ; or at least that no such difference existed
between them as to render illogical or improbable in
the one case, conclusions which might be probable or
certain in the other. It happens, however, that, in
respect to tlic peculiar feature now in question, the
Hellenic system of polytheism is marked by charac-
teristics exclusively proper to itself, and which pre-
clude, or rather reverse, the test of analogy which it
has here been proposed to derive from Teutonic ro-
mance. In order rightly to appreciate this distinction,
it will be proper to take a concise view of the various
elements of which the Greek pantheon is composed.

These may be divided into three classes : the first
comprises the purely divine portion of the system,
the ideal personifications of the Godhead and of its
attributes, common in a great measure to the Greeks
with other Pagan nations. These arc the personages
who figure as the great gods or royal family of
Olympus, whose divine nature is untainted by any
human alloy, and whose origin no rational interpreter
has ever proposed to trace to a historical source.

To the second class belongs the inferior race of
figurative abstractions, under which the lively imagi-
nation of the Greeks embodied its conceptions of the
ordinary phenomena of the moral or material world.
Such are the Muses, Graces, Lita3, Parca?, and other
representatives of human action, sufiering, or attri-
bute ; together with the River Gods, Xym[)hs, Naiads,
Tritons, and the rest of the subordinate train of ter-
restrial and marine deities.

The third class comprises the Demigods, or Heroes,
the human, as distinguished from the purely cosmo-
gonical, elements of the system. This class, according
to the popular opinion, consists, in great part at least,
of distinguished mortals promoted after death by an

HISTORICAL VALUE OF

Book I.

Human
apotheosis
peculiar to
Gra;oo-
Pelasgic
supersti-
tion.

admiring posterity to divine honours. As forming
by far the most important part of the system in con-
nexion Avith the present question, it must here be
submitted to a somewhat closer analysis.

5. The principle of human apotheosis, or, in other
words, of awarding divine honours to mortals, is not
only one of the most prominent characteristics of
Ilelleno-Pelasgic superstition, but one which distin-
guishes it from every other antient form of Paganism.
Among the Egyptians, Syrians, and other civilised
nations to the eastward, unlimited as was the scope
given to the representation of the Deity under human
type, the promotion of mortal men to the rank of
gods was altogether excluded ; or, if any approach to
such a thing can be recognised, it must be considered
in the light of anomaly, or violation of established rule.
Among the Greeks, on the other hand, the practice
can be traced with singular consistency, from the
earliest period of which tradition has preserved any
memorial, down to the final extinction of classical
heathenism. But the principle itself was too invete-
rate to give way even to a change of religion. It
was transferred from the Temple to the Church, from
the heathen to the Roman Catholic mythology, in
which system the canonised saints and martyrs offer
the closest analogy to the deified Pagan heroes.^

The most subtle casuistry can point out no generic
distinction between the apotheosis of kings or great

and

men in the historical ages of Greece and Eome,

^ This analogy is admitted, and aptly expressed, in tlie title " Divi,"
common to both Pagan and Roman Catholic demigods. The distinction
between classical and oriental superstition, as transferred to modern
times, is also observable in the strenuous repudiation by the Mahom-
medans of all siich hero-worshlj), the prevalence of which in the Roman
Catholic church has always supplied the Moslem divines with one of their
favourite weapons of polemical argument against Christianltv-

Cu. ir. § 5. GREEK JklYTllICAL LEGEND. 29

thiit of popular heroes in fabulous antiquity. What-
ever difference may exist is to be sought, not in the
spirit of the system, but in that of the times or cir-
cumstances. The identity of the system itself dis-
tinctly appears in the modifications it undersvent with
the vicissitudes of society. In the first place it may
be observed, that, while the practice of apotheosis
was common to all or most of the Gra^co-Pelasgic
tribes, to those namely, connected in blood and lan-
ffuao-e with the Hellenes, no vestif^e of it can be dis-
covered in any other quarter. In Italy we find it
common to the Romans, a people of kindred stock,
while among the Etruscans, a nation to all appearance
of radically different origin, their is no trace of it
whatever. As little can it be recognised among the
Germans or Celts. It is further remarkable, that, in
the dark as well as the historical ages of classical
Paf^anism, it is exemplified chiefly in monarchal, and
rarely, if ever, in republican states. This is in close
harmony with the hnv of nature to which its origin
has here been traced. It is chiefly in such a state of
society that individuals are enabled to acquire a de-
cree of power or influence over their fellow-men on
earth, sufficient to secure them a corresponding ho-
mao-e in the next world. In historical times, accord-
ingly, the practice was carried to the greatest excess
during the Roman empire; a period which, from the
spread of knowledge and religious scepticism, might
otherwise have been supposed least favourable to
such extravagance. Other examples might be cited
among the Spartans \ who, adhering to monarchal

' Of Lyciirgus, Ilerotlot. i. Ixvi. ; Pans, in xvi. 5. ; Aristot. aji. Plut.
in vit. xxxi. : of Lysander, Plut. in vit. p. 443. ; conf. Ilesych. ct Phot.
V. AuawSpiu • of Brasitlas, Tbucyd. v. xi. Xo sncli distinction was ever
conferred by republican Athens on any one of her citizens.

30 HISTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

forms, though tempered by republican institutions,
prided tliemselves also on heroic simplicity of man-
ners. The Macedonian monarchy offers illustrations
no less to the point than those derived from imperial
Rome. All these examples are marked by the sanie
spirit. The motives which deified a Csesar, an Alex-
ander, a Lysander, a Lycurgus, an Agamemnon, were
the same. The faith with which their divine cha-
racter was admitted, or the devotion with which they
were worshipped, might vary with times or manners :
but the original principle of apotheosis is identical
throuo'hout.
Bearings of 6. Tlic critic, therefore, who desires to avail him-
on'thetr. self of the light of history, in elucidating the obscu-
sent ques- ritics of licroic fable, will rcason as follows: Durino-
the whole period of classical antiquity on which that
light clearly shines, there exists proof of the preva-
lence of this custom, under the same forms described
in mythical tradition. By reference to historical
analogy, it were as unreasonable to deny, on the
mere ground of supernatural attribute, the real per-
sonality of Achilles as that of Yespasian. Were
we, then, after tracing the practice from the Caesars
back to the Ptolemies, to Lysander, to Lycurgus, sud-
denly, on arriving at the epoch in which it takes its
origin, to deny its existence, and, appealing to an
age and a people of different manners and religion,
to substitute in its stead another practice, of which
Grecian histor}^ furnishes no example, we should
obviously be shutting out historical light, instead of
availing ourselves of its aid. Perhaps, however, tlie
most pointed illustration of the Greek system of
apolheosis, and, generally, of the basis of fact in
classical fable, is that derived from the saint-worship

Cn. II. §6. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 31

of tlie Roman Catholic churcli. The arguments by
which it has been proposed to set aside the human
personality of Agamemnon or Achilles Avould equally
disprove that of St. Benedict or St. Francis. Many of
the Roman Catholic saints are gifted, in the legends
which supply the chief or only record of their exist-
ence, with attributes still more supernatural than
those ascribed by Homer to the warriors of Troy.
They have been promoted to celestial honours, and
worshipped, in all essential respects, as were the
Greek demigods, or deified heroes. Yet no one de-
nies that a large portion of them were real charac-
ters, connected with historical events. Xor is it
easy to see how an opposite inference can fairly be
drawn relative to the Greek heroes from any similar
process in the Greek religion.

No less evident is it, on the other hand, from the
same analogy of those chapters of mythology on
which the light of history shines most clearly, that, in
numerous instances, what Avere at first but visionary
objects of superstitious worship may have been in-
vested in popular fable with human attributes. The
admission, therefore, as a general rule, on the grounds
above stated, that certain leading heroes of Thebes or
Troy may have been real men, can as little extend to
them all, as a similar admission in regard to the Ro-
man Catholic saints or martyrs would involve a belief
in the human existence of all those holy personages;
many of whom are as purely fictitious as the Muses,
Fauns, or Dryads of antiquity. Any attempt to draw
a specific line of distinction between the real and the
fictitious clement of either the Romish or the Pa2:;an
Calendar, must, in the absence of all authentic cri-
teria, be obviously hypercritical. The views, on the

32 IIISTOEICAL VALUE OF Book I.

other hand, which specuhitive interpreters may be
led to adopt on the unsubstantial data at their
disposal, will vary so widely in different minds as
scarcely to leave a common basis on which to reason
with each other. The man who, by a careful study
of Homer, or the secondary organs of Homer's cycle
of mythology, has been led to the conviction that no
such town as Troy or no such warrior as Achilles
ever existed, will not easily be persuaded that he is
in error by the arguments of those who through the
same process have been led to an opposite conclusion.
Nor will the adherent of the popular doctrine be
more readily converted by his sceptical opponent.
Beyond the admission, therefore, on the grounds
above explained, of a certain basis of fact in the
leading adventures of the ante-Dorian period, such
as the Trojan and Theban wars, the more cautious
advocate of that doctrine will not be disposed to extend
his speculations.^

7. With respect indeed to the Homeric cycle of
heroic lieroic tradition, this inquiry involves to the literary
critic a somewhat deeper interest than attaches to
it as a mere question of historical fact. Every
reader of taste and feeling must be conscious how
essential to the full effect of a great national poem
is a conviction that its principal characters should
have been real men, not mere creations of fancy,
or types of moral and metaphysical abstractions.
In all the higher departments of imaginative art,
nature still constitutes an important element ; not
the mere imitation of nature, but nature as a sub-
stantial basis of the artificial superstructure. A

^ See further on this subject, Vol. IV. p. 315. sqq.

Homer's
cycle of

Cu. 11. § 7. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 33

picture by Raphael representing King Artliur or
Amadis de Gaule, and enibodjdng with all the genius
of that great painter the attributes for which romance
gives those heroes credit, could never speak home to
our sympathies with half the effect of a real portrait
even of Ca3sar Borgia or Julius 11, by the same artist.
Could it ill like manner be established that the events
which Homer exhibits as great national enterprises,
or the heroes by whom they were conducted, were
but the dreams of his own imagination or tliat of
his ancestors, the result would be, or ought to be, a
proportional diminution of our interest in the cha-
racter and fate of those heroes. To appeal again to
the analogy of our native minstrelsy : would not the
conviction that our AYallaces, Hotspurs, or Robin
Hoods, were mere imaginary beings, be accompanied
by a great falling off in the poetical value of their
exploits ?

Here, however, it naturally occurs, that the object
of all historical inquiry is the discovery of truth ; that
the question is not so much whether a conviction that
the heroes of Troy were real persons would enhance
the interest of their adventures, as whether the fact
be or be not so. It were, therefore, as unreasonable
for the literary historian to allow his judgement to be
influenced in any such question by mere considera-
tions of taste or feeling, as for the civil historian to
allow his admiration of a particular people or indi-
vidual to pervert his narrative of their actions, or his
estimate of their character. Rjut might it not be
urged on the other side, tliat tlie very conviction
which the perusal of the Iliad produces of the reality
of its story is in itself a species of internal evidence
in its favour? Arc we not conscious of an intrinsic

VOL. I. D

34 HISTORICAL VALUE OF Book I.

harmony between the characters and events of the
poem and the true genius of Greek heroic life, which
marks out those characters and events as human
chiefs and enterprises, with as broad a stamp of
truth as our own early minstrelsy imprints on its
men and deeds of renown in the semibarbarous ages
of Britain ?

There is one other class of mythical personages
who here demand a few words of special notice, from
the apparent anomaly of their being those who, as
a general rule, have the least pretension to real
existence, but who yet supply, in their purely
figurative capacity, some of the most valuable de-
tails of primeval history. These are the Eponyme
heroes or patriarchs who act as name-fathers or
founders of countries, tribes, or cities. When, for
example, we read that Dorus was son of Hellen, and
ancestor of the Dorians, as his father was of the whole
Hellenic race, we have an equal element of historical
fact, whether the two patriarchs be taken as real or
as symbolical personages- Hellen represents the
whole more highly gifted portion of the GraBco-Pe-
lasgic nation, who, spreading from their primitive
seats in Northern Greece, finally accjuired an as-
cendant throughout the continent south of the
Thracian mountains. Dorus is the type of a martial
subdivision of Hellenes, seated in remote ages in
the rugged region of Pindus, whence they migrated
southwards as conquerors of Peloponnesus. To
these and other similar ramifications of figurative
genealogy, the most fastidious commentators have
not hesitated to attach importance, as representing
the real vicissitudes of tribes and races.
Mythical 8. In proportion to the obscurity which involves

the historical ingredient of fabulous tradition, must

chronology.

Ch. II, § 8. GREEK MYTHICAL LEGEND. 35

be the vagueness and uncertainty of its chronology.
Where the existence of men or events is question-
able, no great benefit can be hoped from attempts to
define the duration of their lives, or the order of
their succession. The tenor of these researclies will
involve little or no reference to the details of m3'th-
ical chronology prior to the Trojan war. With that
epoch commences the most recent, and, in so far, the
best accredited, period of the fabulous age of Greece.
In treating of this period it will suffice to adopt the
received system of reckoning, for the few prominent
dates which even here can advance any claim to an
authentic character. Such are the interval of about
sixty years, from the fall of Troy to the jEolian
settlement on the conquered territory, and of twenty
years, between the latter event and the Dorian de-
scent on Peloponnesus. This standard epoch will be
taken according to the estimate of Eratosthenes, the
most critical of antient chronologers, but without im-
plicit deference to his authority, at 1104 B.C., being
328 years prior to the first Olympiad, as fixed in
776 B.C. The first standard date of the partially
historical period subsequent to the Dorian conquest
is the Ionian migration to Asia Minor in 1044 B.C.
Far more important is the epoch of the final esta-
blishment of the Olympic games as the leading
national festival of the Hellenic confederacy in 776
B.C. This epoch, it need scarcely be remarked, is
acknowledged, by the general consent of modern
critics, to rest on authentic evidence ; and the qua-
drennial returns of the festival supply, henceforward,
a more regular, though far from complete or certain,
record of dates and events.'

' See Table of Eratosthenes, ap. Clinton, Fast. Ilellen. vol. i. p. 140. ;
Grotc, Hist. Gr. vol. ii. p. 49. ; and Vol. IV. of this work, p. 77. *iq.

D -z

PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF

Book I.

CHAP. III.

PRIMEVAL HlSTOnr OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

I. ORIGIN AND AFFINITIES OF THE GREEK NATION AND LANGUAGE. PELAS-

GIANS. 2. IIELLI, HELLAS, AND HELLENES. 3. HELLENE, AS A COMMON

TITLE OF THE GREEK NATION, LATER THAN THE DORIAN CONQUEST.

4. GREEK TRIBES SFECLVLLT CLAIMING A PELASGIC ORIGIN IN LATER

TIMES. 5. RELATION BETWEEN THE PELASGIC AND HELLENIC TONGUES. —

6. VIEWS OF HERODOTUS. 7. THEIR VAGUENESS. — 8. PELASGIANS OF ITALY.

GR^CI. 9. MACEDONaA. ASIA MINOR. ISLANDS.

Origin and 1. It was ail Opinion universally received among the
^^^"^^|.gj,,°^ antients, that the Greek territory was originally
nation and possessed bv the people familiarly called Pelaso'ians.
Peiasgians. Hcncc, in thc popular legend, the primitive name
of the whole country is said to have been Pelasgia,
and the local traditions of each district commonly de-
scribe its first occupants as of Pelasgian race.^ The
term came, accordingly, to be significant of remote
and venerable antiquity ; and those tribes who in later
times claimed by preference an indigenous origin, also
asserted a superior purity of Pelasgian descent. The
internal evidence of these traditions, combined with
that derived from philological sources, indicates the
people distinguished by this title to have been sub-
stantially the same race as the Hellenes or later in-
habitants of the country. Both may be considered
as sections of the great body of nations comprised by
modern ethnographers under the name of Indo-Teu-
tonic ; who, in the infancy of society, issuing from

1 Horn. II. /3. 681. et Scliol. Bek. ; Hesiod, frgg. 54, 55. 224. ed. Marck-
schefFel ; Acusilaus, frg. 10. 12. Didot; iEschyl. Prom. 859., Suppl. 250.
sq. ; Herodot. ii. 56., vii. 94, sq., viii. 44. ; Thucyd. i. 3. ; Ephor. frg. 54.
Did. ; Strab. p. 221. 327. ; DIonys. Hal. Ant. R.i. ; Steph. Byz. v. UeAo-
irSuvrjcros ; Schol. Venet. ad II. tt. 233.

Cii. III. ^ 1. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 37

their primeval seats in Central Asia, and spreading
south-eastward over the Indian peninsula, and north-
westward across the lAiropean continent, sent forth
branches into those portions of it which jut into the
Mediterranean sea.

The more accurate researches of the present age
into the history of human speech have established,
that the languages of those nations who, in antient
or modern times, have been preeminent for extent
and variety of intellectual powers, may be classed
into comprehensive trees or stems, distinguished from
each other by an essential difference, both in their
elementary roots and their organic structure. Each
of these stems subdivides itself into separate families,
marked, in their secondary capacity, both as to roots
and structure, by certain pervading features of affinity
referable to a primitive common type. The subor-
dinate members of these families again, according to
the greater or less resemblance which those mem-
bers, in the vicissitudes of the tribes by whom they
were spoken, may have preserved to each other, fall
to be ranked, respectively, as separate tongues, or as
separate dialects of the same.

Of these original trees or stems of language, the
most widely spread and most highly cultivated is
that familiarly known, like the nations to which it
Avas common, by the name of Indo-Teutonic. Among
its families the most remarkable are, the Sanskrit, or
primitive Hindoo ; the Zend, or primitive Persian ;
the Teutonic, or Germanic ; and that body of lan-
guages which, adopting the usage of the native au-
thors, will liere be entitled Pelasgic, comprising, with
the several Greek dialects, many other varieties pro-
bably, of which no literary remains have been trans-

D 3

38 PKIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

mitted. The accuracy of this latter head of arrange-
ment, or rather of the sense in which the term Pe-
lasgic has been applied to it, will, it is hoped, be sub-
stantiated in the sequel.

The letter of the popular tradition, by specially
characterising the Pelasgians of Arcadia^ and Attica-
as indigenous, would seem to place the earliest settle-
ments of that people in Southern Greece. It is, how-
ever, more probable in itself, as well as more congenial
with the spirit of the same tradition, that the pri-
mitive inhabitants of the Greek continent should have
passed downward from its northern frontier to its
maritime extremities, than that, landing on its outer
promontories, they should have spread into the in-
terior. A strong argument in favour of this view
exists in the circumstance, that the oldest and most
revered common sanctuary of the race was in the
north, established, as usual in the early ages of Pa-
ganism, on the loftiest mountain ridge of the district
preferred. This sanctuary was the oracle of the
great Dodonasan Jove, in the rugged highlands of
Thesprotia. Had the first seats of the Pelasgians
been in Peloponnesus, that peninsula would doubtless
have remained their sacred land, Ta^'getus or Cyllene
their sacred mountain. The national divinity would
hardly have been banished to a recent and dreary
back settlement. This remote northern region, whe-
ther from the sanctity with which it was thus in-
vested, or from its own inaccessible character, seems
to have escaped the effects of those revolutions to

' Xenoph. Hell. vii. i. 23. ; Dionys. Hal. i. xvii. ; Ephorus, frg. 54.
Did.

- Herodot. i. 56. ; Thucyd. i. 2. ; Deraosth. de fals. Leg. p. 424. ; coiif.
Clinton, F. H. vol. i. p. 57.

Ch. in. §2. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 39

which the rest of the Pelasgic land was subjected in
after ages. Accordingly, while its inhabitants pre-
served to a late period, under the subsequent Hellenic
ascendancy, their antient habits and privileges. Do-
dona and the Dodona?an oracle remained, both to
Pelasgian and Hellene, the fountain head of their
earliest and most sacred associations.

2. The tribe who dwelt around the temple, and hpih,
Avere charged with the sacerdotal functions, bore the Hellenes,
distinctive name, in Homer's time, of Selli or llelli.^
This title Avas also common to other communities
of northern Pelasgians, under certain varieties of
form, betraying clear traces of the same etymology.
The most remarkable of these varieties is that of
Hellas, appropriated by Homer to the whole or a
principal part of Thessaly-, and which afterwards,
becoming obsolete as a provincial term, was extended,
too-ether with the influence of the tribe from whom
it was derived, to the whole continent of Greece. On
the western coast, below Dodona, the names Ellopia,
Hylli, Selleis, proper to a countr}^, a people, and a

' II. TT. 234. et Scbol. Venet. ; Find, ap Strab. p. .328., frg. 31.
Boeckh ; Soph. Trach. 11G9. ; Aristot. Meteor, i. c. 14. ; Hesycli. v."EAAor

oi"EWriues ol iv AcoScoj't;.

- II. (i. 683., I. 39.5.; Od. 5. 726. Herodotus, accordingly (vii. 176.),
describes the Thessalians, or earliest Hellenes, as a colony of the Dodo-
na?an Pelasgi, or earliest Helli. Later authorities, in the usual blending of
fable (Schol. Venet. and Eust. ad II. ir. 234. ; Philost. Imag. ii.), made
the Ilelli colonists from Thessaly, as the Ilelhis Proper. The popular
derivation of IlelUis from Ilellen is an obvious reversal of the just ety-
mology. Hellas signifies a land of the Ilelli ; Ilellen, a man of Hellas,
as distinct from the 2">rimitive Ilelli of Epirus. Of this legendary con-
nexion of tlie Ilelli and the Hellenes, by nuitual colonisation, trace is
also observable in Homer's notice (II. /3. 750.) of a Dodona in the north
of Thessaly, in a position parallel to that occupied by the more renowned
sanctuary of the older western Hellas ; also in the legend of the Xosti,
which described Peleus as migrating with his family, after the death of
Achilles, from the Thessalian Hellas to Molossia. Couf. Vol. II. p. 287.

j> 4

40 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

river, afford evidence of the same national appella-
tive in that ref^ion.^ The Hylli, described by respect-
able authors as " Hellenes," also appear in Southern
Greece as one of the three tribes of the Helleno-
Dorian conquerors of Peloponnesus.^

Tradition is more uniform as to the fact of the
name Hellas having been extended from Thessaly,
together with the power of the Hellenes or Thes-
salian Helli, over Southern Greece, than explicit as
to the circumstances under which that extension took
place. Among the proofs of an early ascendancy of
the former region may be urged, that jMount Olj^mpus,
originally no doubt but a favourite seat of the Thes-
salian Jupiter, had obtained, at the epoch of the
Trojan war, a precedence in dignity over all the
other sanctuaries of Greece, even over that of Do-
dona. In the obscure ages of Paganism, the rise
and fall of religious establishments afford a fair cri-
terion of the fluctuations of rank in the tribes to
which they belonged. Thus in the Pelasgian period
Dodona was the chief, or, according to Herodotus,
the only, common sanctuary of the nation. On the
rise of Hellenic power, the Olympian Jupiter obtained
the highest honours. The dignity of his Thessalian
sanctuary declined in its turn, from the period when
a new tribe of conquering Hellenes transferred his
worship, under the same title of Olympian, to the
banks of the Alphelis. The " lofty Olympus " now
sank, comparatively, from an object of religious ve-
neration, to one of mere poetical celebrity.

1 Hesiod. frg. 149. ; Stepli. Byz. v. 'EWunir) ; Strab. p. 327. sq. ; Schol.
Ven. ad II. ir. 234.

^ Scymnus Cliius, 407. ; TImte. et Eratosth. .np. eund. ; conf. MUll.
Dor. vol. I. p. 11. ed. 1824.

Ch. III. § 2. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 4 1

Specific notices of these changes are supplied by
both Herodotus and Thucydides. " Formerly," says
the latter author \ "the inhabitants of Greece were
not known by the common title of Hellenes. The
different tribes, Pelasgians chiefly, bore each its
proper appellation. Ikit when Ilellen and his sons,
becoming powerful in Phthiotis, took other states
under their protection, the Avhole race, through the
alliance and influence of those heroes, came to be
called collectively by their name." In conformity
witli this account, Herodotus- states that the Athe-
nians, originally Pelasgians, had adopted the name
and character of lonians from Ion, a Hellenic chief
to whom they had intrusted the command of their
army. The Achasans and lonians of Northern Pelo-
ponnesus, also indigenous Pelasgi, had a like tradition
re2:ardino: the same hero : and the iEolian settlers
in Asia JMlnor are similarly described as drawing
their names from chiefs of Hellenic blood. ^ These
notices imply that the Pelasgians of Southern Greece,
a less energetic people than those of the Xorth, ha-
rassed by internal dissensions or hostile aggression,
had invited their more warlike kinsmen to their aid,
Avho, in return, exacted submission or vassalage, and
ultimately extended their dominion over the whole
Greek continent. Among the leading features of the
Pelasgian character, an unsettled migratory spirit is
always pointedly mentioned. It may hence be in-
ferred, that many tribes, unwilling to submit to their
new allies, crossed the sea in search of other habi-
tations. Certain it is, that no record occurs of any
great contest for supremacy, nor indeed of any actual
warfare, between Pelnsglan and Hellene. This fur-

1 I. 0. 3. ^ vm. 44. 3 Ilcrod. vii. 04. s(\

42 TRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

nishes another argument of the close affinity of the
two races. The easy manner in which their political
interests, manners, and language blend and coalesce,
were scarcely conceivable in the case of nations of
radically different origin.

The term Pelasgian thus became obsolete, as a
generic title of the Greek nation. The dominant
tribes, priding themselves on their distinctive names
of Ionian, Achaean, ^olian, or, collectively, of Hel-
lenes, dismissed the primitive common appellative;
just as the Romans would have disdained, in the days
of their Italian supremacy, to be called Latins.
Afterwards, however, when the memory of these
events had faded, the name Pelasgian continued to be
applied, in an antiquarian sense, to the population of
certain districts supposed to have remained more or
less free from Hellenic encroachment. Hence the
apparent anomaly, that, while tradition invariably
represents the Hellene as the conquering, the Pelas-
gian as the subject race, yet several of the proudest
states of Greece 2;loried in the latter title as indicatinsf
a superior purity of Grecian blood. In its more
specific sense it was limited, from the age of Homer
downwards, to certain tribes beyond the frontiers of
Greece Proper, whose language and manners bore a
resemblance to the Greek, though not sufficient to
constitute them Hellenes ; or who were held to have
migrated in remote ages from Greece. This view,
however, of a primitive common character in the
aboriginal population, need not be understood neces-
sarily to comprehend every individual people in-
habiting the Greek continent prior to the Hellenic
ascendancy. The Pelasgic land may have contained,
in those unsettled times, various tribes of different
race from the mass of its inhabitants ; some of which

Cn. III. § 3. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. APt

tribes, when driven into other regions, may, in riglit
of their former phice of al)ode, have acquired the
surname of Pehisgians, in common with their fellow-
emigrants to whom it more properly belonged. Such
may possibly have been the Lelcges, Caucones, and
other communities, who appear in later tradition
among the early non-Hellenic occupants of Greece :
but it is more probable that these were themselves
Pelasgian tribes, who had obtained notoriety under
their own peculiar titles.^

3. These accounts of an early extension of the neiiene, as
Hellenic name to the whole Greek nation, however titieofthe
universally received, seem yet but little in harmony ^^^lon
with the fact, that in the earliest authentic standards
of the Greek language, dating several centuries sub-
sequent to the events in which the more extended
usage is supposed to have originated, no trace of any
such usage can be detected. I>y reference to these
standards, so far is this generic application of the
term Hellene from appearing as an immediate result
of the ascendancy of Hellas Proper, or Thessaly, that
the first symptoms of it are observable at a period
when that re2:ion had. forfeited the hiirh character it
enjoyed during the heroic age, and when its natives
appear, in comparison with those of Southern Greece,
rather in the liiiht of Thracian barbarians than of
lineal descendants of the Lapitha3 or iEacidai. This
discrepancy between fact and. tradition has been
noticed by Thucydides.^ That acute author, after
alluding to the extension of the name Hellene, as a
consequence of the dominant influence of the Thes-
salian patriarch, adds, that yet, in the age of Homer,
the title was still confined to the single district from

1 Thirlwall, Tlist. of Gr. 2(1 cd. vol. i. p. 47. - i. 3.

44 TRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

which it was originally derived. In order rightly to
appreciate this remark, and the anomaly to which it
refers, a few observations will be necessary on the
poet's ordinary use of the term Hellene, and others of
a like nature habitually occurring in his text.

The only names common in the Iliad to the Avhole
Greek nation are, Achasan, Argive, and Danaiin.
They may all be traced to the influence of the Pelo-
pidan or Atridan dynasty at the period of the
Trojan war. The first was the proper name of the
people over whom that dynasty more immediately
reigned ; the second was derived from Argos, its seat
of government ; the third from the earlier fabulous
Argive rulers, the reputed foreign importers of the
arts of civiUsed hfe into Southern Greece. " Hellas,"
on the other hand, with Homer, denotes, in its narrower
sense, a province of Thessaly, the antient seat of the
dominant " Hellenic " dynasty ; and there are traces of
an occasional extension of the name to the whole of that
region. But there is no appearance of its employment
in the same general sense as the three others above
mentioned. The question then arises: How happens
it that the titles Hellas and Hellene, derived from a
hero or a tribe flourishing long prior to the Trojan
war, should yet not be found in general use until
several centuries subsequent to that event ? What-
ever may have been the early influence- of the Hel-
lenic race, the extension of their nam.e, reserved for
so much later a period, must be explained by a sub-
sequent cause,
laterjhan That causc, there can be little doubt, was the
Dorian conquest of Peloponnesus, an event which
produced important changes, both in the social con-
dition and in the language of all Greece. From that
event and its consequences dates the first distinct

the Dorian
conquest.

Cu. III. § 3. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 45

separation of the dialects, as they prevailed in later
ages, -with a more settled use of the proper names of
the tribes by whom they were spoken. That the
spread of the name Hellene was also a result of tliis
revolution may be inferred from the fact pointedly
noted by Herodotus, that the Dorians of Pelopon-
nesus in his day claimed, apparently with his appro-
bation, a superior purity of Hellenic character over
their fellow Greeks. The lonians, Athenians, Acha^ans,
and /Eolians, are with him aboriginal Pelasgi ^, who,
from motives of policy or necessity, had ado[)ted
the Hellenic name. The Dorians, on the other
hand, he describes as the genuine Hellenes, in
direct line of descent from the eponyme patriarch of
the whole race, through their ancestor Dorus, son of
that patriarch.^ It seems then, that these new tribes
of Hellenic conquerors were in the habit of distin-
guishing themselves, by this honourable title, from
what they considered the degenerate semi-Pelasgians
among whom they settled. The same cause, there-
fore, which produced the extension to the whole
nation of the names Achaean, Argive, Danaan, in
Homer's time, the ascendancy of the dynasty to
which each properly belonged, would here tend
to the same effect. To the north of Thermopylae
the Hellenic name already prevailed. When spread
over Peloponnesus, it would naturally extend to the
intermediate district, and from the motlier country
to the colonies ; all of whom, like their European
kinsmen, retained the tradition of a former adoption
of the character, if not the name, of Hellenes.'^

1 vn. 94. sq. " i- 56.

^ Another important change in the geographical names of the Greek
continent, tending further to illustrate the argument of the text, was the
introduction of the term Peloponnesus to denote the southern peninsula
of that continent. That this title was not introduced by the hero Pclops,

TRIMEVAL HISTORY OF

Book I.

Tribes
specially
claiming a
Pelasgic
origin.

4. Before ofFering any special remarks on the Pe-
lasoic ton<zue in its relation to the classical Greek,
a short notice will be desirable of those districts the
inhabitants of which, in historical times, advanced a
peculiar title to unmixed Pelasgian descent.

In Greece itself, besides the Athenians and several
kindred states already noticed, the Arcadians ^ en-
joyed an especial claim to this distinction, grounded,
partly on their primitive simplicity of manners,
partly on the ruggedness of their soil, which had pre-
served them from foreign invasion. On the north-
western frontier, the Helli and other neighbouring
tribes have above been cited as the oldest Pelas-
gian stock ; and various small Pelasgian settlements
are mentioned on the eastern coast of Thrace^, the
western shores of the Hellespont and Propontis, and
the neighbouring islands of Lemnos, Imbros, and
Samothrace.^ The Pelasgians of Asia Minor, of the
islands of the iEgean, and of Italy, were considered as
early colonists from Greece, driven by the encroach-

nor foi' long after liis supposed epoch, is also proved by the negative
authority of Homer, equivalent in any such case to historical evidence.
The word signifies the " Island of Pelops ;" it being a familiar catachresis
with the Greeks, especially the Dorians, to apply the term island to
peninsulas, as for example in the names Chersonesus, Halicarnessus, and
others. It may be presumed, therefore, that, after the fame of the Pelo-
pidan power had spread to distant quarters, its central seat was known
among the mountaineers of Doris as the " Island (or Peninsula) of
Pelops." This title, when they took possession of the country, they
might naturally continue to use as a memorial of their victory, in prefer-
ence to that of Argos, which, as appears from Homer, the same district
bore among the ejected inhabitants. Accordingly, the earliest author of
any certain date who employs the new term, and that in the same tri.
umphant strain above referred to, is Tyrtaus, the national poet of
Sparta. Frg. i. 4. Bach. ; conf. frg. viii. 7.

^ Hesiod. frgg. 54. 55. ; Asius, ap. Paus. Arcad. i. 2. ; Pherecyd. ap.
Dion. Hal. i. 11. ; Ephor. ap. Strab. p. 221.

2 Herod, i. 57. ; Thucyd. iv. 109. ; Schol. Apoll. Eh. i. 987.

3 Ilerod. V. 26., vi. 137. ; conf. NIeb. Rom. Gesch. vol. i. p. 33.

Cu. m. § 4. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 47

mcnts of tlic Hellenes to seek new habitations beyond
sea. It is however probable that many of those
tribes were aboriginal settlers, portions of the great
migratory body, which, on its iirst movement, may
have struck off to the east or westward, while the
main stream pursued its course in the direction of
the Laconian promontory. On the coast of Asia
immediately south of the Troad, Homer ^ mentions
Pelasgians among the allies of Priam ; and later
authors describe the whole ^Eolian coast, with part of
Ionia, and the adjacent islands of Chios and Lesbos,
as once possessed by them.^ In Crete also they are
nunibered by Homer ^ among the five nations who
jointly inhabited that island at the period of the
Trojan war.

Of the Pelasgian tribes of Italy ^ the most cele-
brated are those called Tyrrheni, or Tyrrhenian Pe-
lasgi. By this title they are distinguisiied from the
people of radically distinct character called by Latin
authors Etruscans, by the Greeks also Tyrrheni, by
whom the greater part of the Italian peninsula had
been subdued before the first familiar acquaintance
of the Greeks with its interior. In Greece itself, this
title of Tyrrhenian Pelasgi was more immediately
applied to a wandering race, said to have migrated
from Italy at a remote fabulous period ; and who,
after various adventures in Thessaly, Bocotin, and
Attica, finally removed to the coasts and islands of
Thrace.^ In Upper Italy, Spina, at the mouth of the

1 II. 3. 8 40.

2 Strab. p. 221. G21. ; Diod. Sic. v. 81. ; Con. ap. Thot. Narr. 41.

3 Od. T. 177.

* See Niebulir, Rora. Gcsch. vol. i. p. 2G. 42. sqq. ; Cltiver, Ital. ant.
p. 428. sqq.

^ jNI^rsilus, ap. Dion. Hal. i. 23. 28. ; Ilerodot. vx. 137. sq. ; Tliucyd.
IV. 109.; Strab. p. 401.

48 PRDIEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

Po, Ravenna \ Pisa, and C^ere, with the intermediate
Tuscan coast from the Arno to the Tiber 2, and the
inland towns of Cortona and Falerii", claimed a Pe-
laso-lan foundation. From the Pelaso-i of Latium
Dionysius considers the Romans to have sprung, with
a certain admixture of foreign blood ; and, to the
south, Pompeii, and other neighbouring towns of
Campania, were also reputed of Pelasgic origin.^ The
same character was assigned by early Greek histo-
rians to the CEnotrians, or primitive population of
Lucania^ ; and, in later times, the agricultural serfs
of the Hellenic colonies on that coast, the remains of
the previous inhabitants, bore the distinctive title of
Pelasgians.*" The antient geographical names of this
region also vouch for a connexion with the opposite
continent of Greece. A principal tribe of Lucania
were the Chonians or Chaonians, whose name was
common to a people of Epirus. The antient capital
of the Lucanians was called Pandosia, as was that
of the Molossians on the Greek coast. There was
also a Caulonia in each country, and a notable river
of each was the Acheron. These coincidences have
received lustre from one of the last expiring gleams
of the Delphic oracle, shed on the declining fortunes
of the celebrated Alexander Molossus, who, shunning
the supposed fatal city and river of his native country,
met his death in the still more fatal region of the
kindred coast.'^
Relation ,5. Tlic Drimcval affinity of the Pelaso;ic and Hel-

between •/ o

thePeias- Icuic tougues, which, though now very generally

1 Hellanicus, ap. Dion. Hal. i. 28.; Plin. iii. '20.; Strab. p. 214.

^ Scymnus Chius, 216. ; Servius ad Mn. x. 179.

^ Dion. Hal. loc. cit. ; cf. 20. sq. * Strabo, p. 247.

^ Ap. Dion. Hal. i. xi, xiil. ^ Stepli. Byzant, v. Xios.

^ Nieb. Rom. G. vol. i. p. 59. 62. ; Mull. Dor. vol. i. p. 6.

Cii. lU. § 5. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 49

received, is yet far from beiiinj beyond the pale of b'c«"ii
controversy \ has, in the preceding pages, been in a tongues.
great measure taken for granted. It remains, by a
somewhat more specific train of inquiry, to establish
the existence of that affinity on a solid basis.

The relation between Hellene and Pelasgian, upon
the view above adopted, may be illustrated by a
parallel pair of terms in our own day : German and
Teutonic. What is now familiarly called the Ger-
man is the classical language of Germany with its
various dialects. The German, however, is itself but
the most cultivated variety of a numerous family
of tongues, which, under the common title of Teu-
tonic, comprises the Anglo-Saxon, Danish, Dutch,
and others.^ Similar Avas the connexion of the Hel-
lenic and the Pelasgic. The latter was the family
or tree of which the former was the most flourishin":
branch ; and as the classical Greek, in historical
times, offers numerous varieties of idiom, the same,
it may be supposed, was the case with the degenerate
or less cultivated growths.

* On the afllrmative side see Miill. Dor. vol. i. p. 6., and Die Elrusk.
Einl. ; Clint. Fast. Hell. vol. i. p. 92. ; Giese, Der Aeolisclie Dialect, i. 3. ;
Thirlw. Hist, of G. vol. i. ch. ii. ; of. Nieb. Rom. G. vol. i. p. 2G. sqq. For
tlic opposite view see Kruse, Hellas, vol. i. c. v. ; Grotc, Hist, of Gr.
vol. II. p. 34-5. To the authorities in favour of the common origin of the
two nations may be jidded tliat of Lepsius (Uober die Tyrrhen. Felasger ;
conf. Annali dcU' Inst. Archeol. 1836, p. 186.). But the Italic inscriptions
selected by him as specimens of Pelasgian dialect seem to contain very
faint traces, if any, of Hellenic etymology, and tend, consequently, but
little to strengthen his argument.

- To pursue the analogy, the English, Dutch, and Danes wnidd, in
the classical sense, have ranked as " Felasgians," in comparison witli the
Germans Proper, or "Hellenes" of the central country; and it might
equally have become a question, in the Ilerodotean school of philology,
whether the three former ought to be considered as Barbarous or as
" Hellenic" races.

VOL. I. E

50 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

In turning to the authorities bearing on this
opinion, the inquirer cannot fail to be struck with
that neglect of critical philology which forms so
prominent a distinction between antient and modern
literature. As regards the grammatical treatment of
their own language, the Greek critics equal, indeed,
or surpass those of all other nations, in the subtlety
of their speculations and the bulk of their commen-
taries. But with this national department of the
science they were content. The study of foreign
tongues never, either as an object of curiosity, or as
an aid to historical investigation, formed with them
a distinct class of pursuit. This is a peculiarity of
Greek literary history which will require to be noticed
more in detail hereafter. Attention is now directed
to it, merely as bearing on the question immediately
before us.

The Pelasgians were considered by the antients as
standing to the Hellenes somewhat in the same re-
lation as the Anglo-Saxons to ourselves. The Anglo-
Saxon is a dead language, and a knovdedge of it,
consequently, is of little practical utility in the
present day. Yet its study continues to be zealously
prosecuted, as well on account of its philological as
of its antiquarian interest. With the Greeks the
case was different. The allusions in the extant clas-
sics to the Pelasgian dialects, spoken or extinct, are
so scanty or so vague, as to prove that their affinities
had never suggested matter for serious scrutiny.
Philological evidence, therefore, of a tangible cha-
racter, bearing on our present inquiry, fails com-
pletely. The substance however of the existing
notices amounts, at least, to a general understanding,
on the part of the Greek public, in favour of the views

Cii. III. §6. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 51

expressed in the previous pages, and wliicli m.'iy be
more distinctly stated under tlie following heads:

I. That the term Pelasgian indicates a primeval
family of cognate tribes and dialects, from wliich the
Hellenic people and language derived their origin.

II. While the neif2:hbourino: shores of the ^lediter-
ranean were occupied, from the earliest period, by
races speaking a variety of radically distinct tongues,
there existed no trace or memory of any language
not essentially Greek within the boundaries of Greece
itself.

III. Those portions of the Greek population who
were admitted to have retained, with their primitive
seats, their native character and speech unimpaired,
were considered, in right of this qualification, genuine
descendants of the old Pelasgic stock.

IV. The criterion for distinguishing, beyond the
limits of Greece, a Pelasgic people from other alien
tribes, was the resemblance of their language to the
classical Greek.

6. It will here at once occur to the advocates of views of
opposite views, that this assumed harmony on the "^'' ° "*'
part of the native writers is disturbed by a passage
of Herodotus, which, while the most specific that has
been preserved on the subject, seems also, on first
"View, at variance with the above theory. It has here
been subjoined entire, as containing a considerable
portion of matter vitally bearing on this whole train
of inquiry.

" AVhat the Pelasirian lan2;uai^e was, I cannot dis-
tinctly say; but, if we may judge from the Pelasgi
who inhabit the town of Creston above the Tyrsenians,
(and wlio were once neighbours of the people now
called Dorians, for they formerly possessed the country

E 2

52 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

since named Tliessaliotis), or from the Pelasgians of
Placia and Scylace on the Hellespont who were once
settled among the Athenians, or from any other tribes
orio;inally Pekisgian who have adopted other names,
if we may judge from these, the Pelasgians must have
spoken a barbarous tongue. If, therefore, the whole
Pelaso-ian race were of this character, the Athenian
people, being Pelasgians, on being converted into Hel-
lenes, must, also, have changed their language. For
the Crestonians and Placians, while they do not cor-
respond in dialect with any of the surrounding tribes,
correspond with each other, which shows them both to
have preserved the dialectical peculiarities by which
they were distinguished when they migrated into
those countries.

" But the Hellenic race, from its first existence,
has always used the same language. Being originally
weak when split off from the Pelasgians, it increased,
advancing in power, from small beginnings, to a great
multitude of nations, chiefly in consequence of many
other barbarous tribes unitino- with it." ^

Did this passage stand alone, it might tend, no
doubt, to invalidate the views here advocated. In
connexion, however, with others in the same work, it
assumes a different aspect. Apart from its historical
importance, it also possesses value, from the lively
manner in which it reflects some of the characteristic
peculiarities of its author. On the one hand it dis-
plays that spirit of candour and diffidence in the dis-
cussion of obscure topics which forms a principal
charm of his style ; on the other, a certain vagueness
both of argument and conclusion, consequent on the
imperfection of the critical art, which may be con-
sidered less his own fault than that of his age.

1 I. 57. sq.

Ch. Iir. § 6. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. oS

Hence, however valiuible in themselves, the state-
ments it contains will he I'ouiid hut little in harmony
with each other, and altogether at variance with those
advanced in subsequent portions of his history.

The literal value of the passage, as affecting the
present question, lies chiefly in the application of tlie
term " barbarous " to the language of those Thracian
communities, as compared with the classical Greek.
Some commentators have understood the phrase to
impl}', not a different language, but merely a rude or
corrupt Hellenic dialect. But this interpretation,
though in some degree countenanced by parallel
texts of Herodotus, is here scarcely admissible. The
word is one, indeed, of very loose signification. In
its origin it denotes, like some similarly expressive
terms in our own tongue, simply harsh, discordant,
or uriinteUig,ible. Afterwards it came to indicate
whatever was opposed to Hellenic, either in speech,
or, by a natural transition, in origin or manners ;
and may hence, in the familiar usage of classical
times, be often translated " foreign," as the substan-
tive " barbarian " denotes simply foreigner. It is also
occasionally used, in its more primitive signification, to
express anything rude or savage either in character or
language, and in this sense is applied even to people
of admitted Greek origin. Upon the whole how-
ever, in the spirit of the historian's general argument,
there can be little doubt of his having meant to stig-
matise the dialect of these tribes as a "foreign "tongue,
in the literal sense, compared with his own. On the
other hand, it is not to be supposed that his opinion
was the result of any actual analysis of its structure
or affinities, a task for which Herodotus was probably
as little disposed as qualified ; nor, consequently, is

E 3

54 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

his evidence, even on the least favourable interpreta-
tion, sufficient to dis|)rove its connexion with the
Greek. The two may still have resembled each other
as much as the Swedish the German, or the Spanish
the Italian. In each of these cases the difference
is such as to constitute, in the familiar sense, the
one a foreign tongue, as compared with the other,
although in each the critical inquirer discovers a
close affinity. The vicissitudes which these Thra-
cian tribes had under2:one, durino; several centuries
of migration, might alone suffice to alter their dialect
to such an extent as would justify the expression of
Herodotus.
Their 7. In applvino;' their case, however, to the nation

at large, the historian speaks somewhat diffidently.
" If," he remarks in the sequel of the same context,
" the whole Pelasgian race were of this description,
tlie Athenians, being Pelasgians, on adopting the
Hellenic character must havechano;ed their lan^-uao-e."
He overlooks the question, whether it was not more
likely that two petty tribes, wandering for centuries
over the European continent, should have changed
their language, than that an independant stationary
Greek community should have undergone any such
metamorphosis. The modern philologer must reason
differently. With him the fact, admitted not only
by Herodotus but by the general consent of antiquity,
that the Athenians were an indigenous Pelasgian
people, must amount to proof that the Pelasgic and
Attic languages were substantially the same. There
is no foreign element in the latter to warrant the
belief of its having been subjected to any radical
change not common to the other Hellenic dialects.
The notion of so sudden a revolution in speech and
liabits as these Attic Pelasgians, with their neigh-

Ch. III. § 7. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 65

bours the Aclia^ans and lonians, are supposed to have
undergone " on the Hellene Ion being appointed
general of their army," as elsewhere stated by the
same Herodotus \ is chimerical. In historical times,
examples occur of provinces attached to a great
empire abandoning their own tongue, and adopting
that of the dominant state. But this can only be
the result of complete subjection to a conqueror of
more advanced civilisation than the indigenous race.
No such conquest of Attica is, however, recorded in
Greek tradition. Xot only do all other leading au-
thorities- bear testimony to the pure " Hellenism" of
its inhabitants, both in character and dialect; but
Herodotus himself ^, in his usual candid spirit of self-
contradiction, describes them in the sequel as the
most antient race of .autochthonous " Hellenes." The
same title to indigenous Pelasgic origin, combined
with Hellenism of manners and language, is pointedly
extended by both Herodotus^ and Strabo' to the
Arcadians. The latter author further observes*^ that
the dialect of these mountaineers, owing to its close
similarity to that which Dorian influence spread over
the rest of Peloponnesus, came to be comprised under
the common head of Doric. This correspondence
between the language of the Pelasgian aborigines of
the south, and that of the Dorian immigrants from
the north, described by Herodotus as the genuine Hel-
lenes, is in itself conclusive evidence of a i)rimitive
community of Greek character in the two races.
Another remarkable scries of passages in Herodotus

' VIII. 44., MI. 94. sq.

=2 Thuc. I. 2. ; Plato, Menexen. p. 245. d. ; Isocrat Panatben. c. 132. ;
conf. Clint. F. H. vol. i. p. 57. By Plato and Isocrates the term Hellene
is here used as synonymous with that of Pelasgian in Herodotus.

3 VII. IGl. ' II. 171. ^ Page 221. 388. « Page 333.

E 4

56 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book t,

abundantly proves that, amid his crude sj^eculations
on these isolated Thracian tribes, he was himself
under the habitual impression, common to the mass
of his countrymen, that Pelasgians and Hellenes were
radically the same people. Treating of the origin of
the Greek religion, he observes^ that "the names of
such of the gods as were not derived from the bar-
barians were of Pelasgic invention." Here, there-
fore, Pelasgian and Barbarian are no longer synony-
mous, but distinctive terms. " The Pelasoians," he
adds^, "formerly sacrificed to the gods under no
separate names, calling them generally &so6g, as
having placed in order (^oV/xco (lsvr=s) the universe."
Here the Pelasgians are made not only to use the
Hellenic name for the gods, but to form it out of
another Hellenic root by a subtle exercise of verbal
etymology. He then relates^, among other exam-
ples of " barbarian " influence on the early Greek
religion, how " the Phoenicians, having carried off two
priestesses of the Theban Jove, sold them as slaves,
the one to the Libyans, the other to the Hellenes.
The Egyptian woman, on her arrival in the district
of Thesprotia, now called Hellas but then Pelasgia,
becoming familiar with the Hellenic tongue, commu-
nicated her mysteries to the natives." The Dodo-
na3an fable, Avhere this priestess was figured by a
black pigeon, he interprets as allusive to her " bar-
barous speech," which induced the natives on her
arrival, " before she had acquired the Hellenic tongue,
to call her the Pigeon, those who speak a barbarous
language being held to chatter as birds." She could
hardly have acquired the Hellenic tongue from a
Pelasgian people, had the two languages been radically
distinct. But without scrutinising details, it is plain

' "• 50. 2 II. 52. 3 „ 54 gjj

Ch. III. § 7. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 57

that, tlirouglioiit tins wliole series of passngcs, the
terms Pelasgian and Hellene as applied to the primi-
tive population and dialect of Greece, are so entirely
synonymous with each other and opposed to barljarous,
that unless Herodotus be understood, in writing this
portion at least of his work, to have been under a full
conviction of their virtual identity, his text is alto-
gether nugatory. In another passage he pointedly
calls the Dodonasans Hellenes, in the most specific
sense, as distinct from the barbarous races to the
north. ^

The Dodona3an sanctuary was long the most re-
vered oracular fane of the Greek nation. Both Homer
and Hesiod describe it as familiarly consulted by their
heroes ; but it can hardly be supposed that all civilised
Greece was used to receive the divine commissions in
an unintelligible dialect, from a barbarian priesthood.
In those days, therefore, the Pelasgian ministers of
the oracle must have been Greeks. Aristotle, accord-
ingly, in recognising the identity between their title
lielli and that of Hellene, acknowledges the common
origin of the two races, describing the Dodona}an
territory, with others the primitive Pelasgia, as the
" most antient Hellas." ^ No classical author seems
to have doubted that these ministers of Jove had,
with their antient seats and privileges, maintained
their language unimpaired. It is also evident, from
the details given by Herodotus of his own intercourse
with them, that in his time that language w^as Greek,
as are the names of the three priestesses whom he
mentions.

^ IV. 33. The same is indirectly said of the Molossians (vi. 127.).
It need scarcely be added, that the term Pelasgian is hal)itually and con-
stantly applied by the tragic poets to the aboriginal Hellenic population
of Greece.

* Meteorol, i. 14.

58 PKIMEVAL HISTORY OF Booii I.

Peiasgi of 8. A no less decisive proof of the substantial affinity

Italy

of the two races, or at least of the general conviction
of classical writers on the subject, is the familiar
manner in "svhich the term Pelasgian is applied to
colonies, settled in foreign regions at periods beyond
the reach of authentic history, but distinguished from
the surrounding nations by Grecian manners and
language. Italy is the country which offers the most
important illustrations of this usage. Unlike the
neighbouring continent of Greece, which from time
immemorial had been occupied by the same race, that
peninsula was divided among tribes differing from
each other in origin and speech, many of whom re-
tained their distinctive character up to a late period.
To the question therefore, what was the criterion
for distinguishing the Pelasgians of Italy from their
neighbours the Etruscans, Oscans, and Umbrians,
the answer invariably recurs, their resemblance to,
or identity with, the Hellenes. Spina, for example,
at the mouth of the Po, is celebrated by Hellanicus,
Dionysius, and others \ as one of the earliest and
most powerful Pelasgic settlements in that country.
Strabo ^ however, in treating of the same city, calls
it Hellenic, adding, in proof of the distinguished cha-
racter it formerly bore as such, that it possessed a
treasury at Delphi. The same author ^ calls C^ere, or
Agylla, which he also states to have had its Delphic
treasury, a Pelasgian city. That the term Pelas-
gian is here employed as equivalent to Grecian,
appears from the popular fable he recounts of the
change of the name Agylla to Caere by the Etrus-
cans. These conquerors, on appearing before the

^ See page 47. note 6. supra.

^ Page 214. ; conf. Tlin. m. 20. 3 Pa<ve 220.

Ca. III. § 8. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 59

place, called out to the people on the walls, cle-
maiuliiig its name. Their address, not being intel-
ligible to the Agyllians, was answered simply by
the Greek salutation, Chaire, Hail ; which word, the
strangers, in their turn, mistaking for a reply to their
question, adopted as the Etruscan title of the town.
Both the story and the etymology are trivial, Ijut the
argument is not the less valid in favour of the pre-
vailing conviction that the Pelasgians spoke Greek.
The testimony of Dionysius, the author who treats at
greatest length of the Italian Pelasgi, is no less con-
clusive. One favourite object of his great historical
work is to prove that the Ivomans were of Hellenic
origin ; this he does ^ by deducing their descent from
the Pelasgians. A people whom he calls Aborigines
are described, after expelling the Siculi, as "coalescing
with the Pelasgians and other Hellenic tribes," from
wdiicli union sprang the Romans. The Pelasgians of
Thessaly, from whom he derives those of Italy, are
also characterised by him as " a Hellenic race " in
laniruasfe and habits.^ Amonof their heroes he men-
tions Acha3us, Phthius, and other patriarchal Hellenic
chiefs ; and, throughout his commentaries, the two
terms Pelasgic and Plellenic are constantly used as
identical, while the names of most of the Pelasgic
cities of Italy which he enumerates betray a palpable
Greek etymology.^

' 1. passim, ii. 1. ; conf. Pint, in Komulo, init. That the old Latin
tongue contains a copious element of Greek, or rather of a language
closely akin to the Greek, is certain : but it also contains a large amount
of words and forms of a different character. This Dionysius explains by
an early mixture of a Pelasgic with a barbarous population. Modern
scholars are now rather disposed to class the Latin as an independant
branch of the common Indo-Teutonic stem.

- I. 17.

^ Vclia, Agylla, Pyrgi, Alslum ; to which may be added, Pisa, Thrasy-

GO TRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

GrsDci. Aristotle ^ divides the Pelasgi of tlie '' primitive

(Dodonasan) Hellas " into two tribes, the Selli of
Hoiner, and those " formerly called Gra3ci, but now
Hellenes." The latter, therefore, were, in Aristotle's
estimation, a subdivision of the same people, who,
while their brethren remained stationary around
the oracle, migrated into Southern Greece, and ex-
tended their influence over the entire nation. A
branch of the same Gr£eci (which name also occurs
like Pelasgi, though more rarely, as the poetical title
of the whole race) were evidently the Pelasgian co-
lonists of Central Italy, whom Dionysius, probably on
similar grounds with Aristotle, brings from Northern
Greece, and who retained, in their transmarine pos-
sessions, the old national title which became obsolete
in the mother country. This seems the only ex-
planation of the otherwise strange circumstance, that
the familiar Latin name for the " Greek " nation
should be derived from an obscure tribe of Epirus.
In the same way may be explained the practice,
so inveterate with the Latin poets ^, of calling the
Greeks, even of the purely Hellenic age, Pclasgians ;
while the name Hellene rarely, if ever, occurs in their
text in its generic sense.

Macedonia. 9. The questiou concerning the extent of territory

mene, Maleventum, Grumentiim, Buxentum, and others ; conf. Niebuhr,
vol. I. p. 46. 50. notes.

^ Meteorol. i. 14. Stephaniis Byz. (v. rpaiwJs) quotes Soplioclcs
and Alcman as having called the "mothers of the Hellenes" rpal/ces, by
an obvious play upon the two words TpaiKos, Grajcus, and Tpa7a, ma-
trona. Hesiod, in his " Catalogues," makes Grsecus son of Jupiter, by
Pandora daughter of Deucalion. Frg. xx. et Goettl., cf. not. ad 1. Conf.
Callim. ap. Strab. p. 216. ; Nieb. Rom. Gesch. vol. i. p. 57. ; Clint. F. H.
vol. I. p. 20.

2 From Ennius downwards :

" Cum veter occubuit Priamus sub Marte Pelasgo."

Cu. m. §9. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 61

over wliich the Pelasgic lanf^uage may at any period Asia Minor

, -IT- • "• • • } 4. -l.^ Islands.

nave prevailed, is one requiring a nearer insight than
"vve are ever likely to possess, into the relative degrees
of affinity which may have subsisted between the
classical Greek and any neighbouring dialects not
recoirnised as Hellenic. The Macedonians, whose
territory extended along the whole northern frontier
of Thessaly, offer certainly, at the period when they
first assume prominence in Grecian history, many of
the distinctive characteristics of a Hellenic people.
r>y some writers ^ accordingly, they have been
classed as Pelasgians ; while others, more strongly
impressed with the non-Hellenic features of their
character, stigmatise them as barbarians. Macedonia
had, at a remote epoch, been colonised by Dorian
adventurers from Argos -, by whom the native tribes
seem to have been first combined into one body
politic, under a settled form of government ; and there
can be no doubt that the language of the court and
the upper class was solely or chiefly Greek. The
country appears, however, from the first to have been
held by a mixed population ; the interior by bar-
barous tribes, the maritime district of Pieria and
Emathia, from the mouth of the Peneiis to that of tlie
Axius, by a Pelasgic race. Of Pieria this may be
considered certain upon grounds stated in a sub-
sequent chapter '^ and the antient names of various
Emathian localities also betray a Greek etymology.
These were the countries first occupied by the Argive
colonists, from which they extended their dominion,
and partiall}', it may be presumed, their language,

1 yEschyl. Suppl. V. 248. ; .Justin, vii. i.

- Hdt. vui. 137. ^ Ch. viii. § 2.

62 PRIMEVAL HISTORY OF Book I.

over the mountainous region to the westward.^ Hence,
althougli vestiges still remain of a barbarous ele-
ment, the Macedonians certainly appear an essentially
Greek people, in all material respects, at the epoch of
their political ascendancy. Of the Thracian, Illyrian,
and other more northern tons-ues, the little that is
known leads to tlie inference that they were alto-
gether barbarous.

Besides the tribes of Italy and Asia Minor specified
as Pelasgic by the antients, the same character has
been ascribed by modern critics, on speculative
grounds, to other primitive nations of the latter
region. The Trojans, it has more especially been
urged, are represented in the Iliad as a people almost
identical with the Greeks, in language, religion, and
manners. JNo value can, however, attach to the
argument, so much pressed by the advocates for this
affinity, that the Trojan warriors are made by the
poet to speak the same language, and frequently bear
the same names, as his own countrymen. It is one
which obviously proves too much ; as equally tending
to estabhsh the dialects of distant Asiatic nations,
Chalybians, Paphlagonians, even Phoenicians or Egyp-
tians, to have been Greek. Poets in every age claim
the privilege of giving foreign names a turn more
congenial to native ears, and even of substituting
new names from their own vocabulary, when occasion
requires; and unless Homer had made his heroes of all
countries converse in Greek, that is, mutually under-
stand each other, he must have abandoned the com-
position of his poems. The same familiar intercourse

' Mliller, Dor. vol, i. p. 2. sqq., Ueb. die Maked. p. 50. sq. ; conf.
Sturz, de Dial. Maced. ad calc. Maittair de Diall. ; Jablonsk. de Ling.
Lycaon. Opusc. vol. iii. p. 28.

Ch. III. § 9. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. (13

which occurs in tlie Iliad between Greek and Trojan,
also takes place in the Odyssey between Greek and
Egyptian or Lajstrygonian. An interpreter is here
as little required as between the Tyrian Dido and her
Trojan guest in the ^Eneid. It might, indeed, be
urged, that, whatever be the case with names invented
for poetical convenience, those of the principal heroes
ought to have preserved some near resemblance to
native originals. If this test be applied to the chief
characters on the Trojan side, Priam, Hecuba, Paris,
Hector, Pandarus, their names will scarcely be found
referable to pure Hellenic etymology ; while several
of the older titles, Ilus, Assaracus, Dardanus, have
an Oriental turn. Other, such as Erichthonius and
Laomedon, are plainly Greek ; but whether owing to
poetical license, or the true genius of the Phrygian
tongue, may be a question. Alexander Avould seem
to be the Greek translation of Paris, as Xanthus, the
" yellow river," that of Scamander. The correspon-
dence pointed out by antient critics between cer-
tain elementary words in the Greek and Phrygian
languages can prove but little.^ The rule must rather
be held to be the reverse of the exception. Tra-
dition, however, may seem to afford indirect evidence
of the Pelasgic origin of the Trojans; Dardanus, the

^ Plato, Cratyl. p. 410. a., TrCp, uSwp, kvo>v. These three words arc found,
under certain varieties of form, in all or most of the Indo-Teutonic
tongues. Greater importance attaches to the very curious Phrygian in-
scriptions first observed by Leake, and more recently transcribed and
published by J. R. Stuart, Ant. Mon. of Lydia and Phrygia, 1842.
The alphabet is here archaic Greek ; and the phrases FawojcTd, Pacnkata,
fxaTfpes, fiOTtpay, afraj, are evidently Greek formations. The context,
however, in which they arc encased is, to all appearance, barbarous.
Whether this mixture reflects a primitive Pelasgic element in the Phry-
gian tongue, or a later blending of barbaric and colonial Greek dialects,
is a question for the solution of which these scanty remains hai-dly supply
sufficient data.

64: PRIMEVAL HISTOKY OF Book I.

founder of their state, being described in one account
as a settler from Samothrace, in another from Ar-
cadia, in a third from Cortona in Italy, all acknow-
ledged seats of Pelasgic population.^ Less plausible
are the claims urged by modern writers in favour of
the nations in the south and east portions of the
Asiatic peninsula, Carians, L}Tlians, Lycians, to Pe-
lasic origin ; an honour never conferred on them by
the antients. Of their language but little is known.
The extant Lycian inscriptions are unintelligible,
though dating from a period when this region enjoyed
the full benetit of Greek civilisation, and written in a
variety of the Gr£Eco-Pha3nician character.

Tn spite of the maritime power of the Phoenicians,
Greek population and influence appear to have pre-
vailed from the earliest period, not only in the islands
in the immediate vicinity of Greece, but in more distant
parts of the MgsosiU. The Cyclades and Sporades
must have been, in wliole or part, Greek from a re-
mote age ; the seat of one of the most popular objects
of national worship, the Delian Apollo, being esta-
blished in the midst of the group. In Crete Homer ^
describes a mixture of tongues, the island being
divided among five difl'erent tribes : Acha?ans, Cre-
tans Proper, Cydonians, Dorians, and Pelasgians. It
may be a question, how far allusion is here made to
a mere diversity of dialects ; how far the languages
of the second and third tribes in the list, where alone
a connexion with the Greek family is doubtful, are to
be considered as distinct ton2;ues. No trace how-
ever exists of any barbaric dialect among the Cretans
of historical times.

' Heyne, Exc. vi. ad J^ineid. iii. - Od. t. 175.

Cu. IV. §1. THE GKKEK LANGUAGE. C5

CHAP. IV.

FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

. LEGENPS OF EGYPTIAN AND nifENICIAN SETTLEMENT IN GREECE. 2. rill-

LOLOGICAL OBJECTIONS TO THE EGYPTIAN LEGEND. — 3. lUSTORICVL OBJEC-
TIONS. 4. GREEK PREJUDICES CONCERNING EGYPT. — 5. PHCENICIAN LEGEND.

HISTORICAL AND PHILOLOGICAL EVIDENCES IN ITS FAVOUR. — 6. THE PIItE-

NICIAN ALPHABET. 7. ITS ADOPTION BY THE GREEKS. — 8. MODIFICATIONS

IT UNDERWENT. VOWELS. 9. ERROR OF THE POPULAR DOCTRINE ON THE

SUBJECT. GREEK NUMEK.VLS. MODES OF WRITING.

1. It may be laid down as a universal rule, founded on Legends of
the experience of all history, that no extensive social ami Phm-
influence can be exercised by a civilised on a com- ""'''" f *'

'' tlemcnt in

paratively barbarous people, witliout a corresponding Greece,
influence on its language. The traditions, therefore,
concerning colonies settled in Greece by nations of
different origin and more advanced culture, assume an
innnediate philological as well as historical interest
in their bearings on this portion of our subject.

That the Greeks, before their first settlement in
Hellas, liad already made some progress in the arts
of civilised life, is evinced by the fact, that the
Hellenic terms expressive of many of those arts are
common to other nations of the same original stock,
established in widely separate regions. The terms
themselves must, therefore, in eacli case, have been
brought, with the objects or wants which they denote,
from some primeval common seat of elementary
culture. No value, consequently, can attach to the
commonplaces which so often serve as introductory

VOL. I. F

6d foreign influence on the Book: I.

to researclies into the early history of Greece, de-
scribing its inhabitants as a race of undomesticated
savages, dwelling in caverns, and feeding on wild
fruits, until trained by Oriental strangers to habits
of industry and social life. Still, however, it seems
to be established, by a strong body of native tradition
as well as critical evidence, that foreign adventurers
settled in Greece during its fabulous ages ; that tliey
contributed to the civilisation of its inhabitants, and
exercised a proportional influence, however slight, on
the native vocabulary.

The most celebrated of these colonies are those
said to have been led by Cecrops to Athens, by Danaus
to Argos, and by Cadmus to Thebes. The two former
adventurers were, according to the popular accounts,
EgyjDtians ; the latter, a Phoenician. A tliird Egyp-
tian settlement is that fabled in the legend of Hero-
dotus to have been established at Dodona, in the
person of a priestess of Jupiter Ammon. Another
reputed Pha3nician colony was that of Minos in
Crete, an isLand which not only ranked from the
earliest period as a Hellenic land, but rivalled the
most favoured parts of the Greek continent in pre-
cocity of culture.

The historical substance of the legend relative to
Phoenician settlement in Greece is supported by
evidence, direct or circumstantial, such as can seldom
be brought to bear on matters of remote Hellenic
antiquity ; and Avhich, as involving a question of
vital importance in the eai'ly annals of Greek litera-
ture, the origin of the alphabet, will receive its due
share of attention in a subsequent page.

With the supposed Egyptian colonies the case is
different. That Cecrops or Danaus, or the foreign

Cn. IV. §2. GREEK LA^'GL•AGE: KGVITIANS. 67

navigators figured under these names, really were
Egyptians, that is, genuine Misra'iinites or Clie-
niites, as the popular legend bears, is a ])oint of
classical mythology ^vhich involves, M'hen tried by
the test of modern criticism, serious or insuperable
diiUeulties. These difficulties arc of two kinds, \)\n-
lological and historical. Those of the former class,
Avhile more immediately connected with the present
subject, are themselves also perhaps the most weighty.
They may be reduced to a single head, the absence
of any such element of Egyptian in the Greek language
as could not fail to have been apparent, had the in-
fluence exercised by the one people on the early
civilisation of the other been such as it is represented
in these traditions.

2. Eew subjects offer greater obstacles to the clas- I'liiioiogkai
silication of ideas under specific terms, than the to the
affinities of human speech. There are ])robably no k|end.'^°
two languages, at least of the old world, however
radically distinct, but present such points of corre-
spondence as can hardly be explained otherwise than
by assuming, at some remote period, a closer con-
nexion between the nations by whom they are spoken,
than can have existed since the settlement of those
nations in the region where history first discovers
them. Even where, on the other hand, the resem-
blance between two forms of speech is such as to
admit of their being classed as mere dialects of the
same tongue, there may frecpiently be detected in
each an admixture of elements foreign to the general
character of either. The philologers of the old school
were used to explain these phenomena by the hypo-
thesis of a primitive common language, confounded
or corrupted into many, by a special dispensation of

I' J

()8 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

Providence, in the infancy of our species. Hence a
variety of tongues, each retaining a portion of the
orio-inal stock, and each subjected to changes in the
subsequent vicissitudes of society. This theory, amid
all the refinements of modern specuhition, still remains,
perhaps, irrespective of its sacred authority, as pro-
bable a solution of the enigma as critical ingenuity is
likely to suggest.

Numerous, however, and complicated as are these
modes of dialectical affinity, they may yet, as a me-
dium for illustrating the parallel modes of national
connexion, be brought under three more general and
comprehensive heads : I. That slight correspondence
of single words, solely or chiefly expressive of primary
ideas, which is often observable in languages radically
distinct from each other, and may be referred to the
common origin of the human race, in some cases
perhaps to accident ; II. That close affinity of struc-
ture, as well as roots, which indicates a more imme-
diate derivation from some secondary parent stock ;
III. Where the resemblance can be traced, after the
full formation of each language, to the direct influ-
ence of the one upon the other, by colonisation, con-
quest, or social intercourse.

It is obvious that these various degrees may be
blended or modified by incidental circumstances.
Thus the second and third will both obtain where
two nations, originally speaking cognate languages,
are afterwards brought into closer social contact. Of
this there are numerous familiar examples in every
age. Again, it is clear that, where the third degree
is traceable, it must, or may, be accompanied, to a
certain extent, by the first ; so that, in every such case,
the amount of admixture arising from subsequent

Cu.lV. §3. GUKEK LANGUAGE: EGYPTIANS. G9

intercourse could only be accurately estimated by
deducting -what was more properly due to the re-
moter, more general cause.

The Egyptian and Greek languages arc admitted
not to belong to the same fan)ily, but are essentially
distinct in character and structure. The degree of
affinity, therefore, which would naturally be per-
ceptible, assuming no mixture of the two to have
taken place, would be that enumerated as the iirst
class. But had the Egyptians, as the legend would
persuade us, established dynasties in the I'airest parts
of Hellas, the case were different. Had they taught
the Greeks the Iirst principles, or more subtle observ-
ances of reliii'ion, trained them in the usas^es of do-
mestic life, or the arts of war and government, traces
of these benefits could not fail to have been preserved
in a proportional amount of that secondary corre-
spondence between the two vocabularies which repre-
sents social intercourse. Ko such correspondence,
however, is observable. All that can be traced is of
that elementary nature which may obtain between
radically distinct tongues, where no such intercourse
has ever been pretended.

o. But the arguments derived from philological ni^tomai
sources are not the only obstacles to the credibility
of this tradititjn. They are powerfully corroborated
by the dissimilarity of the habits, social and religious,
of the two nations, so long as each preserved its
genuine character. Among the national peculiarities
of the Egyptians, here more immediately in point,
'svas a [)roverbial dislike to foreigners, an aversion
to quitting tlieir own country, or admitting the
visits of strangers. In early ages, to eat meat with
a Hebrew was an '• abomination to the Egyptians : ''

F 3

70 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

and Herodotus^ asserts that tliey abhorred all foreign
usages, especially those of the Greeks, to the extent
of esteeming it a profanation to kiss the face of a
Greek, to make use of a Greek knife or cooking uten-
sil, or even to taste the flesh of an animal cut up with
Greek instruments. The same author, who yet would
have us believe thnt the Greeks derived all their ele-
mentary civilisation from this very people, dwells
with admiration on numerous other peculiarities in
which the religion and manners of Egypt differed
from those of all other countries, but especially of
Greece.^ The Egyptians were divided into castes ;
their religious ministers, whether of male or female
deities, were exclusively men ; their clergy shaved
their heads, beards, and other parts of their bodies ;
and the whole male population considered the rite of
circumcision indispensable to purity. They wor-
shipped animals, embalmed their dead, wrote in hiero-
glyphics, and abhorred swine's ilesh. In all these
particulars the practice of the Greeks was the reverse
of that of their supposed instructors. They knew no
distinction of castes ; consecrated females to the high-
est sacerdotal offices ; their priesthood were neither
shaved nor circumcised; they burnt their dead; knew
none but alphabetic writing ; ridiculed animal wor-
ship ; considered pork among the first of delicacies,
and an acceptable sacrifice to the gods.

Another important feature of distinction between
the two races, as bearing on the present question, was
the proverbial abhorrence of the Egyptians for mari-
time enterprise. Sea voyages were looked upon as
sacrilegious, pilots and naval officers as infamous per-
sons, and salt water as an impure object. The sea

' II 35. sqq. 41. #1. - ii. passim.

Ch. IV. § 3. GREEK LANGUAGE: EGYPTIANS. 71

and the coasts of tlie Delta were emblems of Typhoii,
or the Evil principle ; sea-iisli and sea-salt were among
tlie chief articles of unclean diet.^ This feature of
Egyptian character is confirmed by tlie whole testi-
mony of antiquity, sacred and profane. In the detailed
accounts of Egyptian power by the Hebrew prophets,
the only circumstance of national o-reatness omitted

*J CD

is naval force. Neither ships nor maritime commerce
are ever alluded to. Homer's negative evidence is
equally strong. He covers the sea witli PhdMiician
traders ; and there are few coasts or islands of the
Mediterranean but are represented by him as carrying
on some species of navigation, whetiier for freight or
piracy. But throughout his varied descriptions, al-
thouo'h he brings his heroes to the shores of the Nile,
he never hints at an Egyptian ship or an Egyptian
traveller in any foreign country. It is, indeed, cer-
tain, that there were no seaports at the mouth of the
Nile in early times ; nor was the residence of stran-
gers in the country permitted until the time of Psam-
metichus (G50 b. c), the first author of this, as of
many other innovaUons on old national usage. "^

The difierence between the ":enuine Pajranism of
the Greeks and that of the Egyptians, notwithstand-
ing the pains taken by speculative writers in every
age to identify the two systems, is as broadly marked
as that in the national character of the races. The
afiinities of polytlieism admit, like those of language,
various degrees of subdivision, upon closely analogous
principles ; and it is only from an ignorance or a mis-
application of those principles, that the popular schools

' Plutarch, S}Miipos. viii. ([u. 8. ; rorplivr. do Ab.^^ iv. 7.; .J:ibI(>iK-k.
TaiitlK Eg. iir. p. SI.

" Dioil. Sic. I. 31. G7. ; Sirab. \\ 801. 819. ; IKroil. u. 1.34.

F 4

72 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

of mythology, from Herodotus clownwarcls, have been
accustomed to consider the Dodonasan Jove as an
emanation from the Theban Ammon, or the Attic
Minerva as sprung from the Neit of Sais. For the
better elucidation of this point, one of no trifling in-
terest in the intellectual history of Greece, it will be
proper to consider the various modes in which coin-
cidences between the objects of worship in different
countries might arise.

The first is that mysterious connexion of certain
primitive cosmogonical fables, common, under various
forms, to most of the nations of the old world, and
which seem to point at some parent stock of tradition
as well as of language.

The second comprises those incidental points of
similarity inherent in the essence of all polytheistic
systems, where the chief deities are but personifications
of the objects which most forcibly affect the senses or
the imagination ; where, therefore, different races, in
pursuing the same track, would naturally stumble on
the same conceptions. It were indeed surprising, if,
between the deities of love, of war, of agriculture, or
of the vintage, as worshipped in different regions,
there should not spontaneously occur near points of
analogy, even among nations of widely different origin
and character.

The third mode is where superstitions, already pe-
culiar to one country, are directly transferred to an-
other, by colonies, conquest, or otherwise. Here the
resemblance, in name or attribute, can seldom fail to
be so palpable as clearly to betray the source in
which it originates.

In applying these criteria to any parallel features
in the Paganism of Egypt and of Hellas, we must dis-
embarrass our minds of the fanciful analogies of the

Cu. IV. § 4. GREEK LANGUAGE: EGYPTIANS. 73

popular pantheon; and, forgetting tlie incongruous
compounds of Jupiter-Amnion and Horus- Apollo,
place the Greek system, as figured in Homer, by the
side of the Egyptian, as illustrated by tlie native
monuments. No two sets of idols can well be ima-
gined more distinct in name or character.^ Any
small amount of actual correspondence is plainly re-
ferable to the first or second of the above three
sources. At a later period, when Egypt was opened
to foreign settlers by Psammetichus, a close con-
nexion by social intercourse was formed, which, in
the Macedonian and Roman periods, amounted to an.
almost entire blending of the two pantheons.

4. It might indeed be asked, why should a proud Later
people be so ready to acknowledge their most import- prdudicci.
ant national institutions to be the mft of strangers, concerning

. o ' Egjpt.

rather than the fruit of their own invention, unless
there were some real groundwork for the belief?
The answer is to be found in the characteristic zeal
displayed by the Greeks of later times to establisli
analoiries between their relio:ious rites and those, not
only of Egypt, but of all other Pagan nations. This
peculiarity may be attributed, partly to a disposition
to classify and theorise, inherent in the subtle genius
of the race ; partly, perhaps, to some natural instinct,
which kil them, amid the darkness of their own poly-
theism, to acknowledge a principle of unity in the
deity, and by consequence an aboriginal connexion be-

' Yet Herodotus says (ir. 52.) that " formerly tlie Pelasgians bad no
separate names for the ^jods, until they learned them from the Ejj:yptians."
The lii:<torian must be presumed to use the phrase ovofxa in this passage,
not in the literal sense, but in that of denomination, personality,
character ; for it were diflicult, certainly, to imagine two sets of names
dilTcrinpr more entirely from each other than those of Zeus and Amnion,
Apollo and Ilor, Artemis and Bubastis, Hermes and T!:6t. The contrast
miirht be extendcil tliroii'di \]u; whole I'antheuii.

74 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

tween his popular types in different countries. Hence,
as each of the surrounding nations had its own poly-
theistic system, they were seldom at a loss to discover
a new variety of Jupiter, Apollo, or Minerva, in
Thrace, Syria, Libya, or any other country into which
their theological researches were extended. The same
Venus whom they indentified with the Egyptian Athor
was still more frequently derived from the Phoenician
Astarte ; and Jupiter himself, who is at one time
styled Amnion, is at another as confidently surnamed
Belus. Consistently, however, with the guiding prin-
ciple of their speculations, it suggested itself, that,
among these varied forms of the same divinity, some
particular one must be the prototype of the others.
The award of this preference to any one nation would
naturally be regulated by its claims to superior anti-
quity of social culture ; and the region which could
not fail to occur to a Greek was Egypt. The serenity
of its climate, the spontaneous fertility of its soil, its
early advance in art and science, and the splendour
of its monuments, all seemed to guarantee its title to
be the fountain-head whence the rest of the world
had derived the elements both of religion and art.
The intimate relations established between the two
countries by the settlement of Hellenic colonies in
Egypt, about the period when the Greeks first imbibed
a taste for antiquarian research, still further tended
to secure to the claims of the Egyptians a decided supe-
riority over those of other great empires to the east-
ward. The Egyptians, on their part, were not slow
to turn to account dispositions so gratifying to their
own vanity. Their priesthood, accordingly, on be-
coming acquainted, tiu'ough the new settlers, with
the native Greek traditions, interwove with them, as

Cii. IV. § o. GREEK LANGUAGE : TIKENICIANS. 75

a means of cementing tlie alliance, numerous fictions,
■svliich every one moderately versed in the genuine
Egyptian mythology must perceive at once to be
completely repugnant to its real principles.^ These
remarks npply more or less to the analogies, real or
imaginary, between the monuments of early art in
the two countries. There are, indeed, few specimens
of Greek art now extant possessing claims to date
prior to the reign of Psammetichus, from which
period Greek artists and men of science flocked to
Egypt from motives of curiosity or study. But the
style of the few, chiefly of an architectural character,
to which a more remote antiquity can, with any
certainty, be ascribed, bears no resemblance to the
Egyptian.

5. It may, however, be urged, that giving full Phoenician
weight to the above objections, it were yet nothing nSoncai
incredible that a few adventurers from the banks of .""J!.!'!"'"'
the Nile, possibly fugitives or outlaws, should have ^ence in its

1 • 1 r in • favour.

liappened, m the course of ages, to seek refuge ui
Greece; and that, unless some such basis existed
for the legend of Egyptian settlement, its antiquity
or inveteracy would be difficult to explain. This
view of the case may the more readily be admitted,
that it is both reasonable in itself, and supported by
a version of the legend which, if less familiar, is not
less antient or well attested than that above examined,
while open to no similar objection on historical
"rounds.

The most important event recorded in the early
annals of Egypt is the invasion of its territory by
certain warlike foreigners of Semitic race, Phoenicians

^ Such arc tlic adventures in Egypt, and subsequent deification by the
ICgypiinns, of lo of Argos, Perseus son of Danae, and Helen of Troy, as
narrated by Herodotus, i. o., ii. !.H. 1 1'J. sqcj. Sec \'ol. IV. p. .'546. scj.

76 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

or Arabs, as variously designated, who, driving the
natives into the flistnesses of the Upper Nile, esta-
blished and maintained, during several centuries,
a distinct empire over Lower Egypt. Afterwards,
the native powers, regaining the ascendant, subdued
and expelled the usurpers, who took refuge, some in
the parts of Asia whence they had issued, while
others, flying by sea, settled on various coasts of the
Mediterranean. The period of these latter events,
amid the uncertainties of fabulous chronology, har-
monises sufficiently with that at which the Egyptian
colonisation of Greece is reported to have taken
place. Accordingly, several respectable authors, prior
to Herodotus the earliest organ of the popular ver-
sion, described Danaus, Cadmus, and other Ori-
ental colonists of Greece, as fugitives from Egypt^
under virtually the same circumstances above re-
capitulated.^ This, therefore, may claim to be the
older and more authentic form of the tradition. With
such a groundwork of fact, Egyptian priests and
Greek mythologers would not be slow, under the in-
fluence of the prevailing prejudice, to convert the
arrival of strangers from Egypt into a colony of
native Egyptians. AVith respect to Danaus, even the
details of the popular legend favour the above ex-
planation. He is there represented as a usurper,
or state criminal, driven from the shores of the Nile
by the " sons of yEgyptus," literally, by the native
Egyptians. He is also occasionally described as son

1 IIecata?ns Miles, ap. Diod. Sic. in Phot. cod. 244. ; Conon. In Phot.
Narr. 32. 37. ; conf. Bekk. Anecd. Gr. p. 783. ; Anaximander Miles, et
Dionys. Miles, ap. Bekk. ibid. These authors also ascribe to Danaus,
rather than Cadmus, the introduction of the alphabet. This seems,
therefore, to have been the doctrine of the early Milesian school of
history, which first spread a taste for prose composition in Greece.

Cu. IV. § 5. GREEK LANGUAGE: PIICEXICIANS. 77

of r)elus, the chief deity and national hero of tlie
Syrian or rhccnician races, whose name, in tlie
Semitic dialects, signifies simply lord or king. Hence
Panaus, son of ]>elus, as opposed to the sons of
^^]gyptus, may be understood to figure the Phccnician
or so-called Pastor dynasty, expelled by the native
princes. Cadmus is also described as sprung from a
PhcEnician dynasty, whose royal residence was the
Egyptian Thebes ; or as a native of Phosnicia, but
sailing from Kgypt in company with fugitives from
that country.^ Ilence the old historian Plierecydes
makes him f^-odson of Xilus.'^ Furtlier indirect con-
firmation of this view is furnished by the testimony
of Herodotus, the chief pillar of the Egyptian system,
that whatever intercourse took place in these early
times between Egypt and Greece was by means of
Phccnician navigators. Advocate as he is for Egyp-
tian art and influence, he never describes an Egyptian
ship as having sailed from the Nile, either for Attica
or Peloponnesus. On each occasion he is careful to
bring his colonists in Phoenician transports.^

The philological data, so much at variance with
the popular view, are no less favourable to that here
adopted. While the Greek and Phcenician languages
are as radically distinct as the Greek and Egyptian,
the number of kindred words in the two former so
far exceeds that which any law of primevnl athnity
could justify, as to afford strong evidence of a further
admixture by subsequent intercourse. A considerable
portion of tliese words denote objects or ideas con-
nected with a comparatively advanced stage of society,

' Conon, ap. Pliot. sup. cit. ; Ileeat. ap. Diod. sup. cit.
" Frag. 40. Didot.

^ 1. 1. sqq., II 54. This practice is common also to the tragic writers,
Eur. Ilel. V. \-2[)2. 143;}.

78 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

such as tlie more rude might have borrowed from
the more civilised people. Among them are various
names or epithets of deities and mythological persons
or places, not referable to Greek etymology, but
sio-nificant and appropriate when tested by that
of the Semitic dialects. They aiFord proof, con-
sequently, not indeed that the Greek pantheon was
imported from Phoenicia, but, at least, that the rites
of the one system exercised influence on the other.
The social habits, also, of the Phoenician or Canaanite
races, instead of those broad points of discrepancy
above noticed in the case of the Egyptians, are
marked in many essential particulars by a great
similarity to those of the Hellenes.
ThePhre- 6. But tlic conclusivc aud living testimony of
phabct." early Phoenician influence on the Greek language and
literature is the correspondence, in name and form,
of the alphabetic characters of the two nations. This
fact, apart from all tradition on the subject, amounts
to historical proof that Greece was indebted for the
art of writing to an Oriental source. Any more de-
tailed remarks on her early progress in that art will
be reservv^d for a future page. It will here suffice to
offer a succinct view, first, of the elementary pro-
perties of the primitive Phoenician alphabet; secondly,
of the modifications it underwent in its adaptation to
their own purposes by the Greeks.

Attention must first be directed to a characteristic
feature of distinction between antient and modern
practice, in regard to this first or mechanical element
of literature. The European nations of the present
day are in the habit of designating, both in speaking
and writing, each letter of the alphabet merely by the
sound it represents; that is, in the case of a vowel, by

Cu. IV. § 6. GREEK LANGUAGE : ALPHABET. 79

its own simple sound ; in that of a consonant, -\vitli
the addition of so much of some vowel sound as is
necessary to vocalise its own. The old alphabets, on
the other hand, had distinct names for each letter,
some of them of considerable length, nnd comprising
various other sounds besides that which the letter
itself represented. Thus, what we call simply A, Jj,
G, the Phoenicians named Aleph, Beth, Gimel ; and the
Greeks, with slight variation from the original type,
Alpha, ])eta, Gamma. The source of this different
usaiie is to be souiiht in the oriii^in of alphabetic
Avriting, or at least of that particular alphabet from
which all those now used in Europe are either directly
or remotely derived, and which bears internal evi-
dence of having been originally formed on a hiero-
glyphic principle. This will be best illustrated by
the analogy of the kindred art among the Egyptians.
The Egyptian hieroglyphic was of two kinds : the
one figurative or symbolic, where the character de-
picted represented an object or idea ; the other pho-
netic or sonant, when it represented a sound. It is
the latter class alone which here requires to be con-
sidered. Each phonetic hieroglyphic was, in fact, an
alphabetic character, expressing the vowel or con-
sonant which formed the first element of the name of
the pictured object. A, for instance, was figured by
an eagle, achom in Egyptian; !> by a goat, ha;
and so fortli. The foundation of the art among the
Phoenicians was similar. The name of each letter
was here also that of some familiar object, the first
sound of which was the element to be represented.
Thus Alei)h, Phoenician for an ox, stands for A ;
P>eth, a house, for P) ; Gimel, a camel, for G. It may
hence be inferred, that, in its origin, cacli of these

80 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

characters was, as in the parallel case of the Egyp-
tians, a picture of the object itself. Accordingly,
the primitive forms of some of them, as they appear
in the more antient remains of Semitic writing,
Beth, Teth, Joel, for example, are evident contrac-
tions of a rude figure of the objects, House, Serpent,
Hand, which their names respectively denote.

There was, however, an essential difference in the
system as reduced to practice by the two nations.
The Phoenicians, advancing from the elements of the
science to its perfection, limited their representation
of each sound to one character. They thus produced
a simple and determinate method of writing, appli-
cable to all purposes, and the rudiments of which
might be acquired by a few months' study of a child.
The Egyptians, on the other hand, not only mixed up
with this more practical mode of expressing their
ideas various others of a purely enigmatic nature,
but, even as regards the former, instead of restricting,
like the Phoenicians, the representation of their pho-
netic elements to one familiar object, they admitted a
variety of signs for each.^ This singular people
seem, in fact, in their system of writing, as of elegant
art, not merely to have stopped short on the road to
perfection. They were even at pains, by wilfully im-
posing shackles on its free exercise, to render that
which ought to be the simplest and easiest of sciences,
as a guide to all the others, itself the most complicated
and mysterious,
itsadop- 7. The Greeks, in adopting the alphabet of the

Greeks. ^ Plioeuicians, retained both the forms and the names

' It is even doubtful whether, in this accumulation of phonetic signs,
the primary condition relative to the initial sound was consistently
observed.

Gm. IV. § 7. GREEK LANGUAGE: ALPHABET. 81

of its letters, slightly modified, in the order in whicli
they originally stood ; and the significant Semitic
terms, Aleph, Beth, Gimel, Daleth, were transformed
into the more euphonous, but really unmeaning, Phoe-
nico-Greek barbarisms, Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta.
These names, through the influence of Greek civi-
lisation, have since become identified with the prac-
tice of this most essential of human arts in every age
and country; and how few of the millions who now
use the " Alphabet " are aware that its name is a
compound of the PhaMiician words Ox and House,
and, as such, a lasting memorial of the obligations
under which modern literature and science lie to
primitive Oriental ingenuity. While the names of the
letters underwent little change, either in Greece or
the East, their forms were subjected to considerable
alteration ; so that between the classical Greek cha-
racter and the latter riioenician but slight resem-
blance is perceptible. The original community of
form may, however, be traced in the more antient
inscriptions of the two languages.

The Phoenician alphabet contained twenty-two
letters. The whole of this number appears to have
been adopted at once by the Greeks, but with some
variations both of power and order, effected upon
principles of analogy, affording further evidence of the
antiquity and extent of the general correspondence.
This will sufficiently appear from the subjoined com-
parative table. The first column represents the Phoe-
nician alphabet according to its twofold value, as a
representative of sound, and as a numeral system, to
which latter purpose it was ap[)lied from the earliest
period. The second column contains the whole num-
ber of letters ever in use among the Greeks. The
VOL. 1. G

FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE

Book I.

Its subse-
quent mo-
dification.
Vowels.

first twenty-two of these are Phoenician, and in their
orio-inal places, as corresponding each to its Oriental
prototype ; the remainder are of native Hellenic in-
vention. The third column contains the classical
Greek alphabet, as finally formed and settled out of
the foregoing. The fourth column exhibits the Greek
alphabet as a numeral system. The fifth is the
Latin alphabet.

PhcEnician

Full Number

Classical

Roman

Alphabet and

of Greek

Greek

Greek Numerals.

Alpha-

Nmnerals.

Letters.

Alphabet.

bet.

Aleph.

Alpha.

1. Alpha.

Beth.

Beta.

2. Beta.

Gimel.

Gamma.

3. Gamma.

Daleth.

Delta.

4. Delta.

He.

E-psilon.

5. E-psilon.

Vau.

_ - -

6. Vau.

Zain.

San.

Zeta.

7. Zeta.

Heth.

Heta.

Eta.

8. Eta.

Teth.

Theta.

9. Theta.

Jod.

10.

Iota.

10. Iota.

Kaph.

20.

Kappa.

20. Kappa.

(K.)

Lamed.

30.

Lambda.

30. Lambda.

Mim.

40.

I^Iy.

My.

40. My.

Nun.

50.

Ny.

50. Ny.

Samech.

60.

Sigma.

Xi.

60. Xi.

Oin.

70.

0-micron.

70. 0-micron.

Pe.

80.

Pi.

80. Pi.

Tsade.

90.

Zeta.

. _ -

_ _ _

Koph.

100.

Koppa.

_ - -

90. Koppa.

Resch.

200.

Rho.

Pvho.

100. Kho.

Schin.

300.

Xi.

Sigma.

200. Sigma.

Thau.

400.

Tau.

300. Tau.

Y-psilon.

400. Y-psilon.

Phi.

500. Phi.

Chi.

600. Chi.

Psi.

700. Psi.

(Y.)

0-mega.

800. 0-mega.
900. Sampi.

(Z.)

8. That the powers of the original characters, in
their adaptation to a radically diiferent tongue, should
undergo alteration, was to be expected ; and for one

C«. IV. § 8. GREEK LANGUAGE : ALrHABET. 83

essential improvement the system was indebted to
the Greeks. The old Phoenician or Semitic alphabets
consisted solely of consonants. The pure vowel sounds,
wliich equally rank as letters in the European ortlio-
graphy, were considered in the Oriental system but
as subordinate aids to pronunciation, and were compre-
hended, like accent or metrical quantity, in the power
of each consonant, upon principles with which the
reader's intimate knowledge of liis native dialect was
presumed to render him familiar. But the more cor-
rect ear of the Greeks was not satisfied with this inde-
terminate mode of expressing sounds, which, in their
etymology, were little less radical than the consonants,
and, in a language so greatly dependent for its full
formation on poetry and music, required to be no less
exactly distinguished. In order, however, to procure
this new class of elements, it was not found necessary
to invent an entirely new set of characters. Several
of the aspirate, or guttural letters of the Plio^nician
alphabet, though technically classed as consonants by
Oriental grammarians, might more properly be defined
as an intermediate order between pure consonant
and vowel. The former character, accordingly, they
forfeited entirelv, as modified into what was called in
the same system a quiescent state, where, sinking their
proper power, they appropriated each to itself, in
general if not in constant use, a particular vowel
sound. They thus approached very nearly to -what
would be classed in the European alphabets as vowels,
and lent themselves, by consequence, readily to the re-
quired object of the Greeks. These letters were the
Aleph, He, Jod, Oin, and Yau. The first four the
Greeks adopted as the simple vowel sounds. A, E, I, 0.
The fifth, which, from the analogy of the others,

G 2

84 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

ouglit to have been converted into U, retained its
original aspirate power as the Greek Van, or, as it
is flxmiliarly called, the Digarama. For the pure U
another character was invented, named in contra-
distinction to the Yau, or aspirate U, the T \I/<Xr'v,
and placed at the end of the twenty-two original
letters.

In three cases, where the Phoenicians employed
two separate characters to represent ditferent modi-
fications of the same sound, each pair, on being
transferred to the Greek al])habet, underwent a com-
mutation of power, and, in two of the three, a
corresponding change of order. The first case is
that of the Zain and the Tsade. The former of
these letters, nearly equivalent to our Z, became
the San ; the latter, pronounced ts, the Zeta of the
Greek alphabet. With the Greeks, however, the Zeta
engrossed to itself the representation of both varieties
of the Zed sound, and, usurping at the same time the
place of the San, became the seventh, instead of, as
previously, the eighteenth, in the order of letters.
The San, falling into disuse altogether as a vehicle of
sound, Ti^as banished to the end of the list, where it was
employed as the sign of the numeral 900 ; the name
being also altered in later times into San-pi, owing to
some resemblance which was traced between its form
and that of the Greek letter Pi. The second case is that
of the Samech and the Schin, the fifteenth and twenty-
first in the Phoenician alphabet. The former became
the Greek Sigma ; the latter the Greek Chsi or X. The
two, in their new capacity, also exchanged places,
the Chsi being transferred to the fifteenth, the Sigma
to the twenty-first rank in the Greek arrangement.
In the remaining case the Teth, representing with the

Cii. IV. § S. GREEK LANGUAGE : ALl'lIABET. 85

Phoenicians tlie simple T sound, was converted into
the Greek aspirate Theta ; while the Thau, or aspirated
T of the Phoenicians, became the simple T of the
Greeks; each retaining its original place, but under-
going n, slight alteration of name corresponding to
that of its power.

The number of vowel signs in the Greek al[)habet
was subsequently increased from five to seven. The
Eta, which at first, like its original the Heth, repre-
sented the aspirate or soft guttural, corresponding to
the Latin H, was, from an early period partially, from
Olymp. xciv exclusively, eniplo3^ed as long E, double
of the Epsilon. About the same time a new letter,
Omega, came into general use to represent the long
or double Omicron, and took up its place as last of
the series.^ The A^au, or Digamma, an important
agent in early Greek orthography, less, however, as a
principal than a subsidiary letter, retained much of
its previous character of vowel-consonant, or, in the
technical language of the Oriental schools, of quiesci-
ble letter. It was chiefly used as a liquid guttural or
aspirate, somewhat akin to our English wh, to im-
part emphasis to the initial vowels of words, and pos-
sessed the power, with certain limitations, of creating
metrical position. It fell, however, out of use in the
classical dialects, in the course of their subsequent
refinement, though retained in the local idiom of cer-
tain provinces up to a late epoch.^ It also main-
tained its place as the representative of the number G

^ These new vowels first came into f;imiliar use in the Ionian colonies
of Asia, probably at a very early perioil (cf. Gicse, ^-Eolisch. Dial. p. 171.).
The improvements were not adopted in the public style of Athens until
Ol. xciv. (404. n.c.) The old orthography hence obtained the distinctive
name of Attic.

^ For the modern digamma theory, sec Append, to Ch. vli. of B. iir.

G 3

86 FOREIGN INFLUENCE ON THE Book I.

ill tlie numeral system. The Koppa was baiiislied
from the classical alphabet at an early period, its
sound being, in the Greek modification of the system,
so nearly identical with that of the Kaph or Kappa,
that one letter sufficed for both ; it occurs, how-
ever, in the more antiquated Doric and iEolic in-
scriptions. When totally disused as an clement of
sound, it continued, as with the Phoenicians, to re-
present the numeral 90, and was also employed in
musical notation. After these various changes, the
Greek alphabet presented its full complement of
twenty-four letters and twenty-seven numeral signs,
in the order familiar to every classical student.
Error of 9. The rcsults of the foregoing analysis are at

the popular . . • . • ^i .i i n ^

theory on Variance, m many points, with the popular (jreek
the subject. ^^^r^^^jj^^^Qj^g relative to the first introduction and sub-
sequent augmentation of the Phoenician alphabet.^
According to those traditions, the number of letters
imported by Cadmus was sixteen only : a, /3, 7, 6, e,
/, X, X, /x, V, 0, TT, p, a-, r, u. To these Palamedes, a
hero of the Trojan war, is fabled to have added four
(^, Q, ip, ^) • and the whole number to have been
made up, towards the close of the sixth century b. c,
by the poets Simonides and Epicharinus. The fallacy

^ The author has been gratified to observe that his palajographical
views, as substantially embodied in this chapter about fifteen years ago,
correspond in all essential points with those since promulgated by his
valued friend, Dr. Franz of Berlin. The only difierence, even of detail,
relates to the connexion between the sibilant letters of the two alphabets.
Dr. Franz assumes the primitive Greek San to have been derived from
the Schin, not the Zain of the Phoenicians, on the ground of its having
been used in the Spartan alphabet as equivalent to Sigma. The
author, however, prefers his own conjecture, as more consistent with
analogy, and must therefore consider the Spartan usage as a mere
provincial anomaly. J. Franz, Elem. Epigraph. Gr., Berlin, 1840, p. 12.
sqq.

Cii. IV. § 9. GREEK LANGUAGE : ALPHABET. 87

of these accounts is evinced by the correspondence
above shown, both in regard to power and position,
between the whole twenty-two Phoenician cliaracters
and an equal number of tlie more antient Greek*
Besides, the three letters, Van, Koppa, and San, arc
altojrether unaccounted for in the vulvar le":end,
although as distinctly traceable as the others to their
Oriental originals ; while the Y-psilon, thougli plainly
of Greek invention, is enumerated among the primi-
tive IMioenician elements. The only letters for which
the Greeks were indebted to their own ingenuity are
the last live of their complete alphabet. The exact
period of" their introduction is obscure ; and the whole
further inquiry into the changes which these and
other portions of the system may have undergone,
prior to its full maturity at Athens in the xcivth
Olymp., involves questions belonging rather to the
province of the antiquary or epigraphist than to that
of the literary historian.^

The analogy between the two alphabets is further c.rcek
observable in their adaptation to arithmetical pur-
poses. The numerals from 1 to 10 were in both sys-
tems represented by the first ten letters : in the Phoe-
nician, according to their familiar order; in the Greek,
the Van, dropped as a purely alphabetic character,
was retained as s\^u of the number 6. Tiie remain-
ing decimals up to 80 are, in both lists, represented
by the ensuing seven elements. In tlie sequel, wliile
the principle remains the same, the minor alterations
in tlie positions of the Greek letters impede the closer

' See Franz, op. sup. cit. Introd. ; conf. Giese, JEoliscIi. Dial. p. 171.

G 4

writing.

88 rOEEIGN INFLUENCE. Book I.

conformity of details up to the number 1000, where
the correspondence recurs with similar precision.^
Modes of jji the application of the system to the combination

of words and phrases, the Oriental nations of every
period have been in the habit of writing from right
to left. To this custom the Greeks, in the earlier
period of their practice, also conformed, several of the
older extant inscriptions being so written ; others,
however, of equal or superior antiquity, in the now
familiar form from left to right, imply that from a
remote period both modes were in use. A third
method peculiar to the Greeks, and which remained
in partial use down to the time of Solon, was where
the lines proceeded from right to left, and from left
to right, in alternate order. This was called the
Bustrophedon, or " Turn-ox," method, from its re-
semblance to the course of the plough in the tillage
of land. The now universal European practice seems
to have completely superseded both the others about
the period of the Persian war.

* See Mattliia?, Gr. Gram. § 1.4.; Gesenius, Ilebr. Gram. i. § 5. It is
remarkable, however, that little or no trace of this mode can be dis-
covered among the Greeks until a comparatively late period. The ordi-
nary method, in classical ages, was the employment of perpendicular lines
for units up to four, n (ireVre) stood for five, A (ScVa) for ten, H (fKaTop) for
hundred, X (x^\ia) for thousand, M (fj-vpia) for ten thousand ; or, where
the whole alphabet was used, its letters ranked in their familiar Hellenic
order, as, for example, in the numbering of the books of Homer, where
o is 1, £0 24. The other mode does not appear to have become general
before the first century of the Roman empire. It is difficult, however,
to understand how it could have occurred to the public of that age
to adopt so apparently anomalous a system, if not sanctioned by previous
custom. It is more probable that the Phoenician method had been
employed In Greece from time immemorial, but confined to local or
provincial, possibly to literary, as distinct from monumental, usage. The
first extant traces of it are in the older Graeco-Egyptian papyri ; and,
under the auspices of the Alexandrian grammarians, it finally became
universal. Conf. Franz, op. cit. p. 346. sq.

Cii. V. §1. STRUCTURE OF TFIE GKEEK LANGUAGE. 80

CHAR V.

STRUCTURE AND GENIUS OF THE GREEK LAXGUAGE.

1. INFLUENCE OF SOIL, CLIMATE, AND NATIONAL CUARACTER ON LANGUAGE.

2. PKINCIl'LE OF FORMATION COMMON TO THE IXUO-TEUTONIC TONGUES.

3. CONTRAST OF THE SEMITIC XSV CHINESE. 4. CHARACTERISTIC TROFEK-

T1E8 OF THE GREEK BRANCH OF THE INDO-TEUTONIC STEM.

1. The settlcinent of Oriental colonies in Greece pro- influence
duced no sensible effect on the character either of the mate, 'and
language or the nation. The strangers appear in the "jlar'licu.r
tradition as few in niiniber, refugees rather than °" '-'"-

... . guagc.

invaders. Their national peculiarities were speedily
merged in the common mass of native usage ; just as
the lano:uao:e and habits of the Norman chiefs of our
own dark aires coalesced with those of the native
Franks or Celts of the countries occupied by those
adventurers. Hence, the foreign element, though
distinguishable in the Greek vocabulary by the test
of critical etymology, rarely if ever offends by any
incongruity of sound or structure. The classical
Greek tongue, tlierefore, in any remarks on its ori-
ginal genius, may safely be considered as a genuine
uncorrupted scion of the primitive Indo-Pelasgian
stock.

By writers on the early history of society, too
much weight has usually been attached to the in-
fluence of soil, climate, or other physical accidents
in the formation of national character ; too little to
the faculties originally stamped by Providence on
different races. Innate cpialities must here be dis-

90 STRUCTUEE AND GENIUS Book I.

tiiiguished from mere development, the vegetative
power of the root from tliat of the soil. External
causes may, where unfavourable, blight the germ of
the indigenous plant ; where propitious, may add
luxuriance to its growth, or even bring the same seed
to maturity in less congenial sites. But the effect
produced must still depend on the materials on which
the cause operates. A man naturally devoid of talent
for painting will not become a skilful draughtsman
merely by residing in a picturesque region ; nor
will a people naturally deficient in genius attain
distinction in art or letters, merely by inhabiting a
country favourable to their cultivation. Had the
Hellenic race, in the course of its early migrations,
fixed its abode among the wilds of Scythia, we might
at this day have been under as little obligation to its
artists or authors as to those of the Tartar tribes who
now inhabit the same regions. Had Greece, on the
other hand, in the vicissitudes of human settlement,
fallen to the lot of a swarm of Huns, centuries
of brilliant sun and balmy air Avould hardly have
infused into them the spirit of Homer or Phidias.
To take a nearer case of illustration : Did national
genius depend in any essential degree on soil or
climate, how happened it that the Lydian or Carian
abori2:ines of the Asiatic coast, or the Samnians and
Sicanians of the two Sicilies, were so deficient in
those tastes and talents which the Greeks so bril-
liantly displayed in the same countries ?

If, in the great scheme of Providence for the moral
advancement of the creation, to every people, as to
every individual, a distinct part has been allotted in
the drama of temporal existence, the Greek nation may
be assumed, long before its subjection to any second-

Cii. \'. §1. OF TUE GREEK LANGUAGE. 91

ary influences, to liave been preordained the special
instrument of perfectini^- those delightful arts which,
M'hilc in themselves the most effectual means of
softeninir the ruder element of our nature, afford the
pnrest sources of mental enjoyment. The same Pro-
vidence which formed the design adopted also the
most efficacious means of carrying it into effect, by
placing this favoured people under a bright but tem-
perate heaven, in a fertile and salubrious land, offering
in its interior every variety of scenery, from the
softest amenity to the extreme of grand and terrible,
and intersected by gulfs and arms of the sea, opening
up a continued succession of inspiring prospects, witli
a boundless sphere of activity for the intellectual
faculties. What has been said of the genius of the
people applies equally to their language. The in-
fluence of local circumstances in promoting its har-
mony, richness, andfiexibility, was limited to maturing
those properties the germ of which was coexistent
with the nation. General theories as to the direct
operation of such causes are, indeed, belied by the
experience of every critical linguist, wdiich readily
supplies examples of languages remarkable for eu-
phony flourishing in rugged inhospitable countries,
and of harsh and jarring accents among the abori-
ffines of the most o:enial climates.

That the character of a language should correspond
to that of the people by whom it is spoken is a more
accurate doctrine, and one finely exemplified in the
case of the Greeks. The origin of human speech is
itself a niystery which no human ingenuity can be
expected ever thoroughly to penetrate. The most
plausible theory is, that words were at first imitative
of the ideas they express, being called into existence

92 STRUCTURE AND GENIUS Book T.

to denote the oljects by which man was surrounded,
or the wants by which he was assailed. Accordingly,
in every primitive tongue, numerous elementary terms
are evidently the result of attempts to express ideas
by some inflexion of the voice, between which and
tlie idea itself there existed, or was imagined to
exist a certain resemblance. In many cases where
the thing to be represented was directly associated
with some sound, the resemblance may be called real.
Obvious examples occur in the names of various
animals, or the terms expressive of their cries. But
there are also cases where, though no such immediate
connexion exists, ideas are yet closely associated Avith
sound by a sympathy between the senses, wdiich
leads to the designation of objects remarkable for a
certain quality as experienced through the organs of
vision, touch, or taste, by words productive of a similar
sensation on the organs of hearing. This sympathy
extends to moral qualities, the varieties of which may
be expressed by corresponding shades of softness or
asperity, density or liquidity, in the sounds by which
they are denoted. In proportion, therefore, as the
perceptive faculties of a people are delicate and acute,
will be the imitative precision of these elementary
tones as developed through the above process. This
sympathy between words and ideas, while an im-
portant element of beauty in every language, con-
stitutes one of the chief advantao*es which orio'inal
tongues possess over those of a derivative character,
where, in the vicissitudes of mixture or corruption,
any such harmony must, in a large proportion of
cases, be extinguished.

But the excellence of a language depends even less
perhaps on the expressive power of its primitive
elements, than on their adaptation, infinitely com-

Cu. V. §2. OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 93

bincd and varied, to tlic more coinplicated ideas of
•\yhieh the fabric of human speech is composed. Har-
mony of sound must be subservient to that of form
and arrangement. As, liowever, the musical organs
and the intellectual faculties liave no necessary de-
pendancc on each other, even where tlie previous
stage of invention may have been accomplislied under
the best auspices, the furtlier process of combina-
tion may be jejune and defective. Hence languages
highly expressive in regard to sound are often de-
ficient in point of structure. In order, therefore, to
the attainment of the highest excellence, it is essen-
tial, first, that a language should be the original inven-
tion of the people who speak it ; secondly, that this
people should be gifted, not only with a fine sense of
euphony, but with variety and extent of intellectual
powers. These favourable circumstances v/ere com-
bined, ill tlie case of the Greek, in a irreater dei^rec
than in that of any otlier known language. AVhilc it
is in all essential respects a radically original tongue,
its mechanism, both in sound and structure, reflects
all the harmony, versatility, and y)recision, which
mark the genius of the race by whom it was spoken.

2. The foundation common to the Greek with other Principle of
scattered members of the great Indo-Teutonic stem I'.'.mmon tc
is a certain number of monosyllabic roots, expres- ^I'uJonic'
sive of primary ideas, and capable of being combined tongms.
into other secondary forms signifying objects or ideas
of a more complex character. The same process,
carried tlirough upon simihir princi})les, in respect to
these secondary forms, makes u[) tlie complement of
the language. In the different stages of this process,
words are also subject to internal changes, l»y tlie
curtailment, augmentation, or alteration of their own
letters or syllables, partly as a means of varying the

94 STRUCTURE AND GENIUS Book I.

sense, partly of modifying tlie sound, whether for
the sake of euphony, or of its closer adaptation to
the object to be expressed.

In so far as the words of this more complex order
present the objects expressed each in its abstract or
independent character, the above process is classed
by grammarians under the head of Composition.
Where this abstract character is modified, by refer-
ence to time, place, or circumstances, it is called
Flexion.

Take, for example, the terms Ssog^ Ssa, Qsiog. The
primitive root may here be considered as the mono-
syllable S=, denoting the idea of Divinity in its
simplest form. The addition of another primitive
root, 0^, denoting male gender, gives ^foc,-, a god ;
that of oi, denoting feminine gender, Osa, a goddess ;
that of io^, denoting quality or property, gives ^siog^
divine. In all these secondary forms, the new idea
subsists in its simple integrity, in the same abstract
mode as the primary idea itself. But if any one of
these derivatives be affected by other component
elements, signifying a certain relation, such as pos-
session, privation, propinquity, distance, between
itself and some other idea extraneous to it, the
word is then said to be subject to flexion. As an
example may be taken the change of the last syllable
of ^sog into the genitive ^eov. Here the object is no
longer contemplated in its independent capacity, but
in its relation to some other object expressed or un-
derstood.

The whole body of . primitive, and, with certain
restrictions as to compass or euphony, even secondary
roots of the Greek tongue, are qualified to enter, in
one or other of the above modes, into the formation

the Semitic
md Chi-

Cm. V. §3. OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 95

of ncAV words. Those employed in flexion, compara-
tively few in number, and serving, under the same or
slightly varied forms, for the modification of every
word susceptible by nature of such influence, have
become for the most part obsolete in their primary
character. They have, as it were, forfeited their own
independence, in order to give greater precision and
ciFect to their power of varying and extending the
influence of their fellows. The same remark applies
also to a certain number of tlie more elementary class
of roots employed in composition.

3. The above properties, common, more or less, to contrast of
all the Indo-Teutonic languages, will be best appre
ciated by a comparison with the methods adopted by "es^
other radically distinct families of human speech for
attaining the same objects. Of these families the
most reniarkable are, the Semitic or Aramaic, com-
prising the Hebrew, Arabic, Phoenician, and others,
extending over the greater part of South-western
Asia ; and that less fully explored by European
scholars, of whicli the Chinese is the most widely
spread and highly cultivated variety.

The fundamental elements of the Chinese tomrue
are also monosyllabic roots. But their combination,
both etymological and syntactical, is very different
from that above illustrated ; beins: effected neither
by composition nor flexion, but by a simple juxtapo-
sition of the primary terms which embody the wliolc
complex idea to be expressed.^

The distinguishing properties of the Semitic family
are, flrst, the limitation of tlie radical elements of

* This rule applies strictly, perhaps, only to the older purer Chinese.
Tiic dialect of the present day is understood to admit also, (linuirh
sparini,dy, the principle of amalgamation which forms the characteristic
property of the Indo-Teutonic.

96 STRUCTURE AND GENIUS Book I.

words to consonants, the vowel sounds being but a
subsidiary n:iechanism for imparting to the others
their articuhite power ; and, secondly, the prevalence
of bisyllabic or triliteral roots. In the representation
of complex ideas, the Semitic steers a middle course
between the jejune dryness of the Chinese and the
elegant versatility of the Greek. Repudiating almost
entirely, in the creation of new terms, the Greek
principle of composition, it resorts for the same pur-
pose either to variations in the elementary roots by
aid of the vowel sounds, or to the Chinese plan of
juxtaposition. In flexion, on the other hand, although
it admits of an extensive combination of roots, the
subsidiary elements are far from blending with the
principal word in the same easy spirit of coalition as
in the Greek conjugations or declensions. Those ele-
nients have acquired accordingly, in the phraseology
of the Oriental schools, the names of Sutfix, Affix,
and others similar, instead of that of Flexions as
among Greek grammarians.

The superiority of the Indo-Teutonic principle
has been generally recognised by critical philologers.
The rich variety of expression which it secures, both
in the first formation and the grammatical develope-
ment of words and phrases, is but ill compensated, in
the rival tongues, by greater uniformity of method and
etymological precision. These latter qualities, always
of somewhat questionable value when carried beyond
a certain point, degenerate in the Chinese into taste-
less monotony. Where certain ideas instinctively
form themselves in the mind of the speaker into
collective groups, as in the more advanced stages of
Greek composition and flexion, it is obviously both
more natural and more agreeable that they should,

stt'in.

Cn. V. §4. OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 97

witliin certain limits of l)ulk or complexity, be offered
to the apprehension in one animated body, than
scattered before it in disjointed mendjers. The num-
ber and variety of vowel sounds, which also form a
distinctive feature of the Greek tongue, and Avhic]i,
neither immutably fixed as in tlie Cliinese, nor, as
in the Semitic, mere subordinate agents of the con-
sonants, appear as active independent elements of the
language in every stage of its developement, impart to
it a harmony and fluidity, as well as power of expres-
sion, to which the others are altoo-ether stransfcrs.

4. The above characteristics, however, of the ori- character-
ginal Indo-Teutonic stem are far from bein^: ex- '^^icsofthe
emplified ni the same degree, or under the same branch of
features of excellence, in all its branches. The Te'utonic'
superiority of the Greek may be said to consist in
having preserved, abandoned, or modified the common
properties, in the manner best calculated to bring
every variety of idea most effectually home to the
understanding. None of the sister tongues can com-
pete with it in regard to sound ; while, in several,
the composite principle of formation has degene-
rated into little more than the Chinese expedient of
juxtaposition.^ Of the whole body, the Sanskrit is

' The facility which the Greek tonGjiie offers for creatine new terms,
to represent the extensions of idea involved in the progress of societv, is
curiously contrasted with the sluggishness of the most cultivated modern
languages, in their dependance at this day on the etymological aids of
(he Greek lexicon for the requisite additions to their scientific vocabulary.
By far the largest amount of these additions consists notoriously of
Greek compoumls, invented to express objects or ideas uiiknown to the
Greeks themselves. The expressive elegance of the classical formations
appears the more striking as contrasted with the clumsiness of the
parallel Germanic terms; compare, for example, Tvpographv and Buth-
drucker-kunst, Telescope and Fern-rohr, Hydraulics and Waseer-lau-
kunst.

VOL. I. H

98 STRUCTURE AND GENIUS Book I.

understood to have most carefully preserved, in their
merits and defects, the peculiarities of the antient
common type, and claims, therefore, to be, if not the
parent tree, at least the oldest of its branches. The
chief points of resemblance, accordingly, between the
Sanskrit and the Greek are in the properties where
the former is most to be admired : in fertility of
composition and flexion, luxuriance of grammatical
forms, and in the many delicate phases assumed by
the primary parts of speech, frequentative, prospective,
desiderative ; reflecting a singular acuteness of the
discriminating faculty, and affording in return a rich
fund of materials for its exercise. While the Greek
thus rivals her Oriental sister in variety of forms, she
asserts, in respect to sound, a marked superiority over
all the members of the family. The vowel sounds
of the Sanskrit are comparatively monotonous, occa-
sionally harsh and constrained. Those of the Greek
are distinguished for variety and euphony. In the
combination of consonants and vowels the Greek
also exhibits the same happy blending of uniformity
and versatility, the same just medium between
redundancy and poverty, which characterise all the
productions of Hellenic genius. The liquid fulness
of the vowels is so tempered by the admixture of
consonants as to exclude feebleness or tenuity, while
the harshness resulting from undue accumulation of
the latter, or from the juxtaposition of uncongenial
sounds, is equally avoided ; and the infusion of
gutturals, aspirates, and other less euphonous ele-
ments, suffices to insure vigour without creating
asperity. The language thus, as occasion may require,
combines the sonorous dignity of the Spanish with
the melody of the Italian, and the masculine energy

Ch. V. §4. OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 99

of the German with the precision of the French or
]']nglish.

Anotlier remarkable feature which distinguishes
the Greek from all other European dialects is the
extreme delicacy and subtlety of its metrical and
i]uisical developement. It is, perhaps, in the earlier
stages of etymological formation that this property
is most strikingly exem[)lified ; in the distinction,
namely, which obtained in familiar pronunciation
between accent and quantity, and in the nicety of
the laws by which the two w^ere adjusted in their
relation to each other or to the language at large.
The closer analysis of these laws belongs, however, to
the province of grammar or prosody rather than to
that of literary history, and could at the best be pro-
ductive of but little satisfactory result.^ In the mo-
dern European tongues the distinction is unknown.
Accent and quantity, the long syllable and the ac-
centuated syllable, are, in the poetry of the present
day, as identical as they were essentially distinct in
that of Greece. In the absence, consequently, of

^ Tlie distinction itself, in theory, is quite intelligible even to modern
apprehension. Accent, in the proper classical sense, is the tone or key
of the voice in pronouncing a syllable ; quantity, the length of time
during which the voice dwells on the syllable. In so f;ir, therefore,
separate effect can easily be given to each, in different syllables of the
same word. The difficulty is to understand the extreme subtlety and
complexity of the distinction as carried into practice, in the Greek
pronunciation and versification. The accent perpetually changing both
character and place in the same word, with the slightest change or
modification of form, quantity, or value, by flexion, composition, or
otherwise. The distinction, it may be observed, is unknown to the
modern Greeks, and must have become obsolete at a period when
the antient tongue was still a living dialect. In a large proportion
of the works of the later Byzantine poets, composed in the classical
Greek, accent and (piantity are as conqilctely identical as in the verse of
Shakspeare or Corneille. See Gaisf. ad Heph. p. 247. sqq.

H 2

100 STRUCTURE AND GENIUS Book I.

either experience or analogy, the real nature of the
relation between these two elements of prosody in
the living Greek tongue, has been hitherto a mystery
which no effort of modern scholarship is ever likely
to penetrate.

One more characteristic of that tongue, which, in
drawing these remarks to a close, still demands at-
tention, and to whicli also no parallel can probably
be found in any other cultivated language, is its
anomaly. This feature may be classed under two
heads : anomaly of structure and anomaly of syntax.
The latter will be noticed in a future page. The
former is familiar to the classical scholar in the ele-
mentary rules of his grammar : that no Greek verb
possesses its full complement of forms derived from
the same root ; and that many of the verbs in most
universal use are dependent, even for certain of their
more fundamental forms, on radically distinct sources.
This latter peculiarity is common, in some degree, to
the other declinable parts of speech; while, in various
departments of flexion and formation, even as exem-
plified in the same root, an equal disregard for uni-
formitv is manifested. The original source of these
and other similar irregularities can now be matter
only of speculation. It might be assumed that the
kindred roots originally possessed each its full com-
plement of forms in the primitive common stock of
Pelasgic idiom, as duplicates for the expression of the
same or cognate ideas; but that, in the course of
subsequent vicissitudes, a portion of those forms had
fallen into desuetude. Or certain roots may once
have been peculiar, also in their full state of de-
velopement, to different dialects, blended in the same
vicissitudes into a single one, which may have retained

Cii. V. §4. OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 101

or rejected, in greater or less proportions, the forins
previously proper to one or other of those older sepa-
rate dialects. Be this as it may, it is somewhat
doubtful how far this peculiarity, in the extent to
wliich it prevails, may be entitled to the same unqua-
lified approbation above bestowed on the other more
prominent attributes of the Greek language. That it
constitutes an important element of that richness and
variety, in which it may also itself be said to origi-
nate, is certain : but it is perhaps open to question,
whether those advantages be not often attained with
too great a sacrifice of the symmetry and simplicity
so essential to excellence in ever}^ production either
of mental or mechanical ingenuity.

)i i

102

EARLY CULTURE OF

Book I.

CHAP. VI.

EARLY CULTURE OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

I. SOCIAl COKDITION OF GREECE DURING THE HEROIC AGE. ITS INFLUEKCE
ON THE LANGUAGE. 2. PELOPIDAN ERA. 3. .SOLIAN COLONIES. IRRUP-
TION OF THE DORIANS. IONIAN MIGRATION. SUBSEQUENT DISTINCTION OF
DIALECTS. 4. THEIR RESPECTIVE CHARACTERISTICS. 5. PERVADING IN-
FLUENCE OF THE HOMERIC DIALECT. 6. THE LITERARY CULTURE OF

THE SEPARATE DIALECTS A PECULIARITY OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE.

7. APPROPRIATION OF DIFFERENT DIALECTS TO DIFFERENT STl'LES OF COM-
POSITION. 8. ARTIFICIAL FORMATION OF NEW DIALECTS FOR NEW STYLES.

9. ULTIMATE ASCENDANCY OF THE ATTIC DIALECT. SICILIAN DORIC.

Social con-
dition of
Greece
during the
heroic age.

1. Having traced the history of the Greek language
through the vicissitudes of the dark Indo-Pelasgic
period to that of its final ascendancy as a national
tongue throughout the Hellenic continent, we now
proceed to consider the elementary stages of its
literary culture.

The earliest traditional notices of the social con-
dition of Greece, after the spread of Hellenic supre-
macy, describe that country as divided into petty
patriarchal states, where tribes of high-spirited vassals
yielded a ready, but not a servile, obedience to martial
chiefs descended from the heroes under whose guid-
ance their possessions had been acquired. This state
of society was fostered by the natural features of
the country, which marked out the boundaries of
the separate principalities, and interposed barriers
against mutual encroachment. Its full influence on
the language, as exemplified in the distinction and
cultivation of the dialects, was reserved for a later
period. In these early times its beneficial effects are

Cii.VI. §1. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 103

cliiefly perceptible in cherisliirii^ tlic chivalrous spirit
Avliich supplies materials for epic minstrelsy, the
foundation of all primitive literature. The separate
communities, Avhile presenting, in their relation to
foreigners, the patriotic front of a national confede-
racy, were engaged in frecpient war.>; among tliem-
selves, for the most part of a desultory character,
and originating rather in points of personal right or
feelino- than in extensive schemes of ambition. The
political state of Greece presents, in fact, at this
period, a great analogy to that not long since prevalent
in the Highlands of Scotland. The tribe over which
the Greek kins; ruled was considered, like the clan of
the Scottish chief, as one great family, of which the
reigning dynasty was the oldest branch. In this way
every freeman might consider himself a cadet of the
royal house ; and the free population, at that period,
formed probably a greater proportion of the whole
than in later times. The subsequent more systematic
establishment of personal slavery, that blot on the
institutions of civilised Hellas, seems to have reduced
the numbers, while it corrupted the manners, of the
citizens.

But this community of feeling was cemented by
a still nobler tie, derived from the system of poly-
theism which sprang up among a people keenly alive
to the influence of natural religion, but as yet un-
able to reason philosophically on its principles. Spirit
or soul, capable of will and design, they perceived to
be common to all rational beings ; but having no de-
finite idea of existence or action apart from material
form, they figured the influence of the deity, or, in
other words, every event or object beyond the apjia-
rent control of man, under corporeal agcTicies, work-

II 4

104 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

ing by means more potent indeed, but similar in kind
to those by which mortals attain their ends. Hence,
as the phenomena of the creation are infinitely varied,
and often, to all appearance, in conflict ^with each
other, these early theologers were led to embody each
class of physical influence as a distinct personality,
intrusted with a certain department of mundane
affairs, with gradations of rank and power adapted
to their respective functions. In this way they had
celestial gods who presided over the higher orga-
nisation of the universe ; infernal gods charged with
the affairs of the world after death ; and terres-
trial, atmospheric, and marine deities superintending
every conceivable operation of life or nature. The
inferior members, consequently, of this pantheon
were so little exalted above the rank of humanity,
that the distinction between the least powerful
god, agent of wind, flood, or other elementary in-
fluence, and the most po\verful man, producing, by
the agitations of his good or evil passions, effects
quite as momentous to his fellow-men, becomes very
trifling. By a natural extension of this graduated
scale of agency, the divine and human natures became
sexually connected. Illustrious men were commonly
fabled of divine parentage, and occasionally, at their
death, received divine honours. The ancestor of
almost ever}' tribe was sprung immediately from some
deity, and through him his whole line of descendants
participated in the divine nature. Hence the nation
and their political pantheon appear in the light of
one great physical commonwealth, with a succession
of ranks, from Jove to the meanest of Hellenic blood.
The only broad line of demarcation between human
and divine was the mortality of the one race and

Cu. VI. §1. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 105

attributed immortality of the other. But this dis-
tinction, important as it sounds, is more nominal than
real. As the belief in a future state of human exis-
tence was an essential doctrine of the system, death
Avas to man but a transition from one mode of beinir to
another. The gods themselves, however, could notonly
be degraded from their celestial rank, and permanently
thrust into the same region apj)ointed for the after-
state of humanity, but could suffer wounds, muti-
lation, and suspension of faculties, equivalent, as Plato
admits \ to the effects of death on mankind.

This connexion between the celestial and moi'tal its in-
nature was a principal source of the high ^^orfection onViu^
Avhich epic poetry attained in Greece. The history of '''"s^'^^-
human genius, in all ages, shows its noblest flights to
be connected with reliixious feelino:, whether in the
individual or the society to which he belongs. To
inspire an Iliad, therefore, required a system raising
the mind, as yet unshackled by social refinements,
to a habitual communion, if not with the Deity
liimself in the higher sense, with his power, beauty,
and glory, as exhil)ited in the nobler works of his
creation. The influence of Greek religion upon
Greek art is, perhaps, most tangibly exemplified in
those conceptions of ideal beauty which, though first
reduced to definite principles by the arts of design,
originate with the poets, whose suggestions were em-
bodied by the sculptors and painters of later times.
The popular objects of worship, while figured as men,
required to be personified in a manner wortliy of tlic
divine character. Tlie Greeks therefore, selecting
the elements of abstract beaut v which their fine taste

' Tim. p. 41.; conf. Luciun. Vlt. auct. : A. ri 5ai oi uvOpwvut ; \l. &(ol
6r/yTot. A. Tt Sol diol'f II. (ivOpcoTTOi a9a<aTui.

era.

106 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

discerned in the human form, purged them from the
blemishes which they also perceived to be inseparable
from the most excellent living models, and so varied
and blended them according to age, sex, or other
physical accidents, as to shadow forth the most deli-
cate peculiarities of person or attribute in the diffe-
rent deities. In this way the art, not only of idealising
corporeal beauty, but of expressing soul and the
nicest shades of passion and feeling through the
medium of material form, was carried to a perfection
of which no other people has ever so much as formed
an idea, but from the examples transmitted by the

Greeks.
Peiopidan 2. The influence of these favourable circumstances
seems to have been first fully developed under the
dynasty of the Peiopidan princes, during which a closer
connexion of blood, interests, and manners appears to
have prevailed among the dominant races of Greece
than at any subsequent period. This connexion
was riveted by a species of feudal sovereignty, which
that dynasty is recorded, in the same traditions, to
have exercised over most of the southern states ;
partly acquired through marriage, partly a tribute to
their own superior power. Under their auspices the
chieftains of the confederacy, Avithout abandoning
their spirit of individual rivalry, were induced to
turn it in a nobler direction, and combine for the
great national enterprise against a foreign enemy, re-
corded in the legend of the Trojan war. This was
the brightest period of Grecian chivalry, which, if it
did not produce the noblest masterpieces of heroic
song, prepared, at least, the way for their production,
both by improving the language of poetr}^, and sup-
plying the poet with the finest materials for its em-

Ch. VI. §3. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 107

ployment. It was natural that, among tlie princely
families over whom this bond of union extended,
there should arise a common, or, as it were, court
dialect, whatever vernacular idioms may have i)re-
vailed among their followers. Such accordingly,
seems to have lieen that, since variously designated
the old Ionic or Homeric, originally spoken in the
dominant pi^ovinces of Central Greece \ and which en-
joyed, througli the minstrels entertained at the courts
of popular princes, a high poetical cultivation. Tliis
view of the origin of the epic language is confirmed
by one of the most characteristic features of its
composition, those numerous forms which, becoming
obsolete in its own vocabulary on its subsequent
modification into the later Ionic, are found proper
to other dialects of a very diiferent character. Such
forms may be considered, partly as portions of the
parent stock originally common to the Ionic with other
less cultivated dialects, and retained in these, Avhile
rejected from the Ionic itself, in the course of sub-
sequent vicissitudes ; partly as the gradual infusion,
into the standard poetical language, of forms not
originally its own, on its extension into quarters
where it was not indio-enous.

3. During the century subsequent to the Fall of ,T;oiian
Troy (1184 b. c), extensive changes took place in J^'^rhur
the dialectical as well as i)olitical relations of the conquest.

, . . , . „ , Ionian mi-

llellenic states. About sixty years alter that event gration.
(1121 B. c), dissensions among the /Eolian tribes in
Northern and Central Greece produced a large emi-
gration from Boeotiaand the nei2;hbourinir districts to
theconquered coasts and islands of Asia Minor, already

' See infra, Book n. Ch. xviii. § 4.

108 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

partially occupied by the sons or followers of the vic-
torious chiefs.^ This new settlement is said to have
taken place under the guidance of a grandson of Aga-
memnon ; but, as the colonists were chiefly of JEolian
race, the expedition bears the familiar name of ^olian,
and the region occupied that of JEolia. About twenty
years afterwards the Pelopidan power was sub-
verted, and the Peloponnesus overrun by the Dorians
(1104 B. c.)- This catastrophe was followed, at some
interval (1044 b. c), by a similar settlement of the
greater part of the ejected population of the penin-
sula on the Asiatic coast to the south of the district
possessed by their .Eolian kinsmen.^ Through these
convulsions the ties, social and political, which had
previously united the Hellenic nation were in a great
measure dissolved, and the subsequent wider separa-
tion of domicile and interests interposed serious ob-
subsequcnt staclcs to their renewal. From this period accordingly,
of diak-Jts, niay be dated the more specific distinction of dialects
which becomes so important in the subsequent stages
of Greek literary culture. The Hellenic tongue, prior
to that distinction, might be divided into two com-
prehensive varieties : first, the Ionic, indigenous in
the more civilised states, Attica, the lowlands of
Peloponnesus, and, probably, other coasts and islands
subject to or politically connected with these pro-
vinces ; secondly, the iEolic in the wider sense, em-
bracing the whole remaining body of less cultivated
dialects. The latter, indeed, comprised subordinate
modifications, differing from each other little less
than from the Ionic. Still however, the general re-

1 Clint. Fast. Hell. vol. i. p. 103. ; Thirlw. Hist, of Gr. vol. ii. p. 92. ;
Grote, Hist, of Gr. vol. ii. p. 26. ; conf. infra, B. ii. Ch. xviii. § 6.

- Clint. Fast. Hell. vol. i.p. 113. ; Tliirhv. vol. ii. p. 94. ; Grote, vol. ii.
p. 33.

Cii. VI. §3. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 100

semblance to each other, observable in the dialects of
those countries where tlie old ruder speech continued
to prevail, the Boeotic of Central Greece, the ^Eolic
of the Asiatic colonies, that of the Arcadian liigli-
lands, and the Doric of Pindus afterwards spread over
Peloponnesus, was such as to cause them all to be
classed under one general head, sometimes of JEol'ic,
sometimes of Doric, iii the familiar usage of the
critical schools.^ That the Ionic, also, originally
comprised secondary forms of dialect may be inferred
from the account given by Herodotus of those pre-
valent in his own time among the lonians of Asia.'-
We possess, however, in tliis case no positive knoAv-
ledge, either from traditional or literary sources, of
any so marked a distinction as between the varieties
of the ^olic or Doric.

The Asiatic variety of the yEolian dialect, esta-
blished by the iEolo-Boeotian colonists in the isle of
Lesbos and on the opposite coast of Asia, came, in
the sequel, to be its popular standard, having been,
after a lapse of some generations, carried to high
perfection by the Lesbian school of lyric poetrj'.
The language of the mother provinces of Central
Greece appears to have undergone no sensible
alteration. The prevailing tradition"^ is, that the
^T^^olian migration was caused by the irruption into
Boeotia of a kindred tribe from the neiu'libourinir
plains of Thessaly ; wlio, expelling the previous in-
habitants, themselves afterwards appear under tlie
same title of BcEotians given by Homer to their pre-
decessors. The same yLolian dialect must, tlierefore,

' Auct. ap. Maittaire, Gr. Ling. Dial. Tntrod. p. 30. sq. ; conf. Alliens
de Dial. iEolic. § 1. pqq., ct de Dial. Dor. § 1. sq.

' I. 142. " 3 (jiiiit. \.\ II. v.,1. I. p. G7.

110 EAllLY CULTURE OF Book I.

have been common to both, and continued so, under
snch slight variation as time or local circumstances
may have produced, after their separation. In Attica
the antient population, with its pure Ionic idiom, re-
mained undisturbed.

In Peloponnesus, the change of inhabitants was ac-
companied by a corresponding revolution of dialects.
A remnant of the old Achcean population kept its
ground on the narrow stripe of territory between the
Corinthian Gulf and the Cyllenian mountains ; and
some other petty tribes of lonians here and there, sub-
mitting to the conquerors, retained their possessions
in a state of vassalage.^ But the language and habits
of the subdued race became, in later times, more or
less assimilated to those of the dominant states.
Elis^, on the north-eastern coast, was assigned to a
body of ^tolian adventurers who had joined the Do-
rian armament on its passage through their country.
As the previous dialect of both ^^tolia and Elis was
jEolic, no essential change was here produced. The
Arcadian mountaineers preserved, together with their
independence, their proper ^olian tongue; which,
itself closely akin to that of their new Dorian
neighbours, had not participated in the culture of
the expelled tribes.^ The districts immediately oc-
cupied by the Dorians were, Argolis, Laconia, and
Messenia. In the sequel, their conquests, with their
language, were gradually extended over Corinth and
Megara to the Attic frontier, and subsequently, by
settlers from Epidaurus, to the neighbouring island
of ^gina.

The ejected inhabitants of the peninsula first

1 Ilei-od. VIII. 73. * Strab. p. 333. ; conf. Ildt. loc. cit.

' Strab, loc. cit.

Cu. Vr. §;3. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. Ill

sought refuge among their Ionian kinsmen of Attica.
Afterwards, under the auspices of Athenian leaders,
they crossed the /Egscan, and occupied the coast of
Asia south-wards from the /Eohan settlements, as far
as the headland of Miletus, together with the adjacent
isles of Chios and Samos. Here they appear, in later
times, under the distinctive name of lonians. Their
subsequent celebrity under this title, and the still
greater celebrity of the metropolitan state on tlie op-
posite continent under those of Athenian and Attic,
caused the first of the three, in after ages, to become
so exclusively restricted to the colonies, that the terms
Athenian and Ionian, or Attic and Ionic, instead of
being identical, as with Homer, were henceforward
pointedly distinct. Tlie south-western extremity of
the same Asiatic coast, with the adjacent islands, was
afterwards occupied by Dorians \ attracted chiefly
from Sparta by the existence, if we may trust Homer^,
of a previous colony established in Rhodes by a son
of their national hero Hercules. The Dorians seem
also, at a very early epoch, to have acquired an as-
cendancy in Crete. The language and institutions of
that island offer, accordingly, at the remotest period
of which authentic notices have been preserved, a
close resemblance to tliose of the Dorian states of
Peloponnesus.

It belongs to the history of Greek colonisation,
rather than Greek literature, to follow out in detail
the subsequent migrations from the different Hellenic
states to which so many flourishing commonwealths
along the various shores of the Mediterranean are in-
debted for their origin. It will be sufHcient, in tlie

' ]\IiilI. Dor. vol. i. p. 103. sqtj. ; Tliirlw. vol.ii. p. 100.; Grote, vol. ii.
p. 41.

II. /3. G.53. sqq.

IS tics.

112 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

case of each of these communities, to specify on the
first occasion where attention is directed to its native
authors or school of literature, in such detail as may
be required, the circumstances of its foundation and
early progress in art and letters.
Their re- 4, Xhc old Epic dialcct exhibits the efforts of a

spective . , 1 • n -\ • ^ -ii •!

character- nation, prc-eminently gitted with poetical and musical
genius, and as yet neither aided nor shackled by
grammatical refinements, to embody its conceptions
in the most expressive and most harmonious forms.
That this dialect is, in a great degree, of poetical
formation, its own internal evidence betrays. Many
of its most characteristic features originate in a
tendency to adapt the structure of words to the
exigencies of the hexameter verse, the earliest, and
for long the only measure in which the Greek poets
are known to have composed. This is a peculiarity
foreign to the process by which languages are culti-
vated in our own age, or to what may appear, on first
view, the natural process in any age. The generality
of mankind do not discourse in verse ; nor, therefore,
does it seem likely that the mere fashion of the poets,
in the choice of their numbers, should supersede the
spontaneous flow of words dictated by the conve-
nience of social intercourse. The phenomenon, how-
ever, is explained by a somewhat closer insight into
the earlier stages of Greek literary culture. In all
ages poets assume to themselves a certain privilege
of varying the sound of words from that authorised
by familiar usage. But, in a language yet unsettled,
as was the Greek at this period, and where poetry
was the only style of composition, not only is greater
scope afforded for such license, but the variations
themselves are more apt to become permanently

Cii. VI. §4. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 113

incorporated in the popular vocabulary. The case
is different in more advanced stages of literature.
Languages are there polished through the medium
of prose composition. Poetry, indeed, there also
asserts its own peculiar privilege. That privilege,
however, now consists, not so nmch in innovation, as
in adherence to antiquated Ibrms ; and, as a general
rule, the language of poetry receives its laws from
tliat of prose, upon which metrical usage cannot be
said to exercise, in its turn, any serious influence.
V>i\L in the flourishing; ao-e of the Homeric dia-
lect, prose, as a branch of literary composition, was
unknown, while poetry was perhaps more univer-
sally popular than at any subsequent period. Under
these circumstances, poetical usage could not fail to
exercise an extensive influence even on the vulefar
tongue, and numerous forms, originating in the
convenience of popular recitation, to become in-
veterate in the language of ordinary life.^ Nor
is it in the old Ionic alone that this influence is
observable. It may also be traced in other ele-
mentary stages of Greek poetry, where a particular
branch of composition obtained a powerful hold on
the popular mind. What first raised Athens to dis-
tinction in the republic of letters was the invention
of the regular drama, in the dialogue of which the
iambic trimeter verse, hitherto used chiefly in epi-
grammatic or didactic composition, Avas adopted, as
a happy medium between the sonorous roundness
of the heroic rhythm and the less defined periods
of familiar discourse. There may, accordingly, be

' While, therefore, In more advanced stages of literature, poetical
iisage is tlie means of preserving archaic idioms, in primitive times it is
tlie means of exploding them.

VOL. I. I

114 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

traced, in the formation of the classical Attic out of
the old Ionic, an influence of the iambic measure, in-
ferior, perhaps, in degree, but similar in kind, to that
exercised by the hexameter some centuries before,
in moulding the Ionic itself from the ruder speech of
earlier times.

During the long separation of interests between
the two bodies of the same Ionian race consequent
on the Dorian revolution, the previous common dia-
lect was subjected in each to other changes, oiFering
an interesting analogy to those in their national
character. In the Asiatic colonies many casuse
conspired, not only to soften the ferocity of the
old heroic spirit, but to diminish the sense of poli-
tical independance, and promote effeminate habits.
The enervating influence of Oriental luxury, with
which they were brought into closer contact, was
aided by a seductive climate, increase of commerce
and wealth, and by their position in regard to the
powerful nations of the interior, whose favour they
were under the frequent necessity of courting, and
towards whom they latterly stood on the footing of
vassal to liege lord. The best criterion for judging
of the parallel change in their language, during the
interval between Homer and Herodotus, is a com-
parison of the dialect of the poet with that of the his-
torian. In the former, the energy and simplicity of
the heroes by whom it was spoken are tempered only
by such harmony of numbers as was necessary to
adapt it to the liigher poetical style. In the latter,
an accumulation of short and slender vowel sounds,
with abbreviations of the more sonorous diphthongs,
and the rejection of many of those lesser asperities
which impart tone and vigour to a naturally melo-
dious tongue, have superinduced a certain liquid

Ca. VI. §4. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 115

tenuity, amounting, at times, to languor, which ren-
ders it no less inferior to the old Homeric ^ as a poeti-
cal idiom, than to the Attic in its adaptation to prose
literature.

Among the European descendants of the Ionian
race, opposite causes produced as opposite effects. In
Athens, with a less rapid advance in science or
wealth, a complete political independance was accom-
panied by greater integrity of manners. The im-
portance of that state, as a member of the old national
confederacy, was also increased by the rivalry into
which she was brought with the new Dorian dynas-
ties. It was under these circumstances that the in-
tellectual powers of the Athenians, naturally of the
highest order, were called forth : combining acuteness
of conception with fertility of invention and purity
of taste, they exhibit, during the flourishing ages of
tlie republic, all the proper excellences of Hellenic
genius in the highest perfection. Similar were the
changes in the antient common dialect. They consist,
chiefly, in the retrenchment of redundancy, whether
in sound or exj^ression, in so far as was consistent
with euphony on the one hand, and with perspi-
cuity on the other.2 The Attic dialect accordingly,

' Yet Herodotus, from his deference to the more manly Homeric
standard, was considered a less faithful type of the pure Ionic than
llecatacus or Hipjiocrates. Ilermog. de Formis Orat. ii. 11.; Excerpt,
ad calc. Greg. Corinth, de Diall. p. 679.

" Of that adnii\tui-e of other less-cultivated dialects, or even foreiifn
tongues, to which Xenophon (Hep. Attic, ii. 8), and after him Thiersch
and Matthia?, ascribe the change from the ohl Ionic to the Attic, as little
trace can be discovered in the classical standards of the latter dialect, as
in those of tlie more recent Ionic. The changes in each ca.-;e are soiclv,
or chiclly, intrinsic. Hence Strabo (p. 333.), and with better re.ison no
doubt, commends the Attic dialect for its purity, which he ascribes to
the fewer temptations the rugged barren soil of Attica held out to the
visits of strangers.

I 2

116

EARLY CULTURE OF

Book I.

Pervading
influence
of the Ho-
meric dia-
lect.

as finally formed upon these principles, offers the
most excellent model of a language for the familiar
usage of social life, or the more practical and intel-
lectual branches of literature.

Somewhat parallel is the case of the iEolian tribes
on the different sides of the MgiGan. The colonists of
Lesbos, and of the neighbouring ^Eolian coast, united
with the taste for sensual enjoyment common to
their Ionian neighbours, a peculiar fervour and ex-
citability of temperament. There sprang up among
them, accordingly, a school of lyric poetry pre-emi-
nent above all others in impassioned composition,
especially that of the amatory or voluptuous order.
The adaptation of their language to such subjects
naturally involved a refinement of the old rustic
features which it retained in the mother country.
This was effected, with little sacrifice of its native
simplicity, partly by softening down its ruder asperi-
ties, partly by an infusion of more liquid forms from
the Homeric fountain head of pure poetical idiom.

5. Although, in the course of these vicissitudes, the
old poetical Ionic, as carried .to perfection by Homer,
became obsolete in vernacular usage, various circum-
stances combined to secure for it, as the common
language of epic composition, an extensive influence
on the culture of all the other dialects. In those dis-
tricts of Greece where the late revolutions had not
produced a total change of inhabitants, its antient
popularity continued to operate in its favour. Among
the new settlers the same causes did not exist, or could
not be expected to prove so efficient. The Dorians,
inhabiting previously a remote frontier of Hellas, and
little connected with the great body of the nation,
had taken no part in the war of Troy, or in other

Cji. Vr. § 6. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 117

common enterprises of the ^Eolo-Ionian races ; nor,
in their more limited sphere, does the same taste for
legendary poetry appear to have prevailed among
them. Still, however, as the spirit of local jealousy
declined, in the mutual interchange of Hellenic asso-
ciations, even the Spartans were not only led to re-
cognise the poetical value of the Homeric dialect, but
are, said to have been the first among the states of
I'Airopean Greece to adopt the poems of Homer, in
})ublic use, as their standard text-book of heroic
achievement.^ It was a natural consequence of this
early ascendancy of the Homeric idiom, as the sole
language of literature, still more perhaps of the ex-
cellence of its models of style, that much of its
phraseology should be infused into other branches of
composition where difterent dialects were preferred.
It continued according!}^, in all time coming, as the
standard type of pure Hellenic diction, to exercise a
most beneficial influence on the lan2:uao-e at laro-e. The
rule which Macchiavel lays down for the renovation
of states, and which is equally applicable to all other
creations of human intellect, " to refer them to their
first principles," was here in constant operation. The
Ionic of Homer thus became a sort of common dia-
lect, the forms of which, judiciously selected, impart
dignity and variety to all the others. Although this
influence is chiefly observable in poetical composition,
it may yet be discerned by the critical eye, acting, less
directly but no less advantageously, on the classical
[>rose of every period.

6. This adaptation of the different dialects to lite- The nte-

1 • VI ii • (• rarv ciil-

rary purposes, keeping pace with tlie rise of new turcofthe

' Aristot. ap. Heraclid. Polit. frg. 2. ed. Schneidewin ; Tlut. in Lycurg 4.

I 3

118

EARLY CULTURE OF

Book 1.

separate .
diaU'cts, a
peculiarity
of the
Greek lan-
guage.

styles of composition, is a peculiarity which dis-
ting'uishes the literature of Greece from that of all
other nations. The division into dialects is itself
a feature common to the Greek with every other
language spoken through an extensive region. Va-
rieties of tribe, soil, or climate, must always tend
in some degree to vary the mode of combining or
pronouncing the same radical forms. In all other
cases, however, in the annals at least of European
literature, circumstances have led to the establish-
ment of a single dialect of each tongue as the language
of letters and polite society, the remainder being re-
stricted to vulgar or provincial usage. In Greece
the case was different. Each of the leading dialects
there claimed and enjoyed the same advantage of
literary culture. It will be proper here to examine
the causes of this distinction, which has scarcely
hitherto received such share of attention as its im-
portance deserves.

Where a nation, speaking the same language under
a variety of dialects, is united at the period of its
first advance in civilisation in one body politic, the
formation of a classical or court idiom results natu-
rally from the necessity of a common medium for the
promulgation of the laws, the distribution of justice,
and the exercise of public oratory or military com-
mand. The preference awarded to a particular dialect
is here usually to be sought in the influence of the
seat of government, or in some other early moral
or political superiority acquired by the tribe to
whom it was originally proper. The political state
of Greece at the period in question afforded no room
for a preference of this nature. The nation was
divided into many independent communities, with no

Ch. VI. §6. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 119

such predominance of any one state as could entail
a corresponding ascendancy of its language. The
case might have been different, for example, had
the Pelopidan family, in the preceding period,
succeeded in establishing a permanent sovereignty
over any considerable portion of Greece. The
poetical Ionic might then have become, and re-
mained, the exclusive language of letters. The
overthrow of the Pelopidan dynasty by the Do-
rians both checked the rising civilisation of Hellas,
and dislocated the machinery by which its progress
had hitherto been regulated. When, with the set-
tlement of the new state of society, the process re-
connnenced, the common spirit of Hellenic patri-
otism, though no way diminished throughout the
mass of the nation, was more divided among its
members, and more concentrated in each within the
sphere of its local interests. This feeling of se-
parate independance was heightened soon after by
the abolition of monarchal power, and the establish-
ment of republican institutions throughout the Plel-
lenic states. In Europe the Spartans, Athenians,
and other leading powers were actuated by a rivalry
little short of what usually prevails between foreign
nations. The Asiatic colonies formed distinct con-
federacies, but slightly connected with the mother
country. Not only in these more important bodies
politic, but in other flourishing conunonwealths
which successively arose in diflerent corners of the
Mediterranean, scope was now given for a spirit of
individual nationality, to which no parallel can be
found in any other age. Tlie number of free citizens,
who alone formed the state, was in each community
but limited, and all were, by privilege and habit, per-

i 4

120 EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

sonally engaged in the work of government. But
the language was an essential portion of the state
economy. The importance attached to the art of
public speaking rendered its cultivation indispensable
to whoever aspired to political eminence. The more
popular branches of composition were also closely
connected with religious solemnities, many of which
were common to local Amphictionies, or confedera-
cies of kindred states, assembling periodically in
common sanctuaries for their celebration ^ ; a practice
contributing still further to individualise the cultiva-
tion of the local language and literature. All these
circumstances, while they secured in each com-
munity the maintenance of its own dialect, tended
to prevent tiiat of any one attaining a marked
ascendancy over its fellows. The abandonment
of the mother tongue, and adoption of a foreign
medium either of public or social intercourse, from
deference to the superior power or talent of a
neighbour, would have been a compromise of the
national honour incompatible with the spirit which
animated those republics. Another material cause
of the same effect was the variety and extent of
the national genius, coinciding with an equal va-
riety of favourable media for its exercise. Among
the moral influences above adverted to, as tending
in other cases to promote the preference of some
particular dialect in a national literature, the most
important, perhaps, is the appearance, in some one
province, of a number of writers whose genius and
popularity have caused their works to be adopted as

» Thirlw. Hist, of Gr vol. ii. cli. x. p. 427. ; Grote, Hist, of Gr. vol. ii.
p. 321.

Cil. VL § 7. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 121

standards.^ In Greece an extension of the same
cause produced an opposite effect. As the different
brandies of composition were invented and matured,
such was the fertility of native talent, that in different
districts authors arose pre-eminent in some particular
style. In this way, each member of the republic of
letters, while willing to appreciate the genius of its
neighbour, honourably maintained the independance
of its own.

7. It resulted further, from the same causes, that Appropri.
as the sphere of literary pursuit Avas enlarged, the diflTrcnt
general rule of an exclusive preference of its native ^,1^^^^^,^"
idiom by each community admitted of great modifi- ^tyii-s.
cation. As the varieties of dialect were met by a cor-
responding variety of taste or talent, certain styles of
composition came to be considered the more imme-
diate province of one dialect than of another. The
character of a particular dialect might be in itself
better adapted to a particular style. The tribe by
whom tlie dialect was spoken might have been that
with whom the style itself originated, or whose
authors were its most approved standards. Even
local circumstances might procure for particular dia-
lects a preference in subjects connected with the com-
mon public ceremonial of the confederacy. Hence
different departments of literature ultimately estab-
lished, out of so great a variety of materials, a mode
of expression proper to themselves, without any com-
promise of patriotic feeling, or any sacrifice of the
just rights of the mother tongue. The Doric became

1 To this cause was owing the ascendancy of the Tuscan dialect in Italy,
under the auspices of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. Here, however,
the lan<Tuage of letters superseded in the other states of the peninsula
was not the native tongue, but the barbarous Latin inherited from the
lower ages of Home.

122

EARLY CULTURE OF

Book I.

Artificial
formation
of new dia-
lects for
new styles.

the favourite language of the higher branches of lyric
composition and of the primitive schools of philosophy ;
the iEolic of the amatory ode : the old Ionic retained
its former privilege in regard to the epic style and
hexameter verse ; while the new Ionic and Attic were
preferred in elegy, satire, the drama, and the more
popular departments of prose.

Herodotus offers a lively example of the ease and
freedom with which men of genius, in the youthful
stages of Greek literature, followed the bent of their
own judgement in the choice of a vehicle for their
thoughts ; a native of the Dorian Halicarnassus,
settled in an Athenian colony founded at a period
when the Attic dialect was already in a forward state
of cultivation, he yet prefers the Ionic for the com-
position of his history. The reason is simple. The
genius of his own Doric was little adapted for elegant
prose ; nor had the Attic as yet become popular in
that style. Of the few prose authors who had hitherto

treated the

general

history of Greece, the more

popular were lonians, so that the public was already
familiar with their dialect in such subjects. Hero-
dotus, therefore, not being ambitious of striking out
any independant course of his own, preferred it. A
few years afterwards Thucydides appeared, the first
of a succession of illustrious Athenian prose writers ;
and, from this and other causes, the Attic soon ob-
tained an almost universal preference in every branch
of prose composition.

8. As a consequence of the same principle which led
to the adaptation of certain dialects to certain classes
of writing, the whole body of dialects came to be
considered as a common literary property ; and men
of inventive genius sought, by combining the cha-
racteristics of several, to enliven or ennoble their

Cii. VI. §8. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 123

favourite styles. In this way new varieties sprang
up, distinct from the spoken hinguage of any part of
the nation. The Dorians, for example, at an early
period, took a lead in the higher de])artments of
choral poetry. Partly owing to this circumstance,
partly to their local influence in the Olympian and
other great national festivals, their dialect acquired a
preference in the triumphal odes which graced those
solemnities. The genius of the pure Doric, however,
was deficient in the harmony essential to its poetical
perfection. The leading authors, therefore, in this
branch of com[)Osition, formed for themselves a new
species of lyric dialect, by engrafting upon the Doric
the more musical forms of the old Homeric. This
is what is now called the Stesichorean or Pindaric.
About the same period the chorus of the Dorian
dithyramb, when transformed into that of the Athe*
nian tragedy, underwent a similar modification, by
a blending with the native Attic. Hence another
Ix'autiful variety of poetical idiom. So delicate was
the sympathy established in the subsequent refine-
ments of Attic taste between idea and sound, that
even the difterent turns of expression, in the same
departments of composition, were marked by cor-
responding shades of dialectical form. When, for
example, in the drama, messengers are introduced
recounting at length the details of remarkable events,
where, consequently, the dramatic gives place in
some degree to the epic character, the usual Attic
idiom and Iambic measure admit of forms peculiar to
the Homeric dialect and hexameter verse as the proper
language and rhythm of narrative poetry.^ Even in

1 Matthia-, Gramiii. vol. i. § IG. p. 63., § 160. p. '207. Ileiifc many of
the supposed corrections of these passages, by Porson and others, are in
all probability corruptions.

124: EARLY CULTURE OF Book I.

the mixed idiom of the chorus may be distinguished
a greater infusion of JEolo-Doric forms where the
train of sentiment assumes a loftier character, and of
Attic where a more familiar tone prevails.^

By this varied application of its rich stock of
materials, the Greek language afforded a freedom and
scope to the exercise of literary genius, to whicli
nothing parallel can be found in any other age or
country. A language restricted to one definite
classical standard can hardly be well adapted to
every class of composition. The same musical soft-
ness which favours the flow of poetical numbers
must, in a proportional degree, be prejudicial to the
gravity of historical narrative and philosophical dis-
quisition, or to the terseness of forensic eloquence.
Had Demosthenes possessed no other medium for
giving vent to his Philippics but the Ionic of Homer,
or Plato composed his Kepublic in the ^Eolic of
Sappho, their works, whatever their intrinsic ex-
cellence, must have sacrificed a portion of their
external charm to the comparatively inappropriate
dress in which they would have appeared. This
may be further illustrated by the example of modern
nations distinguished for talent in every department
of letters. The French tongue has produced a comic
writer equal, to say the least, to the chiefs of the
Attic humorous drama : but, in the higher walks of
poetry, neither genius nor art can overcome the
obstacles to a corresponding degree of excellence in-
terposed by the sound and structure of that language.
The finest conceptions couched in harsh or discordant
accents can no more constitute perfection in poetry,

' Elmsl. ad EuriiJ Med. 95. ; Matthlae ad Eurip. Hecub. 95.

Cu. VI. §9. THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 125

than in music the sublimest airs sung by a weak and
tuneless voice. The same general remark applies
more or less to all the other European tongues, that,
in proportion as they may be adapted to one style
of composition, they are unfavourable to another.
But in the cultivated Greek dialects we possess the
masterpieces of several languages rather tlian of one.
It were difficult to imagine a vehicle of expression
better suited to the varied powers of the Epic muse,
tlian the old Homeric ; to the tenderness of amatory
complaint, than the Lesbian ^olic ; to the mingled
gravity and impetuosity of the triumplial lyre, than
the Doric of Pindar : or to the precision and energy
of dialogue, prose narrative, and oratory, than
the Attic of Aristophanes, Thucydides, and Demo-
sthenes.

9. The above remarks apply chiefly to the flourish- ritimatc

^ ^ , ••.£•• 1 1 ascendancy

ing ages oi (jrreece, wlien a spunt ot mdependance oftheAuic
animated the institutions of every state, and the '''^'^'-■'•
breast of every citizen. With the decline of the
national character, the establishment of a dominant
influence in the political commonwealth was attended,
as in other ages and countries, by a corresponding
effect in the republic of letters. The preponderance
of Attic genius had procured a certain ascendancy
to the Attic tongue, even prior to the subjection of
Greece to the Macedonians. One great object of this
semibarbarous power, from its first rise into im-
portance, was to establish a claim to the pure Hellenic
character, and, by consequence, to promote Hellenic
habits and associations among its subjects. As the
most effectual means of .attaining this end, they
adopted the Attic as the court dialect took the
literature and science of Athens under their espe-

126 EARLY CULTURE OF GREEK. Book T.

cial patronage, and established them as models in
the new schools founded under their own auspices.
Alexandria thus became the metropoHs of arts and
letters, and the Attic, as it prevailed in that court,
slightly modified by provincial peculiarities, the
classical dialect of the whole Hellenic world. The
other dialects, however, were not entirely abandoned.
The old Ionic maintained its exclusive preference in
heroic poetry. Nor did the existence of such models
as Herodotus' or Pindar fail to secure a certain
number of followers in the branches to which they
had given lustre. Still, however, the use of all the
older dialects became, from day to day, more a
matter of imitation than of spontaneous custom.
Sicilian The states which longest maintained a jDolitical in-
dependance were the Sicilian republics. The Mace-
donian sway, to which the whole of Greece Proper,
with her colonies to the eastward, had been more
or less subjected, never extended to those common-
wealths. Perhaps, indeed, their most flourishing
age was that of the decline of the mother country.
Their literary history supplies, accordingly, another
illustration of the close union between the destinies
of the Greek language and of Greek national inde-
pendance. It was during this period, when Sicily
in fact stood alone as the representative of the ori-
ginal genius of Hellas, that her poets carried to
perfection, as its last expiring effort, one of its
liveliest and most characteristic creations, the pas-
toral or bucolic style of Ij^ric poetry, and with it
another spirited variety of the Doric dialect.

Doric.

Cu. VII. §1. OEIGINAL GENIUS. ]27

CHAP. VIL

ORIGINAL GENIUS OF GRECIAN LITERATURE.

1. rXITT OF OE^^L'9 between the greek NATION' AND ITS LANGUAGE.

2. ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCE IN THE ORIGIN OE HELLENIC AND MODERN

LITERARY CULTURE. 3. ADVANTAGES ON THE SIDE OF THE GREEKS.

4. ORIGINALITY AND FERTILITY OF GREEK INVENTITE GENIUS. 5. FUNDA-
MENTAL PRINCIPLES OF IDEAL EXCELLENCE IN GREEK COMPOSITION.

6. CLASSICAL AND ROMANTIC SCHOOLS OF MODERN COMPOSITION. — 7. SUPERIOR
EXTENT AND VARIETY OF MODERN LITERARY CUXTURE.

1. The influence of the same causes which promoted unity of

11 r-i Ti 1 1 S^"'U3 be-

the culture oi the separate dialects may be traced twcen the
on the language at large, in rendering it as faithful [JorandTts
a reflexion of the genius of the whole nation as each language-
dialect was of that of the individual tribe. The dis-
tinction between the language of letters and the vul-
ffiir tonfrue, so characteristic of modern civilisation, is
imperceptible or but little defined in the flourishing
age of Greece. Numerous peculiarities in her social
condition tended to constitute classical expression in
speaking or writing, not, as with us, the privilege of
a few, but a public property in which every Hellene
had an equal interest. Among these peculiarities
may be especially noticed the freedom of social inter-
course which prevailed among all ranks of citizens,
owing partly to their republican institutions, partly
to their natural vivacity of temper and devotion to
public amusements, of wliich literature formed an
important element ; the industrial arts being chiefly
confined to slaves, and attendance on the council,
theatre, or gymnasia the only occupations suitable to

128 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book I.

the dignity of a Hellenic freeman. During many
ao-es, oral recitation, in the absence or limited use of
writing, was the sole or chief, at every period a com-
mon, mode of publication. Works of genius, even of
the highest order, were addressed, not to an exclu-
sive class, but to the citizens at large ; were recited on
solemn occasions, and often approved or condemned
by the voice of the assembled multitude. To this
popularity of the national literature may be as-
cribed in great part that richness and freedom of ex-
pression, which constitutes so great a charm of the
Greek writers of the best period. In the choice of
their phrases, they were guided rather by their innate
sense of euphony and propriety, than by deference
to any artificial standard. Whatever was custom,
was equally entitled to become rule. Not that cri-
tical discrimination was excluded, but the rejection
of a word or phrase merely as a vulgarism, without
reference to its intrinsic merit, could hardly, in the
nature of things, take place in the flourishing ages
of Greek letters. Much of this variety of expression,
in the syntactic element of the language, may be
traced to that ascendancy of the imaginative faculty
which marks the earlier stages of literary culture.
An author, warmed by his subject, expressed his
ideas in the order in which they spontaneously
offered themselves, without arresting their flow to
consider how far that order was strictly grammatical.
Nor, had he himself observed the irregularity, would
he have deemed its correction an improvement, satis-
fied that the train of association in the mind of the
audience would harmonise so nearly with his own,
that they would be as little disposed to cavil as he to
amend.

Cii. Vir. §2. GUECIAN LITERA'lUHE. 129

The elementary rules of grammatical concordance
are everywhere substantially the same. M", therefore,
the structure of each language were regulated by
strict laws of analogy, there would be little or no
scope for variety, in connecting the ideas of which
words are the representatives. It is, in a great
measure, through the anomalies of syntax, that the
working of thought in the individual or national
mind is exliibited. luit tliis shadowing forth of in-
dividual character is an important element of spirit
and originality of style, which must be extinguished
by any systematic reduction of popular usage to
grammatical analogy. Against the danger of freedom
degenerating into license or obscurity, nativ^e Greek
taste proved an effectual safeguard. It is this inex-
haustible diversity of modes of expression, the analysis
and classification of wdiicli, under the technical heads
of Ellipsis, Pleonasm, Anacoluthia, Syncope, and so
forth, have exercised the ingenuity of grammarians
for the last two thousand years, but which can no
more be reduced to any fixed rules than the varied
intelligence in which they originate.

2. These peculiarities of the Greek tongue are Different
traceable mainly, no doubt, to the genius of the Si'^iuf
people, partly however to the difference, formerly ='."*^ niodem
pointed out, in the circumstances under which Ilel- culture,
lenic and modern literary culture took their origin.
The former arose in the bosom of the nation, and
"was matured by the unaided efforts of native genius.
Its standards of taste w^ere the produce of the talents
common to all, not of the educational acquirements
peculiar to a few. Numerous masterpieces in the
higher walks of poetry had been composed before the
f uniliar use of prose writing, and the most esteemed

VOL. I. K

130 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book I.

models of both styles before the first attempts to
reduce grammar to system. This process was re-
served for a period when original talent was already
on the decline, and professed critics attempted, by
giving uniformity to classical usage, to check the
progress of corruption. In the other European lan-
Sfuao-es, from the Latin downwards, this order was
reversed. Their culture was, from the first, carried
on upon imitative principles. In the one case the rules
were derived from the standards ; in the other, the
standards were framed after the rules. The classic
literature of Rome originated with native Greeks, and
the Latin language was cultivated by reference to the
laws of Greek grammar and prosody. The first step
taken, on the revival of taste in our own middle ages,
for refining the " vulgar tongue " (as the spoken lan-
o'uao-e was called, in contradistinction to the barbarous
Latin of the schools), was to apply to its productions
the rules devised by the antient sophists for sus-
taining the decrepitude of the classical dialects. Its
more advanced stages of culture have been the result
of a long course of artificial training and careful sepa-
ration of the classical from the vernacular phraseology.
Many modes of expression, calculated to impart
energy and variety to style, and to which the Greek
dialects would have given full prominence, have been
proscribed by the tyranny of grammatical criticism
as inelegant, or lie hid as vulgarisms in the provincial
idiom. Our literary dialects may be compared to
gardens of select plants, many of them exotics,
nurtured by scientific training, and carefully sepa-
rated from the wild growths by which they are
surrounded. The Greek language may be likened to
an extensive pleasure-ground in a favoured climate

Cu. VII. §2. GRECIAN LITERATURE. 131

and diversified soil, comprising every species of wild
and domestic vegetation in endless variety and. luxu-
riance.

The equal distribution of literary culture among
all classes of Greek citizens was also favoured by the
originality of their language, abov^e noticed as one of
its most important attributes. The etymology of its
words being, with rare exception, contained within
itself, the terms which represent even complex ideas
connected with the more abstruse sciences were re-
ducible, by a more or less consistent train of analogy,
to certain elementary roots, conveying through their
sound some general apprehension of their sense to
the understanding of the least learned. But in mixed
or corrupt languages, such as most of those of modern
Europe, a large portion of the vocabulary can con-
vey, to the majority of persons who use it, no more
definite impression than results from the habitual
association of a certain sound with a certain idea,
which would, to them, have been equally well repre-
sented by any other sound. No Italian or French-
man can possess a scholarlike knowledge of his own
tongue, but through a familiarity with the Latin; no
Englishman, but through an acquaintance wdth Latin,
French, and German. In each case, a nearer in-
sight into the native etymology requires also some
tincture of Greek letters. The language of modern
science is, to all but the accomplished linguist, a
species of cabalistic dialect, in its origin chiefly
Greek, -and mainly dependant on that tongue for its
further dcvelopement. In Greece, on the other hand,
every man that could read and write possessed all
the elementary education requisite to enable him,
according to his talent and opportunities, to tread at

1 32 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book I.

once the higher walks of literature, or dive into the
mysteries of science.
Advantages 3. The literature, like the language, thus grew up
of tife^ *'''*' from infancy to maturity, a vivid reflexion of the
Greeks. genius of the people. That pedantry of scholastic
learning and spirit of imitation which pervade our
own republic of letters were completely excluded.
The national taste alone prompted the various
branches of composition, which arose, were matured
and subdivided, with the parallel stages of ethic
and social developement. Their materials were
drawn from purely national sources. The vicissi-
tudes of domestic history furnished a copious store
of subjects in which every Hellene had a personal
interest, and a varied mythology repaid the fancy
to which it owed its own birth with an imagery as
richly varied. Among the advantages resulting from
this union between the genius of the nation and of
its literature was that close sympathy between
author and subject, so essential to excellence in every
branch of art. Let us imagine two poets of equal
talent, each charged with the composition of an ode
in celebration of a glorious victory ; the one a citizen
of the triumphant state, who had borne a part in the
war, the other a foreigner, who had heard of the
adventure but by distant report. There can be little
doubt which of the two poems would be most dis-
tinguished by poetic fire. The rule applies more
or less to every other popular class of composition,
and extends from the author to the audience, who
enter far more readily into a subject founded on
domestic history or manners, than one borrowed
from nations of whose habits or language they know
nothing but through historical or antiquarian re-

Ch. VII. § 3. GKECIAN LITERATURE. 133

search. Xor is tlie influence of this association
limited to the age in which a composition appear,^,
or the public to whom it is addressed. A work,
either of history or licti(jn, emanating from the
country and times in which the scene of action is
laid, acquires a far greater hold on the public, even
of other times and regions, than one by a foreigner
on the same subject. No history of the Persian or
l^eloponnesian war, by a modern author, can awaken
the same interest as the narratives of Herodotus or
Thucydides. In poetry this power of association is
still stronger. The supernatural agency of classic .J
fable delights in the page of the native writers,
because we ftel that, however foreign to our own
belief, it represents that, real or poetical, of the au-
thor, his heroes, and his public. In a modern poem
on classical subjects it becomes comparatively insipid,
because, though in unison with the belief of the
heroes, it is foreign to that of the author or his
public. But the same heathen mythology, in a
modern adventure, not only fails to warm, but ac-
tually freezes the imagination, because we feel that it
is equally foreign to the belief of the author, his lieroes,
and his public.^ It is in the literature of Greece

' So powerful Is the inlluence of this alfcction, as to cause mucli to be
admired, through its medium, as excellent, or even sublime, which would
otherwise be stigmatised as affectation or bombast. It was chiefly, or
solely, because the Ossianic poems were held to be the productions of a
barbarous Celt of the third century, that they were once so highly
esteemed ; it is because they are now believed to be a patchwork by a
Scottish bookmaker of the eighteenth, that they have been consigned to
neglect. Their actual merits or demerits, as poetical compositions, are
the same in each case; it is the association in the public mind alone
that has altered. Hence, too, as will be more fully pointed out here-
after, the satisfaction with which we pursue in Homer those minute
descriptions of the transactions of ordinary life which would be insutVcr-
ablo in an epic poem of the present day.

K 3

134 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book L

alone, among the nations of civilised Europe, that
the full power of this association is perceptible. No
study of foreign history was there required to
create or appreciate the higher works of genius, no
deference to foreign rules of criticism, no initia-
tioa into the mysteries of a mythological machinery
transferred by the labours of the antiquary from
remote ages to a state of society at variance with its
spirit. A Roman, in order to understand the elegant
authors in his own tongue, required to be more
deeply versed in the annals of Greece than of his
own country. In the present age the sphere of ac-
quirement necessary to form an accomplished man
of letters has been still more widely extended, and
many of the noblest productions of modern literature
are uninterestino^ or unintelli""ible to all but the
upper rank of educated men.^

^ Of the value of this source of interest in a national literature few
modern nations seem to have had any clear conception. The subject,
which -with the Greeks was the soul of the action, has in our own age
been too often considered but as a species of raw material for the art of
the dramatic experimentalist. It is like the block of marble, out of which
the modern sculptor, with an equal neglect of the spirit of Greek art,
and an equally servile adherence to its practice, hew^ Apollos, Mercuries,
Ariadnes, instead of applying the principles transmitted through the
antique models to the execution of national works. Hence that pedantic
reproduction of Medeas, Meropes, Phaedras ; where the question with the
author or the critic is, not so much whether the work be calculated to
speak home to the feelings of the audience, as how far the poet can
claim to have successfully competed with Euripides or Racine in the
art of adjusting dramatic combinations. Shakspeare uttered a happy,
though involuntary, satire on the classical European drama, in his famous
lines,

" What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her."

There can, indeed, be as little tragic sympathy between the benches of a
Parisian pit and the distresses of a Hippolytus or Antigone, as between
the polished boots and starched cravat of the audience, and the diadem,
buskin, and chlamys of the performers.

inventive
genius.

Cn.VII. §4. GRECIAX LITEKATURE. 135

4. Whatever difference of opinion, therefore, mny oiiKinaiity
exist as to the essential vahie of antient and modern of'oreek"^
learning, the claim of Greece to originality and extent
of spontaneous invention is unquestionable and para-
mount. To her belongs the exclusive honour of
creating and maturing a system of literary l)olity for
civilised Europe ; of having originated, classed, and
regulated the various departments of composition ;
and furnished, in each, standards, by the study of
which the efforts of every people M'ho have since
successfully cultivated the elegant arts have been
awakened, or their progress directed. In no otlier
country has any advance been made towards the
liigher stages of excellence independently of Greek
models, or of the impulse communicated directly or
indirectly by Greeks. AVere it, therefore, proj)osed
as a point of speculative inquiry, whether, Imd the
Hellenic nation never existed, or liad its works of
trenius been annihilated on tlic i-ise of the Roman
ascendancy, the present dominant races of Europe
would have stood hiiiher in the scale of literarv
culture than the other nations of antiquity before
tlieir subjection to Hellenic influence, the decision,
if referred to the test of experience, must be in
the negative. This may at first view seem a
startlin"- conclusion. When we consider the actual
extent and variety of our intellectual resources-, so
far surpassing those of the antients in their most
enlightened epochs, they appear so entirely our own,
tliat, even admitting the whole fabric to rest on a
Hellenic foundation, the consciousness of our existing
superiority might still incline us to assume that, in
the absence of all foreign aids, the spontaneous efforts
of modern genius would liave attained a similar emi-

K 4

136 OEIGINAL GENIUS OF Book L

nence ; and that too without any sacrifice of native
originality at the shrine of classical antiquity. " The
advantage of the Greeks," it might be urged, " is to
be ascribed rather to the favour of destiny, which
allotted to them a primary, to ourselves a secondary,
stage in the march of improvement, than to an innate
superiority of inventive talent. Our own civilisation
being thus grounded on a previous social system, the
adoption of the models transmitted by it became
unavoidable." The question, however, arises : How
happens it that the same nations, who, after coming
into contact with Greek art and science, displayed
taste and talent for their cultivation, should not
have spontaneously put forth that talent in their
previous independant capacity ? On behalf of our
Teutonic ancestors, there may reasonably be pleaded
their comparative remoteness from the older fountain
heads of elementary civilisation, and the absence of
other local advantages enjoyed by the countries on
the Mediterranean. Another case, however, more
immediately in point, is that of the Romans, through
whose medium chiefly Greek science has been dis-
tributed to the rest of Europe. The example of this
distinguished people shows that a high amount of
attainment in legislation, agriculture, and the essen-
tially useful arts, has no necessary connexion with
elegant pursuit ; and that nations who, when supplied
with a "first story, may be qualified to raise excellent
fabrics, would have been incompetent themselves to
rear them from the foundation. Rome was mistress
of a great empire, had attained the climax of her
social prosperity, and a proficiency in all the practical
arts of life, before a single native fruit of her ima-
ginative talent can be adduced above the rank of

Cu. VII. § 0. GRECIAN LITERATURE. 137

tlie popular ballads common to all seinibarbaroiis
tribes. It required a familiarity Avitli the classical
models of Greece, consequent on the subjugation of
that country, to engraft on a naturally barren stock
the nobler productive powers which were indigenous
among the Greeks ; and the first improvers of Latin
style were naturalised Hellenes. But the races who
have since held sway in Europe can hardly lay claim
to any innate superiority of taste or genius over those
of antient Italv. If the Romans showed such inca-
pacity to advance without the aid of the Greeks,
under circumstances little less favourable than those
in which the Greeks did every thing for themselves,
we can have no right to assume that the barbarians
who overran the Roman empire, if equally left to
themselves, would have done more than the Romans.
In both cases there is the same deficiency of native
resources, with the same disposition to respond to
the stimulus when applied from the proper quarter.
Hence the remarkable contrast, that while it is even
now matter of dispute whether the most illustrious
Greek poets, whose works still form the acknowledged
standards of the art of composition, so much as knew
the use of letters, the restorers of literature in modern
times were men of profound chissical learning.

5. The principles of ideal beauty in art or lite- Principles

, , ^ , , . . , ^ of ideal cx-

rature, though lounded on certain primary Jaws ot ciUi-iucin
harmony and propriety, have no separate existence J'J,7if„,';""'"
in themselves, apart from the works in which they
are embodied, and which an approved excellence has
caused to be adopted as models. Xor is the observance
of those principles in individual cases essential to ex-
cellence. Power of expression and originality of con-
ception, even under rudely digested forms, still possess

138 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book I.

their value. Literary merit accordingl)^, in this ge-
neral sense, is far from being peculiar to Greece, or
to writers on whom the influence of Greek culture is
perceptible. We find much to admire in the litera-
ture of various other antient races, of the Hebrews
for example, or the Indians ; but we reject their
compositions as models for ourselves. The master-
pieces of the Greeks, on the other hand, are ap-
preciated, not only for their individual excellence,
but for the elementary laws of art which they em-
body. Further evidence of the exclusively Hellenic
origin of these laws exists in the fact, that while
they are acknowledged by the reason or critical
discernment of other nations, they are not, as a ge-
neral rule, congenial to their taste. Hence the modern
authors most distinguished for originality and power
are those who have least conformed to them. Thus
Milton is more chaste but less original than Dante,
Tasso than Ariosto, Racine than Shakspeare, Canova
than Michel Angelo.^ It is only where, in the same
individual or the same people, the dictates of natural
taste lead to a spontaneous coincidence, that both
elements of perfection can be united. Among the
Greeks alone this happy union is to be found, for
their purest standards of style are also their noblest
productions of original genius.

The question may here naturally occur : What are
those elementary principles of ideal excellence, in-

1 The illustration may be extended from literature to the graphic
departments of elegant art. Among various other nations, where Hel-
lenic example never spread, the efforts of indigenous talent have pro-
duced, in these departments also, works of great excellence, counter-
balanced, however, by anomalies and defects destructive of their value
as standard models. The Greek school of design is the only one which
has grown up, under the guidance of pure native genius, in spontaneous
conformity with the principles of ideal beauty and propriety.

Cii. VII. § 5. GRECIAN LITERATURE. 130

(ligenoiis in Greece, exotics in all other retjlons ?
They consist in the just blending of force and ele-
gance, of symmetry and variety ; in the adaptation to
the several departments of composition, in prose or
verse, of their proper style, limits, and class of sub-
jects, so as to avoid the opposite extremes of mea-
greness or diffuseness, or the offensive collision of
heterogeneous elements. They require, especially in
works of a higlier class, that happy relatic^n of parts
and unity of whole, which alone can insure grandeur
of effect ; order and perspicuity in the general distri-
bution of the subject ; and a just mixture of con-
ciseness and amplitude in the details. In poetry
they consist in that triple rule, so finely laid down
by Milton, that it should be " simple, sensuous, pas-
sionate," in idealising its subjects, without sacri-
fice of their truth and reality ; in the distinction
l)etween elevation and bombast, fervour and extrava-
gance, in the ebullitions of passion ; between richness
and profusion in embellishment or imagery. These
excellencies may often be found individually ex-
emplified in the productions of nations to whom the
influence of Greek culture has not extended; but
never united, still less reduced to system, by the
spontaneous practice of native authors and the
approval of the native public.

Throughout the above remarks, a distinction has
been made between tl\e terms Principles and Kulcs.
AVhile in the elegant arts, as in justice and morality,
there are certain fundamental laws, of universal appli-
cation, the particular rules in each case may, and
ought, to vary with the difference of time, place, and
circumstance. However excellent may be the prin-
ciples inculcated in tlie Greek standards, as their

110

ORIGINAL GENIUS OF

Book I.

Classical
and ro-
mantic
sch(K)Is of
modern
cotnposi-
tiun.

substance resolves itself into a general observance of
propriety, it follows that an adherence to any specific
rule or practice of Greek art, where the circum-
stances in which it originated no longer obtain, may
be in as plain opposition to Greek principles, as the
wildest aberrations of barbaric genius. A servile ad-
herence to the letter rather than the spirit of antient
usage has been productive, accordingly, of many
injurious effects in modern literature. For example,
the principles of tragic composition transmitted by
the Greeks are : that the subject should be dignified
in itself, and possess a hold on the symj^athies of the
audience ; that the characters should be conceived in
the spirit of the age and state of society from which
they are derived ; that the action should be per-
spicuous and united, not overloaded with personages
or incidents ; and that grotesque admixtures of
heterogeneous materials should be avoided. These
are laws invariable in themselves, and applicable to
the higher class of dramatic composition in every
country. The specific rules of Greek tragedy, on the
other hand, the rigid adherence to the unities of
time and place, the preference of mythological sub-
jects, the employment of a chorus, and others con-
nected with peculiarities, social or religious, under
which the Greek drama was matured, have been
found inept or incongruous on the modern stage.

6. It has been customary, in certain recent schools
of criticism, to justify the irregularities of great
modern writers, as reflectino; the o^enius of the ao^e
or country in Avhich they flourished. As a general
rule, no doubt, literary works must be judged
with reference to the circumstances under which
they were produced. But this rule is subject, like

Ch. VII. §G. GRECIAN LITEUATURE. 141

others, to exception, or it wouLl strike at the root
of all critical distinction. What is in itself faulty
may be palliated, but can never become excellent by
any force of circumstances. The same law applies
in literature and art as in morals or politics. What
•would be enormities in the conduct of an English
gentleman might hardly provoke censure in an Arab
sheikh or a Turkish aga. In like manner, the in-
flated style which we call Oriental is congenial to the
taste and character of the Eastern nations ; and this,
by imparting to it a certain interest of association,
renders it less offensive than in European literature :
but no such consideration can ever render it an excel-
lence ; otherwise the quaint doggerel of the middle age
chronicle might contest the palm with the narrative
of Hume or Robertson. In the same critical school,
modern composition has been divided into two
branches, under the titles of classical and romantic.
The characteristics of the former are defined as a
irreater or less adherence to the Aristotelian unities,
with a general preference of subjects or imagery
borrowed from antient history or mythology. The
romantic style, on the other hand, derives its ma-
terials from modern history, or treats them rather
according to the dictates of national taste than
to theoretical rules of propriety. The distinction
is in itself ingenious and well founded. Xot so,
however, the inference witli which it is usually
coupled: that the Principles by which each style
is, or ought to be, guided are different; as if there
were a species of literary excellence essentially dis-
tinct from what the Greeks have taught us. The
principles of Hellenic art are of universal application,
10 the literature of Italy or Spain, of France or of

142 ORIGINAL GENIUS OF Book I.

England ; and, however the admirers of the romantic
school may profess to disregard or repudiate them,
still, if its own productions be impartially tested by
them, its merits will be found to be in unison, its
defects as surely at variance, with what they incul-
cate.^

For example, the properties to be chiefly admired
in the romantic drama, subjects derived from indige-
nous sources, spirited portraiture of character, and
vivid representation of passion and feeling, are all in
strict harmony with the laws of classical composition.
Its defects, again, the little regard for unity of action,
and entire contempt for that of time or place ; the con-
fusion of incidents, inconsistencies of geography or
chronology, and burlesque admixture of the serious
and ludicrous, are plain violations of the laws, not
merely of Hellenic, but of all elegant art. While,
on the other hand, the merits of the modern classi-
cal drama consist chiefly in the absence of those
blemishes which disfigure its rival, its own defects
are owing mainly to a slavish observance of the
letter, in breach of the spirit, of the rules by vvdiich
it professes to be guided.
Superior 7, The literary historian must not, however, be

variety of led, by auy partiality for his own subject, to un-
iTterary dcrratc the intellectual culture of other times, as
culture. compared with that which it is his immediate pro-
vince to treat. Nor, certainly, is such the object,

' It is worthy of remark, in further illustration of what has been said,
that the chiefs of the Spanish school of romantic poetry, whose pro-
ductions combine perhaps the greatest originality and fire with the most
extravagant license, have themselves recorded their testimony to the
essential value of the chaster classic standards, coupled with a confes-
sion of inability to conform to them. Their judgement was convinced,
their imagination refused obedience. Sismondi, Lit. du Midi, vol. iii.
p. 366.

Cii. VII. §7. GRECIAN LITEKATUUE. 1-13

or, if rightly estimated, the general tendency, of the
above remarks. The distinrruishins; characteristics
of an age or nation cannot be fully appreciated but
by the contrast of parallel cases, in which the same
phenomena are either wanting or exhibited in ii
different form. We have hence been led to compare
the fundamental features of Hellenic literature, its
])urity and originality, witli the equally fundamental
feature of modern culture, its spirit of imitation.
But this advantage on the side of the Greeks, is well
counterbalanced by the superiority of our own state
of society in amount and variety of attainment : nor
can there be a stronger proof how finely the springs
which regulate the progress of human events work
together, than the fact, that to the absence of those
very causes which operated so favourably in the case
of the Plellenes much of that superiority may be
traced. The same exclusive national feeling, and
conscious intellectual power, which concentrated and
sharpened the inventive faculties of the Greeks, by
leading them, at the same time, to contemn all other
nations as barbarians, tended to stifle or to blunt
that zeal for historical research which might other-
wise have been expected from their acute and
speculative disposition. On the other hand, the
very obligation under which the modern nations
were placed, in rearing their own social fabric on a
classical basis, to study other tongues, and investigate
the affairs of other countries and ages, has been the
primary scource of that enlargement of ideas which
distinguishes our literary culture from the exclusive
system of the Greeks. To this obligation is due, more
especially, the spirit of enlightened ])hilological pur-
suit, altogether peculiar to modern times, tlie bene-

144 OKIGINAL GENIUS OF GREG. LIT. Book L

fits of which, in every department of science, are
incalcuUible. The invidious line of distinction be-
tween Greek and Barbarian has been succeeded by
the establishment of one great intellectual common-
wealth ; the subdivision of which into separate pro-
vinces, differing in language and political interests,
but united by a common zeal in the pursuit of know-
ledge has produced effects in Europe at large ana-
loo'ous to those above traced in Hellas to the sub-

division of her tribes and dialects. It has fomented a
spirit of enlightened rivalry, where all are as anxious
to excel as ready to rejoice in the success of others.
Scientific investigation has been directed into new
channels entirel}^ shut up from the antients ; and the
lives of large classes of men, with large portions of
national wealth, are devoted to the cultivation of the
language, literature, and arts, not only of Greece
and Rome, but of every other nation with which
geographical discovery or antiquarian research has
made us acquainted.

Each state of society, therefore, has its own proper
privileges and advantages, and those which the pre-
sent enjoys are undoubtedly greater and more varied
than ever fell to the lot of any other ; a purer system
of religion and morals, clearer views of the rights and
liberties of man, and a far greater proficiency in all
the arts of real utility or necessity. Contented with
these our just claims to preeminence, we may safely
concede to the Greeks those which, with equal right,
appertain to them : originality of inventive genius,
purity of taste, and an intuitive perception of the
beautiful and the sublime in imaginative art, peculiar
to themselves among the nations either of antient or
modern times.

Cii. VITT. §1. MYTHICAL TOETS AND WORKS. 145

CHAP. viir.

MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS.

1. OKIGIN AND EAKLT CULTIVATION OF THE ART OF POETUY. 2. THRACE

AND THRACIANS OF THE MYTinCAL AGE. PIERIA. DAULIA. HELICON. NYSA.

3. LEGENDARY MINSTRELS. AMPHION. 4. ORPHEUS. PHILAMMON. TUA-

MYRIS. 5. EUMOLPUS. MUS.EUS. PAMPHOS. LINUS. 6. OLEN. OLYMPUS.

7. FABULOUS MINSTRELSY OF GREECE CHIEFLY CONNECTED ■VVITH THE

RITES OF DEMETER AMD DIONYSUS. EARLY ASCENDANCY OF iEOLIAN
GENIUS. ACCREDITED WORKS OF THIS PERIOD.

1. That metrical composition should have preceded origin and
prose by several centuries in Greece may, on first ration of '
view, appear a reversal of the natural order of iJj^^^^y "^
invention. The more simple and spontaneous mode
of expression ought, it might seem, to take precedence
of the more studied and complicated. Experience,
however, proves the contrary to have been the case
wherever the progress of literary culture has remained
free from external or artificial influences; and a little
reflexion will show that such is the natural course of
things. The faculties through which literary talent
is exercised or appreciated are twofold, the Fancy
and the Judgement ; the former of which is always
in the ascendant in the primitive stages of society.
Literary productions therefore, in order to command
the attention of a simple people, must entertain and
excite rather than instruct. But the language of
colloquial discourse possesses in itself no peculiar
charm; and that refinement of it which constitutes
elegant prose, with the taste for its enio3Mnent, belongs
to a more advanced stage of social culture. To cap-

VOL. L L

146 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book I,

tivate the fancy alone, it has been found necessary to
embeUish the language of common life, by combining
the ideal dignity of expression and sentiment which
constitutes the substance of poetry, with the har-
monious cadence of metrical numbers which consti-
tutes its form.

But, in the infancy of society, other circumstances
conspired to render rhythm not only an agreeable,
but an essential element of popular composition.
The essence of all literature is permanence. Without
this, the highest efforts of genius in prose or verse
were mere transitory effusions, like the fireside tale
of wonder, or the burst of occasional oratory to
which excited feelings give vent in the ordinary in-
tercourse of life. When preserved and transmitted,
those efforts first assume the character of literary
monuments. But, even if prose composition were to
the taste of a barbarous age, its transmission, by the
aid of memory alone, would be scarcely possible, or
would require an exertion to which no primitive people
could be expected to submit. Rhythm, on the other
hand, both facilitates the task of committing to
memory, and affords such aid to the powers of reten-
tion, as to supply the place of writing in the absence
or little prevalence of that art. Hence it will be
found that, among all barbarous nations, the first
literary productions are of the metrical order :
whether hymns in praise of their gods, or epic poems
recording the genealogy and exploits of their heroes.

Poetry then is the basis of all intellectual culture.
It is the first step by which our nature raises itself
above the physical impulses to which we are subject
in common with the lower order of creation, the
first attempt to embody thought in a connected and

Ch. VIII. §1. MYTHICAL POETS AXD WORKS. 147

permanent form ; and it were difficult, probably, to
discover any race of men so nearly on a level "with
the brutes, that some species of ballad or song lias
not been current amono; them. The ori^^in of this
art therefore, among the Greeks, may be considered
as coeval with their existence. Its higher cultivation,
however, can only be dated from the epoch when the
establishment of Hellenic ascendancy had imparted
consistency and permanence to a national language,
and provided subjects calculated to awaken a nobler
vein of poetical inspiration.

Every art, in its earliest state, must be assumed
to exist in its simplest form, and limited to its most
elementary objects. The simplest forms of the
poetical art are the Epic and Lyric; the one describing
the actions, the other descanting on the praises of the
objects celebrated. Attention will be directed to the
special properties of each, and their respective claims to
priority or importance, in connexion with the more
strictly historical period of their cultivation, Avherc
the existence of real works and authors offers tangible
material for commentary. The poems of either class
which the Greek legends ascribed to the primitive
bards were chiefly of a religious tendency. It seems,
however, more probable, that in this, as in every sub-
secpient period, human affairs supplied the principal
subjects of celebration. A few Pasans, or sacrifical
hymns, would suffice for the service of the deity or his
altars ; but the calls of human vanity would be less
easily satisfied. Those legends may, however, possess
historical value, as fio-urative of that union between
poetry and priesthood which characterises all pri-
meval civilisation. Poetry was not only the vehicle
by which invocations were addressed to the gods, and

L 2

148

MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS.

Book I.

Thrace and
Thnacians
of the
mythical
age.

oracular edicts, or moral and religious maxims to
the people, but was itself considered a species of
divine inspiration. While, therefore, poets were
likely to become priests and prophets, men of
superior intellect would, even where not naturally
favoured by the Muses, be led to cultivate the poetical
art, as a means of securing influence over their fel-
low-citizens. Music and poetry were also, among
the primitive Greeks, inseparably connected. Hence,
in their traditions, the character of poet is usually
found to combine those of musician, priest, prophet,
and sage. Even in the more recent historical form
in which it appears in the page of Homer, the office
of bard is identified on some occasions with that of
sage or counsellor.^

2. Several of the earliest and most celebrated of
these gifted personages, Orpheus, Thamyris, Eumol-
pus, and others, are in the popular legend designated
Thracians. To this account, taken by the letter, as
referring to the nation familiarly bearing that title,
importance has been attached by the school of critics
who derive all the elementary civilisation of Greece
from foreign sources. On the admission that these
minstrels really were Thracians in the above sense, we
must assume, as essential to the performances recorded
of them, either that Thrace was formerly inhabited by
a Greek population, or that the poets themselves, if
foreigners, possessed a perfect knowledge of the Greek
tongue. In the former case their foreio-n oriojin would
consist but in name. The latter view, on the other
hand, coupled with the extensive influence ascribed to
them, would imply a great superiority of the Thracians
of those days over the Hellenes in elementary culture.

1 Odyss. y. 267.

Cii. VIIT. § -2. Mi'TIlICAL POETS AND WORKS. 149

That a few solitary individuals, travelling into a foreign
land, should have thoroughly mastered its language,
and founded a national school of poetry and music,
were scarcely credible, unless the arts which they
taught had already reached a comparatively advanced
stage in their own country. Ikit the whole tenor of
authentic history repudiates the notion of any such
precocity among the indigenous tribes of Thrace.
They were, in every historical age, a proverbially
barbarous people, and their language a barbarous
tongue, with as little pretension to literature as they
themselves to taste for its cultivation. It seems
incredible therefore that the Hellenes, a people sur-
passing all others in brilliancy of inventive genius,
could have been indebted for the improvement of
their own language, and the first rudiments of the art
of composition, to a foreign race who were never able
to advance a step in the same direction at home.
These considerations tend to destroy the whole value
of the popular accounts, taking the terms Thrace and
Thraciau in their familiar sense.

Among the more plausible attempts to solve the picria.
difficulty is the hypothesis, that the Thrace alluded
to in these fables was the district of Pieria, situated
on the north, or Macedonian side of Mount 01}ni-
pus, and in so far comprehended within the limits
of Thrace in the wider sense of the term.^ This
district, bordering on the sanctuary of the Hel-
lenic Jove, and a favourite seat of Apollo and
the Muses, may reasonably be supposed to have
been possessed in these times by a Hellenic popu-
lation, spreading over both sides of the divine

1 Miill. Troleg. zu cin. w. Myth. p. 219.; Orcliom., 2(1 cd. p. 372. sqq.

L 3

Ik'licon.

150 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book I.

mountain. But the case admits of a,notlier, and
Dauiia. perhaps more satisfactory explanation. It is certain
that, in the mythical geography, a tract of country
on the frontiers of Bceotia and Phocis, compre-
hendimx Mounts Parnassus and Helicon, bore the
name of Thrace. In this region the popular my-
thology also lays the scene of several of the most
celebrated adventures the heroes of which arc
called Thracians. In the fable of Itys and Phi-
lomela, Tereus, king of Thrace, marries Procne,
dauo-hter of Pandion kino- of Athens : but his
court and palace, with the tragical events that fol-
lowed, are placed in Phocis. On this apparent
anomaly Thucydides, in allusion to an Odrysian chief
of his own time, called Teres, has the following com-
mentary^: "This Teres has no connexion whatever
with the Tereus who married Pandion's daughter,
nor were they natives of the same Thrace ; for the
antient Tereus dwelt in Daulia, in the country now
called Phocis, but then inhabited by Thracians. It
was, indeed, more probable that Pandion should form
an alliance with a neighbouring chief, than that he
should have sought a husband for his daughter at a
great distance among the Odrysians." This remark
equally applies to Orpheus and the other supposed
Helleno-Thracian bards. It is more probable that
the Greeks should have sought their early p3ets and
musicians within the bosom of their own country,
than amons: northern barbarians. The connexion,

in this elegant fable-, of the nightingale with the

^ The version of it, however, here preferred by Thucydides is evi-
dently of later Attic origin. In the legend of Homer, the name of the
metamorphosed heroine's father is Pandareiis, Atticised in Thucydides into
Pandion; that of her husband, Zethus. Odyss. t. 518.

Cu. VIII. §2. MYTHICAL POETS AND WOEKS. 151

Hellenic Thrace, is in itself an obvious figure of
an early preeminence of that region in poetry and
sonn;.

In this way may be elucidated various other Nysa.
Thracian chapters of Hellenic mythology. The wor-
ship of Bacchus, a Boeotian deity, is described as
having met with great opposition in his native pro-
vince. Among its fiercest opponents was Lycurgus,
designated king of Thrace, but who is evidently,
like Pentheus in the same series of fables, a type
of the resistance offered by the Boeotian chiefs to the
spread of those extravagant orgies. The " divine
Nyse'ian mountain " therefore, down which Homer ^
describes the God with his attendants as pursued by
Lycurgus, and which the license of later mythology
has transferred, not only to the barbarous Thrace,
but to Syria, Arabia, India, and elsewhere'-, is to
be souglit at Nysa, a district of Mount Helicon, to
which Homer applies the title of " preeminently
divine,"^ and where there was, in later times, a
sanctuary of the God."* Pausanias", while express-
ing the same opinion as Thucydides regarding the
Thrace over which Tereus held sway, also makes the
" Thracian " bard Thamyris virtually a Phocian. He
assigns him for mother a nymph of Parnassus called
Argiope. His father Philammon is described as a
native of the same region, son of Apollo by the

1 II. ^ 133. 2 Steph. Byz. and Ilesycb. in v. NlVoj.

3 II, /3. 508.'

* Eustiitb. ad loc. ; Sopli. Antig. 1131. ; Eurip. Baccb. 556. ; DicKarch.
de Stat. Gr. v. 102.

^ In the time of this author the name Thracis still attached to a com-
munity in Blount Helicon (x. iii.). A family of Thraddas are also
mentioned as ollice-bearers in the Delphic sanctuary. Diod. Sic. xvi.
xxiv.

I, 4

152 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book I.

nymph Chione, and brother of Autolycus, its cele-
brated robber chieftain.^ The divine grandsire is
obviously here but a figure of his own sacred region ;
the grandmother Chione, as her name bears, of its
snow. Others call the latter heroine Leuconoe.^
The names of these heroines, Leuconoe, Argiope,
Chionis, are all but so many varied modes of typi-
fying the same " snow-white " Parnassus. This
view of the " Thracian " character of these sages
becomes the more plausible, if it be remembered
that the region of Central Greece, in which the Hel-
lenic Thrace was situated, is that from which, first
or chiefly, the seeds of elementary culture were
propagated throughout the nation. Here tradition
places the first introduction of the alphabet. Here
were also the principal seats of Apollo and the Muses.
In the heart of the same region was situated the
Minyean Orchomenus, the temple of the Graces,
rivalling Thebes herself in the splendour of her
princes and zeal for the promotion of art. Among
the early masters of poetry or music, not vulgarly
styled Thracians, the most illustrious, Amphion and
Linus, are Boeotians. Nor was this region of Cen-
tral Greece less favoured in respect of its religious
institutions. It was not only the favourite seat of
Apollo, the Muses, and the Graces, but the native
country of the Dionysiac rites, zeal for the propa-

^ Pausan. x. iv., iv. xxxiii. ; conf. Apollod. Bib. i. ili. ; Ovid. Metam.
XI. 301. sqq. ; Hygin. Fab. 200. The remaining particulars of the birth
of Thamyris appear to be inventions of later fabulists, to account for the
anomaly of a Phocian poet being also a Thracian. His mother Argiope,
it is said, disowned and persecuted by her seducer, took refuge, when
pregnant, among the Odrysians. " Hence," says Pausanias, " how Tha-
myris came to be called a Thracian." — iv. xxxiii.

2 Hygin. Fab. 161.

Ch. VIII. §3. MYTHICAL TOETS AND WOKKS. 153

o:ation of which is a characteristic of the Tliracluii
sages.

AVliile, therefore, the adoption of either a Pierian
or a Phocian Thrace, as the birth2)lace of the earliest
school of Greek poetr}^, obviates the clithculty of its
barbaric origin, the hypothesis of some closer bond
of connexion bet^yeen the population of the two dis-
tricts is also favoured by the fact of each containing
one of the two most celebrated sanctuaries of the
Muses, and by the correspondence in each between
the names of several principal localities.^

3. In the list of fabulous Greek poets or musicians. Legendary

1 .11 , . ;i r- i 1 • minstrels.

the most illustrious names are those oi Amphion,
Orpheus, Philammon, Eumolpus, Musa^us, Pamphos,
Linus, Thamyris, Olen, Olympus. The biography
of these mysterious personages belongs to the Greek
mythology, rather than to the history of Grecian lite-
rature. A short notice will here suffice of the prin-
cipal legends concerning them, and of their imputed

1 Strabo, p. 410. 471. ; conf. ThirL Hist, of Gr. vol. I. p. 46. ; Miill. Orcli.
2d cd. p. 372. ; Bode, Gescb. d. hell. Dichtk. vol. i. p. 111. The name
Thrace is itself a significant term, indicating the geographical character
of each district, a substantive form, namely, of the adjective Trachea
(rpaxei^a), " rugged," by the customary enallage of the mute and asjiirate
letters. This epithet, in ^vhichever of its varieties suited the local
dialect, was precisely that by which a rocky wooded mountain district,
bounded by a tract of fertile plain, Avould be designated, as contrasted
witli the vale or champaign country below. Thus the Parnassian, or
Heliconian Thrace was the mountain region bounding the Boeotian
plain ; the Olympian, or Piei ian Thrace was that to the north of the
still wider plain of Thessaly, whence the name afterwards spread to the
whole region lying north of Ilellas ; just as the term Asia spread from a
single valley of Lydia to the whole great eastern continent, or that of
Italia from a small corner of Magna Gracia to the entire Italian pe-
ninsula. Another mountain region on the southern frontier of Thessaly
was named, with slight dialectical variety, Trachis ; and various other
districts, in different parts of Greece, received the same or similar a[ppcl-
latives from the same natural peculiarity.

154 _ MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book I.

influence on their favourite branches of composition.^
To the first eight in the list a Hellenic, or, what is
equivalent, a Thracian character belongs. The last
two names, Olen of Lycia and Olympus of Phrygia,
fio-ure the influence of the neio:hbourino; Asiatic school

O CD o

of music on that of Greece.
Amphion. Amphion is described by Horner^ as son of Jupiter,
by Antiope, daughter of Asopus the chief river of
Bceotia, and, with his brother Zetus, as founder and
fortifier of Thebes the Boeotian metropolis. These
notices entitle him to rank as the most antient Hel-
leno-Pelasgian patriarch of that district. Cadmus
consequently must be considered in Homer's legend,
not as the founder, but as the later colonist of Thebes.
The infancy and early youth of Amphion, owing to
circumstances connected with the mystery of his
birth, were passed in the obscurity of a shepherd's hut
on mount CithaBron. Here he attracted the notice of
Apollo, from whom, or in other accounts from Mer-
cury or the Muses, he received the gift of a lyre, with
so brilliant a faculty of using it, as to have collected
the stones for the building of his city, and raised
them to their places in the walls, by the fascination
of his music.^ This the interpreters of fable expound,
aptly enough, as signifying that, by the persuasive
eloquence of his muse, he induced his countrymen,

^ Other less celebrated mythical poets of various epochs are : Bacis,
whose oracular epigrams are frequently cited by Herodotus (viii. xx.
alibi) ; Chrysothemis of Crete ; JMopsus, an Argonaut ; and Phemonoe,
the first Delphic priestess, reputed inventor of the hexameter verse
(Pans. X. v.), and by some identified with the Cumffian Sibyl. The reader
curious of more ample details relative to the whole of this class of
fabulous characters, is referred to Fabricius, Bibl. Gr. i., to the articles
in Smith's Diet, of Ant. Biogr., and other popular repertories.

2 Odyss. \. 260. sqq. ; conf. Hor. de Art. poet. 394.

^ Eumelus, Corinth, frg. xi. ; Philostr. Im. i. x.

Ch. VIII. §4. MYTHICAL TOETS AND WORKS. 155

hitherto a scattered race of shepherds or husbandmen,
to unite within the walls of a city for the better cul-
tivation of the arts of civilised life. The punishment
inflicted by Aniphion and liis brother Zetuson Dirce,
a Boeotian princess, for the insult and persecution
suffered by their mother Antiope at her hands, forms
the subject of one of the most celebrated extant
groups of antient sculpture.^ But the divine favour
vouchsafed Amphion in his earlier days deserted him
in later life. He became the husband of Niobe, and
father by her of that ill-fated offspring so celebrated
in classic song. His death is attributed by some to
the weapons of Apollo, as a punishment for the im-
pious fury with which he gave vent to his indignation
at the loss of his children ; by others to his own
suicidal act. He and his brother were buried in the
same grave. The spot, though unadorned by any
monument, was still revered as a sanctuary in the
time of Pausanias ; although the same author, on the
authority of the antient poem of the Minyas, describes
Amphion as tormented in Hades for the impieties of
his latter days.^

4. The traditions concerning Orpheus, with a orphcus.
greater popularity in the later mythology, have less
the character of o-enuine archaic le<2:end than those
relative to Amphion and some other of his fellow-
bards. It is remarkable, considering the lustre which
has since attended this name, that no mention of it
should occur in Homer, Ilesiod, or other most antient
poetical authorities.^ "Whilst Amphion represents the

1 Commonly called the Tore Farnese, or Farnesian Bull, preserved
in the Royal Museum of Xaplos.
^ Pausan. ix. v. : ^linyas, IVg. iii.
^ The first mention of him is by Ibycus, about 550 B.C. frg. 9.

156 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book I.

popular genius of primeval poetry, Orpheus may be
considered as tlie type of its religious or sacerdotal
element. Accordingly, the mystical school of com-
position which sprang up towards the commencement
of the Attic period of literature, simultaneously with
a new and abstruse philosophy, connected itself in-
separably with his name as its mythical founder.
The works which passed vulgarly current in Plato's
time as Hymns of the " Thracian " bard were pro-
bably some of the more esteemed productions of Ono-
macritus, Cercops, and other scholars of the time of
the Pisistratida3, celebrated for the concoction of such
spurious compositions.^ What may have been the
primitive germ or spirit of the Orphic poetry, contem-
plated even in this light, it were fruitless to speculate,
owino- to the number and hetero";eneous nature of
the doctrines^ embodied in the mass of mystical
effusions afterwards comprised under the same title.
The increasing celebrity of Orpheus, as inventor of
the sacred or sacerdotal hymn, led to his becoming a
sort of popular type of the lyric poetry at large of the
mvthical ao-e. The le2;ends concernino^ the mar-
vellous influence of his art on gods, men, and animals,
in the various adventures where, with even more
than the usual contempt for consistency which charac-
terises mythical chronology, he is made to figure,
especially during the Argonautic expedition, surpass
in number and extravagance those narrated of any
other Greek minstrel.^

^ Lobeck, Aglaoph. vol. i. p. 347. ; Eitschl, Die Alex. Bibl. p. 42.

^ See Lobeck, Aglaopb. p. 482. sq. alibi ; Nitzscli, Myth. "Wort. vol. ii.
p. 375.

^ For his reputed works, see Lobeck, Agl. p. 353. sqq. ; Fabric.
B. G. I. xviii. sq. Those wliich now pass unJer his name are : an epic

Cii. VIII. §4. MYTHICAL POETS ANT) WORKS. 157

According to the general outline of these tradi-
tions, Orpheus was son of the muse Calliope and of
G^agrus, a Thracian river god, or some other equally
mysterious father, and disputes witli ximphion the
merit of first instructing his countrymen in the use of
the lyre. That the Thrace possessing the most equi-
table claim to his nativity was tlie Pierian region,
appears as well from the occurrence of a Pierus in
the list of his ancestors \ as from his Thracian tomb"'
(for various other countries claimed one) being shown
M'ithin its bounds. His descent to Hades in search
of his mistress Eurydice, where he lulled Cerberus to
sleep, bewitched the inhabitants of the gloomy region,
and softened tlie stern bosom of its sovereign by the
melody of his notes, with the subsequent sad termina-
tion of his amorous adventures, forms an elegant and
pathetic chapter in the book of classical fiction. The
fury of tlie Thracian Maenads, to which he fell a
sacrifice, is attributed in the more accredited le2:end^
to his opposition to the Dionysiac mysteries, for which
Pentheus, Lycurgus, and other heroes of the Hellenic
Thrace were similarly punished. In other accounts
he is represented as instrumental to the establish-
ment of the same Bacchanalian ceremonies.^ At his
death his head and lyre, floating down the Hebrus,
were conveyed beyond sea to the shore of Lesbos^,
where they were preserved and cherished as the

Argonaiitica, in 1:384 lines; Lithica, or a Treatise on the Virtues of
Stones, in 76S lines ; with numerous hymns and other metrical fra^^mcnts,
mystical and philosophical.

1 Lobeck, Aglaoph. p. 323. - Pans. ix. xxx.

3 JEschyl. ap. Eratosth. Catast. '24. ' Lobeck, Aglaoph. p. 205.

5 Phanocl. frg. r. ; cf. Lob Aglaoph. p. .'V20. Other accounts (Conon,
Narr. 45. ; Ovid, Metam. xi. 50.) bore his head to Smyrna, the birthplace
of Ilomcr.

158

MYTHICAL rOETS AND WORKS.

Book I.

Philam-
mon.

Thamyris.

Eumolpus

source of the brilliant flow of lyric composition for
which that island was distinguished. This tradition
is an evident figure of the passage of lyric genius,
with the ^olian migration, from the western to the
eastern shore of the Jigasan ; and may also seem
further to illustrate the connexion between the
Pierian and the Boeotian Thrace, the latter being the
mother country of those colonies.

Philammon of Delphi was son of Apollo and the
Parnassian nymph Chione, and father of the " Thra-
cian " Thamyris. He was the reputed founder of the
first musical solemnity at Delphi, and author of a
hymn on the birth of Apollo, as also of various
musical compositions. He was also distinguished as
a warrior in defence of the Pythian sanctuary against
an assault of the Phlegyans.^

Thamyris, his son by the nymph Argiope, and
whose Parnasso-Thracian origin has already been
illustrated, is chiefly celebrated for the adventure
recorded of him by Homer."- Having challenged the
Muses to a competition in his favourite art, and being
defeated, he was punished for his presumption by the
loss, not only of his poetical talent, but of his eye-
sight.

5. Eumolpus and Musaeus, like Orpheus and Tha-
myris familiarly designated Thracians, act a promi-
nent part in Athenian fable. The former, in the
more popular accounts, was son of Neptune and the
nymph Chione, already mentioned as mother of the
Parnassian Philammon, but here described as an Attic,
not a Parnassian heroine.^ After various youth-

^ Fabr. i. xxvi.

^ Apollod. III. XV. ; Pausan. i. xxxviii

* II. )3. 595., conf. Fabr. i. xxxv.

Cn. VIII. §5. Sn^XniCAL rOETS AND WORKS. 159

fill adventures, Eumolpus appears as a powerful
" Thracian " sovereign, ally of Eleusis, then an in-
dependent state, in a war with Erechtheus king of
Athens.^ He is also made, in the sequel of this legend,
founder of the Eleusinian mysteries, and ancestor of
the sacerdotal family of Eumolpida?, who, both in
Athens and Eleusis, enjo3^ed the chief superintendance
of the solemnity. This account, however, is by no
means in harmony with that of the Homeric hymn
to Ceres, a mythical authority of much prior age to
those whence the above details are derived. In that
poem Eumolpus is described as a patriarchal chief
of Eleusis, who, with four other leaders of the local
aristocracy, affords hospitality to the goddess in her
wanderings, in gratitude for which she appoints their
city the depositary of her sacred rites. Several works,
in epic measure it would appear, passed current under
his name, on subjects connected with the worship of
both Ceres and Bacchus.^

Musa3us is variously designated son of Orpheus, musxus.
Linus, and Eumolpus.^ Of the latter he is also occa-
sionally made the father, while his only recorded
mother is Selene, or the moon.'^ He usually ranks
as a Thracian, sometimes however, from his fame
and influence being chiefly connected with Attica, as
an Athenian. His name, derived from that of the
Muses, seems an obvious type of the early influence
of those goddesses upon Athens. Visionary as his
own person may be, the poems attributed to Musaius
assume a definite reality at an earlier period than

^ Isocrat. Panath. p. 273. ; Thucyd. ri. xv. ; Pausan. sup. cit.

- Fabr. i. vi. 7. ; conf. Diod. Sic. i. xi.

» Fabr. i. xvi. ; Clinton, Fast. Hell. vol. i. p. 343.

^ Plato, De Rep. p. 364.

160 MYTHICAL rOETS AND WORKS. Book I.

those of any other author of the same class. From
Herodotus^ we learn that a collection of them, appa-
rently of an oracular character, was extant in the
time of the Pisistratid^e ; and that Onomacritus, one
of the literary clients of that family, was banished by
Hipparchus for surreptitiously inserting among them
compositions of his own. The spurious additions,
however, seem to have enjoyed a greater popularity
and permanence than the original works ; for Pau-
sanias^ considered all the poems current in his time
under the name of Musasus, with the exception of a
single hymn to Ceres, as forgeries of Onomacritus.
The most specific account of the religious creed of
MusEeus is a statement of Plato ^, that he made the
happiness of the blessed in Elysium to consist in per-
petual feasting and intoxication, a doctrine which
certainly affords no very favourable impression of
his system, either of morality or religion. His mythi-
cal dignity receives an important accession from the
honours paid him by Virgil'^, who represents him in
the Shades surrounded by a crowd of disciples, his
authority over whom is figured by the superior
height of his stature. This seems to imply that the
Latin poet attributed a greater extent or reality to
his influence, owing probably to his connexion with
Athens, than to that of the other sages or civilisers of
primitive Greece.
Pamphos. Pamplios, of whosc nativity no notice has been

transmitted, is sometimes associated with Orpheus,
sometimes with Musasus, in the exercise of his poeti-

^ VII. vi.

- I. xxii. For the best list of his accredited poems, see Duntzer, Frg.
Epicc. Grfcc. p. 72.

3 Rep. p. 363. •* iEn. vi. 667.

Ch. VIII. § G. MYTHICAL TOETS AND WORKS. Kil

cal functions, tlic cliicf scene of wliicli, as in the
case of the latter poet, was Attica. IJynins attri-
buted to him, in honour of Jove, Ceres, Diana,
Neptune, Cupid, and tlie Graces, were sung in the
Kleusinian rites, in conjunction with those ascribed
to Glen and Orplieus.^

Among these legendary minstrels, Linus is, per- Linus,
liaps, the one in whose favour even the popular ac-
counts advance the slenderest claim to real pci'-
sonalitj, while the agency of which lie is the symbol
displays itself in the most palpable forms. In his
sj'mbolic capacity he appears as the Eponyme genius
of plaintive music. His name, in the same symbolic
sense, was common to a mournful song or ode per-
formed in his honour, which will demand its due
share of attention in a future chapter on the Orders
of Greek lyric composition.^ Anj' further details
therefore, relative to himself or his ai't, will be re-
served for tliat portion of our subject.

6. Glen and Glympus, the remaining minstrels on oun.
the list, are the only two, setting aside the letter of
the Thracian le<2;end, to whom tradition assi^rns a
forei2:n orio;in. The former, who raidvs as the earliest
and most illustrious })riest and poet of the Delian
Apollo, is variously designated a Lycian and a
Hyperborean. The Lycian version of his oi'igin seems
the more antient, being that adoptiMl by the older au-
thorities who notice hiuL Li his sacerdotal character
he may be claimed equally by both nations, as repre-
senting certain mysterious elements of Apollo's wor-
ship, connected on the one hand with the coast of
Lycia, on the other with some undefined region of

' Pausan. i. xxxvii. alibi ; Clint. V. IKll. vul. i. p. 344.
2 Book III. Ch. ii. § II.

VOL. I. M

1G2 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book. I.

Northern Europe.^ The Lycian Olen was considered
by Herodotus as author of the more antient hymns
performed in the Delian festivals ; and at Delphi the
same honour was assigned him in his Hyperborean
character.^ Boeo, a celebrated priestess of that sanc-
tuary, pronounces him, in two oracular lines, to be
not only the most antient of Apollo's prophets, but
of all poets, and inventor of the hexameter verse, the
foundation of Hellenic poetry.^ His hymns were
also sung in the Eleusinian festival.^ This reputed
influence of the Lycian poet on the sacred music of
Greece, is indirectly figured in other primitive tra-
ditions of a connexion between the two countries and
their Apollo worship. In the Iliad Apollo appears
as an essentially Lycian god, patron both of Lycia
Proper and of another tribe of Lycians on the Helles-
pont. Among his Lycian attributes, one of the most
prominent was that of " Lycean," or " Wolf-Apollo,"
embodying the more terrible features of his cha-
racter. Under this title he was also worshipped in
the Argolis^ ; and the coincidence stands in close
connexion with other local legends, embodied by
Homer in his episode of Proetus and Bellerophon,
concerning an intercourse between Lycia and the
Argolis in mythical times. The remarkable monu-
ments of primeval sculpture and architecture, still
extant at Mycenae in the latter region, and bearing
obvious reference to the rites of Apollo^, were

^ Hdt. IV. xxxiii. sqq. ; Paus. v. vii. 4. ; conf. Miill. Dor. i. iv. ; see also
B. 11. Ch. xxu. § 8. of this work ; conf. B. III. Ch. v. § 3.

'-! Hdt. IV. XXXV. 3 Paus. x. v. ^ Paus. ix. xxvii.

5 Mliller, Dor. i. p. 215. sq. 302. sqq.

® See Journal of a Tour in Greece, vol. ii. p. 171. sq. ; and p. 256.,
of an article in the Rheinische Museum, 1839, vol. vi. ; both by the

Ch. VIII. §G. MYTHICAL TOETS AND WORKS. 1G3

also, in the popular tradition, ascribed to Lycian
artists.^

The Asiatic origin of Olynipus", or of the art lie re- oiympus.
presents, is stillmore plainly indicated in the fables con-
cerning him, than that of Olen in the Lycian legend.
The chief or only musical instrument in early popular
use in Greece, and at all times that most congenial to
Hellenic taste, was the lyre, or harp. The flute enjoyed
an equal preference among the nations of Asia Minor,
from which country it was first brought into more ge-
neral practice in Europe. The accredited autlior of its
introduction was Olympus, who stands alone accord-
ingly, among his Hellenic fellow-minstrels, in liis
preference of wind to string instruments. His birth-
place is variously assigned to Phrj'gia, Mysia, and
Lydia, but his reputed master in musical science,
Marsyas the Phrygian, seems to connect him chiefly
with the former region. The Greeks, however, dis-
tinguished two 01ym})i : the fabulous musician of the
ante-Homeric period, and a real artist of tlie same
name and country in later times, to whom, as will
more fully appear hereafter'', were ascribed many

author of this work. lie is now convinced, however, that the lost licads
of the animals sculptureil on tlic gate of Mycenae wore those of lions, not
wolves, as he had once conjectured, lie has been led to this conviction
chiefly by the near resemblance of style which he has observed between
the Lycian lions recently lodged in the British INIuseuni and those of
Mycena?, especially by the extreme small iiess of the head, which forms
so marked a characteristic of the Lyciau figures. This latter peculiarity,
while proving that there would liave been room for the heads of the
Mycenaean lions, if of similar dimensions, in the space allotted them,
supplies also an additional evidence of the connexion between the two
schools of primitive art. Other still more iwinted evidence of this con-
nexion is traceable in the decorative architectural details of the monuments
of each country ; upon which, however, this is not the place to enlarge.

1 Apollod. ir. ii 1. ; Strab. p. 373. ; Paus. ii. xxv.

"■ Clint. Fast Hell. vol. i. § 344. ^ i„f,.„^ jj ,,, (^j, j § p

u 2

Bacchus.

164 MYTHICAL rOETS AND WORKS. Book I.

of the more important inventions in the higher
branches of music. The elder Olympus, therefore,
may be considered but as a mythical reflexion of
his real successor, called into existence to impart
archaic dignity to an art of comparatively recent
cultivation in Greece.
Fabulous 7. It is remarkable that, while Apollo is at all

chiefly con- pcHods of Grcck tradition the patron deity of poetry
thfriter'o? ^^^ music. the legends of these primitive composers
Ceres or couucct tlicm chicflv with the worsliip of Ceres or
with the kindred rites of Dionysus. This is the case
with Orpheus, j\Iusa3us, Eumolpus, Pamphos, Tha-
myris, and probably Linus. In resjDoct to Ampliion
and Olympus no special preference is recorded. Olen
is the only one of higher celebrity who appears as an
unqualified devotee of Apollo. The other legendary
minstrels connected with the worship of that god,
such as Philammon of De]|)lu and Chrysothemis of
Crete, founders of the Pythian chorus, or Phemonoe
the Pythoness, who disputed with Olen the invention
of the hexameter verse, are of inferior and local
fame. Tliis peculiarity is explained by the circum-
stance, that the Dionysiac and Eleusinian rites were
more immediately connected with those rural and
agricultural festivities, which in all ages first acquire
public importance and popularity.^ It was natural
therefore, that in the general tendency of Greek tra-
dition to combine the early efforts of elegant art with
religious ceremonial, the patron deities of those fes-
tivities should enjoy a priority, more especially in
Central Greece, where religious poetry appears chiefly
to have flourished. Tlie whole of that region teems,

' For the worsliip of Apollo himself as a rural deitj, see infra, B ii.
Ch. xxii. § 7.

us.

Cm. Vlir. §7. JIYTUICAL POETS AND WORKS. 105

in the popular mytlioloiry, Avitli tlic tiirbuk-iit eii-
tliusiasm of the Jjaccliic and J'lleusinian orgies, so
favourable to the flights of lyric inspiration. The
musical rites of Apollo seem, in Greece itself, to have
been first indebted for their higher culture to his
Dorian worshippers. The only spot where they ap-
pear with any degree of lustre in mythical times is
Delos, where Olen asserts accordingly the honour of
his patron deity.

Another inference suggested by this catalogue of Early

.. ,1 ..I 1 1 I'T'T ascendancy

prnnitive authors is the early ascendancy ot ^±>olian of.coii
genius in poetry and music. With the exception s^"'
of the two foreigners, Olen and Olympus, they all,
whether as Thracians in the sense above illustrated,
or as Boeotians, belong to the yEolian family. Cir-
cumstances already noticed tended, it is true, in the
course of national advancement, to obtain for the
dialect of the lonians a certain preference as the lan-
guage of poetry ; yet, as regards individual authors
even in that dialect, it will be found that, while the in-
fluence of several of those fabulous /Eolo-Thracian
minstrels is described as chiefly exercised at Athens,
a central seat of the purest lonism, or in Pelo-
ponnesus\ the later ^Eolians claim the honour of
sivina; birth to both Homer and llesiod, to the
latter indisputably, to the former by a large i)rc-
ponderance of evidence. This priority, both as to
invention and excellence, is maintained through-
out the whole of the poetical period, in the more
ideal branches of composition, musical and i)oetical,
by Terpander, Arion, Alcajus, Sappho, andStesichorus.
In those branches which connect themselves more

» II. p. 594.

M li

Accredited

166 MYTHICAL POETS AND WORKS. Book T.

nearly witli the objects and interests of real life, the
Elegy and Iambus for example, the more subtle and
reflective Ionian genius, in the muse of Archilochus,
Callinus, and Simonides, asserts its superiority.

Slender as may be the claims of these legendary
works of bards to a substantial personality, they may at least

this period. , •it ^- ^^ ^ • r

be considered as representing the early improvers oi
Grecian poetry, who paved the way for the perfection
in which it appears in the page of Homer. As their
talents are reputed to have been so largely devoted to
the service of the altar, it might seem natural, among
a people so studious of antient religious observance,
that some "of their more esteemed compositions in
honour of popular deities should, by the priesthood
of the sanctuaries, have been secured a chance of
permanent preservation. That works under the
name of Musaeus existed in the time of Pisistratus
has already been stated. Herodotus also mentions
hymns of Olen, and Plato ^ cites passages of Orpheus
with apparent confidence. Aristotle^ however, a
higher authority in such matters, while recording
his disbelief, not only of the genuine character of the
poems attributed to Orpheus, but of their accredited
author's existence, ascribes them to one Cercops, a
Pythagorean philosopher, or to the same Onomacritus
above noticed as the falsifier of ]\Iusa3us. He quotes
the poems of Musasus in one place without comment,
in another as his reputed compositions.^ Plato cites
them frequently^, and without qualification. As

1 Phileb, p. 66. c. ; Cratyl. p. 402. b. ; conf. de Leg. p. 669.
" Ap. Cic. de Nat. Deor. i. xxxviii. ; conf. Aristot. de An. i. v. 13. ;
Clem. Alex. Strom, lib. i. p. i)32. sq.
^ Polit. VIII. V. ; Hist. Anim. vi. vi.
Apol. Soc. p. 41. ; Ion, p. 536. ; Rep. p. 364. e. ; Protag. p. 316. d.

Cu. Vlir. §7. IMYTIIICAL TOETS AND WORKS. 1G7

to the works now extant under any of tlic above
titles, their own internal evidence has led modern
scholars to a unanimous conviction of their com-
paratively recent origin. Even with tlie popular
public in the best e[)Ochs of Greek literature, the
names of these mythical poets were seldom seri-
ously connected with poems of greater extent or
variety of character than a few hymns, metrical
oracles, and didactic pieces, moral or sacred. The
longer, more elaborate compositions, such as the Ar-
gonautica and Lithica, vulgarly ascribed to Orpheus,
seem first to have obtained their spurious honours at
a very low period, for the history of which conse-
quently, such critical notice as they demand will
be reserved.

M 4

168 POETICAL PERIOD. Book II.

BOOK II.

POETICAL PEPtlOD EPIC POETRY.

CHAP. I.

INTRODUCTION.

1, CHARACTERISTICS OF THE POETIC.U- PERIOD. EPIC AKD LYRIC STTLeS
ALONE CULTIVATED. 2. THEIR DEFINITION AND ORIGIN. 3. WORKS COM-
PRISED UNDER EACH HEAD, 4. PROPOSED MODE OP TREATMENT.

Character- ^ ^pjj. period treated in the followino- book extends

isticsofthe ^ • • r- i ti

poetical froHi Homcr, or the origin oi the ilomeric poems,
^""*^' down to the LVth Olympiad (560 B.C.), the epoch
at which Pisistratus usurped supreme power at
Athens. It has been styled poetical, because the
works it produced, in so far as known to fame,
belong exclusively to that style of composition. It
mio-ht also not improperly, in contradistinction to
the purely mythical era, be entitled historical, as
treating cf living works, and authors advancing a
solid claim to real personality.

Although prose writing must have been more or
less generally practised, during this period, for pur-
poses of utility or necessity, the notices of any at-
tempts towards its cultivation as a branch of popular
literature are obscure and doubtful. Its origin will,
therefore, form more appropriate matter of investiga-
tion at the future stage of this history where it
asserts an equality with the sister Muse, or even an
ultimate ascendancy, in popularity and influence.

Cii I. § 2. INIRODUCTION. 109

The whole poetical literature of Greece was farni- Kpicand
liarly classed by the native critics under three com- al'nVcuiu-
prehensive heads : Epic, Lyric, and Dramatic. The ''"^''^•
compositions of this period fall to be considered under
the two former alone ; the Drama, like prose writing,
being yet so completely in its infancy as not to supply
material for a separate subdivision.

2. The term Epic, in its literal acceptation, denotes Their <ie-

. '^ -IT- ^ 1. • ^ tinitioii and

what is narrated or recited ; Lyric, what is sung to origin.
the lyre. This, however, like some other similar dis-
tinctions invented at a later stage of the arts to which
they appl}', will be found defective in regard to the
origin or more flourishing epochs of those arts. P^pic
poems were, during the earlier and better days of
Greek heroic minstrelsy, chanted to an instrumental
accompaniment little less habitually than lyric odes.
The latter epithet might therefore, in so far, ap[)ear
as applicable to the Iliad and Odyssey as to a song
of Sappho or an elegy of Mimnermus. The distinc-
tion is, however, justified even in its extension to this
early period, by the more artificial nature of the accom-
paniment, and the more vital connexion between the
music and the words, in the one than the other case.
This may be illustrated by the analogy of the Italian
opera, where the recitative, with its i'ew harmonious
chords struck at appropriate intervals, stands to the
aria in a relation similar to that of the epic to the
lyric department of Greek poetry.^ The nicer dis-
tinction of terms may have originated about the period

* The illustration will lie the more apparent to those familiar with the
recitative of the professional improvvisatori. Miillor's limitation of this
accompaniment to a few notes of simple prelude, to regulate the pitch of
the voice, the whole remainder of the performance being purely vocal, is
as improbable in itself, as unwarranted by his overstrained intcrpretaliou
of the phrase wa^dwonai in the poet's text. Ilist. Gr. Lit. p. 33.

170 POETICAL PERIOD. Book H.

when lyric composition first acquired importance as a
branch of cultivated literature ; epic poetry being then
on the decline, and the practice of its musical recital
gradually falling into disuse.^

The origin of both styles is lost in the mists of
antiquity. The earliest efforts in each are probably
simultaneous, in every imaginative people, with the
first steps in civilisation. The rudest attempt to
embody in an attractive form the narrative of an
interesting event was an epic poem. The first simple
effusion of praise or gratitude to a god or hero was a
lyric ode. That both branches were popular in the
age of Homer appears from the indirect evidence of
his works. To the lyric order belong, in the Iliad,
the Pa3an, the Dirge or Funeral Lament, and the
Hyinenteal Chorus '^ ; in the Odyssey, the songs with
which Calypso and Circe enliven the labours of their
loom.^ Lyric was also the music of the vintage feast,
and that which accompanies the dance of Daedalus on
the shield of Achilles.'^ Of the Pa3an two varieties may
be distinguished. The sacrifical or convivial Paean ^,
performed at the banquet in honour of the restoration
of Chryse'is to her father, appears to have been sung
in parts by a chorus of youths, divided into com-
panies and responding to each other. The triumphal
or processional P«an ^ is sung by the Greek warriors,
on their march back to the camp bearing the corpse

^ A parallel distinction Is observable in the use of the terms AoiS?) and
iTTTj, With Homer, ooi5/; denotes all poetry or song, whether epic or
lyric ; eirrj, merely conversation or discourse. In later times, eirn is the
familiar phrase for every kind of recitative or epic poetry; aoidri, or
ipSi), is limited to song in the stricter sense, or lyric performance. The
longer, more continuous epic narrative, or epopee, bears with Homer the
title oifjLTj.

2 a. 493. 3 ^ 6i_^ ^_ 220. •• a. 569. 590. ^ a. 472. ^ ^. 391.

Ch. I. § 2. INTRODUCTION. I 7 1

of Hector. In the Dirge over the body of Hector ^
in the Trojiiii palace, professional bards officiate as a
chorus to the chief mourners, who successively relieve
each other in their melancholy functions.

As Epic, on the other hand, may be classed, in the
Hiad the celebration by Achilles of the " glorious
deeds of men ; " - in the Odyssey the narratives of
the exploits of Ulysses and other heroes of the Trojan
war by the court bards of Scheria and Ithaca. The
description of the sack of Troy by Demodocus, as
epitomised by Horner""^, offers many essential features
of a finished epopee.

But although in point of origin these two
branches of composition may be classed as coeval,
the Epic invariably enjoys a priority of cultivation,
wherever the progress of letters, as in Greece, is
spontaneous and free from secondary influence. This
is a consequence of the more direct medium through
which it appeals to the sympathies, as will be made
apparent by a somewhat closer definition of the re-
spective properties of the two.

Epic poetry may be defined as essentially historical
or descriptive ; Lyric poetry as speculative or dis-
cursive : the former deals with facts and events,
the latter with feelings and opinions.

The mass of mankind however, in all ages, arc
more interested in the study of facts than of opinions,
in listening to accounts of great or marvellous adven-
tures, than to commentaries on the admiration of
which they may be deserving. What is here true of
the less educated class in every age, applies to tlic
public at large in a primitive state of society. Ihit,

^ a.. 720. * .. 189. ' 0. 500.

J 72 POETICAL PERIOD. Book II.

besides the pleasure of reciting or hearing, the anxiety
to perpetuate constituted another powerful cause of
this preference. Epic poetry, apart from its plea-
santness, possessed, as the popular chronicle of events,
a superior utility to the sister branch of art ; and
that utility was inseparable from its permanence.
There was no similar inducement to preserve an
outbreak of enthusiastic emotion relative to a par-
ticular person or transaction. Novelty was perhaps,
in such cases, more desirable than repetition. The
superior credit enjoyed by the Epic Muse with the
primitive public is evinced, accordingly, by the fact
of her compositions having been preserved, in con-
siderable mass, from a period of antiquity several
centuries prior to that of the earliest extant speci-
mens of pure lyric art.

The difference of the mode in which the two styles
are embodied corresponds to that of their characters.
In the epic an exclusive preference is given to j^ro-
longed metrical forms in harmony with the continuity
of the narrative. The lyric offers a greater sub-
division, and more varied combination of numbers,
adapted to its more lively and versatile expression of
thou";ht or feelino-.
Works 3. Under these two general heads of Epic and Lyric

under each liavc licre bccu couipriscd various works but partially
marked by the proper features on which the dis-
tinction above drawn depends, and which might
therefore appear, in a more accurate classification, to
require a separate allotment. To the Epic head, for
example, have been referred the AYorks and Days of
Hesiod, and the Homeric Hymns. The former poem,
in a more artificial age of literature, would be as-
signed to the Didactic rather than the Epic style.

head.

Ch. I. §3. INTRODUCTION. 173

At the p^rioLl, however, in whicli this diatinctlon of
terms takes its origin, and indeed, more or less,
throu2:hout the flourishimT- uf^Qa of Grecian art, tiie
phrase Epic familiarly denotes any descriptive or
narrative work, anything told or recited, as distinct
from sung or dramatically represented. All poems
of the former class were embodied, accordingly, by
preference in hexameter verse, as the standard ej)ic
rhythm, the employment of which hence became, in
its turn, the popular criterion of the epic style of a
work. As referred to this test, consecpiently, the
" Works and Days " was an epic poem. The Homeric
Hymns, on the other hand, might seem, both in right
of their title and their subject, to belong to the Lyric
order. The epic character however, in the narrower
sense, really predominates in these poems to such an
extent as, apart from any teclmical law of criticism,
to Avarrant the arrangement here adopted. Besides
the Hymns, certain other minor hexameter com-
positions, usually classed, with the Hymns, under
the title Homeric, and not devoid of pretensions to
respectable antiquity, have, although partaking in
no similar degree of the narrative style, been compre-
hended under the same general denomination of epic
poetry.

From deference to a parallel law of custom, various
works have been embraced in tlie Lyi'it,' Ii<ad ot
subject, which, on a more subtle principle of dis-
tinction, might a])pcar to belong more jjropcrly to
the epic. The Elegiac measure for example, though
in its orio-in and early use iamiliarlv ranked as lyric,
was frequently employed in narrative or didactic
poems of considerable com])ass. It may indeed be
considered as an intermediate stage between the one

174 POETICAL PERIOD. Book 11.

style and the other, being compounded of purely
dactylic elements, with such modification as was
requisite to adapt the old heroic hexameter to com-
positions of a more fugitive nature. The Iambic
trimeter on the other hand, appropriated, during its
earlier stages of cultivation, to the same class of
poem as the elegy, and like it comprehended under
the general head of lyric poetry, possesses epic
qualities only inferior to the hexameter. These
qualities, combined with a certain rhetorical spirit
and smartness peculiar to itself, obtained for it
at a later period a preference in dramatic poetry,
similar to that enjoyed by the hexameter in the
primitive epic minstrelsy.

U^^on the above general data therefore, the whole
Greek literature of this period may be classed as
follows : —

I. Epic composition, comprising, in addition to
heroic poems properly so called, every work in
hexameter verse possessing reasonable claims to
date prior to the LVth Olympiad.

II. Lyric composition, comprising every poetical
work not embodied in hexameter verse, and by con-
sequence, the whole elegiac and iambic, in addition
to the melic and choral poetry of the period.

Proposed 4. Each class will be made the subject of a separate

treatment treatment. This mode has here been considered prefer-
able to that of interlacing the contemporary history
of different branches, which is sometimes followed in
more advanced stages of literature. The connexion
between the two, or influence of one upon the other,
is indeed comparatively slight. In the earliest times
epic poetry was alone cultivated. It had reached its
perfection, and was falling into decay, prior to the

Cn. I. §4. INTRODUCTION. 175

age from wliicli the oldest specimens of lyric com-
position have been transmitted. As a general rule
each style had its own distinct set of autliors, who
rarely, if ever, trenched on the province of each
other. The maturity and lustre ot" the elder more
dignified Muse had but little effect in promoting,
more perhaps in retarding, the progress of her
more youthful and sprightly sister. Still less in-
fluence had the youth and vigour of the latter in
sustaining the old age and decrepitude of her pre-
decessor. The vicissitudes of each were chiefly
owing to causes connected with the general progress
of society, to be duly considered in their proper
place.

176 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

Homer,

CHAP. II.

HOMER. ILIAD AXD ODYSSEY. lIISTOPcY OF THE POEMS.

1. HOMER, HESIOD, AiJD THE CYCLIC POETS. — 2. ORIGIN AND DEFINITION OF
THE HOMERIC EPOPEE. — 3. EARLIEST NOTICES OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY:
UESIOD, CHEST OF CYPSELtTS. ARCHILOCHTJS, TYRTJEUS, IIOMERID.E, XENO-

rilANES. 4. PUBLIC RECITAL, OR RHAPSODISM. 5. EARLY VARIATIONS

OR CORRUPTIONS OF THE TEXT. EFFORTS TO CORRECT THEM. " CIVIC

EDITIONS." ANTIMACnUS, ARISTOTLE. 6. ALEXANDRIAN GRAMMARIANS

AND THEIR EDITIONS. 7. " CHORIZONTES," OR SEPARATISTS. CRATES.

SCHOOL OF PERGAMUS. DIVISION OF THE TEXT INTO BOOKS. LATER

GRAMMARIANS. 8. MODERN HISTORY OF THE POEMS. VICO. WOLF.

9. SUBSEQUENT VICISSITUDES OF THE HOMERIC QUESTION.

1. The oldest monuments of Hellenic minstrelsy
the''?cuc'^ extant in historical times were two voluminous
poets. bodies of epic poems. The one comprised works in

the nobler heroic style, recording great events or
enterprises, and characterised by extent of subject
and unity of treatment ; the other Avas limited to
compositions of narrower scope or inferior order, ge-
nealogies of men and gods, narratives of the exploits
or adventures of individual heroes, and illustrations,
didactic and descriptive, of the affairs of ordinary
life. The works of the former class, amid the obscure
origin of the greater part of them, passed generally
current, together with some minor poems marked by
a certain resemblance of manner, under the name of
" Homer." Those of the second class, for similar
reasons, were in the same general way ascribed to
" Hesiod." The remaining epic productions of this
period, not properly falling within either denomina-
tion, may be comprehended under a third head, of Mis-

Ch. n. §1. HISTORY OF THE TOE^IS. 177

cellaneous epic poetry. The claims of the two latter
classes, either in respect of their own merits or their
influence on Greek literature, are of secondary im-
portance, and must for the present be postponed ;
those of the former class demand an immediate and
extensive share of attention.

At the remotest epoch to wliich the notices of their
existence extend, not only the Iliad and Odyssey, but
a large portion of the remaining more elaborate
specimens of primitive epic art, were, as already
stated, popularly ascribed to " Homer." In the pro-
gress, however, of critical inquiry, those two poems
obtained, at first in the opinion of more competent
judges, afterwards with the Hellenic public at large,
an exclusive title to that distinction. The remainder
were connected with the names of other early poets,
or were classed as anonymous. Thuir claims to
celebrity appear, indeed, to rest as much on the na-
ture of their connexion with their great prototypes,
as on their own intrinsic value. If we may judge
from the somewhat slender data at our disposal, com-
parative mediocrity would, seem to have been the
characteristic of the greater part of them. Neither
the whole, nor an integral portion of any one of tliem,
has been preserved, and the passages cited by extant
Greek authors from their text are unfortunately but
rare and scanty. Their titles, however, with the
historical notices of their contents, amounting in
various instances to a detailed epitome of tlieir
action, show them to have been composed with the
view of enlarging and completing the series ot legen-
dary annals of which the Iliad and Odyssey had
already engrossed two important stages. The 1 lie-
baid, Epigoni, and Cypria brought down the history

VOL. I. N

178 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

of tlie Achaean race of warriors, from the epocti at
which it first took the lead in the Grecian confederacy,
to the opening of the IHad. The ^Ethiopis, Lesser
Iliad, Ilii Persis, and Nosti, filled up the space
between the conclusion of the Iliad and the com-
mencement of the Odyssey. That portion of the
whole series of events which the original Homer
had treated, was studiously avoided by the authors of
these supplementary works. They were not, however,
equally respectful towards each other, nor were the
limits of their several subjects so accurately marked
out as to exclude, in occasional instances, a treatment
of the same event in difi^erent poems. This whole
chain of epic narrative constituted what is called, in
later times, the Epic or Homeric Cycle ; under which
name it is understood to have been indebted for a
more methodical redaction to the Alexandrian gram-
marians. These compilers are supposed, by selecting
such among the duplicate chapters as appeared, either
in point of merit or continuity of subject, to deserve
a preference, and discarding the rest, to have imparted
a more complete continuity to the series ; which,
when so arranged, extended from the origin of things
to the generation immediately prior to the Dorian
irruption. That event, as formerly remarked, was
tacitly adopted, by the courtesy of Greek literature,
as the limit between the heroic and historical age.

Assuming as a basis the unanimous judgment of
the best native critics, who set apart the Iliad and
Odyssey as the only genuine productions of the great
original master, around which the remainder were
clustered like satellites round two brilliant stars, we
shall now enter upon the separate inquiry into their
origin and history.

Ch. n. § 2. HISTORY OF THE POEMS. 179

2. Epic poetry, as the reflexion of that twofold in- Origin and
stinct of our nature, to perpetuate, and at the same of tile '°"
time adorn, the memory of o;reat men or remarkable "'""«"'■'<=
events, comprehends every species of metrical nar-
rative, from the simplest ballad to the J Had. 'i'he
epic poem however in the nobler sense, or l-'popce,
as it is technically called, represents a more advanced
stan:e of the art. It may be considered as the com-
bination of a number of those insulated subjects into
one comprehensive whole. ^ Tlie poet of the one
class may be likened to the mason skilled in con-
structing a wall, chiseling a column, or throwing an
arch ; of the other, to the architect of a spacious
building. Although therefore the Iliad and Odyssey
are held, and probably with reason, to be, in their
individual capacity, more antient than the oldest
poems ascribed to Hesiod, they represent an order
of work of more recent oriiiiii. How far their ac-
credited author, even admitting their still disputed
claim to original integrity, is entitled to the sole
honour of so noble an invention, may be questioned.
No art arrives at perfection by a single effort ; and
there is more truth in the remark of Cicero, that as
there were men of valour before xVgamemnon, there
must have been poems of considerable bulk before the
Iliad, than in the more familiar adage of Horace to
the opposite effect. That such earlier poems have
not been preserved is no argument that none ever
existed, or even that they were not worth preserving.

1 In this distinction various critics, antient and modern, would discover
a figurative etymology for the name "O^Tjpos, deriving it from Auou and
8pa>, to combine or connect, as indicating the first accredited author of
any such comprehensive epic production. Enstath. ail Tl. Proocm. p. 4. ;
conf. Welck. I^p. Cycl. p. r2.5. sq.; liodc, Gcscii. d. llcll. Diclitk. vol. i.
p. 2.'. 9,

N 2

180 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

If the Demodoci whom Homer celebrates be not real
personages, they represent at least a class more
antient than the poet who describes them ; and one
of them is introduced as author or reciter of a com-
prehensive and complicated epic poem. The natural
effect of the appearance of two such works as the Iliad
and Odyssey in a primitive age, when the art of
Avriting was unknown or little practised, would be to
supplant, and probably extinguish, those previously
current. There was here no remedy for any tem-
porary neglect on the part of the public, and poems
once erased from the tablets of the memory were
lost for ever.

Of the origin or author of either work, the only
authentic source of knowledge is their own text.
It seems difficult to understand how, among a people
so proverbially studious of the memory of the past,
all accurate record of the source to which they were
indebted, not only for their most popular work of
genius, but for their most esteemed text-book of
early history and religious doctrine, should, in the
course of a few generations, have become extinct.
This appears the more surprising, when we consider
that, from the earliest period at which notice occurs
of the poems, the veneration in which they are held
is accompanied by an equal spirit of curiosity relative
to their author. Hence, while their study was the
basis of the more elegant branches of literary criticism,
the efforts to penetrate the mystery of their origin
became the foundation of the historical department
of the same art. During five and twenty hundred
years this inquiry has occupied the subtlest investi-
gators of every age. On no other similar subject
have more strange or conflicting theories been pro-

Cn. II. §3. IIISTOrvY OF THE TOEMS. 181

posed, more voluminous commentaries expended, or
a keener spirit of controversy displayed ; on none,
perhaps, has the lavisli exuberance of speculative
inquiry been more barren liitlierto of positive results.

The usual custom of literary criticism enjoins that
the article devoted to each author should commence
■svith some notice of his age, birthplace, and character.
The peculiarities of the present subject render it
necessary, it need hardly be said, to reverse this
order. Homer exists l)ut in his poems. They sup-
ply the only authentic materials for his biography.
The history of the work must here, therefore, neces-
sarily precede that of the author.

3. The earliest extant allusions to the Iliad and Earnest
Odyssey are chiefly of an indirect nature, citations the poems
namely, or paraphrases, of portions of their text^ l)y *^^"^'
poets of more recent date but also of high antiquity.
The " Shield of Hercules," ascribed to Ilesiod, is
borrowed, and in many parts servilely copied, from
the episode of the " Arms of Achilles " in the IStli
book of the Iliad. On the Chest of Cypselus at chest of
Olympia, executed probably not later than the eighth
century B.C., were sculptured in relief, and illustrated
by brief poetical inscriptions, various adventures of
each poem, with so close a correspondence in the
particulars as to prove the artist's familiai'ity with
their text.^ The en":a2:ement between Airamemnon
and the Antenorida? was represented precisely as in
the 11th book of the Iliad'-; and the shirld of the
Greek commander was inscribed witli a verse bearing
pointed reference to Homer's description of it in a
previous passage of the same book. The subject of

\ Pausan. v. xix. ' 248. sq.

N 3

182

HOMEK. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book II.

another compartment was the scene of the Odyssey^
where Ulysses and Circe retire to rest. The four
waiting-maids of the goddess are mentioned in the
lines annexed, as engaged in the same functions
assigned them by Homer. The delivery of the
arms by Vulcan to Thetis -, and the drive of Nau-
sica from her father's palace to the shore ^, were
portrayed with equal fidelity to the Homeric origi-
nal. The interview between Menelaus and Proteus
in the 4th, and the Dance of the Pheeacians in the
8th book of the Odyssey, were represented in the
sculptures of the Throne of Apollo at Amyclce, exe-
cuted in the early part of the sixth century B.C.*
The poems of Archilochus and Tyrtceus offer simi-
lar traces of familiarity with tliose of Homer. Al-
lusion also occurs, at an early period, to a race or
Horacridae. socicty of HomcridEB at Chios, who claimed descent
from the poet, and hereditary privileges in connexion
with his works. ^ The first actual mention of the
name Homer occurs in a verse of Xenophanes of
Colophon ^, who lived towards the close of this period,
and describes the poems as in his day the standard
manual of elementary instruction. Even at this
early epoch they seem to have furnished material for
critical redaction and commentary. Xenophanes
himself treated in several of his works of the com-
parative age and merits of Homer and Hesiod." The
labours of Pisistratus of Athens and his coadjutors,
to which so much importance has been attached in
the modern schools, will be more fully considered in

Archilo-
chus.
Tyrtaeus,

Xeno-
phanes,

1 K. 348. sqq.

^ II.

0-.

Od. f.

^ Paus. rrr. xviii.

* Acusllaus et Hellanicus ap. Harpocr. v, 'O/j-vpiSat ; conf. Philostr. ap.
Scbol. Pind. Nem. ii. 1.; Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 160.
^ Ap. Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 1 86. '^ Karsten, Fragm. vii. xxxi.

Ch. II. §4. HISTORY OF THE POEMS. 183

the sequel. Contemporary with these Attic scholars
was Theairenes of Rhciriuin, whose commentaries on
the poems and their author were esteemed by later
critics, and Avhose various readings, or those of tlic
edition he followed, are cited by the A'enetian
scholiast.^ From this epoch downwards the notices
of Homer and his works are of constant occurrence.
It does not, however, always i)lainly appear how far
the title " Homer " is limited, in the citations of this
period, to the Iliad and Odyssey, how far it may
not extend to the other Homeric works above de-
scribed. Callinus ^, the very antient elegaic poet,
(b.c. 700), is said to have attributed the Cyclic
Thebais, Pindar^ the Cypria. to " flomer ;" and a
similar practice, extending to other poems of the
Cycle, prevailed at a much later period in popular
quarters. Herodotus, the first extant author who
■uses the terms Iliad and Odyssey, is also tlie first
who distinctly sets apart those two poems as genuine
works of Homer, and discards the claim of others,
especially the Cypria and Epigoni, to any such
honour.'^

4. The public recital of the poems appears to have pubi
prevailed throughout Greece from a remote period, "■^tluo-
The place with which tradition first connects it is Chios, '''*"'•
an island advancing special claims to be considered
the birthi)lace of Homer, Avhich claims Avere supported
by zeal in preserving and cultivating his works. At
Sicyon, as Herodotus'^ informs us, the practice was
abolished by the tyrant Clisthenes (about (500 B.C.),

' Villoisoii, Pra'f. ad Scholl. Ycnct. p. xxv. ; Nitzscli, Hist. Horn.
pt. I. J). 131.

ic rc-

Ap. Pausan. ix. i.\. ; conf. Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 298.
' Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 300. ' n. cxv. sq., iv. xxxii. '" v. Ixvli

N 4

184 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

from jealousy of the superior glory reflected by the
poems on the neighbouring rival state of Argos.
The first public honours awarded them in Sparta are
dated by the best authorites from the age of Lycur-
gus, by whom they were established in that republic,
as a national text-book of martial instruction.^ In
Athens, their public rehearsal is alluded to generally
by Isocrates^ and others, as of remote antiquity,
and was indebted to Solon for improved regulations
in the mode of performance.^ Its introduction into
Syracuse is attributed to Cyn^ethus^, a Chian Homerid
of the age of Pindar. The origin and primary import
of the title Rhapsodist, familiarly borne by the per-
formers in these solemnities, is obscure. The gene-
rally received etymology is that which characterises
them as Stitchers or Botchers of poems. The allusion
here is partly to the irregularities of which they were
guilty, by disturbing the proper order of the text in
their recital ; partly to their imputed interpolation of
matter from their own stores ; partly, perhaps chiefly,
to their habit of prefixing or subjoining to the original
poems, or parts of poems, dedicatory prologues or
epilogues in honour of the deities with whose festivals
such public performances were connected. Others^
derived the name from the staff, or wand of office
(rhabdos, rhapis), which distinguished the profes-

^ Aristot. ap. HeracHd. de Laced. Eep. ii. ; conf. Scbneidewin, ad loc.
et in prsef. ad frgg. ; Plut. vit. Lye. c. 4.

^ Paneg. c. 42.

^ Diog. Laert. in Vit. ix.

^ Pbilostr. ap. Schol. Pind. Nem, ii. 1.; conf. Eustath. Procem. ad II.
p. 6.

* Welcker, Ep. Cyc. p. 358. sq. Pindar appears to countenance both
etymologies ; Istb. iv. 66., Nem. ii. init. Tbe latter passage also indi-
rectly alludes to the rhapsodist custom, adverted to in tbe text, of
stitching on prooemia.

Ch. n. §5. HISTORY OF THE TOEMS. 185

sioiial reciter of later times from the original poet.
While the latter sang, solely or chiefly, liis own
compositions to the accompaniment of his lyre,
the rhapsodist, hearing a laurel branch or wand
as his badge of office, rehearsed, Avithout musical
accompaniment, the poems of others. Tlie former
interpretation is the more plausible ; for whatever
degree of value may have attaclied to the services of
this fraternity, a certain degree of sarcasm seems, at
every period, to have been connected witli their name.
From it derives that of Ivhapsody, originally applied
to the portions of the poems habitually allotted to
different performers in the order of recital, after-
wards transferred to tlie twenty-four books, or cantos,
into which each work was permanently divided by
the Alexandrian grammarians.

5. It seems doubtful how far this widely extended Early vari-
popularity may have contributed to maintain the co'r'iupuons
purity of the text. Tlie Iliad and Odyssey were the °f*^<^tcxt.
acknowledged standard or digest, as it were, of early
national history, geogra})liy, and mythology. It came,
therefore, to be considered essential to the dignity
of each tribe or race, in later times, that honourable
mention should be made in those poems of their
cities or heroes ; and such as were overlooked en-
deavoured to save their credit by the surreptitious
insertion of passages creditable to themselves, or by
condemning as spurious those which conferred honour
on a rival. The professional officiousness of the rhap-
sodists also led them, in the mode already noticed,
to tamper with the text, although more importance,
proba])ly, has been attached to this source of corrup-
tion than it deserves. The existing iiotices of these
practices refer chiefly to the commencement of the

186 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

sixth century b. c, when the closer connexion between
the different Hellenic states, the consequent increase
of international rivalry, and rapid extension of lite-
rary taste and resources, afforded new temptations,
with new facilities, for sucli license. The results
appear, not only in the number of various readings
preserved by commentators, but in the citation, by
respectable authorities, of passages of Homer now
no longer to be found in his text.^ Some of these
quotations have been referred, with apparent reason,
to those other antient poems which still continued, in
popular usage, to be classed under the head of Homer
or Homeric. But, even with this allowance, there
would remain a certain number for the Iliad and
Odyssey.

Perhaps, however, these varieties are not exclusively
owing to the license of editors or rhapsodists. An-
other and a purer source, hitherto unnoticed by critics,
might be a corresponding variety in the genius of
the orio-inal author. Without here enterinsf on the
much agitated question, how far the early transmis-
sion of the poems may be due to the art of memory,
how far to that of writing, it may at least be ad-
mitted that the chief means of their general pro-
mulgation was by open recital. Whatever may have
been the case Avith a few curious repositories of the
text, the public at large was a listening rather than
a reading public. But, even in our own age, the
author of a popular work, after its first publication,
usually finds cause for alteration or correction, and
avails himself of a new edition for that purpose. It
may however safely be assumed, both that such

^ Diintzer, Fragm. der Ep. Pees, pt, i. p. 27. sqq.

Ch. n. §5. HISTORY OF THE POEMS. 187

variations would occur in equal or greater numbers
to a poet of Homer's age and character, and tliat
he "would be still more ready to give effect to tlicm.
Even witliout any change in the substance of liis
narrative, he would naturally be disposed to diversify
the details of illustration or description to suit the
taste of different audiences ; and such variations,
transferred to the memory or the written copies of
different portions of the public, would give rise to
controversy, which was the original, which the inter-
polated text.^

Entire copies of works of so great compass would
also, during the earlier period of their circulation, amid
the imperfection of the mechanical clement of litera-
ture, be comparatively rare. Each rhapsodist how-
ever, would be desirous to possess in manuscript, those
portions at least in the recital of whicli he chiefly
excelled. This would lead to the circulation of gar-
bled or imperfect editions. Such piecemeal trans-
mission, both in rehearsal and writing, is accordingly
mentioned, by the earliest critical authorities on the
subject, as one chief cause of confusion or corruption.

But to whatever sources those flloating varieties Enbrts to
may be traceable, it became, with the advance of [,','|![,7^
literary culture, the more desirable to check tlie "<^'^'<^

. . . . r - . . idilion*.

license in whicli they originated. This object could
only be effectually attained by establisliing, with the
common sanction f)f the nation, in so far as it could
be procured, a standard text of the national poet.

^ See a remarkable passage of Goethe (Briefwcchscl zw. Scliiller uiid
G. vol. III. p. 71.), wlicrc lie ilraw.s a jiaralkl between varitnis tcxt.s of
Ilomor stigmatised by Wolf as recent inter[)olations, and pas.sages of his
own poems added by himself on subsequent revisal, for the purpose of
elucidating his subject or improving his style.

188 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

And here the practice of rhapsodism, if on the one
hand it may have been a source of corruption, was
instrumental in providing a remedy, by suggesting
to the different states where it prevailed the com-
pilation, under public auspices, of complete editions
for the use of the festivals. Many such accordingly
were extant in later times, under the title of Civic, or
State editions. For this service the Athenian public
was indebted to the joint labours of Solon and
Pisistratus. Solon is described as having checked
the prevailing irregularities of recital, and forced the
rhapsodists to adhere to the regular order of the
text^ ; Pisistratus as having collected or compiled
the poems, previously in a state of disorder, into a
single body or volume.^ The earliest edition how-
ever, of which mention occurs in later times coupled
with the name of an individual redactor, is that of
Antima- Autimachus of Colophon^, a contemporary of Plato,
Aristotle, aud himsclf a poet of some celebrity. Aristotle "*,
besides a tract entitled " Homeric Difficulties," no
longer extant, and the commentaries interspersed in
his miscellaneous works, also prepared an edition of
the Iliad for the use of his illustrious pupil Alexander,
who carried it, inseparable from his person, in a
precious casket ; hence its familiar name, the Edition
of the Casket. The proper execution however of
this task, was beyond the resources of any single
editor, however great his personal qualifications. It
required a succession of efforts, under a combination
of favourable circumstances, such as did not take

^ Dieucliidas ap. Diog. Laert. in Sol. ix.: oTou ovov 6 irponos eKv^f,
sKeld^v apxf(T6aL rhv ixofiefov ; conf. Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 378. sqq.
^ See infra, Ch. iii. § 1.
3 Wolf, Proleg. p. 174. 182. * Wolf, ibid. p. 183. sq.

Cu. II. § G. HISTORY OF THE TOEMS. 189

place for several generations subsequent to the age of
Aristotle.

G. The decline of orii^inal jrenius in Greece was Aiexan-
simultaneous with that of freedom and political marians
virtue. From the epoch of the Macedonian su- eaiuons.
premacy the national talent, deprived of that crea-
tive .power by which it had hitherto been animated,
was directed to tlie imitation of the more perfect
antient models, and, by consequence, to a studious
analysis of the principles on which their excellence
depended. The arts of granunar and criticism, which
had hitherto formed no separate branch of literary
pursuit, now became one of the most popular, and
the poems of Homer the favourite subject for its
exercise. Alexandria, under the auspices of iier
munificent sovereigns, took the lead in this, as in
every other walk of literature : and to the labours of
her succession of able masters, we are mainly in-
debted for the purity and integrity in which the
standard monuments of Greek poetical genius have
been transmitted to posterity. The zeal of the
Ptolemies for the encouragement of learning placed
at the disposal of its professors all the aids wliich
wealth and power, often arbitrarily exercised, could
supply. Neither pains nor cost were spared in col-
lecting the more antient and authoritative copies of
Homer from every part of the Hellenic world, while
the vast library amassed at Alexandria afforded all
the incidental resources for the prosecution of sucli
studies. Among the older texts collated by the
Alexandrian editors, the Massilian, Chian, Argive,
Cyprian, Sinopic, Cretan', and .Eolic"-, called col-

1 Wolf, Trol. p. 17J. - Buttm. Scbol. a<l Odyss. p. G07.

190 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

lectively the " Civic " or '' State editions," to distin-
guish them from those by " individual editors \"
seem to have stood in the highest estimation. No
distinct notices have been preserved of their relative
antiquity, or the special ground of their reputation.
The Massilian and Chian appear to have been con-
sidered of best authority. The Chian was doubtless
that authorised in the old Homeric school of reci-
tation established in the city from which its name
is derived. The Massilian was also probably of Io-
nian origin, transported from Asia by the Phoca^ans
into their Gallic colony, either on its first foundation
in 600 B.C., or by the refugees from the parent city,
when destroyed by the Persians sixty years after-
wards. The others may also be presumed to have
been similarly compiled under national auspices.

The more detailed account of the lives or labours
of the Alexandrian grammarians belongs to another
portion of this history. A succinct notice of their
services in regard to Homer will here suffice. It
must be borne in mind that their entire compositions
are now lost, but the copious notices of their views,
contained in the extant scholia, afford' sufficient data
for estimating both the real and comparative value
of their treatment of the poems.

The most distinguished names are those of Zeno-
dotus, Aristophanes, Aristarchus, and Crates. The
claims of Zenodotus^ to celebrity consist chiefly in
his having been the founder of a school, and prepared
the way for better things. He also enjoys the credit
of having compiled and arranged the collective works

at iroAiTiKaf, Kara iroXeis, Ik wuAeuv^ and al Kar' &vdpa, Villois. Proleg.
ad Sch. Ven. p. 26.

' B.C. 320—245. Ptkschl, Die Alexand. Bibl. p. 89.

Ch. II. §6. HISTORY OF THE POEMS. 191

of the national epic poets, ^ His commentaries on
Homer display little either of correct judgment or
insight into the genius of his author, jiiid his
treatment of the text of the poems was proverbially
arbitrary and licentious. Nearly contemporary with
Zenodotus, the poets Aratus'- and Rhianus'' under-
took editions of Homer. That of Khianus remained
in good credit in the subsequent schools. The
hibours of Aratus seem to have been confined to
the Odyssey, and, if completed, obtained but little
authority, no appeal being made to his readings in
the extant scholia. The answer of Timon the ]*hli-
asian, to the question proposed to him by Aratus as
to the best mode of reestablishino; the crenuine text,
sheds light on the state of Homeric criticism at tliis
period. His advice was, to procure and collate an-
tient copies without regard to those then in circu-
lation.^ This want was supplied for behoof of Zeno-
dotus by his patron Ptolemy Philadelphus, to Avhom
the Alexandrian library was chiefly indebted for its
rich store of standard codices of Homer, as of other
leading Greek poets. Zenodotus was succeeded, as
head of the Alexandrian school, by his pujiil Aristo-
phanes^ of Byzantium, a scholar of better judgement
and more accurate learning. He was the first who
started doubts of the genuine character of the latter
part of the Odyssey, placing the termination of the
poem at the 296th verse of the 23rd book.'' This
view was also favoured by his successor Aristarchus ",
the critic of highest fame and authority among the
antients. To him the public were indebted for what

1 See Wclck. Ep. Cyc. p. S. 12. = Wolf, Prol. p. ISH.

3 "Wolt; ibid. p. 1S7. •» Dioj:. Luert. ix. 113.

* B.C. 2G0— 184. llltschl, loc. cit. « Scliol. Buttm. ad loc
" ij.c. 224—1.3-2. Ritschl, loc. cit.

192 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

afterwards constituted the standard text of both
poeras, the same, it is understood, which, with sub-
sequent modifications, has been transmitted to the
present day.^ The merits of Aristarchus, like those
of the great majority of professional grammarians
in every age, consisted rather in acuteness of verbal
criticism, than in refinement of taste or the faculty
of appreciating the higher excellences of his author.
A large portion, however, of his speculations were
devoted to this more delicate branch of his art. With
much audacity in censuring and condemning, or in
suggesting additions and improvements from his own
stores, he yet appears to have confined those liberties
to his commentary, rarely if ever venturing on any
serious alteration of the text not justified by com-
petent authority,
chori- 7. During, or shortly prior to, the time of Aristo-

separatists. phaucs, the opiuion was started as to the separate
authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey.^ Its first
proposer was a certain Xenon, concerning Avhom,
beyond the simple fact of his having originated
this theory, history is silent. The only adherent of
his views recorded by name was Hellanicus, a disciple
of the school of Zenodotus. Their doctrine was con-
troverted by Aristarchus, but seems otherwise to have
obtained little attention, still less approbation, among
the antient critics. During the subsequent virulent
controversies on almost every other point, no dif-
ference of opinion is here recorded between the chiefs
of opposite sects. The notices of such difi'erence in
any quarter consist but of incidental references by the
scholiasts to the Chorizontes, or Separatists, as the

1 Wolf, Prol. p. 241. 2 See infra, Ch. xvi.

Cii. II. §7. HISTORY OF THE TOEMS. 193

followers of Xenon Avcre called. Seneca^ mentions
the question as one of the unprofitable subtleties which
amused Greek sophists; while Lonp^inus, the most
genial of all tlie later Homeric critics, in treat inii^ at
large of the diilerence of subject and character in tin;
two poems, makes no allusion to so mucli as a doubt
of their common authorsliip.

To the sect of Aristarclius was opposed that of Cmtcs.
Crates- of ^lallos, founder oi' a rival school of gram- ivrgamus.
marians at Pergamus, under the auspices of Attalus,
sovereign of that state. He was author of an cdititjn
of the poems, and, however inferior in general popu-
larity, was no unworthy antagonist of the great Alex-
andrian. Of the readinii-s of th(.' text recorded as
having been dis[)uted between the two, those of Crates
are frequently entitled to a preference, and some have
been preferred accordingly in subsequent editions.
He also numbers among his adherents several lead-
ing grammarians of later times. His speculations on
the age and life of the poet are marked by originality,
occasionallv tendinji to i)aradox.^

In early times the only subdivision of the text was nivi.ion o»
by heads of subjects, or rhapsodies, as some of the into books,
more comprehensive heads were called, embodying
the parts usually allotted in the puljlic rehearsals to
different performers.'^ Tims what is now eompriseil

' Dc Brevit. Vit. xiii. ' n. c. KJO.

' Suiil. in v.; conf. Wolf, Prol. p. '27(^. ; B. Tliiorscli, Zcitalt. Homer?,
p. 18. sq. The other editions by grammarians of inferior note, of which
mention occurs, were : tliose of Callistratus, Sosigenes, ami PhiU-mon, of
the Aloxanihian scliool (Viliois. I'raif. ad Schol. Yen. p. 2.1.) ; the Cyclic
edition, that, namely, embodied in tlic Alexandrian collection of Cyclic
poems (Schol. I3uttm. ad Odyss. t. 1!).1. (i. •2.j.) ; and one by Txrannio,
I'icedman of Cicero (Suid. in v.). Conf. Lchrs, dc Aristarch. studd. Homer,
p. 2<). sq.

' Heyn. ad II. vol. \iii. [>■ "'^T.
VOL. I. O

194 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

ill the fifth and a portion of the sixth book of the
Iliad was called the " Prowess of Diomed." The
ninth book was named " Litas," or the " Supplication."
The second contains the " Dream," and the " Boeotia"
or " Catalogue." The present division into twenty-
four books of unequal length is attributed to Ari-
starchus.-^ In the edition^ of Crates, however, the
text (of each poem, it may be presumed) appears to
have been divided into but nine books ; each, conse-
quently, of more than double the average bulk of
those of Aristarchus. The method of Crates was in
conformity with that adopted in the other Homeric
poems supposed to have been similarly subdivided
by the Alexandrian critics. The Theba'is and Epi-
goni contained each seven books ; the Cypria eleven ;
the JEthiopis five ; the Lesser Iliad and Nosti each
four. Although no exact notice is extant of the
entire length of any one of these works, there can be
little doubt, from the existing abstract of their con-
tents, or the general allusions of the antients, that
they were of sufficient bulk to admit of their cantos
containino; an average number of lines double that
allotted to each of the four and twenty Aristarchean
rhapsodies. The same method was followed by Apol-
lonius Rhodius, himself an Alexandrian grammarian,
in his Argonautica. The arranoement of Aristarchus

O CD

was therefore a departure from the ordinary practice.
But his boundless authority in the later schools

^ Plut. Vit. Horn. iv. ; Eustath. Prooem. ad II. p. 5.

^ Suid. V. Kparrjj. There seems no ground for taking the term
Sio'pQa'o-ir, as here used by Suidas, in any other sense than its ordinary
one of Edition. The phrase for a mere " correcting commentary," as
distinct from a " corrected text," is ra SiopeojTLKci. Vill. Pr^ef. ad Sch.
Ven. p. 31.

Cii. II. §8. HISTORY OF TIIK POEMS. 105

secured his method universal acquiescence, and tliat
of Crates seems to have been limited to his own
edition.

The labours of succeeding grammarians during the Later
better days of classical literature, of Dionysius Tlirax, riani.
Didymus, and others, shed but little additional light
on the text or history of the poems. They were con-
fined, in great measure, to controversies between the
adherents of the rival schools of the Alexandrian era,
or to vindications of the opinions, and revisals of the
editions, of their respective chiefs. To the middle or
lower ages of the Byzantine empire belong the whole
or greater part of the extant scholia, which are chiefly
valuable as affording access to the views and opinions
of authors of a better period.^

8. During the first few centuries after the revival MocUm
of letters, modern classical scholars were content to the poem?,
acquiesce in the prevailing doctrine of the anticnt
public, whicli, while restricting the honour of ema-
nating from Homer to the Iliad and Odyssey alone,
among the poems that formerly claimed it, admitted
them both as his genuine integral works. But
towards the end of the 17th century certain novelties
of opinion began to transpire, tending to place the
whole question in a light ditt'erent from any in which it
had been contemplated by the leading antient critics. -
The first attempt to combine these speculations into a

' For the biblii)irraphy of Homer, the number, age, or relative credit
of the existing manuscript-', editions, or commentaries, antient and
mndern, see generally, Hornhardy, fJrundr. der Griech. Lit. pt. ii.
p. 117. sqq.; and IIoiTmann, liibliogr. Lex. der Gr. Lit. jit. ii. p. 314.

° Casaub. and Mcnag. ad Diog. Laert. ix. 1.3. ; Perizon. Animadv.
hist. vi. ; Bentlcy, riiilcleutli. Lips. pt. i. § 7. ; Iledclin d'Aubignac,
Coiijcct. acadcm. ; Terrault, Parail. dcs Anc. et Mod. 1G9'2, vol. in.
p. 33. sq.

o 2

Vico.
Wolf.

196 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

metliodical form is contained in the Scienza nuova
of Giambattista Vico. This eccentric Neapolitan was
an original thinker of no ordinary stamp, Avhose
opinions, as remarkable for novelty and ingenuity as
deficient in solidity, overlooked or neglected in his
own day, have, in various instances, anticipated the-
ories destined to obtain for their more recent pro-
pounders the fame of original discovery. In a trea-
tise upon Homer, embodied in the above-cited work,
there occurs, among many valuable remarks, mingled
with an equal amount of error and paradox, the
following passage : " Herein we must admire the
hand of Providence, that at a time when alphabetic
writing was not yet invented, men should sometimes
discourse in verse, which, by the aid of rhythm or
metre, might facilitate the action of the memory in
more effectually preserving the vicissitudes of national

history Homer left none of his compositions

in writing, as we are told by Fl. Josephus, in his
Tract against Apion : but the rhapsodists went
about singing the books separately, some one some
the other, at the feasts and public solemnities of
the Greek cities. The Pisistratid^e first divided and
arranged, or caused to be so arranged, the poems
of Homer into Iliad and Odyssey, whence we may
judge what a confused collection of materials they
must previously have been." ^ This extract contains
the germ and substance of that theory which, nearly
a century afterwards, reproduced and extended, with
all the array of profound scholarship, in the form of
an elaborate dissertation, obtained its author a first

' Ed. Milan. 1836, vol. v. p. 478. 480. Elsewhere he speaks of a
" Uomer of the Iliad" and a " Homer of the Odyssey."

Ch. II. §8. HISTORY OF TIIK POEMS. lU?

rank among historical critics, and became the founda-
tion of a new school of classical researcli.

The |)ubHcation of Wolf's l*rolegomena, or Pre-
fiitory Essay to the Iliad, in M-hich his views were
developed, took place during a crisis in the Intel-
lectual as M-ell as political destinies of luirope. A
bold spirit of speculative iiKjuiiy was then abroad,
the valuable effects of which, in exploding error and
prejudice, have been too often counterbalanced by
the spread of groundless or mischievous innovation.
A^ hile the anti(|uity or universality of any doctrine
was a powerful attraction to sceptical assault, few
but such as were fenced on all sides by impenetrable
barriers of demonstrated fact were safe from the
danger of falling, at least a temporary sacrifice to
zeal for some conjectural novelty. Wolf himself
professed the scope of his argument to be rather to
subvert tlic antient fabric of opinion, tliau to erect
any solid edifice in its place ; and the result lias
justified the accuracy of the figure. The publication
of his essay may be compared to that ol" a paniplilet
containing specious revolutionary doctrines in a
hitherto tranquil state, at tlie moment when the
minds of men were ripe for political change. Unani-
mous in rejecting their old form of government,
scarcely any two citizens can agree as to that to be
adopted in its stead. A period of discord is followed
by one of anarchy, and tliat. in its turn, by a gradual
inclination to revert to tlie former system.

AVolf's views, partly also suggested by tlie cle-
iXant and imxenious essay of liobert Wood', are in
so far an extension or modification of those of Vice,

* On the original genius of Homer, 1769.
o 3

198 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book 11.

that he ascribes, in more positive terms than the
Italian critic, the previously undigested materials of
each poem to a variety of authors; and assumes them
to have been, not only first arranged, but first com-
mitted to writing, by Pisistratus. This latter service
Yico, most preposterously, supposes to have been
first rendered them by the Alexandrian gramma-
rians. Beyond these general heads, it is not very
easy to gather Wolf's precise doctrines, from the
vague and often self-contradictory mode in which
they are stated. Sometimes he speaks as if each
work contained a primitive kernel of epic unity,
enlarged by an extension of the main subject, or the
addition of episodes, in its gradual descent to poste-
rit}^, but not digested on any consistent plan prior to
the days of Pisistratus. Elsewhere each seems to be
considered as a chaos of unconnected elements, first
compiled and adjusted by the same Attic hero of each
version of his fluctuating tlleor3^ At other times he
attaches importance to the question, whether the two
poems are by the same Homer or different Homers,
which would seem at least a virtual admission of each
being substantially by a single author. In one place
he altogether denies the familiar use of writing for
literary purposes prior to the age of Pisistratus ; in
another he allows that its benefits may have been
extended several centuries earlier to the works of
other Greek poets, but not to those of Homer ; a
hypothesis the very reverse of what all reasonable
probability would seem to justifj^^ The only spe-

' On these and other inconsistencies of Wolf, see Clint. Fast. Hell,
vol. I. Pi 370. It may safely be asserted, that, were the principles of
Wolf's school of commentary to be enforced against his own Prolegomena,
that essay could not possibly, in its integrity, be the work of the same
author.

Homeric
question."

Cn. II. §9. HISTORY OF TlIK TOEMS. 19iJ

cific facts by wliicli he can be said to abide are, that
tlie component elements of each poem, Avlietlier by
few or by many authors, neither possessed any such
epic continuity as tliey now exhibit, nor were com-
mitted to writinu', until those services were rendered
to them by Pisistratus, about the middle of the sixth
century before Christ.

9. If the opinions of the master were so unsettled, subsequent
harmony among his disciples could the less be ex- oAhe
pected. His extreme view of a total denial of written
preservation to Homer, uj) to so recent a period, by
his fondly admiring countrjanen, and to Homer alone
among their early poets, found but few supporters.
Nor was the title of Pisistratus to have first im-
parted epic consistency to the poems very generally
recognised. The basis however of the theory, that
they were neither committed to writing till long
after the period of their composition, nor originally
composed in their integral form, obtained a general
acquiescence. While the historical arguments, on
which AVolf principally laid stress, ascribing the
functions of tirst compiler as well as writer to Pisi-
stratus, were disregarded, the internal evidence, as it
was called, of discrepancy in matter or style between
different parts was more prominently put forward.
The favourite field for critical acumen now became
the analysis, or rather dissection, of the text; and a
large portion of the scholarship of the age has l)oen
exhausted in eftbrts to prove, by a very pointless, for
the most part, and tasteless course of hypercritical
subtlety, that the works wjiich Imd liitlici'to been
admired and honoured by the greatest critics of every
period as standard models of epic art, were but an ill

digested chaos of origina]l\- uncomiected atoms, teem-

() 1

200 IIOMEK. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

insf with incon2:ruities and absurdities of the grossest
description.^

A certain encouragement was held out to this style
of commentary by the circumstance of its being in
some degree countenanced by antient example. In
the infancy of Greek critical art, when its object was
rather to appreciate the higher attributes of genius
than detect its petty blemishes, the surpassing excel-
lence of the Iliad and Odyssey led to their being set
up as a type of absolute perfection in poetical compo-
sition. The admiration of the work was transferred
naturally to tlie author. The production of two such
poems seemed to require, not only an original genius
of the highest order, but a great proficiency in the
technical rules, and an ample store of the aids, of
grammatical and rhetorical science. The principles
of this school are concisely stated in one of its own
trite aphorisms : that " to wrest the thunderbolt
from Jupiter, the club from Hercules, or a line from
the text of the Iliad was an equally impossible un-
dertaking." ^ By a natural reaction, this enthusiasm
provoked, in the maturer stages of grammatical
science, no less zealous endeavours to detect flaws
in these boasted models of perfection. Although
there appears no intention on the part of any school
of antient criticism to dispute a general unity of plan
in the poems, still, wherever it seemed that a phrase,
verse, or integral part, could be spared without an
entire sacrifice of poetical continuity, it seldom failed,
in some quarter or other, to be condenmed as an
excrescence on the original fabric, whether an after-
thought of the poet or a corruption of transcribers
and'rhapsodists. In the minor details of the text

1 See Append. A. =^ Iloyn. ;id II. w. vol. viii. p. 799.

Cix. II. §9. UISTORY OF THE POEMS. 2Ul

tliere were no limits to tliis license. Takin<x, tliere-
fore, into account the extension given to the same
system in our own time, it miglit safely be pro-
nounced, that, were all the portions so stigmatised
by successive generations of critics to Ik- discarded,
the fate of the poems would resemble tliat of the
picture exposed in tlie market-place, with a request
that each passing dilettante M'ould draw a brush
through the part that appeared to liim defective.
The consequence was, tliat in a lew hours not an
entire feature could be distinguished.

In spite, however, of these aberrations of taste or
judgement on tlie part of his disciples, it cannot be
denied that AYolf conferred a real benefit on classical
science, by opening up the field of rational scepticism
which has inherited his name. The popular view
of the history of the poems demanded, no doubt, in
the absence of all authentic notice of their author,
a more searching scrutiny than it had yet undergone.
The composition of two woi-ks of so elaborate a
structure in the semibarbarous period from which
they were held to emanate, was in itself a striking
phenomenon. While the mode or extent of their
committal to writing at the same early period was
involved in much obscurity, their preservation in so
perfect a state, unwritten, appeared little less than a
miracle. Nor could it be overlooked that, amid a
general unity, their text offered discrepancies of de-
tail which, though certainly not greater than can be
detected in similar works of civilised epochs, held out
legitimate handle for speculation. The lull discus-
sion to which these various points have, during the
last fifty years, been subjected, in themselves and in
their bearings on others of collateral interest in Greek

202 HOMEE. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

philology, if not productive of any conclusive settle-
ment of the main question, lias certainly proved of in-
finite benefit to the general cause of classical criticism,^
The data for regulating the judgement in all such
inquiries may be classed under two principal heads:
I. Historical authorit}^, comprising, besides the testi-
mony of native authors, the balance of tradition, of
received opinion, and of general probability : II. The
internal evidence of the poems themselves. These
two sources of knowledge are indeed often so closely
interwoven as scarcely to admit of their being treated
altogether independantly of each other. It will yet
be proper, for method's sake, to keep them in as far
as possible distinct. The internal evidence is now-
admitted to be by far the most important, the only
basis indeed of any sound conclusions. It will,
therefore, be analysed hereafter in considerable detail.
The historical evidence possesses, however, a prior
claim on attention.

^ Subjoined is a notice of the principal authors who have advocated
in whole, or for the most part, the doctrines of Wolf: C. F. Franceson,
Essal sur la Question, si Homere, &c. ; F. Schlegel, Gesch. der Ep.
Dichtk. viii. ; Heyne, Obss. ad II. ; W. Miiller, Homer. Vorschule ; B,
Thiersch, Urgestalt der Odyssee ; Hermann, Opusc. vol. v. p. 52. sqq.,
vol. VI. p. 70. sqq. ; Rltschl, Die Alexandrin. Biblioth. ; Lachmann,
Betrachtungen lib. die Illas ; Grote, Hist, of Gr. vol. ii. ch. xxi.

The following are such as have entertained middle or opposite views :
Ste. Croix, Refutation, &c., de M. Wolf; Hug, Erfindung der Buch-
stabenschrift ; Kreuser, Vorfragen lib. Homer ; Clinton, Fast. Hell,
vol. I. p. 366. ; Coleridge, Introd. to the Study of the Gr. Classics ;
Quarterly Review, vol. xliv. p. 12].; Welcker, Der Epische Cyclus,
p. 122. sqq. ; K. O. IMuller, Hist, of Gr. Lit ; Thirlwall, Hist, of Greece,
app. to vol. I. 2nd ed. ; Payne Knight, Prolegg. ad Horn. ; Nitzsch, de
Hist. Homeri ; Artikel Odyssee in d. Hallisch. Encycl. ; Erkliirende
Anmkk. zur Odyssee. The two last-mentioned authors are the leading
supporters of the Separatist doctrine.

Cii. III. §1. ORIGIN OF Till-: roKMS. 203

it rat as
Hid his

CHAP. III.

HOMER. — ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. —HISTORICAL DATA.

1. AUTHORITIES CONCERNIXO PISISTRATUS AND HIS COMPILATION. 2. VARIE-
TIES OF THEORY ll.VSED OM THOSE AUTHORITIES. .3. SILE.VCK OK TUB

EARLIER CLASSICS. ARGUMENT FROM THE CYCLIC POEMS. — 4. WHAT WERE

THE POEMS OF " HOMER " " COLLECTEU AND ARR.VNOEu" HY I'lSISTKATUS.

5. JUST ESTIMATE OF IIIS HOMERIC LABOURS.

1. In tlie modern scliools, the "Homeric question" Authorities
resolv^es itself into two main heads of speculative [•""sr""'^
inquiry : first, wlicther the Iliad and Odyssey are to "'l^^^.'
be considered as each in its integral capacity the ••'''"J"
work of a single author : secondly, how far, allowing
this to be the case, both poems are to be ascribed to
the same author. It is to the former head alone that
the historical class of evidence can be said to apply.
The other, or as it is technically called the Separatist
question, can hardly be said to offer materials fur
such investigation, being alluded to by the antients
but as a subtlety of one or two commentators of no
authority, whose views were repudiated or contemned
by the best native critics. It is on grounds of in-
ternal evidence that so great importance has been at-
tached to the Separatist doctrine in our own times,
and upon these grounds alone it will here accordingly
fall to be considered.

With the above limitation, the historical clement of
the inquiry concentrates itself around tlic tradition
concerning the services rendered to tlie poems by
Pisistratus and his family. This is owing partly to
the importance of those services, partly to the pecu-

20 i HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE TOEMS. Book II.

I'uir prominence assigned them throughout the late
discussion. Of the Athenian usurper himself no men-
tion occurs in connexion with the works of Homer,
in the text of any writer of the best days of Greek
literature; but a passage of the Platonic dialogue^
which bears as its title the name of " Hipparchus,"
son and successor of Pisistratus, and which is the
earliest extant authority on the subject, ascribes to
the same Hipparchus, not only the first establishment
at Athens of the public rehearsal of the poems, but
their first introduction into that republic. This
account is however so grossly improbable in itself,
and so contrary to all other more reasonable data,
that it has never been considered more than a confused
version of the prevailing tradition of certain im-
provements having been effected by a member of the
family in the festive recitals of the poems. But even
this more restricted view of their services is not
borne out bv other authorities. Dieuchidas, a Me-
garian writer of uncertain age but good credit,
quoted by Diogenes Laertius in his life of Solon ^,
ascribes the same or similar improvements to that
lawgiver, subjoining the remark, that " Solon there-
fore had done more than Pisistratus to elucidate the
poems." He mentions in the sequel the imputed in-
terpolation, by Solon, of the passage of the Catalogue
relative to the isle of Salamis. From these various
data, it may be inferred that there were three tra-
ditions current in later times, as to the better reo'u-
lation of the public rehearsals in Athens ; one of which
ascribed it to Solon, another to Pisistratus, a third to
his son Hipparchus. The two latter may be presumed
to imply the extension or improvement, by those

' p. 228. =» ix.

C«. III. §1. UISTORICAL DATA. 205

princes, of tlie original ordinance of Solon. The next
allusion to the services of Pisistratus is by Cicero',
Avho describes liim as " reported to have arranged
the books of Homer, previously in a state of con-
fusion, in the form in Avhieli we now possess them."'
Pausanias- mentions liis collection of the poet's pre-
viously scattered works as a current rumour, and
alludes also to certain assistants in his task. .Klian^
combines the two notices relative to Lycurgus and
Pisistratus into one, assiirninn; to the former the first
introduction of the poems into Greece, but in a dis-
ordered state: to the latter their final arranirement.
Put the most explicit notice of the critical labours
of Pisistratus is a somewhat nmtilated fragment of
Tzetzes, the Byzantine ""rannnarian*^, to the followinjr
effect: "Pisistratus collected the scattered poems of
Homer, and with much care and diligence arranged
them into the volumes which they now occupy, with
the aid of four distinguished scholars: Concliylus uf
. . . . , Onomacritus of Athens, Zopyrus of Heraclea,
and Orplieus of Croton." " Before his time," it is
added, " the study of Homer Avas a confused and
difficult matter." Josephus^ does not mention Pisi-
stratus, but states it to be an opinion entertained in
some quarters, that "the poems of Homer were not
committed to writing until long after their compo-
sition, but handed down by memory, and afterwards
collected into one volume ; which," he adds, " may
account for the many discrepancies in their text."
The services here described as rendered ]>y Pisi-

^ De Orat. iii. xxxiv. '^ vii. xxvi. ; conf. Eust. pra;f. p. 5.

3 Yar. Hist. xiii. xiv.

* Ptitschl, Die Alcxaiulr. Biblioth. j). 3. ; conf. Craiiicr, Anccil. (Jr.
vol. I. p. G. ; Bcriih. Gruiulr. dor Gr. Lit. vol. ii. p. GS. scp

* Contr. Ap. i. ii.

them.

206 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

stratus to the poems are: first, the encouragement
and regulation of their public recital ; secondly, their
collection and arrangement in their present form.
Varieties 2. Thc modcm theories on either point are of the

basedmf samc vaguc character as the testimonies on which
they are based. The doctrine of Wolf, the extreme
of Philo-Pisistratism, assumed the Attic tyrant to
be the first writer as well as compiler, and hence,
in so far as their epic unity is concerned, the first
actual author of an Iliad or Odyssey, previously a
confused mass of heroic songs. Others have run into
an opposite extreme, limiting his merit to little more
than having, in concert with Solon, provided for the
performance of the public rehearsals, according to
the epic sequel originally inherent in the cantos, but
disturbed in the popular schools of rhapsodism. A
third party, adopting a middle course, would ascribe
to him, together with the regulation of the popular
rehearsals, the preparation of a complete edition of
the whole series of cantos or books, previously extant
in writing, but without any standard integral text,
and hence liable to be perverted from their epic
continuity. Other modifications of opinion might be
enumerated, but those above stated will suffice to
place in a clear light the bearings of the general
question.

The first of these three views, the primary AVolfian
hypothesis, now numbers comparatively few sup-
porters. Not one of the various authorities cited in
its favour ascribes to Pisistratus the committal of the
poems to writing. Tzetzes, the most specific and
apparently authentic historian of his labours, is not
only silent upon this point, but the terms of the
above-cited passage, describing an association of pro-

Cu. 111. § 2. HISTORICAL DATA. 207

fessional men of letters engaged in preparing com]>lete
editions of the national classics, imply a state of Greek
literature altogether inconipatihie witli the denial of
a written integrity to its acknowledged standard ; to
the Greek bible, as AVolf^ himself calls the Iliad.
Aristotle'^, the oldest and best authority concerning
the early promulgation of the poems in Greece, was
not only ignorant of this later Ibrm of the tradition,
but indirectly contradicts it, describing the Spartan
lawgiver as having in the course of his travels, several
centuries prior to the time of Pisistratus, received
the poems as written documents from Creophilus
of Samos, and brought them to Lacedajmon, What-
ever may be the critical value of this story, it proves
at least that those who attached weight to it knew
nothing of any prior claim of Athens to the first
written arrangement of the poems. Xenophanes^ of
Colophon and Thcagenes"* of Khegium, both con-
temporary with Pisistratus, wrote commentaries on
Homer, But a written commentary on a work itself
unwritten is surely a thing unheard of. Still less
compatible were the labours of these critics with a
mass of undigested ballads as their text-book. Nor
can the authorities most laudatory of Pisistratus
reasonably be understood as asserting his having first
imparted epic unity to the poems, or as expressing
any doubt of its prior existence. They allude rather
to the restoration of a previous order dislocated by the
popular organs of transmission. Cicero', the oldest

' Vorlesung. ub. d. llias, vol. i. p. 7.

^ Ap. Ileraclid. Polit. frg. ii. ed. Sclincidewin.

' Frjig. vii. xxxi. ; conf. Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 18G.

* Vill. Praf. ad Scb, Ven. p. 25. ; Nitzscb, Hist. Horn. i)t. i. p. .Jl.

^ Orat. 111. xliii.

208 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

and gravest among them, could hardly have applied
the expression " books (libros), before confused and
dispersed," to hitherto unwritten and unconnected
sonsfs. The term books must either denote in its
familiar sense written volumes, or if it be understood
in the figurative sense of cantos or heads of subject,
it implies an existence of the body of the work to
which they belonged. Nor can confusion or dis-
persion be said to prevail, wliere order and unity
were never contemplated. With how little justice
Cicero can be made responsible for the opinion here
imputed to him appears from another passage of his
works, allusive to the state of literature in Greece
many generations anterior to Pisistratus. " If," says
he ^, " we place the foundation of Rome in the 7th
Olympiad (750 b. c), that event would coincide with
a period at which Greece abounded with poets and
musicians, and when, consequently, less weight at-
tached to fabulous tradition." The orator here clearly
alludes to a Greek literature in the technical sense of
the term, about two hundred years prior to Pisistratus;
he cannot, therefore, possibly have been under the
impression that Homer, among all these poets, was
denied a written text till the age of that prince.
Even Joscphus", the only author who questions the
fact of the poems having been written by Homer
himself, is by no means favourable to the claims of
Pisistratus. The tract in which he alludes to tiie
subject is an elaborate attempt to depreciate, in a
keen spirit of national controversy, the antiquity of
Greek civilisation and learnino;. His neo;lect, there-
fore, either to quote authorities or specify dates

' De Repub. ii. x. * C. Ap. i, ii.

Cu. in. § 3. HISTORICAL DATA. 209

warrants the opinion, tliat, if he liad ever licard of
any such tradition rcdativo to tlic Pisistratidu', he did
not consider it sufhciently valid for liis purpose.
Had lie been able to (piote, as easily as Woll'^ has
imagined, " the unanimous voice of all j)revious
antiquity" in favour of his views, his triumph over
Apion would liave been complete, without an ad-
ditional word of argument. It is indeed remarkable
tliat, while tlie whole of the authors cited in behalf of
the modern doctrine belong to the Roman period,
and with the exception of Cicero to its decline, not
one of them attempts to corroborate his own statement
by more antient or nearly contemporaneous authority.
The greater the accumulation of such unsupported
statements, the greater, obviously, the evidence of the
hollowness of the tradition they repeat. A\'here, on
the other hand, appeal does happen to be made, as by
Diogenes Laertius, to prior authority, the testimony
cited, that of Dieuchidas", the earliest writer wlio
alludes to the Athenian usurper, is subversive of his
more exaggerated claims, implying that the unity of
the poems had been already better provided for by
Solon.

3. Apart from such more specific reasons, it seems siicnccof
impossible to reconcile with the modern doctrine the classics.'
entire silence of the writers of the best aires of Gi'eece
on the subject, and the absence of all appearance of
doubt on their part, amid their accumulated notices of
the poems, as to the genuine original integrity of the
text. This objection has been met by a denial of
any obligation on the part of those writers, in their
incidental allusions to a popular literary work, to

Prol. p. 142. ^ Aj). Diog. in Vit. Solonis, ix.

VOL. I. r

210 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

discuss its origin or early transmission. In so far as
restricted to such allusions, the apology may have
weight. It does not, however, meet the present case.
Plato often does, and even Aristotle may at times,
though that is perhaps more doubtful, quote, not
merely Homer or Hesiod, but Orpheus or Musasus, in
passing illustration of some speculative doctrine, with-
out being held to any serious admission of the genuine
character of the work appealed to : but that the pro-
verbially sceptical and punctilious Stagirite critic, in
a regular treatise on the Art of Poetry^, should adopt
the Iliad and Odyssey as his standard models of epic
unity, and speak of Homer, in his strictly personal
capacity, as the inspired author of so wonderful a
combination, if he knew that the poems were really
indebted for this noblest feature of their composition
to a bookmaker of a comparatively recent epoch, seems
incredible. As little can it be supposed that Aristotle
could be ignorant of any very important fact in the
history of either Homer, Pisistratus, or Solon, which
was matter of notoriety in the time of Cicero. This
negative argument has, however, also been met in
another and perhaps a more specious form. " Such
speculative questions," it has been urged, " do not
belong to the more youthful and genial stages of
literary criticism, but to those later epochs, in which
philological research is pursued as a distinct branch of
science. Plato or Aristotle, satisfied with the pos-
session of their Homer, hmit their commentary to the
beauties of the transmitted text, without investi^'atino-
how, or through what medium, they obtained it."
This rule of interpretation is at the best very ques-

^ De Arte Poetic, passim.

Cii. III. § 3. HISTORICAL DATA. 211

tionable, but its presumed ap[)rication to the case fails
entirely. The Alexandrian commentators, it will he
admitted, were as subtle a race of speculative critics
as ever existed ; yet they were no less in the dark as
to the modern theory, than their ancestors of the
Attic period. Not a hint of any such theory can be
found in their remains. The argument that tlicir
opinions are but partially represented in the existing
scholia cannot here avail. It were in itself hardly
conceivable, that among such an inlinity of citations,
from the connnentaries of several hundred irrani-
marians^ all allusion to a point of so great interest
should be omitted, especially by authors fond of
giving effect to precisely this subtle class of notices.
But the prominence actually assigned, in the same
Alexandrian schools, to the more limited scepticism
of the Chorizontes, the minor proposition it may be
called, as to a twofold authorship, is conclusive evi-
dence that the major, of a complete patchwork Homer,
would not, if already mooted, have been overlooked.
The summary maimer in which the Separatist doc-
trine itself is dismissed by Aristarchus, and other
leading commentators, convincingly proves that the
more extended theory of subdivision, it' known to
them at all, could not have been countenanced by
them. Those who insisted on ascribing both poems
to a single author could never have admitted a mul-
titude for each. -•-

Still more conclusive is the historical argument in ArRumcnt
favour of an entire Iliad and Odyssey, centuries rvdie'^'^
prior to the age of Pisistratus, derived from those i^*"™'-
other epic poems to which attention has already been

' See Fabric, iiib. Gr. Uarl. v^l. i. {>. 440. Miq.
r 2

212 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

directed, as also vulgarly ascribed to Homer, witli
claims to an antiquity little inferior to that of his
genuine works. Those poems, unfortunately, no
longer exist in their integrity. Several of them,
however, as may be collected from their remains or
the notices concerning them, contained, in the choice
of their subjects and mode of treatment, proofs of a
systematic imitation of the Iliad and Odyssey, and,
by consequence, of a ftimiliarity with their text as
already extant in the form in which we now possess
it. To enter in detail upon the evidence bearing on
this point would be to anticipate what properly
belongs to another place. ^ Attention, however, may
here be called to the following particulars. In the
first place it will be remarked, that, while a veneration
for the great master induced the disciples or imitators
to select subjects connected with those on which he
had shed lustre, a similar feeling, or the fear of en-
tering into competition witli him, also led them to
avoid encroaching on the ground he had occupied.
Arctinus, the next most celebrated poet of the school,
took up, in his ^thiopis, the series of adventures
before Troy, precisely at the stage in which the Iliad
ceases, and carried them on to the death of Ajax. The
Lesser Iliad continued the interrupted tale to the fall
of the city, which catastrophe was also treated by
Arctinus in a work entitled the Destruction of Troy.
The author of the Cypria treated the previous subject
from the birth of Helen, and brought it down to the
exact epoch at which the Iliad commences. The
lYosti tilled up the interval between Iliad and Odyssey.
Each of these works, while vastly inferior both in

^ See infra, Ch. xix.

Cri. III. §;]. IlISTOrJCAL DATA. 213

design and execution to tlieir two prototypes, emu-
lated at least the coniprcliensive scope of their action,
borrowing also from tliciii niucli ol' their own epic
machinery, such as catalogues of warriors, quarrels
among tlie chiefs, funeral games, and other similar
details. To these CycUc or Homeric epopees might
be added numerous others \ sucli as tlie Corinthiaca
of Eumehis, and lleraclea of Pisander, standing in no
such immediate rehition to the Iliad, but also ema-
nating from a more or less remote antiquity, and of
ffreat len":th and elaborate structure. The evidence
supplied by these facts, that the Iliad and Odyssey
existed previously to the Olympic era, can only be
evaded by assuming all those poems to have been also
originally composed on no definite plan, nor l)y any
sino;le author, but to have been indebted for their
existence to the same fortuitous cohesion or the same
bookmakiniT artifice, as the Pisistratian Homer. This
is an extreme of paradox, such as, with our present
clearer insight into the early history of Greek e})ic
literature, will hardly find acceptance in any reason-
able quarter.

Another evidence that Homer's name was from the
earliest period identified with regular epic composi-
tions is the fact, that while a large proportion of the
works of that class claiming a remote antiquity were
familiarly ascribed to him, none such were ever as-
siirned to the rival school of Ilesiod. ^^'ith this
name, by equal priority of right, was connected, in
the same conventional usage, that other voluminous
body of hexameter poems already described as
chiefiy of a didactic tendency, or, where treatin

' Infra, Cli. xxii.
V 3

214

HOMER, ORIGIN OF THE POEMS.

Book II.

What were
the poems
collected
and ar-
ranged by
Pisistra-
tus?

heroic subjects, of a brief or desultory character.
This distinction, and by consequence the respective
peculiarities on which it is founded, is certainly far
older than the time of Pisistratus.

4. And here a question occurs of no little moment
as bearing on this whole inquiry, but which has
hitherto been overlooked or but lightly treated :
What were the "poems of Homer" which Pisistratus,
in the tradition, is described as collecting and arrang-
ing ? Were they limited to the Iliad and Odyssey ?
or did they comprise other members of the "Homeric"
Cycle ? Although the Iliad and Odyssey came gra-
dually, in the progress of the critical art, by the
force rather of internal than historical evidence, to
be recognised as the sole genuine works of " the poet,"
yet this, it has been shown, was not the case in early
times. It was not so, probably, in the age of Si-
raonides and Pindar^, scarcely in that of Herodotus,
and, it may confidently be said, not certainly in that
of Pisistratus. There can be no reasonable doubt
that the " poems of Homer," forbidden to be rhap-
sodised at Sicyon by Clisthenes, tyrant of that state
and contemporary of Pisistratus, on account of the
prominence they gave to the glory of the rival city
of Argos, comprised the Thebais and Epigoni ^ ; and
it can hardly be supposed that any more critical line
of distinction had yet been drawn in Athens. Were,
however, the tradition of an adjustment or redaction
of the " previously scattered " limbs or volumes of
" Homer," to be thus understood of the general mass
or series of Homeric poems, the result would be a com-

1 Ap. Welck. Ep. Cyc. p. 199. 300.

^ See Grote, Hist, of Gr. vol. ii. p. 173.; who, however, goes too far
in exchiding the Iliad and Odyssey.

Cii. 111. §4. IIISTOHICAL DATA. 215

plcte change in the bearhigs of the whole question
as affecting the Iliad and Odyssey alone. The text
of Tzetzes, above cited, also certainly favours this
view. The duties performed I)y Pisistratus and his
coadjutors towards "Homer" are there mentioned but
incidentally, in the way of illustration or parallel to
the like undertakinir of Zenodotus in the Alexandrian
period.^ But the compilation of that critic included,
it is certain, the apocryphal as well as the genuine
works of " Homer." From other collateral accounts
it appears that Pisistratus also compiled and ar-
ranged the poems of Hesiod"-, which title, in like
manner, comprised, besides the two more accredited
works of the Boeotian bard, numerous others enjoying,
in more critical ages, little or no claim to genuine
Hesiodic ori"'in : and there seems no sufficient reason
to draw a distinction, as to the value of any such
generic expression, between the case of llesiod and
that of Homer. The simple fact that the remaining
mass of Epico- Homeric poems were collected by Pi-
sistratus, under whatever title, can hardly admit of
doubt. He was the founder, as Zenodotus with whom
he is compared by Tzetzes Avas the director, of a public
library.^ His " Collection and Arrangement " of the
'' Poems of Homer " for his Athenian Institute may,
therefore, in the general spirit of the tradition, safely
be understood in the same comprehensive sense as
that of his Alexandrian successor for the shelves of
the Musasum.'^ The whole series Avould not only be

1 Ritschl, Die Alex. Bibl. p. 3.

= ISIiill. Troleg. zu ein. wisscnt. INIytliol. p. SDO.

3 Wolf, Prol. p. 14.3. ; Nitzscli, Hist. Horn. i)t. i. p. 102.

• Further evidence in favour of ibis view will be found in two short ar-
ticles on the subject in the Hheinische Museum (184i), p. 135. sq.); one by
K. L. Kotli, the other by_rrofessor Ititschl of Bonn. From the additional

V 4

216 HOMEE. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

required for the Athenian library, but must have
formed the most bulky portion of its contents. Un-
less, therefore, it be assumed that the popular title
to Homeric honours, which the Theba'is, Cypria,
iEthiopis, and Lesser Iliad had enjoyed for ages, and
continued to retain long after the time of Pisistratus,
was dismissed or set at nauglit by that compiler, at
the epoch too when the Iliad and Odyssey themselves
are asserted to have been but disjointed and uncon-
nected fragments, (a somewhat extravagant hypo-
thesis,) it seems difficult to escape the inference, that
the " volumes of Homer," collected and arranged at
Athens, comprehended a great deal more than those
to which the title is now exclusively limited. The
circumstance that the Homeric labours of the Athenian
prince should have been understood, as certainly ap-
pears to have been the case, by later writers, as limited
to the Iliad and Odyssey, can create no surprise. It
furnishes but one, among numerous instances, where
the expression " Homer," applied in early times to the
collective Homeric mass, has been similarly misunder-
stood in after ages.

The establishment of a public library by Pisi-
stratus, although perhaps the best authenticated fact
of his literary history, is in itself singularly incon-
sistent with the more exao-o-erated view of his
editorial functions. The notion of a professional

illustrations there supplied of the mutilated scliollon of Tzetzes (supra, p.
205.), it appears probable that in that scholion the obscure word Concjlus,
formerly supposed to be the name of one of the coadjutors of Pisistratus,
is, as Dr. Cramer had conjectured, a remnant of the phrase iinK6yKVK\oy,
or Epic Cycle. It would thus refer, not to the person of the commentator,
.but to the material on which his critical labours were bestowed. Epic
Cycle, it need hardly be remarked, is but another name for the Collective
Epic poems of the Homeric School.

Ch. III. § 5. HISTORICAL DATA. 2 1 7

book-collector beino- the first committer to writiiiir of
tlie works deposited in lii;; library involves something
very nearly akin to absurdity.' K(|ually incompatible
with this theory, though often, strange to say, ad-
duced in its favour, are the allusions by antient
grammarians to single lines or short passages, as
" interpolated " here and there, by Pisistratus or his
coadjutors, on the genuine text, not only of Homer,
but of llesiod, ^lusnsus, Orpheus, and other poets,
real or imaginaiy, whose works they had the credit
of collecting.- Such allusions, unless on the sui)po-
sition, not merely of the poems having long pre-
viously enjoyed the benefit of a written integrity,
but of there having alread}^ existed for each some
fixed textual standard of that integrity, were alto-
gether nugatory.

5. Strong as may be the foregoing body of ob- justcsti-
jcctions to the modern Pisistratian theory, they I^IIihtL'''^
scarcely suffice to bear out the opposite extreme of '^*J"""-
opinion, where the services of the Attic prince are

' Wolf, however, finds no difficulty. Proleg. p. 145.: "Xon repcrio
qui idii inesse potuerunt scriptores, quam aliquot poetjp, nuper deuiuni
vel ab ipslus jussu pcrscripti." These aliquot poeta^, it may be remarked,
comprised : I, Of epic literature, besides Homer, the whole body of
Homeric, or cyclic authors : Arctinus, Lesches, llagias, Stasinus. and
other inferior or anonymous poets and works of that school. J I. Ihe
whole body of probably little less voluminous Ilcsiodic poems. HI. Of
Miscellaneous authors and works, epic or lyric, genuine and spurious,
not Immediately connected with either of those schools, may be numbered :
Asius, Euraelus, Cina^thon, Pisander, Callinus, Archilochus, Epimcnides,
Aristeas, Abaris, Sappho, Alcicus, Arion, Alcman, Tyrtasus, Tcrpander,
Stesichorus, ]Mimnermus, Solon, Orpheus, ^lusa-us, &c. ; in fact, more
than a half of the whole standard i)oetical literature of Greece. It is
surprising with what levity some of the most important questions of Greek
literary history are dismissed or misrepresented by this critic.

- Diog. Laert. Vit. Solon, ix. ; Plut. ^'it. Thes. xx. ; Schol. Odyss.
A. G04. ; Paus. vii. xxvi. ; Ilerodot. vu. vi.

218 HOIMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

restricted to a mere share in establishing the public
rehearsal of the poems, and checking the license of
the rhapsodists; although the arguments in favour
even of this more limited view are not devoid of plau-
sibility. Apart from the silence of earlier authori-
ties, stress has been laid on the absence of allusion,
by the Alexandrian critics, to any Athenian text,
amid their frequent appeals to those of other states,
such as Argos, Chios, or Marseilles. This silence,
however, though incompatible with any such exten-
sive influence on the poems as has been ascribed to
Pisistratus, need not entirely exclude his title to the
merit of having prepared an edition for his own im-
mediate use and that of his native public. But any
such edition, even if extant in later times, could
have enjoyed no separate authority, and must have
been comprehended, with sundry others, under the
general head of " common " or " ordinary editions,"
occasionally cited in the extant scholia.^

The more rigid, therefore, the scrutiny to which
the properly historical data bearing on this inquiry
are subjected, the more conclusively favourable do
they appear to the view embodied in the foregoing
general summary of the history of the poems. I.
That each was originally composed, in its substantial
integrity and order, as we now possess it. II. That,
in the course of their passage to posterity, this order,
if not altogether obliterated, was yet so habitually
disturbed by the popular organs of transmission as
to threaten its permanent dissolution. III. On the
advance of literary culture, a zealous determination
manifested itself in various quarters, to check this

* See Append. B.

Ch. m. § 5. HISTORICAL DATA. 2 1 'J

license, and enforce regularity in the public recitals
established in tlie leading Greek states. IV. A\'ith
this object, new editions were prepared, under public
auspices, for the use of diflerent republics. Such
were the texts of Chios, Argos, and tlie otlier " Civic
Editions; " such also that of Pisistratus, assumin"- it
ever to have existed.

That this reduction to order of tlie poems, what-
ever may have been its precise nature, was provided
for in various other cities besides Athens, apart from
the indirect evidence of the " Civic Editions," is
asserted on the same authority habitually appealed
to in favour of the exclusive claims of Pisistratus.^
There was this difference in the result, that, wliile
those editions obtained fame and authority, the
names of their compilers were not preserved. The
edition of Athens, on the other hand, if it ever
existed, lapsed into obscurity, v/hile tlie memory of
its compiler's zeal was magnified, during the literary
ascendancy of Athens, with other local traditions of
that state, into a form which has su])plied a basis for
the still more exaggerated theories of the modern
school.

' Suid. v."Ofj.r]pos.

220

HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE ROEMS. Book II;

CHAP. IV.

HOMER. OPJGIN OF THE POEMS. INTERNAL DATA.

Present
state of the
Homeric
question.

1, PRESENT STATE OF THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 2. INTERNAL EVIDENCE OP

TWO KI>T)S. BEARINGS OF EACH ON THE CASE OF HOMER.— 3. ANALYSIS
OF THE POEMS. GENERAL RULES FOR ITS GUIDANCE.— 4. SIMILARITY AND
DISCREPANCY OF STYLE. THEIR RELATIVE VALUE AS SOURCES OF IN-
TERNAL EVIDENCE. 5. CONSISTENCY IN THE POET's PORTRAITURE OP

CHARACTER. 6. STATE OF SOCIETY WHICH PRODUCED THE POEMS.

7. ANTIQUITY OF THE HOMERIC EPOPEE. ILII-PERSIS OF DEMODOCUS.

8. SUBDIVISION OF THE FOLLOWING ANALYSIS.

1. It will be desirable, as preliminary to any general
application of the internal data of the poems to the
question of their origin, to have distinctly in view
the leading varieties of opinion to be examined.
These varieties may be classed under the four follow-
ing heads : —

I. The old opinion of Aristotle, Aristarchus, Lon-
p-inus, and the native public at large, that both
poems are the work of a single Homer.

II. The doctrine of the Chorizontes, or Separatists,
that each is the production of a single, but not of the

same poet.

III. That a number of independant lays on the
Trojan war and its consequences, emanating from
various authors and epochs of the primitive min-
strelsy, having been observed, at a more advanced
period of literature, to comprise two continuous
series of epic narrative, had been incorporated by an
ingenious compiler into the existing form of an Iliad
and Odyssey.

IV. That an original kernel, or skeleton, of each

Gh. IV. §1. INTERNAL DATA. 221

poem Imd been, in tlie course of ages, ain[)lirie(l to
tlie bulk eacli now presents, partly by an extension
of the primary subject, partly by the incorporation
of other independant lays or e[)isodes.

The latter two of these heads are but a com-
pendium or summary of a class of doctrines, Avhich
assume a great variety of shapes, as modified by
the caprice of their respective advocates. They re-
present, conjointly, the substance of Wolf's from the
first vague and pliable theory. The credit of that
theory has been on the wane ever since the sensation
excited by its novelty had so far subsided as to admit
of its being subjected to a dispassionate scrutiny, and
the current of opinion has long been setting slowly,
but surely, in a retrograde course. That the German
y>ublic, where this whole question has been chiefly
agitated, should be ready, unconditionally, to abandon
doctrines with which its claims to preeminence in
classical research are so intimately associated, was
hardly to be expected ; yet the various modifications
of theory wdiich have been j)ropounded even in the
German schools, while evading any actual return to
the old Aristotelian creed, are but so many steps in
that direction. It is plain, for example, that, in the
ratio in which the second and third of the above four
varieties of opinion diller from each other, they ap-
proximate to the first. The second admits the unity
of each poem and author, but draws a broad dis-
tinction between the two. The third, while it con-
founds the distinction, as broadly denies the unity.
A concession, on either side, of but one of the points
at issue, would amount to a recognition of the antient
doctrine.

The literary historian who, some years ago, had

222

HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS.

Book II.

Internal
evidence of
two kinds.

Bearings of
each on the
present case.

ventured on this next and last step miglit have been
exposed to the stigma of lagging behind the spirit of
the age, of narrow-minded deference to exploded
error. By reference, however, to the existing state
of opinion, he may now perhaps rather claim to rank
as a sceptic than a bigot. His title to impartiality,
at least, will hardly in the present instance be dis-
puted, when it is stated that, on commencing the course
of study preliminary to this undertaking, he was,
like most young scholars, himself a zealous disciple of
the Wolfian school. Having been led, by a twenty-
years' diligent scrutiny of its doctrines, to a thorough
conviction of their fallacy, he is the more alive to
the duty of attempting, by a full exposition of the
results of that scrutiny, to produce a similar con-
viction on the minds of others.

2. The internal evidence of any such works as the
Iliad or Odyssey, bearing on the question of their
origin or structure, is of two kinds. Circumstantial
and Personal; or, in the technical language of the
schools. Objective and Subjective. The former hinges
on a comparative view of the facts and events, the
manners, customs, and institutions described or al-
luded to, as illustrative of the age or state of society
from which the descriptions emanate. The evidence
of the latter kind deals rather with the literary or
imaofinative than the historical element of the text,
with the genius of the author rather than of his
times or facts ; but deals with them in a similar
manner, by testing their unity or diversity as re-
flected in their written features of language, senti-
ment, or style.

The arguments derived from the former source
aflect chiefly the question of separate authorship in

Cu. IV. § 2. INTliRNAL DATA. 22

the two poems. Any serious attempts to luinpf such
arguments to bear against the individual integrity of
each liave been directed cliiefly to portions of the
text, the genuine character of which had Ixcii doubted
by leading native critics, where, consequently, the
discrepancy of the part, even where admitted, may
be considered in some sense to imply the unity of the
whole. The consideration, tlierefore, of the Circum-
stantial head of internal evidence will l)e reserved
chiefly for those portions of this analysis devoted
either to the Separatist theory, or to the corruptions
which the text of either poem may, in tlie ordinary
course of transmission, have undergone. The few
points falling under this head to wliich it lias been
considered necessary here to direct attention resolve
themselves, in great measure, into questions of histo-
rical probability similar to those treated in the pre-
vious chapter.

One of the most curious anomalies observable in
the general course of Homeric criticism during the
last half-century, is the familiar way in whicli, in the
same quarters where the Iliad and Odyssey are ]n-o-
nounced a compilation of discordant materials de-
rived from poets and epochs extending over about
five centuries, both works, together with their " au-
thor "" Homer," continue to be quoted in their in-
tegrity as the most antient contemporary evidence on
all (juestions of remotest Hellenic liistory, manners,
art, or science. Great importance for example has
been attaclied, after Thucydides, Strabo, and other
classics, to the absence from eitlier poem of the names
Hellas, or Hellene, for Greece and its inhabitants, and
of that of Peloponnesus for its soutliern peninsula, as
historical evidence of the late period at which these

224 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE TOEMS. Book II.

phrases became prevalent. But if the poems really
be a cento of contributions by numerous authors
from the tenth or eleventh centuries b. c. down to
Solon and Pisistratus, any appeal to such uniformity
must here involve one of two inferences : either tliat
the phraseology in question was unknoAvn during the
whole of that period, which it is certain was not the
case ; or that the whole body of contributors had
conspired in affecting ignorance, which were absurd.
The omission therefore is in itself substantial evi-
dence of unity, in the period at least in which the
works were composed. Nor can the customary
apology here avail, that deference to the usage of
earlier bards whose son2:s form the basis of the
compilation, might cause this phraseology to become
inveterate with their successors, since both terms
occur in the text of Hesiod and in that of Homer's
oldest disciples and most successful imitators. The
argument may be extended to other negative pecu-
liarities in the poet's accounts of manners or institu-
tions, whether referable to ignorance or other causes.
That one Homer should have been ignorant of the
use of cavalry in war, or from eccentricity or anti-
quarian affectation should have pretended to be so, is
possible, but scarcely credible in the case of a number
of Homers of different a2:es and countries. That one
poet should systematically exclude from his heroes'
tables fish, boiled micat, game, and other articles of
good cheer, so much esteemed by heroes of other
ages and countries, has often been remarked as
singular ; that ten or twelve Homers should enter
into any such conspiracy against heroic freedom of
diet seems unaccountable.

Among the reasons for assigning the two poems to

Ch. IV. §3. INTERNAL UATA. 225

different authors, much importance has been attached
to the preference of Iris in the one, of Mercury in the
other, as the messenger of Jove. The force of tliis
argument, as bearing on the Separatist question, will
be considered hereafter. It tells, however, obviously
both ways on the doctrines at large of the modern
school. That two Homers should have preferred, the
one the male the other the female functionary, were
nothing surprising ; but that out of a number of
Homers, composing independently on the adventures
of the Trojan war, all those who adopted Achilles as
their hero and the military events of the siege as
their subject, should have restricted themselves to
the one, those who preferred the voyages of Ulysses,
to the other class of agency, were a marvellous coin-
cidence.

Many similar examples of consistency in the poet's
historical notices might be adduced. The above will
sutfice to illustrate the principle of unity which they
involve. Reserving, therefore, the further conside-
ration of such questions for the comparative age or
authorship of the separate poems, we now pass on to
the more properly personal or subjective department
of internal evidence, which ^vill engage a large and
well-merited share of attention.

3. The critical analysis of a work of genius is Analysis of
limited, in ordinary cases, to the elucidation of its General
beauties, defects, or peculiarities. In the present case, g^jance.'^
not only the character of the poems, but their very
existence, with that of their author, is at stake. This
is unfortunate, as imparting a controversial spirit to
a subject which, it were especially to be wished,
should be treated in that easy agreeable tone with
which polemical discussion is least compatible. Every

VOL. I. Q

226 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book IT.

eifort, however, will be made to merge the one head
of inquiry in the other, so that the perception of the
causes may flow naturally from that of the effects.

The internal evidence of the poems is now uni-
versally admitted to be the only source from which
any clear light can be expected on their history;
yet there is no branch of the whole Homeric question
which has been so greatly neglected. Neither in-
genuity nor subtlety has here, indeed, been spared
by the supporters of the sceptical doctrine. Their
attempts to prove too much may even have contributed
at times to strengthen the case of their opponents.
The complete mutilation, not merely of the entire
poems, but of their separate limbs, paragraphs, and
verses, which would ensue were effect given to those
commentaries, would prove as incompatible with the
existence of a fugitive ballad as of a finished epopee.
They also tend by their own discrepancy to defeat
each other. The flaw or blemish where one critic
discovers plain evidence of patchwork, is passed over
unheeded by another ; while the text admitted by the
first as a genuine fruit of the primitive heroic min-
strelsy, is discarded by the second as the spurious
offspring of a tasteless imitator. By the supporters
of the old opinion, on the other hand, the arguments
from this source, by far the most conclusive at their
disposal, have been turned to comparatively slender
account. The objections founded on the real or
imputed discordances of the action have indeed been
vigorously combated, but no attempt has been made
to place the whole question on that higher ground of
principle which it is capable of occupying. Unity of
genius in such compositions can neither be proved nor
set aside by reference to mere mechanical results. It

Ch. IV. § 3. INTERNAL DATA. 227

must be souo-ht in those delicate traits of conception
or feeling, Avhere the variety of indivicUial character
in our species would seem, in itself, to preclude the
possibility of so singular a harmony as is admitted,
by even the most virulent opponents ' of the original
integrity of the Iliad, to pervade almost every page
of that extraordinary poem.

In adopting any general principle for judging
literary works by internal evidence, an important
previous question occurs : whether the same rules
are to be followed in regard to the Iliad and Odys-
sey, as would apply to poems of similar character
in historical times. This question, Avlien proposed in
the abstract, can admit of but one answer: that the
text of Homer must be tried by the same touch-
stone as that of Virgil, or Milton ; or if indulgence
be afforded, it ought to be to the poet of an age least
provided with mechanical aids to accurate compo-
sition. Certain it is however that this simple rule
of equity has, throughout the whole recent course of
Homeric research, been systematically reversed ; and
that, were the same rigorous tests of uniformity, so
mercilessly enforced in regard to Homer, to be trans-
ferred to his more civilised successors, different
portions of the iEneid or Paradise Lost might, upon
still more valid grounds, be assigned to different
authors. Any such attempt would undoubtedly
awaken, even in many of those who in Homer's case
have been most zealous in the work of destruction,
feelings of unmixed reprobation or ridicule.- It
is the obscurity alone in wliich the origin of the

* Ilerm. Opusc. vol. vi. p. 72.

^ Bentley's edition of the Paradise Lost supplies an example of a sin-
gularly pointed nature.

Q 2

228 HOMEli. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

Greek poems is involved that affords a shield behind
which the real hypercriticism of such attacks shelters
itself. But is it not obvious that, by the admission
of any such external influence on the judgement, the
whole principle of internal evidence is corrupted in
its source ? The thing to be proved can never be
made an element of the proof. No critic, then, can
honestly grapple with this analysis, who is not pre-
pared to extend the same criteria enforced in Homer's
case to every other work or author.

The remarks offered in a former page on the early
vicissitudes of the poems will obviate any impression
that, in advocating the substantial correctness of the
old opinion, it is proposed to maintain the absolute
integrity of their text as it now exists. The circum-
stances under which they were transmitted render it
next to impossible but that their original purity
should have suffered. In some, perhaps the greater
number of cases, the tampering may have been so
managed as to be no longer discernible ; in others
the existing anomalies may afford reasonable ground
of suspicion, and, where supported by traditional au-
thority, of conviction. But even in tliese latter cases
the impartial critic, instead of condemning, on account
of trivial blemishes, a substantial well-proportioned
edifice as a patchwork of different times and ar-
chitects, will rather avail himself of its general so-
lidity and elegance as a criterion for distinguishing
the injudicious alterations or repairs to which it may
have been subjected.
Similarity 4. It may be laid down as a general rule, in all
^an/^o7^' q^iestions as to the genuine character of a great
style. Their literary work, that the evidence supplied by simi-
vaiue as larity of style is stronger on the one side, than that

Ch. IV. §4. INTERNAL DATA. 22lj

derived from a corrcspondino; amount of anomaly un «>upcesof

11 All • • {^ iiiti-rnal

the other. As long as human nature is miperfect, tvidince.
the efforts of human art will ])c unequal. The same
poet can as little be expected to maintain unvarying
consistency and propriety, as the same man uninter-
rupted health of body or serenity of mind. It nuist
further be remembered that original genius is [)ro-
verbially eccentric and capricious, and that these
characteristics are more especially apt to find place
in the compositions of a poet unshackled by the
critical refinements of civilised ages. The same
freedom of fancy which raises him to the highest
regions of the sublime, will at times lead him into
defects at which an ordinary versifier of the present
day might be entitled to cavil. Such occasional
blemishes appear also in a more striking light, from
the contrast Avith the excellences on which they are
engrafted. The truth of this remark is borne out by
the case, not only of Homer, but of every poet of
similar genius flourishing under parallel circum-
stances. Let Dante or Shakspeare be submitted to
the same ordeal by which Homer has been tested,
and it is certain that from their standard works
might be selected numerous passages, or even integral
parts, which, if collated with the nobler specimens of
their style, would as amply deserve expunction as
any line, text, or book, of either Iliad or Odyssey.
Still less attention is due to the arguments derived
from occasional discrepancies of fact or of geo-
graphical and mythological allusion. Such anomalies,
as will be abundantly shown in the sequel, arc not
only observable, and to a far greater extent, in the
text of the most accomplished successors of Homer,
but would even seem, from the similarity in thr

Q 3

230 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

mode of their occurrence, to be inseparable from the
free and genial treatment of any prolonged series of
mythical adventures.^

Very different is the value of the affirmative evi-
dence, resulting from a large amount of corre-
spondence, in any such case. Writers of ordinary
capacity, whose style is formed on the prevailing-
taste of the day, may frequently present so great a
general resemblance, as to render it difficult to de-
cide upon internal grounds to whom, among those
of a given period, a production is to be ascribed :
but any such pervading identity between any two or
more different minds, in respect to all the higher
excellences, as well as the more delicate charac-
teristics, of poetical genius, as it would be necessary
to assume on the basis of the modern Homeric
theory, were a phenomenon unexampled in historical
times, nor consequently admissible on hypothetical
grounds in the darker periods of art. Through-
out the two poems the same deep knowledge of
human nature is displayed, in identically the same
forms, not merely in the delineation of those more
prominent passions or feelings which may sometimes
be vigorously apprehended even by inferior artists,
but in the penetrating power with which the single
great master dives into the recesses of the heart,
plucks forth its hidden treasures, and embodies them
in living forms before our eyes. Throughout, the
same spirit and originality in the conception of his
characters are combined with the same constancy in

' This rule is not only admitted, but pointedly enforced by Hermann,
in theory, and against others, In the course of the same commentaries
where it is so completely contemned and violated by himself. 0pp. Misc.
vol. VI. p. 80. et alibi.

Ch. IV. §4. INTERNAL DATA. 231

sustaining tliem ; tlie same vivid impression of the
varied phenomena of nature, witli the same graphic
powers of description, perspicuity of narrative, and
harmony of numbers. A\'ere tliereforc the author-
ship of the poems, over whicli these excellences are ;
so copiously spread, to be parcelled out as has been '
proposed, the dark ages of Greece would present the
phenomenon, not merely of one, but of a legion of
heroic bards, equalling or surpassing the greatest of
wliicli any other age or country can boast. "With
this improbability would be combined tlie little less
marvellous circumstance, that tliese transcendantly
gifted minstrels, amid the variety of materials wliicli
tradition placed at their disposal, should have con-
spired in selecting the Troic series of adventures, or
even two limited portions of it, while the crowd of
second-rate poets were equally unanimous in preferring
different subjects, or different portions of the same.
To the above coincidences need scarcely be added,
as regards the more popular form of the modern
theory, the still more marvellous coincidence, that
these poems, after several centuries of circulation in
their separate capacity, should have been found to
constitute the parts of two vast integral epopees,
each followinof out a continuous train of events i
through numerous complicated vicissitudes: that one '
part should have suggested itself as a beginning, |
another as a middle, a third as an end ; that the rest '
should have afforded appropriate episodes ; and that
each should have been interspersed with nuitual
references to the incidents destined by the presiding
genius of Parnassus to go before and follow after :
that one should have contained a prophecy of events
to be carried into effect in the sequel, and in due

a 4

of charac
ter.

232 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

time as punctually fulfilled in another, with, perhaps,
an equally pointed reference to the prediction : that
each should have taken up in its turn the same
series of actors, in the persons not only of the more
prominent heroes, but of the subordinate, and, for
the most part, purely fictitious characters, heralds,
charioteers, goatherds, waiting-maids, even warriors of
remote Asiatic regions, whose epic importance consists
mainly in their sonorous names ; pure Greek names, in
many cases, assigned to Paphlagonian or Halizonian
barbarians, and Avhich it is incredible could be the
simultaneous invention of each poet for the occasion.
Consistency ,5, It is probablc that, like most other great
portraiture* paiutcrs of liumau nature. Homer was indebted to
previous tradition for the original sketches of his
principal heroes. These sketches, however, could
have been little more than outlines which, as worked
up into the finished portraits of the Iliad and Odys-
sey, must rank as his own genuine productions. In
every branch of imitative art, this faculty of repre-
senting to the life the moral phenomena of our
nature in their varied phases of virtue, vice, weak-
ness, or eccentricity, is the highest and rarest attri-
bute of genius ; and rarest of all as exercised by
Homer throus-h the medium of dramatic action,
where the characters are never formally described,
but made to develope themselves by their own lan-
guage and conduct. It is this, among his many
great qualities, which chiefly raises Homer above all
other poets of his own class ; nor, with the single
exception perhaps of the great English dramatist,
has any poet ever produced so numerous and spirited
a variety of original characters, of different ages,
ranks, and sexes. Still more peculiar to himself

Ch. IV. § 5. INTERNAL DATA. 233

than their Vcariety is the unity of thought, feelinpr,
and expression, often of minute pliraseology, with
which they are individually sustained, and yet with-
out an appearance of effort on the part of their
author. Each describes himself spontaneously, when
brought on the scene; just as the automata of Vulcan
in the Odyssey, thougli indebted to the divine artist
for the mechanism on whicli they move, appear to
perform their functions by their own unaided powers.
That any two or more poets should simultaneously
have conceived such a character as Achilles is next
to impossible. Still less credible is it, that the dif-
ferent parts of the Iliad, where the hero successively
appears as the same sublime ideal being, under the
influence of the same combination of virtues, failings,
and passions, thinking, speaking, acting, and suffer-
ing, according to the same single type of licroic
grandeur, can be the production of more than
a single mind. Such evidence is perhaps even
stronger in the case of the less prominent actors, in
so far as it is still less possible that different artists
should simultaneously agree in tlieir portraits of
mere subordinate incidental personages, than of
heroes whose renown may have rendered their clia-
racters a species of public property. Two poets of
the Elizabethan age might, without any concert, have
harmonised to a great extent in their portrait of
Henry V. ; but that the correspondence should have
extended to the imaginary companions of his youth,
the Falstaffs, Pistols, Bardolphs, (^uicklys, were in-
credible. But the nicest shades of peculiarity in the
inferior actors of the Iliad and Od3\ssey are conceived
and maintained in the same spirit of' distinction as in
Achilles or Hector. I'vcn where there exists some

234

HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS.

Book II.

bond of connexion, ethic or historical, between the
destinies of certain pairs of heroes, as of Achilles and
Patroclus, Hector and Paris, Agamemnon and Mene-
laus, the poet has, with the most subtle though
palpable design, availed himself of this contingency,
as will hereafter be demonstrated, in adapting or
contrasting as it may be, the relations of the one to
the other, so as to give more effectual relief to the
distinctive peculiarities of each.^
state of 6. The most comprehensive, and perhaps upon

socict'v

which pro- the whole, most plausible, objection, on the ground of
poems.*^^^ internal evidence, to the popular view, is the impro-
bability that, in " so rude an age," any poet should
have conceived so vast and complicated a scheme of
epic action as the Iliad or Odyssey ; or that two such
works, even if executed, could have been preserved
entire to posterity. In order rightly to appreciate
this difficulty, attention must be recalled to a dis-
tinction, already noticed, between the earlier and
more advanced stages of the poetical art. The rules
laid down by the standard antient critics cannot,
unless in rare and partial instances, be considered as
their own invention. The critical office consists in
eliciting and reducing to system, from the original
works of genius, those laws, to the intuitive ob-
servance of which the authors of the works owe
their fame and popularity. That, without the ex-

^ It is somewhat remarkable that the above internal evidences have
rarely been more eloquently or convincingly summed up than by Wolf
himself (Pi'aef. ad II. p. xxii.), who admits that, but for the force of the
historical proofs on the other side, they would be irresistible. It is not too
much to assert, that, had Wolf survived the subsequent stages of tlie
controversy which bears his name, he would have subscribed to the now
unanimous admission of critics of all classes, that the internal evidence
is the only valid basis on which the question can be treated. Wolf may,
therefore, in so far, fairly be adduced as a witness against his own cause.

Ch. IV. § 6. INTERNAL DATA. 235

ample of such original models, the ingenuity of specu-
lative bookmaking should luive devised any abstract
norm of theoretical perfection for the higher branches
of poetry, is repugnant to all experience. This,
however, is the anomaly which the objection above
stated presupposes in the case of epic composition,
where it is perhaps more especially unlikely to have
found place. Nor must it be overlooked that, what-
ever sceptical doubts may have been entertained as
to an original unity of the whole design, the elegance
of detail by which the parts are adorned has never
been denied to be the genuine offspring of the old
heroic minstrelsy. Here, again, is an obvious re-
versal of what reason and experience teach in such
cases. AVhile elegance of detail is the proper charac-
teristic of an advanced sta^re of art, ma^^nitude of
design is that of its earlier epochs in every country.
If the semibarbarous age of Greece could produce a
poet distinguished by all the individual elements of
excellence, perspicuity of style, richness of imagery,
harmon}' of numbers, and above all by purity and
depth of moral sentiment, it could hardly have denied
him the faculty of combining these elements into a
comprehensive and symmetrical whole. The same
principle extends to other branches of primeval art.
How the stupendous masses of Tiryns or Stonehenge
were conveyed and adjusted will ever remain wonder-
ful to civilised posterity. We do not, however, insist
on discoverino- in them the work of a colonv of ac-
complished mathematicians ; but were they arranged
in graceful architectural forms, and adorned witli
finely executed sculptures, the latter inference would
be unavoidable. Any theory therefore which,
while it concedes the surpassing finish of detail in

236 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

the Iliad and Odyssey to the so-called barbarous age
of their author, can only explain their vastness of
design as an effort of the professional ingenuity of
later times, is essentially paradoxical.

Admitting then the perfecting of epic art, the
transition from legends of petty adventure to the
completion of a great heroic poem, to be the office
rather of inspired genius than of bookmaking artifice,
it may further confidently be asserted, that the state
of society most favourable to the development of
such genius is precisely that pictured in the Iliad ;
that intermediate stage namely, equally removed
from the extremes of barbarism and refinement,
which, free from the artificial distinction of vulgarity
and politeness, admits of contemporary objects, inter-
woven with personal feelings and sympathies, being
made the subject of poetical description. In order
rightly to judge on this point, it will be necessary
to discard, or greatly qualify, the epithets " rude "
and " barbarous," so frequently bestowed on the
age of Homer, and test it by his own descrip-
tions. We there find a race among whom civilisa-
tion was sufficiently matured to impart splen-
dour to the social fabric, without impairing their
own martial ferocity or simplicity of habits. In the
upper class we perceive an order of patriarclud
nobility, clothed in elegant garments ; protected by
highly wrought armour; inhabiting spacious man-
sions adorned Avith colonnades, gilding, statuary,
and pleasure-gardens ; delighting in music, poetry,
and oratory; performing journeys in chariots, with
an ease and rapidity scarcely conceivable in a
country not intersected with made roads ; and navi-
gating in fifty- oar galleys, with a freedom equal or

Ch. IV. §7. INTERNAL DATA. 237

superior to their (Icsceiidunts centuries afterwards.
The i)opuhition reside chieliy in towns, witli the
exception of those engaged in agrit-ulture, which art
is carried to a high state of perfection in all its lead-
ing branches as cultivated in later times, while many
of the elementary trades and niiinulacturcs are exer-
cised as distinct professions. Such is Homer's own
picture of the social condition of his age, betraying
certainly no such barbarism as to preclude the
highest development of the epic faculty. A few gene-
rations later, it might with better reason be urged,
that the change of manners would have interposed
serious obstacles to the production of two such
poems, by blunting the heroic enthusiasm of their
author, and substituting the studied magniloquence
of ^Eschylus or Pindar for the native simplicity and
grandeur of Homer.

7. The fact that poets of ordinary talents, at a Antiquity
period not essentially different from that Avhich pro- Homeric
duced the Iliad, had succeeded in embodying the Im-'iniis
same or a similar series of events in long; narratives, "fi^^'"*'-

C -'"• *">^"^c..

is established by the existence of those other primi-
tive works, Thebais, Cypria, Ilii-persis, and others,
the genuine integrity of which has never been se-
riously impugned. It were surely a strange distinc-
tion to allow to an inferior genius of the ante-Olympic
era the capacity of inditing a long epopee of inferior
merit, and yet deny to a genius of surpassing ex-
cellence the ability to compose one of just and happy
proportions.^ But, in fact, the descriptions given

' This consideration also meets the objection, to which some miijht
attach importance, derived from the want or imperfection of the art of
writing, as offering a bar eitlier to the composition or preservation of
such voluminous poems in their existing integrity. If a Cvpria could

ducuii.

238 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

in the Odyssey, of the poems recited by the minstrels
who figure in its action, afford conclusive evidence
that works of a similarly extensive character were
familiar to its author. Attention may, in particular,
be directed to that recited by the Phseacian bard
Demodocus, under the title of Hippocosmos, or the
'' Stratagem of the Horse." The narrative of this
poem, according to the poet's own epitome of its
contents^ as here subjoined, must have comprised
the whole series of events from the fabric of the fatal
image down to the sack of the city and recovery of
Helen, as actually treated by Homer's Cyclic succes-
sors in the works entitled Ilii-persis, or Destruction
of Troy.^

" After the usual prooemium invoking the divine aid, the scene
opens in the quarters of the Greeks, who are described as setting
fire to their camp and sailing from the coast, in order to delude the
Trojans into the belief of their having finally abandoned the siege,
leaving the wooden horse as an atoning gift to the protecting gods
of the city. We are then transported to Troy, where the colossal
image, manned by the bravest of the Greeks, is found already
lodged in the agora, and the inhabitants are engaged in warm
debate as to its disposal. Some, suspecting treachery, were for
opening the planks to ascertain its contents ; others for throwing
it at once over the cliffs of the citadel. A third party asserted the
sincerity of the offering, and the propriety of its dedication in the
temple of the goddess. The latter opinion prevails, through a
decree of destiny that the city should fall as soon as the wooden
horse was admitted within its ramparts. The final success of the
stratagem is then described ; the issue of the warriors from- their
ambush, and their exploits in different quarters of the city. The
brunt of the struggle is concentrated round the dwelling of Helen

be handed down from the eighth century b. c, an Iliad might, from a
few generations earlier. The full examination of this point, however,
belongs to the early history and progress of the art of writing itself.
Infra, B. in. Ch. vii.

* Odyss. e. 492. ^ Infra, Ch. xix. § 10.

Ch. IV. § 7. INTERNAL DATA. 239

and Deipliobus, under the conduct of Menelaus and Ulysses, who,
supported by Minerva, finally secure the complete victory of the
Greeks."

The artistic epic arrangement of this poem appears
from a collation of its title; with its contents. The
" Hippocosmos," literally, Preparation or Outfit of
the Horse, ought historically speaking to form the
introductory scene. But the poem opens with the
subsequent operations of tlie Greek armament ; nor is
there a word of the horse itself until, on the scene
shifting to Troy, it is found already within the walls.
Here then was the proper place for the description
of the actual Hippocosmos, the fabric and equipment
of the horse, with the list of heroes it contained, as a
retrospective episode. Besides this subsidiary nar-
rative, the epitome alludes to other heads of matter
sufficient to swell the poem out to a bulk little short
of an Iliad or Odyssey. For example, the two
verses,

514. r;'=JO=v 3' (6s ao"Tu SisTrpa^ov ulzg 'A^ciuov,

comprehend the return of the fleet from its ambush
on the neiiilibourin^!: coasts, the secret march of the
Greeks to the city, the issue of their comrades from
the horse, occupation of tlie gates, and admission of
the main body. What a copious mass of epic ma-
terials is also suggested by the line

516. cLtO^ov aAXT) asi^s ttoXiu xspai'^s'/xev aiTrr^v,

indicating the separate adventures of Neoptolemus,
the lesser Ajax, and others so celebrated in the
Cyclic accounts of the catastrophe. More specific
mention is made of the assault on the abode of Helen,

240 HOMER. ORIGIN OF THE POEMS. Book II.

whose capture forms an appropriate close to the poem
and the vicissitudes of the war.
Subdivision 8. The properties of every such poem as the Iliad

of the fol- * . ^ ^

lowing ana- or Odysscy may, as objects of analytical criticism, be
^'''*' classed under three heads: the plan and conduct of

the action ; the conception and portraiture of cha-
racter ; and those features of detail in language, sen-
timent, or imagery which, amid the poverty of our
critical vocabulary, fall to be comprised under the
general denomination of Style. In regard to the first
two heads, the analysis of each poem will here require
to be taken separately. The third head will embrace
both poems sinmltaneously ; the evidence of parallel
passages, and of correspondence in language, senti-
ment, and imagery, bearing no less immediately on
the question of unity of origin in the two poems than
in the separate parts of each. There is however
one important element of epic composition, its divine
or supernatural mechanism, which, while also common
to both poems, can hardly with propriety be included
under any one of these heads. The direct agency of
the gods on human affairs, by constituting them in
some degree leading characters of each work, might
seem indeed to entitle them to a place under the
second head. That agency, however, also compre-
hends an essential portion of the figurative imagery
of the poems, involving questions altogether foreign
to the mere human department of their action. It
will, therefore, be more appropriately ranked under a
separate head of Divine mechanism.

Cir. V. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 211

CHAP. V.

UOMER. ILIAD. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT.

1. ANALYTICAL EPITOME OF THE TEXT. 2. " AULSTEV OF DIOMED." 3. SE-
CESSION OF ACHILLES. CONSTRUCTION OF THE UAMl-AUT. INTEIIDICT OF

JUriTER. 4. FIRST AND LAST BOOKS. rAR.U.LEL OF. 5. SECOND UUOK*

CATALOGUE. G. TENTH HOOK, OR DOLONEA.

1. Before turning our attention to the higher Anaiytu-ni
features of poetical or moral design in the action of |i',"!"["^**^
the Iliad, it "wiil be proper to consider how far even
tlie purely mechanical structure of the text is com-
patible with the operations of more tlian a single
workman. The subjoined epitome has, accordingly,
been drawn up with the view of placing in a more
distinct light the minuter links in the chain of
connexion, and will hence, it need scarcely be added,
be found to comprise matters of detail not usually
thought worthy of a place in a similar compendium.

The poet invokes the Muse to celebrate the anger of Achilles
and its consequences, the reverses of the Greek arms, and
i^Laughtcr of many heroes. Chrjses, priest of Apollo, arrives in
the camp for the purpose of ransoming his daughter Chrjseis,
taken by Achilles in the sack of the neighbouring town of Thebes,
and allotted to Agamemnon as his share of the spoil. Tlie petition
of Chryses is contemptuously rejected by Atrides ; and Apollo,
in revenge, sends a pestilence into the host. On the tenth day
Achilles culls a council, when the augur Calchas, at his behest,
expounds the cause of the divine wrath, and urges its propitiation
by restoring Chryseis to her father. Agamemnon accedes to this
proposal, but declares his intention, to which he adheres in spite
of a remonstrance from Nestor', of indrmnifying hims<df for the

1 275. ; conf. ix. 108.
VOL. I. 1^

242 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

loss of the damsel by appropriating Brise'is, the favourite mistress
of Achilles. That hero, furious at the insult, is about to inflict
summary vengeance on its author, when he is checked by Minerva,
who assures him " that ere long his anger will be propitiated by
an offer of gifts many times the value of what he is about to lose.''^
Achilles acquiesces, but resolves to abstain from all further part
in the "war, and foretells that the day is not far distant when
Agamemnon, " witnessing the destruction of his host by the arms
of Hector, Avill repent of his insolence to the best of his warriors.''
Chryseis is sent back to her parents, and Briseis is led off from the
tent of Achilles to that of Agamemnon. Achilles supplicates his
mother Thetis, to persuade Jupiter to avenge his wrongs by the
discomfiture of the Greeks. He also describes the sack of Thebes,
" the city of Eiition," in which Clirysei's was taken.- Thetis fulfils
her son's request, on the return of Jupiter from Ethiopia twelve
days afterwards.^ Her prayer is granted, and confirmed by a nod
of Jupiter's head-*, much against the will of Juno, a warm friend
to the Greek cause.

On the morrow Jove, mindful of his promise to Thetis, en-
courages Agamemnon in a dream ^ with an assurance of the speedy
conquest of the city. In the ensuing council of war it is de-
cided accordingly to march out to battle, after a long debate in
which these events are described as taking place in the ninth year
of the war.^ Thersites reproaches Agamemnon with his treat-
ment of Achilles. Nestor advises Agamemnon to marshal the
troops according to their different tribes.''^ A catalogue is given
of the armament, wnth a more succinct account of the Trojan
forces, who advance to the combat. Two Hellenic chiefs, Pro-
tesilaus and Philoctetes, are described, the latter as absent on
account of disease, the former as slain on the first landing of the
army.^ The secession of Achilles is alluded to, with its cause,
Agamemnon's insulting treatment of him, in the seizure of his
mistress Briseis, the maid of Lyrnessus ^, captured by him in the
saciv of that city, when Thebes also was destroyed. An assurance is
added of his being speedily restored to the battle. Two Mysian

1 213. ; conf. ix. 120. xix. 140. ^ 366. ; conf.ii. 691., vi. 415., ix,

328., xxm. 826. ^ 493, gq^^. co^f. 528., viir. 370., xiu. 350., xv. 76.
598., xvni. 74. * 528. ; conf. xv. 75.

5 6. ; conf. ix. 18. " 295. "^ 362. » 701. . conf. xv. 705., xiii.
681., XVI. 286. » 690. sq. ; conf xx. 192., et locc. citt.

Cii. V. §1. CONCOllDANX'E OF THE TEXT. 243

leaders^ Chromis and the augur Ennomus', are described as among
the warriors afterwards slain by Achilles in the river Scamander.

III.
On the advance of the two armies, Paris challenges Menelaus to
single combat, on condition tiiat Helen and her property shall be
awarded to the victor. Priam is sent for to ratify tlic agreement,
lie is found sitting on tlie ramparts with Helen, of whom ho
inquires the names of the Greek heroes in the distance. AUusion
is made by Antenor to the embassy of Menelaus and Ulys<es to
claim Helen, previous to the declaration of war by the Greeks.'
Paris, defeated by Menelaus, is rescued by Venus, who conveys
him to Helen's apartments •* in the city. Agamemnon claims the
victory and stipulated prize for his brother.

IV.

Jupiter, in furtherance of his views relative to the future course
of the war, dispatches Minerva to prevent the fulfilment of tiie
treaty.* She persuades Pandarus, prince of Lycia, to shoot trea-
cherously at Menelaus, who is slightly wounded'', and the Trojans
again advance to the attack. Agamemnon, in marslialling the
host, reproves Diomed " for want of zeal, and bids him remember
the valiant exploits of his father Tydeus", under the auspices of
Minerva, in the war of Thebes. Mai's takes the field as cham-
pion of the Trojans, Pallas of the Greeks.'* The Trojans, giving
way, are reminded by Apollo from their citadtl, that Acliilles no
longer fights in the ranks of the enemy.'-' Piroiis, chief of the
Thracians '", is slain.

Diomed under the patronage of Minerva signalises himself.
INIinerva persuades Mai-s to retire from the battle." Diomed,
wounded by an arrow of Pandarus, is healed by his patroness, who
orders him to avoid collision with the other deities, but to attack
Venus should she interfere. Pandarus, expressing mortification
at the failure of his shots at Menelaus and Diomed '-, mounts the
chariot of iEneas, and in a joint assault on Diomed is slain.

> 859.; conf. xxi. 7., xvii. 218.

2 203. sq([.;conf. vii. 347. sqq., xi. 125. 138. sqq. ' 382. : conf. vi. 321.

■* 68. sqq. ; conf. vii. 69. 347. sq<i. ^ 127. ; conf. v. 206. " 370. ; conf.
IX. 34. 372. ; conf. v. 800. x. 285. » 439. ; conf. v. .30. " .012. ; conf.
v. 788., VI. 99., VII. 229., ix. 3.v2. : \iu. 100. s<[., xiv. 366., xv. 721.,
xviii. 257., XX. 2(;. "^ 527. ; conf. ii. 844., vi. 7., x. 434.

1' 30.; conf. iv. 439. '• 20(;. ; conf. iv. 127.

a 2

244 HOMER. ILIAD. Book 11.

jEneas is rescued by Apollo, but Diomed obtains possession of liis
horses.* Mars joins Plector in a charge on the Greeks. Diomed,
observing the approach of the god, advises his countrj^men to
retreat. Minerva reproaches him witli pusillanimity, reminding
him that, when Achilles fought in the Greek ranks ^, the Trojans
ventured not so much as to quit the walls of their city, and taunts
him with inferiority to his father Tydeus^ her former favourite,
whose exploits in the Theban war she contrasts with his own pre-
sent backwardness. Diomed justifies his conduct, as in compliance
with her injunctions not to oppose the gods. Commending his
obedience, she takes her place by his side in his chariot, and by
a thrust of the hero's spear ■* Mars is disabled and flies.

VI.

Acamas, the remaining Thracian chiefs, is slain by Ajax.
Helenus the Trojan augur sends Hector to the city to propitiate
Minerva, that she may restrain the valour of Diomed, which he
considers " no less formidable than that of Achilles had formerly
been." ^ Diomed and Glaucus, in a friendly dialogue, agree to
avoid hostile collision during the remainder of the "war. Hector
arrives at Troy, and after performing his commission visits Paris,
whom he finds still in Helen's apartment.'' Andromache im-
plores Hector to moderate his valour, reminding him of her family
afflictions, consequent on the destruction by Achilles of her native
city Thebes.^ Hector returns to the field accompanied by Paris.

VII.

The havoc committed by the two Trojan chiefs on rejoining the
battle, induces Minerva to accept Apollo's proposal of a single
combat between Hector and one of the Greek heroes. Hector
accordingly challenges the best among them, apologising at the
same time for the violation of tlie late treaty, on the plea of its
having been so ordained by Jupiter.^ The lot falls upon Ajax,
who boasts that " Hector will find the Greek camp contains other
notable warriors besides the deserter Achilles." ^'^ The com-
batants are separated by nightfall. In the Trojan council, An-
tenor recommends the restoration of Helen, in fulfilment '* of the

1 263. 323. ; conf. viii. 108., xxiii. 291. " 788. ; conf. iv. 512., et

loco. citt. 3 800. ; conf. iv. 372., x. 285. * 855. ; conf. xxi. 396.

5 7. ; conf. iv. 527., ii. 844., x. 434. « 99. ; conf. iv. 512., et locc.

citt. ^ 321. ; conf. iii. 382. « 415. ; conf. i. 366., et locc. citt.

^ 69. ; conf. iv. 68. 1° 229. ; conf. iv. 512., et locc. citt. " 347,
sqq. ; conf. in. 203., iv. 68., xi. 125. 138. sqq.

Cn. V. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 215

late treaty, auguring nothing but disaster in a cause when; tlioy
fight under perjured vows. Paris refuses to part with his niistrt.'ss,
A day's truce is agreed on for tin; huriul of the slain. The Greeks
construct a rampart for the protection of the camp ; but, owin<T to
the just inaugural rites having been neglected, tlie gods deci'ce the
destruction of the work at the close of the war.' Euneiis, king
of Leninos-, sends a present of a thousand measures of wine to
Agamemnon.

vni.

The next morning Jove issues an order ^ to the deities to abstain
from all part in the action, which he views seated on Mount Ida,
and turns the tide of success against the Greeks. Nestor is saved
by Diomed, through the fleetness of the horses he had captured
from iEneas.'' The Greeks, driven back on their camp, are rallied
by Agamemnon from the deck of the ship of Ulysses in the centre
of the line, the extremities of which are flanked by the ships of
Achilles and Ajax.'' Neptune, pressed by Juno to succour the
Greeks, refuses to disobey the order of Jove.*^ Juno and Pallas
complain bitterly of Jupiter for yiehling to the prayers of Tlietis^
on behalf of Achilles, and determine, in the face of the divine
order, to proceed to the field. They are however deterred by a
threatening message from Jupiter % who then returns from Ida to
Olympus.'-* lie there announces his intention of reducing the
Greeks to still greater straits the next day, until the di-ath of
Patroclus shall restore Achilles to their ranks.''' Darkness inter-
rupts the assault of the Trojans on the camp. Hector takes up his
quarters on the plain, kindling watch-fires", and bent on renewing
the attack next morning.

IX.

Agamemnon, in despair at this reverse of fortune, comi)lains of
the deceit practised on him by Jupiter'-, and proposes in council
to embark for Greece during the night. Diomed reprobates his
pusillanimity, and contrasts it with iiis former boldness, when re-
proving himself '-^ for a merely ajiparent tardiness for the combat.

' 450.; conf. xii. 6. - 4G7. ; conf. ix. 72., xxr. 41., xmii. 747.

^ 5.47.; conf. 210.352—397., xi. 74., xiii. 8. 524., xiv. 135. IGO. s.jfi.
XV. 128. sqq., xx. 23. ' 108. ; conf v. 2r)3. 323., xxin. 291 . -• 223. ;

conf. X. 113., XI. 5., XIII. 681., ii. 701. '^ 210.; conf. 5. supra. ' 370. ;
conf. I. 493. S(iii., et locc. citt. * 352 — 3!>7. ; conf. 5. supra, et locc.

citt. '■* 439. ; conf. xi. 182. ^^ 470. ; conf. xvi— xviii. " 509.;

conf. X. 12., XI. 56., xx. 3.

'■- 18.; conf. ii. G. scjt}. " 34.; conf. iv. 370.

B 3

246 - HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

Nestor enjoins the posting of a guard ^ round the rampart, and that

Agamemnon should entertain the chiefs in his quarters, now well

supplied with wine recently arrived from Thrace.^ At supper he

reminds Agamemnon how unwisely his former remonstrance ^

against exasperating Achilles had been slighted, and counsels liim

to appease the hero's wrath. Atrides consents to restore Brisei>!,

adding other precious gifts.'* Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix are

sent as a deputation to Achilles, who spurns all offers of conciliation.

Scornfully contrasting Agamemnon's present humility with his

late overbearing conduct, he ridicules their attempt to defend the

host by a rampart, as a substitute for his valour. He reminds

them that, while he fought, the Trojans dare not venture beyond

their walls ^ ; and declares that he will not raise an arm for the

relief, until Hector shall approach his own tents, ravaging the

ships with fire and sword. "^ On the return of the mission the

chiefs retire to rest.

Agamemnon, harassed by the view of the Trojan fires ''' on the

plain and by his gloomy prospects for the morrow, rises from his

couch and rouses Nestor and Menelaus, who console him with the

hope that Achilles may yet relent in time to restore their fortunes.

The other chiefs are awakened in order to visit the guard ^, Diomed

being dispatched for Ajax at his quarters in the extremity of the

line.^ Diomed and Ulysses, during the night, explore the Trojan

position. The former hero supplicates Pallas to continue to him

the favour vouchsafed of old to his father Tydeus in the Theban

war."^ Seizing and killing Dolon, a spy of Hector, on their way, they

penetrate the hostile lines, slay Rhesus a Thracian chief newly

arrived^ ^5 and lead off his horses and chariot to the Greek camp.

XI.

In the morning the Goddess of discord, by Jove's orders,
standing on the ship of Ulysses in the centre of the line, excites
the army to action from the flank of Ajax to that of Achilles.'^
Agamemnon marshals his troops outside of the ditch. Hector
advances from his quarters on the crown of the plain. ^^ Discord,

1 66.; conf. x. 97. 180. sqq. - 72. ; conf. vii. 467., et loco. citt.

3 108. ; conf. i. 275. * 120. ; conf. i. 213., xix. 140, ^ 352. ; conf.
IV. 512., et locc. citt. ^ 650. ; conf. xvi. 61.

' 12.; conf. viii. 509., et locc. citt. ^ 97.180.; conf. ix. 66, Ml3. ;
conf. VIII. 223., et locc. citt. ^° 285. ; conf. iv. 372., et locc. citt.

" 434. ; conf iv. 527., et locc. citt.

^^ 5. ; conf. vm. 223., et locc. citt. '^ 56, . po^f ^x. 3., viii. 509.,

et locc. citt.

Cii. V. 5 1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. l'

- 1 (

alone among the duitics, is now present, the rest being restrained
by the decree of Jove', who again lakes up liis post on Mount
Ida. 2 Agamemnon kills two sons of Antimachus, the Trojan
elder who hud proposed in the council of Priam to murder Mene-
laus and Ulysses on tlicir embassy ^ to reclaim Helen. Soon
after, wounded' himself in the hand by Coon son of Antenor,
Atrides retires from the field, after killing Coon. Diomed also
withdraws, wounded in the heel by an arrow of Paris.'' Ulysses'',
Maeliaon the physician" and his brother Eurypylus* are also
disabled by wounds and retire. Machaon is driven to the camp
by Nestor, who entertains him with wine in his tent.'-* Achilles,
observing the chariot pass, sends Patroclus to inquire the name of
the wounded hero, "a message pregnant with future evil to Patro-
clus." Nestor informs Patroclus of the wounds of Agamemnon,
Diomed, and Ulysses '*^, and implores him to intercede with Achilk?,
either to come to the rescue, or to send the Myrmidon host under
his own command.^' On his way back to the tent of Aclulles,
Patroclus meets Eurypylus led otf the held, and, accompanying
him to his tent, assists in dressing his wound.'-

XII.

While Patroclus tends the wounded Eurypylus '^, the Greeks
are driven to their entrenchments, the future destruction of
which '^, formerly threatened by Apollo and Neptune, is now
distinctly foretold. Hector, by advice of Polydamas the seer,

1 74.; conf. VIII. 5., et loco. citt. "- 182.; conf. viii. 439. It

is amusing to observe the blunders into which the more unscrupulous
disciples of AVolf are occasionally led by their zeal to detect the blunders
of Iloiuer. One of the arguments urged by Ilernianii (Op. ^lisc. vol.
v. p. G4.) in favour of his proposal to assign to a separate poet the whole
text from v. 47. of 13. viii. to the end olIJ. xii., is the pcrrcrsili/, ns he
describes it, of the existing arrangement, where Jupiter, after Laving at
V. 439. of B. viii. returned from Ida to Olympus, is suddenly, and without
further notice, at the opening of B. xiii., found again seated on the top
of the former mountain. Is not tiie perversity rather on the part of tlio
critic, who has overlooked this passage of 15. xi. ? ^ 12.5. I.3.S. ; conf.

HI. 203., et locc. cItt. ' 252. ; conf. xix. 53., xiv. 28., xvi. 26. * .3<)!>. ;
conf 37G., XIV. 28., xvi. 2.5. "^ 434. 487.; conf xiv. 28., xvi. 2(>. * JOfi. ;
conf. XIV. G. ^ 583.; conf xvi. 27., xii. 1., et locc. citt. '■> 517. 598.
G50. ; conf xiv. 1. '" GGO. scjq. ; conf xiv. 28., et locc. citt. " 79G. ;
conf. XVI. 38., XV. G4. '•' 809. ; conf xii. 1., xv. .392., xvi. 27.

13 1. ; conf XI. 583. 809., xvi. 25., ct locc. citt. '• (5. ; conf. vii. 450.

K 4

248 IIOJIER. ILIAD. Book IT.

causes his troops to dismount and attack on foot. Asius alone,
with his chariot, clears the ditch, " which he was never to recross
alive, being destined to perish in it by the hand of Idomeneus." ^
Hector succeeds in forcing one of the gates. Glaucus is slightly
wounded by an arrow of Teucrus.^

XIII.

Jupiter, still seated on Mount Ida, " not suspecting that after
his prohibition 3 any deity will venture to take part in the fight,"
turns his attention to another quarter of the earth. Neptune
avails himself of this opportunity \ in the disguise of Calchas, to
rally the Greeks, disheartened by the loss of so many of their
heroes, and deprived, through Agamemnon's ill-judged rashness,
of the services of their best champion. Jupiter, on the other
hand, continues his favour to the Trojans, "in fulfilment of his
promise to Thetis." ^ Idomeneus signalises himself, killing Asius",
with other Trojan heroes. Deiphobus kills Ascalaphus a son of
Mars, without the knowledge of that deity, restrained by Jove's
command' from the battle. Hector directs the assault on the
Greek lines in front of the ship of Protesilaus % their weakest point.

XIV.

Nestor, still sitting drinking in his tent with Machaon ^, while
that hero's wound is dressed 'o, hearing the tumult increase, goes

1 113. ; conf. xiii. 387. ^ 387.; conf. xvi. 510.

3 8. ; conf. vm. 5., et locc. citt. ^ 10.; conf. xiv. 135., xv. 14. 158.
5 350. ; conf. i. 493., et locc. citt. ^ 387. ; conf. xii. 113. '^ 518. ;

conf. XV. 112. 128., viii. 5., et locc. citt. ^ 681. ; conf. u. 701., et

locc. citt., vm. 223., et locc. citt.

9 1.; conf. XI. 517.598. 650. i*' 6. ; conf. xi. 506. Here may be ob-
served another blunder of that merciless castigator of Homeric blunders,
Hermann. Among his arguments (0pp. Miscell. vol. v. p. 60.) against
the o-enuine character of this book, is the absence of all allusion to the
wovind of Machaon (inflicted in xi. 506.) in this passage, of which that
wound forms the principal subject.

One more example may be subjoined of the imperfect knowledge of
the poet's text upon which this writer's formidable system of scepticism is
based. Among his arguments (op. cit. p. 66.) in favour of the " singulum
carmen" supposed to be encased in the thirteenth book (v. 344 — 674.) Is
the occurrence in those 330 lines alone, among the portions of the text
devoted to military matters, of exulting addresses by victorious heroes to
their fallen enemies. The value of this remark may be tested by a refe-
rence to the following eleven parallel passages, three of which are in the
immediate sequel of this same engagement : xiv. 453. 469. 478., xvi. 744.
829., XX. 388., xxi. 121. 183., xi. 362. 379, 449.

Ch. V. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 2V,)

forth to reconnoitre. He meets the three disabled heroes' Acra-
meniuon, Diunied, and Ulysses, the former of wIkmh ehides the old
warrior for leaving the field, expressing his alarm lest other
heroes should, like Achilles, have taken offence at him. Neptune
consoles him, condemning the conduct of Achilles.'^ Juno, by aid
of Venus, lulls Jupiter to sleep on IMount Ida, ft-aring lest his
attention should be recalled to the alfairs of Troy, and to thi*.
interference of Neptune.^ Neptune assures the Greeks that
Hector's boldness, caused solely by his knowledge of the absence
of Achilles'*, might be checked by a vigorous display of valour.
Hector, stunned by a blow of Ajax'', is carried to the rear. Menc-
laus slays Hvperenor.''

XV.
The Greeks repulse the Trojans from the lines. Jupiter, awaken-
ing on Mount Ida, reproaches Juno with her treachery^, and
orders Neptune off the field.*' He then pronounces the decree of
Fate: "that the Greeks shall be routed until danger threatens tlic
quarters of Achilles, who will then send Patroclus into action.^
After slaying Sarpedon'", Patroclus will himself fall by the hand
of Hector.' 1 Achilles will then arise and avenge his friend's death
on the Trojan chief '- ; and henceforward fortune will favour the
Greeks. But no relief can be granted until tlic wrath of Achilles
be satiated, as promised to Tlietis, and confirmed by a nod of
the divine head." '"^ Mars, informed of the death '^ of his son Asca-
laphus, arms for vengeance, but is restrained by i\Iinerva from his
threatened act of disobedience.''' Jupiter then dispatches Apollo
to restore the disabled Hector'*", and complete the rout of the
Greeks suspended by the interference of Neptune. Tliey are
again driven back with great loss to their lines. Patroclus, alarmed
for the safety of the camp, returns from the tent of Eurypylus'" to
that of Achilles, for the purpose of again imploring him to icltnt.
The Trojans surmount the rampart ; and Hector, seizing the ship

1 28. ; conf. xi. 252. 399. 434. 487., xvi. 25., xix. 48. sqq. ' 13.5. ;
conf. xiii. 10., XV. 14. 158. ' IGO. sqq. ; conf. xv. 4., xiii. 8., viii. 5.,

et loco. citt. ' 366. ; conf. iv. 512., et loco. citt. * 409. ; conf. xv.

220. 239. 249. <= 516. ; conf. xvii. 24.

^ 4. ; conf. xiv. 160. sq., et locc. citt. '' 14. 41. 158. ; conf. xiii. 10.,
XIV. 135. s<iq. " 64. ; conf. xvi. .^8. 126., xi. 79(). '" 67. ; conf. xvr.
490. " 65. ; conf. xvi. 818. '- 68.; conf xxu. 344. '^ 75,

76. ; conf. i. 493.528., ct locc. citt. " 112. ; conf xiii. 518., viii. 5., et
locc. citt. ''^ 128. ; conf viii. 5., ct locc. citt. "^ 220. 239. 249. ; conf.
XIV. 409., XX. 443., xxii. 213. sq., xxiii. 18s., x.xiv. is. '" 392.;

conf XI. 809., XII. 1., xvi. 27.

250 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

" whicli had brought Protesilaus to Troj, but which never restored
him to his native land,"' and rejoicing in the glorious change of
the late timid line of Trojan tactics 2, orders his troops to advance
with toi'ches, and set fire to the fleet.

XVI.

Patroclus, following Nestor's advice, describes to Achilles the
rout of tlie Greeks, the disablement of Agamemnon, Ulysses,
Diomed, and Eurjpylus-\ with the danger to which the camp is
exposed, and begs permission to put on the hero's armour, and
go forth with the Myrmidons to the relief.^ Achilles, " although
he had formerly resolved to afford no aid until his own quarters
were assailed by the hostile^ fire," consents, but enjoins Patroclus
to abstain from distant pursuit, and return when he has delivered
the camp. Observing the nearer approach of the flames, he becomes
urgent himself with Patroclus and his men to arm and sally forth.
Patroclus accordingly, equipped in the armour and mounting the
chariot of Achilles, advances at the head of 2500 Myrmidons, fifty
from each of the fifty ships'^ of the hero, to the burning vessel of
Protesilaus", whei'e the brunt of the battle still continued. The
Trojans, mistaking Patroclus for Achilles, are seized with panic
and repulsed. Sarpedon is slain by Patroclus.^ Apollo is sent by
Jupiter to rescue the body. Glaucus, though still suffering from
the wound received from Teucrus in mounting the Avail ^, gallantly
defends the corpse of his brother. It is rescued by Apollo, after
having been stripped of its arms by the Myrmidon troops. 1°
Patroclus, in breach of the order of Achilles, pursuing the enemy
towards the city, is stunned by a blow from Apollo '', then stabbed
by Euphorbus '^ son of Panthous, and finally dispatched by Hector'^,
whose speedy death by the hand of Achilles '■' he prophesies with
his last words. Automedou, the charioteer of Achilles, pursued
by Hector, escapes with his equipage to the camp.'^

xvn.

Menelaus signalises himself in defence of the body of Patroclus.

1 705. ; conf. 11. 701., et locc. citt. - 721. ; conf. xviii. 257., iv. 512.
et locc. citt.

3 25-27.; conf. xi. 252. 399. 434. 583. 809., xn. 1., xiv. 28., et locc. citt.
4 3S. ; conf. 126., xi. 796. xv. 64. ^ gj, g^g . ^ouf ^^ 650. ^ igg.
conf. II. 685. ^ 286. ; coiif. 11. 701., et locc. citt. « 490. ; conf. xv,
67. » 510. ; conf. xii. 387. 1° 663. ; conf xxiii. 800. " 788. ;

conf. XVIII. 45-^., XIX. 413. ^' 807.; conf xvii. 14. " gjg^. co^f,

XV. 65. " 852. ; conf xxii. 344. ^^ 864. ; conf xvii. 75.

Cii. V. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 251

Eupliorbus boasts of his share in the death of tliat lieru.' Jlenehius,
reminding him of the recent fate of his brother Ilyiierenor^, shiiii
by himself in the early part of the battle, attacks and kills him.
Hector, recalled by Apollo from the pursuit of Automedon-', arrays
himself in the arms of Achilles, stripped from the body of Patro-
clus.-* Jupiter pronounces that he shall not return alive in them
to Troy. The divine'' horses of Achilles bewail the death of
Patroclus. Jupiter, having now willed a change in the destinies
of tlie war^, sends Pallas, in the likeness of riiccnix, to encourage
the Greeks. Menelaus dispatches Antilochus to announce to
Achilles the death of his friend. The Greeks obtain possession of
the body.

XVIII.

Achilles is overwhelmed with grief at the intelligence. Thetis,
alarmed by bis cry of distress, rises from the ocean, and inquires
■what can so afflict him, now that Jove's promise '^ to avenge his
wrongs has been fulfilled. She engages to procure him a new^ suit of
armour from Vulcan, in the room of that he had lost.'' Warned
by Iris that the body of Patroclus is again in danger, he appears
on the ramparts, and willi his shout of war j)uts the Trojans to
flight, when darkness terminates the action. Polydaraas, the seer,
proposes in the Trojan council that they should avoid pitched
battles, now^ that Achilles is again in the field, and shut themselves
up M'ithin their Avails.^ Hector scornfully rejects this advice.'*'
Achilles delays the obsequies of Patroclus until he shall have
slain Hector, and captured twelve noble Trojans " to sacrifice on
the funeral pile of his friend. Thetis, in requesting new arms
from Vulcan for her son, relates the vicissitudes of his lot, the
insult of Agamemnon, the vain attempt at reconciliation, the per-
mission obtained by Patroclus to aid the Greeks equipped in the
arms of hia chief, and his own death by the joint agency of Apollo
and Hector.'- Vulcan prepares a suit of armour, with a shield of
five pliis of metal.'-'

XIX.

On the following morning Thetis delivers the new suit of arms
to her son, who convenes a general council of the army. It is

' 14.; conf. xvr. 807. "^ 24. ; conf. xiv. 51G. =* 7.5.; conf. xvi.

864. ^ 194. ; conf. xvjii. 130. ; xxii. 32:3. '" 42G. 444.; conf. xxiii.
277. 283., XIX. 409. ^ 546. ; conf. xv. 72.

^ 74. ; conf. i. 493., ct locc. citt. » 130. ; conf. xvii. 194., ot locc.

citt. ^ 257—286. ; conf iv. 512., ct locc. citt. "^ 284.; conf. xxii.
100. " 336.; conf xxi. 27., xxnr. 175. "> 454. ; conf xvi. 788., ct
locc. citt. '' 481. ; conf xx, 269.

252 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

attended by Agamemnon, tliough still suffering ' from the wound
received from Coon son of Antenorj and by the other disabled
heroes, Ulysses and Diomed.^ The reconciliation then takes
place, unconditionally on the part of Achilles ; but Agamemnon,
restoring Brise'is the maid of Lyrnessus^, confers on the hero
all the gifts offered by Ulysses the day before.-* Xanthus,
the favourite horse of Achilles, prophesies ^ his master's death,
through the same hostile agency of Apollo*^ which caused that of
Patroclus.

XX.
Jupiter, assembling the deities, revokes his previous interdict ^
against their interference, " lest the Trojans, who had never yet
made head against Achilles in the field ^, should, now that he is
further embittered by the loss of his friend, be unable, without
divine aid, even to defend the walls of their city." ^neas en-
counters Achilles, who reminds him of a former escape from
death at his hand in the war of Lyrnessus.^ The spear of the
Dardanian chief can penetrate but two of the five plies ^^ of the
divine shield. He is rescued by Neptune, whose hatred to the
line of Priam does not extend to that of Anchises. Achilles kills
Polydorus, son of Priam. 'i Hector, engaging Achilles, is pre-
served from death by Apollo. ^^

XXL

Achilles, driving the enemy into the river Scamander i^, captures
twelve youths** for sacrifice to the manes of Patroclus. He then
kills Lycaon'5, a son of Priam, full brother of Polydorus slain by
him shortly before, and who had also some weeks previously been
taken prisoner by him, and ransomed by Euneiis^^ of Leranos.
His next victim is Asteropoeus, chief of the Pajonians, whom he
spoils of his arms.'-^ He is then himself assailed by the river god,
but defended by Vulcan. Mars attacks Minerva, reproaching her

^ 53. ; conf. xi. 252., et locc. citt. - 48. sq. ; conf. xiv. 28., etlocc, citt.
3 60. sqq. ; conf. xx. 192., et locc. citt. ^ 140. 147. ; conf. ix. 120. sqq.,
I. 213. 5 409 . (;Q„f_ xyjj_ ^26., et locc. citt. ^ 413. sq. ; conf. xvi.
788., xvm. 454.

'' 23. ; conf. viii. 5., et locc. citt. ^ 26. ; conf. iv. 512., et locc. citt.
9 192. ; conf. 92., xix. 60., ii. 690—692., ix. 328. lo 269. ; conf.

XVIII. 481. 11 407. ; conf. xxi. 91. 35., et locc. citt. '^ ^^^ .

conf. XV. 220. 239., et locc. citt.

13 7. ; conf. ii. 859., et locc. citt. " 27.; conf. xvm. 336., xxiii. 175.
15 35. 91. ; conf. xx. 407., xxn. 46. i« 41.; conf vii. 467., et locc. citt.
»' 183.; conf xxiii. 560.

Cii. V. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 253

with having formerly instigated Dioracil to wound liiin.' IIi; id
again disabled and led off the field.

XXII.

Priam, from the wall, exhorts Hector to take refuge from
Achilles within the gate, reminding him of the recent fate of liis
bi'othcrs Lycaon and Polydorus.^ Hector remains, nsliamcd to
quit the field, after his late boast to Polydamas-' that he would
single-handed defend the city against Achilles. ApdUo, lore-
seeing the fatal hour of his favourite to be arrived, withilraws the
protection hitherto vouchsafed him', and he is slain. Achilles,
himself resplendent with the arms of Vulcan'', stri|)s his fallen
enemy of those plundered from Patroclus '*, and drags the body tu
the camp at his chariot-wheels.

XXHI.

The day following, Achilles perfoi'ms the obsequies of his
friend, sacrificing on his funeral pile the twelve Trojan youths.'^
Apollo ^ preserves the body of Hector from corruption. On the
morrow, Achilles celebrates the funeral games of Patroclus, but
takes no part himself ii> the chariot race, owing to the grief of Ids
immortal steeds'-^ for the deatli of that hero. Diomed contiucrs
^\ith the horses taken from iEneas when their owner was pre-
served by Apollo.'" Among the prizes distributed by Achillea
are, the arras spoiled from Asteropaius " ; a silver cup, received
as the price of Lycaon, son of Priam, from ICuneiis of Ix-mnos '^;
the arms stripped by Patroclus from Sarpedon '^ ; and a ball of iron
taken in the sack of Thebes.'^

XXIV.

Achilles continues to drag the corpse of Hector daily round the

tomb of Patroclus, while Apollo preserves it from decay.'' Tiietis,

by order of Jupiter, exhorts Acliilles to restore it if demanded.

On the twelfth day Priam, warned by a message from Jupiter,

' 396. ; conf. v. 855.

- 46. ; conf. xxi. 35., et locc. oitt. ' 100.; conf. xviii.284. * '2]3.
302. 344. ; conf. xx. 443., xv. '2-20., ct locc. citt. '• 316.; conf. xviii. in
fine. '■ 323.; conf xvii. 194. et locc. citt.

" 175. ; conf. xxi. 27., xviii. 336. " 188. ; conf. Xv. 2'20., ct locc. citt.
» 277. 283.; conf xvii. 426. 444., xi.x. 409. "' 291.; conf v. 2G3. 323.,

VIII. 108. " 560.; conf xxi. 1^3. '^ 747.; conf xxi. 41., vii. 4G7., et
locc. citt. '"' 800. ; conf. xvi. 663. '* 826. ; conf i. 366., ct locc. citt.

'^ 18.; conf xxin. l^t^., xv. 220., ct locc. citt.

254 HOMEK. ILIAD. Book II.

visits in person the tent of Achilles, and supplicates the resto-
ration of the body. The request is granted. The old king,
passing the night in the Myrmidon camp, returns next morning
with his precious burthen to Troy, and after nine days' pi*eparation
performs the obsequies of his son.

Aristca of 2. The Gxteiit and value of the above concordance
in the mechanical structure of the poem^ will be
better appreciated, if traced in detail through one or
more of those portions of the text to Avhich, by-
sceptical commentators, appeal has chiefly been made
as betraying a former independance of character.

Let us first examine the "rhapsody" called, in
the old subdivision of the poem, the " Prowess of
Diomed," comprising the fifth and sixth books ac-
cording to the existing arrangement.^

I. The first line ushers the reader into the midst
of a battle, without any notice of where or why it
was fought, or who were the contending parties, by the
announcement that " Pallas there urged Diomed into
the thickest of the fight." Such an exordium plainly
assumes, on the part of the poet's audience, a pre-
vious knowledge of a combat already commenced and
interrupted. II. That this combat belonged to the
few weeks of the Trojan war marked by the secession
of Achilles is proved, not only by his absence from
the field, but by several pointed allusions to its cause.
III. The deities left in immediate charge of the
interrupted action of the previous book were. Mars
on the side of the Trojans, Minerva on that of the

1 See Appendix C.

* The old limits of this canto have been differently fixed by different
authorities. That of Herodotus (ir. cxvi.), as the earliest, has here been
preferred. The first jiart of B. vi. is also occasionally distinguished by
its proper title of " Interview between Hector and Andromache ;" but the
action even there continues to hinge essentially on the "Prowess of
Diomed."

Cii. V. §2. COXCORDA^XE OF TIIK TEXT. 2r)5

Greeks. At the commencement of this book, accord-
ingly, Minerva's first care is, by a strata^rem, to
procure Mars's retirement from the liehl, and a con-
sequent freer scope for tlie ex[>loits of her favourite
hero. IV. The leading occurrence of tlic previous
book is the violation of the truce between the two
armies by the treacherous shot of Pandarus. To this
outrage Pandarus himself alludes in the renewed
action, expressing his modification at its only partial
success; and his own death by the hand of l)iomcd
forms an appropriate conclusion of his career. \'.
Diomed defeats yEneas, and obtains possession of his
horses. This prize, with the circumstances attend-
ing its accpiisition, is afterwards repeatedly noticed
by the victor ; first in the eighth book and again in
the twenty-third. \L Diomed successively wounds
Venus and Mars. The latter achievement is re-
ferred to in the twenty-first book by the injured
god himself. VII. Minerva reminds the Greeks that,
"while Achilles fought in their ranks, the Trojans
never ventured to advance beyond the gates ot
their city." This statement is confirmed by Achilles
himself in the ninth book, and by other heroes in
nmnerous parallel passages. VIII. Diomed and
Glaucus, after their dialogue, agree to avoid hos-
tile encounter during the remainder of the war,
and the compact is carefully observed in (lie sequel.
IX. Paris, who acts a prominent part in tlie yvv
ceding and subsequent engagements, docs not appear
in that now described, having in the third book,
after his defeat by Menelaus, been carried off by Venus
to repose in liis wife's apartments. X. Accordingly
Hector, on his visit to 1 roy to ])roj)itiate Minerva,
finds hi!n loitering in Iklen's chamber, and orders

256 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

him back to the field. XI. Andromache describes
Achilles as destroyer of her native city. This exploit
is ascribed to the same hero in numerous other parts
of the poem.

That these coincidences could be the result of
chance is incredible ; and it certainly requires a wide
stretch of sceptical credulity to believe that Pisi-
stratus, or any other primitive bookmaker, should
have possessed either the inclination or the means
of interlarding his disjointed stock of materials with
such a series of mutual references. The same species
of interconnexion might be exemplified throughout.
It were, however, superfluous to follow up an opera-
tion which the reader may, if he think fit, by aid of
the foregoing compendium perform quite as effec-
tually for himself, and the results of which will
occasionally be found curious, as well as convincing.
Attention will here be confined to the few following;
o;eneral observations.
Secession of 3. Let it bc kept carefully in view, how far any
part of the narrative could apply to any other period
of the Trojan War than the few weeks signalised by
the secession of Achilles. Let it be considered, more
especially, whether any portion of the first eighteen
books could be intellio:ible without his ano-er and
absence from the field ; or, of the remaining six,
apart from his reconciliation with Agamemnon. Take,
for example, the part of the third book (v. 121. to
244.) which bears with the antients the title of
" View from the Walls." It happens that the more
specific class of mutual references, which elsewhere
form the chief mechanical bond of connexion, are
there entirely wanting. One tiling however is
certain, that either the transactions there detailed

Achilles.

Ch. V. §J. CONCOIIDAXCE ui- Till: TEXT. 2. J 7

must have been from the first intended for un epoeh
of the war marked ])y the absence of Acliilles, or else
the author of this book must have been ignorant of
any such liero having taken j^art in the siege; a
somewhat extravagant alternative. Whoever, tliei-e-
fore, subdivides Homer's personality as has been
proposed, must subscribe to tlie following singularly
improbable assumptions: first, that all the more
excellent poets who had selected the war of Troy as
their subject had limited themselves, not only to the
tenth year of the siege, but to the particulai" month
of that year signalised by the quarrel between the
chiefs ; secondly, that more than three fourths of them
had, in their choice of adventures, preferred those
involving the defeat and disgrace of their country-
men ; thirdly, that all the second-rate authors of the
same primitive period, such as Arctinus, Stasinus, or
Lesches, who treated of the same war, had as scru-
pulously confined themselves to its previous or sub-
seciuent stages. It is only by reference to the [»ri-
mary concentration of the whole Iliad around the
destinies and influence of Achilles, that the above
anomaly of its subject, the humiliation of the national
arms during so large a portion of its action, can
be explained. The cantos celebrating these disgraces
and disasters are of the very essence of an entire
Iliad ; but the notion of a separate poem or ballad,
of whatever length, exclusively devoted to such mat-
ter, having ever been composed by a [)o[)ular (ireek
minstrel for a popular audience, seems altogether
monstrous.^

^ This, liowcver, forma the essence of the whole theory of Hermann
in his tract Dc Iiitcrpolationibus Ilomcri (Opuse. vol. v. p. o2.), nml of
Laehniaiui, in bis Betrachtuni^on iib. die Ilias.

VOL. 1. S

258

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

Construc-
tion of the
rampart.

Jove's
interdict
against
divine in-
terference.

Another essential basis of mechanical unity in the
poem is the construction of the rampart. This takes
place in the seventh book. The reason ascribed for
the glaring improbability that the Greeks should
have left their camp and fleet unfortified during nine
years, in the midst of a hostile country, is a purely
poetical one : " So long as Achilles fought, the terror
of his name sufficed to keep every foe at a distance."
The disasters consequent on his secession first led to
the necessity of other means of protection. Accord-
ingly, in the battles previous to the eighth book,
no allusion occurs to a rampart ; in all those which
follow it forms a prominent feature. Here then, in
the anomaly as in the propriety of the Iliad, the destiny
of Achilles, or rather this peculiar crisis of it, forms
the pervading bond of connexion to the whole poem.

A similar bond of connexion in the military details
of the narrative, is the decree issued by Jupiter, at
the commencement of the eiglith book, against any
further interference of the gods in the battles. In the
opening of the twentieth book this interdict is with-
drawn. Daring the twelve intermediate books it is
kept steadily in view. No interposition takes place
but on the part of the specially authorised agents of
Jove, or on that of one or two contumacious deities
described as boldly setting his commands at defiance,
but checked and reprimanded for their disobedience ;
while the other divine warriors, who in the previous
and subsequent cantos are so active in support of
their favourite heroes, repeatedly allude to the su-
preme edict as the cause of their present inactivity.^

^ See the mutual references cited to v. 5. of B. viir. Even the appa-
rent exceptions do but confirm the rule. Hermann's attempt (De Inter-
pol. Iloni. p. 64.) to make out a case of discrepancy in the interference of

Cu. V. §4. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 2')!)

4. Besides these more general marks of unity in rirstand
tlie poem, the individual structure of several of its ranii'icijf.
integral parts offers curious evidence of consistency
of plan in the Avhole. The first book, for example, in
addition to prophecies and allusions to future occur-
rences, too emphatic to have been introduced without
the intention of following them out to their fuhihnent,
contains, in the multiplicity and variety of its inci-
dents, unequivocal proof of the opening scene of a long
drama. AVithin these 600 verses are condensed ma-
terials sufiicient in number and importance to have
furnished several books each of equal lengtli with tlie
first, according to the mode in which Homer is accus-
tomed to work up his subject when fairly embarked on
it. As the events succeed each other, so the scene shifts
with a rapidity unexampled elsewhere. The arri\'al
of Chryses in the camp, his address to the assembled
host, the refusal of his request by Agamemnon, and
the acknowledgement of its justice by the troops, liis
departure and prayer to his patron deity, the descent
of the god from Olympus, the ten days' ravages of
his weapons, and the funeral rites of the victims are
dispatched in less than fifty lines. The altercation
between the chiefs, as the basis of the whole poem, is
treated more at lenoth. But even here the orations
are far from copious. Nestor liiinsclf is comparatively

jMinerva ami Apollo in tlic Dolonoa is liypcrcritical. There is here no
direct cuiubulive i)artici[)ation in the ooiitlirt, to which alone the intenlict
of Jove can possibly refer. The ordinary divine interposition, by dreams,
warnings, or otherwise, is expressly excepted from the general rule (vni.
3G. 466. sqq.). Accordingly, in the same context, almost the same verse
of B. VIII., where Juno abandons her intention of succouring the Greeks
from deference to her husband's order, she is yet said ('2 IS.) to have
" instilled into Agamemnon's mind the necessity of immediately arming
his troop?, otherwise Hector wouM have succeeded in burning the licet."
Conf. XVI. GG8., xi. 438.

260 HOMER. ILIAD. Book. II.

brief. Then follow, in rapid succession, the ship-
ment of the maiden for her home, the purification of
the host, the delivery of Briseis by Achilles to Aga-
memnon's heralds, the dialogue between Achilles and
his mother, with his retrospective account of the
sack of Thebes and capture of the prisoner whose
ransom involved such fatal consequences. A change
of scene transports us to Chrysa, where are described
the delivery of the damsel to her father, with the
sacrifice and banquet in honour of Apollo. Another
change brings us back to Achilles, and a third
conveys us to Olympus, where we have the pro-
mised interview between Thetis and Jove, with other
scenes illustrative of the part taken by the different
deities in the affairs of earth. In proportion to the
number and importance of the events, the period of
time occupied by this canto, upwards of three weeks,
is more than double that allotted to the succeeding
twenty-two books. In this accumulation of incidents
may be traced, not so much any deliberate artifice, as
the spontaneous anxiety of a mind pregnant with a
great subject, to secure, by laying down at the outset
a broad foundation of facts, a wide field for subsequent
enlargement ; and to rivet the attention of his reader,
by launching him at once on the full stream of the
narrative.

Nor are the evidences of that mixture of compre-
hensiveness and conciseness, which marks an intro-
ductory canto, less discernible in the style than in the
matter of this book. Where the facts to be narrated
in any poem are abundant, the ornamental details
may be expected to be proportionally scanty ; a rule
generally exemplified in the text of Homer. No
where, accordingly, are these elegant accessaries so

Cn. V. §4. CONCOliDAXCL OF THE TEXT. 201

sparingly distributed as in this book. Tlirougliout
the Iliad, a favourite chiss of figurative embellish-
ment is the Simile ; and it is one wliieh the fervour
of the poet's imagination has at times led him to
accumulate to a defective excess. The whole number
of such fioures in the poem is about 100, iriviiiLi- an
average of about six for every 500 lines. The
greatest proportion is in the description of battles,
the part of the text which chiefly suggested and
required some such relief to an otherwise monotonous
recurrence of similar incidents. The sixteenth book,
comprising 867 lines, has 20 similes; the seventeenth,
TGI lines, has 19; the second, containing 877 lines,
has 10. The smallest proportion observable iu any
one of the subsequent books gives one for 250 lines.
In the first book, here under consideration, consisting
of Gil lines, there occurs not one. This peculiarity
explains itself as naturally by the number and im-
portance of the historical incidents in Alpha, as tlic
accumulation of purely illustrative matter, in the
other books above cited, by the opposite character of
their contents.

That the part containing, next to the first canto,
the fewest embellishments of this class should happen
to be the concluding one, though a curious, is no
fortuitous coincidence. It forms part of a general
and, as bearing on the present subject, im[)ortant
analogy between the two books. As in Alplia we
trace, in the number and rapid succession of events,
the opening ; so in Omega, a like peculiarit}- indi-
cates the winding up ol a long narrative, and the
anxiety of the poet to abri<lge the concluding details,
after disposing of the main heads of action. Tlic
indignities inflicted on Hector's corpse ; the council

s 3

262 HOMEK. ILIAD. Book. II.

of the gods ; the mission of Iris to Thetis, of Thetis
to Achilles ; the interview between the goddess and
her son ; the mission of Iris to Priam ; his journey,
interview with Achilles, return with the body of
Hector, and the subsequent preparation and perform-
ance of the funeral rites, comprise a mass of in-
cidents equal in number, if not in importance, to
those contained in the first act of the poem. They
also, it happens, occupy an exactly equal period of
time, about twenty-two or twenty-three days. These
coincidences certainly offer a strong argument, not
only of systematic design in the structure of the
poem, but of that spontaneous harmony which marks
the operations of the same genius under similar cir-
cumstances.

Another indication of an opening canto is a certain
descriptive introduction, on their first appearance on
the scene, of several of the less distinguished actors,
a courtesy of which there is no example in other
portions of the Iliad. The heroes of more universal
renown, Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses, are indeed
brought at once on the stage without any ceremony
of announcement : but the other two chief performers
in the first book, Nestor and Calchas, personages
whose notoriety depended probably in a great mea-
sure on the Iliad, are each ushered in with a par-
ticular notice of their persons and qualities. There
could be no reason for this more pointed personal
description of these individuals in this canto than in
any other, unless it were intended for the commence-
ment of a series. The catalogue in the immediately
following book precludes also, in a great degree, the
necessity of such introductory notices in the sequel.
Second 5. Similar indications of the preparatory stages of

catliog'ic. a great subject extend to the second book. Such,

Cii. V. §5. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 2G3

for example, is Xestor's advice to Apiincininpii to
marshal his forces in distinct companies under tlieir
respective leaders. Tiie natural inference liere would
be, apart from tlie general context, eitlier tliat this
advice had been offered in the first year of the war,
or else that the Greeks had l)een accustomed, durini,'-
the nine previous years, to engage tiie enemy without
any sort of order or discipline, a very unsatisfactory
alternative. This injunction, therefore, complied Avith
by Agamemnon in tlie immediate sequel, is, like many
other similar passages of both poems, but a piece of
poetical mechanism forming a transition to tlie en-
suing muster-roll of the Greek host. All sceptical
inference is excluded, not merely by the previous and ;
subsequent text, which proves the dialogue to have
taken place in the ninth year, and after the quarrel,
but by the distinct allusion of Nestor himself to these
facts ill the course of his speech.

The injunction of Iris to Priam to arm his forces,
forming the introduction to the Trojan catalogue,
presents another parallel anomaly, and for a similar
object. Politcs, a son of the Trojan king, sent out
to reconnoitre, and whose person the goddess as-
sumes, is here made to assert, " that although he liad
been in many an engagement, he had never beheld so
numerous a host as that now advancing." Now it is
certain that he must have known the Greek army to
be much smaller than before, since, besides the heavy
losses sustained in previous battles and the late
pestilence, it was diminislied by the whole amount of
the ^Fyrmidon force. 'i"Iii<. therefore, is but a hy-
perbolical commonplace intnjductory to the Trojan
march from the city.

The Catalogue is perhaps the portion of the poem

s 4

264 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

in favour of wliicli a claim to separate autliorsliip lias
been most plausibly urged. Although the example
of Homer has siuce rendered some such formal enu-
meration of the forces engaged a common practice
in epic poems descriptive of great warlike adventures,
still so minute a statistical detail can neither be
considered as imperatively required, nor perhaps such
as would, in ordinary cases, suggest itself to the mind
of a poet. Yet there is scarcely any portion of the
Iliad where both historical and internal evidence are
more clearly in favour of a connexion, from the
remotest period, with the remainder of the work.
The composition of the Catalogue, whensoever it may
have taken place, necessarily presumes its author's
acquaintance with a previously existing Iliad. It
were impossible otherwise to account for the har-
; mony observable in the recurrence of so vast a
I number of proper names, most of them historically
I unimportant, and not a few altogether fictitious ;
; or of so many geographical and genealogical details
as are condensed in these few hundred lines, and
incidentally scattered over the thousands Avhich follow.
Equally inexplicable were the pointed allusions oc-
curring in this episode to events narrated in the
previous and subsequent text, several of which could
hardly be pf traditional notoriety, but through the
medium of the Iliad. The composition of the Cata-
logue, and by consequence of the Iliad, at a very
remote period, is further vouched for by the circum-
stance already referred to, that in the works of suc-
ceeding poets of very antient date, modelled more or
less closely on the Iliad, similar catalogues were in-
troduced. That contained in the Cypria was limited
to the Trojan force, a fact which forms in itself a

Cu. V. §0. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 2G5

conclusive argument that tlie Catalogue of tlie Iliad
existed in its substantial integrity at the period when
the Cypria was composed. Unless the enumeration
of his native heroes had already been provided lor,
the author of that popular poem could ne\er have re-
stricted such a mark of distinction to their enemies.
The style of the Catalogue is certainly far from de-
ficient in the distinctive excellences of llomei-. The
genial spirit and vivacity infused into an otherwise
dry recapitulation of names and facts, and the per-
spicuity, metrical harmony, and conciseness of their
arrangement, reflect the single master mind as clearly
perhaps as even the most brilliant descriptions in the
body of the poem. Corrupted and interpoluted it
may have been : no part of the poem aftbrded,^ with
so fair a ileld, so strong a temptation to such prac-
tices. Nor certainly are there wanting evidences of
their having been resorted to. lUit interpolations in
themselves imply the existence of an original genuine
text.i

In drawing this head of the subject to a close, the Tenth
"Dolonea," or "night-watch," still demands a tew lUonva.
words of remark. That the author of that episode
was familiar with the previous narrative of the Iliad,
even with the Catalogue, may be seen by reference to
the epitome of its contents. The sleepless anxiety of
Agamemnon during the night, owing to the gloomy
prospects of his host after the disasters of the
previous day ; his allusion to the prowess of Hector
as the immediate, and to his quarrel with Achilles
as the remote cause of his distress; to the bivouac
of the Trojans on the }>lain, to the construction of
the rampart, and the posting of the guiird ; with the

• See Appendix D.

2GG HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

pointed mention of Rhesus of Thrace, unnoticed
among the chiefs of that country in the Catalogue,
as but recently arrived in the Trojan camp ; all gua-
rantee the previous existence of the first nine books
of the poems in their substantial integrity. Nor,
even were it not self-evident that this episode could
only be intended as a continuation, not as a conclusion
of the foregoing narrative, are there wanting suf-
ficiently plain, though not quite so specific, allusions
to a sequel. At the period therefore when the
Dolonea was composed, an Iliad must have existed,
whatever may have been its exact length or propor-
tion. It happens, however, that, among these re-
ferences of the episode to other parts of the existing
text, there is not one indispensable to the full under-
standing of the action ; nor is there any distinct
allusion in the remaining books to the adventure
which this one records. Although therefore the
episode could not exist without the Iliad, the Iliad
might no doubt exist without the episode. Upon
this ground certain nameless commentators, alluded
to by Eustathius\ conjectured it to be a later addition
to the primary fabric of the poem. On the other hand,
the general harmony between its text and the re-
mainder of the work, with the Homeric purity of its
style, excluded all pretext for ascribing it to a different
author. It was therefore admitted to be a genuine
composition of Homer ; not, however, an original
canto of the Iliad, but a separate poem by the same
author, first inserted in the place it now occupies by
Pisistratus, the favourite hero of all such performances
with this later school of sophists. Of the historical
value of such theories, transmitted but on the hearsay

1 Conf. Schol. Bekk. ad x. 1

Cii. V. § 0. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 2G7

of a Byzantine Avriter of the twelfth century, little
need be added to what has already been remarked in
other places.

The simple hypothesis however, that this book
may have been an afterthought of thegemiine Homer,
need not in itself be considered as alto<'-etli< r unna-
sonable. Excellent as the structure of the J Had
is in its existing form, it does not follow, nay, it is
highly improbable, that the poem was, even in its
entire substance, so designed and finished olf-hand,
to use a familiar phrase, by a single impulse of its
author. The conceptions of such a genius, in pro-
portion as they are great, are not necessarily nor
23robably at once embodied in their full maturity.
Ptuder draughts of an Iliad may, no doubt, have
preceded that which now forms so perfect a wliole.
Admitting the poem to have been orifrimillv com-
posed without a Dolonea, the author himself could
hardly have failed to discover that so long a series
of national disaster and humiliation, extending over
more than one half of the narrative, besides being
poetically defective on the ground of monotony and
sameness, might, if unrelieved by some such clieer-
ing episode, prove distasteful or even offensive to a
patriotic audience. The tenth book, while it aflbrds
an agreeable relief to the national distress, also tends,
through the force of contrast, to deepen its efi'ect,
and thus forms an indispensable element of the moral
harmony of the entire action.

2G8

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

CHAP. VI.

HOMER. ILIAD. UNITY OF THE ACTION".

, PRINCIPLE OF POETICAL TTNITT, AS EXEMPLIFIED IN THE ILIAD. 2. SIM-
PLICITY OF THE PLOT, AND ITS RANGE OP CHARACTERS. 3. CHARACTER

OF ACHILLES THE MAIN POETICAL FEATURE OF THE WORK. 4, QUARREL

OF ACHILLES AND AGAMESLNON. 5. COURSE OF THE ACTION DURING THE

SECESSION OP ACHILLES. NATIONAL PARTIALITIES OF HOMER. OBDURACY
OF ACHILLES. 6. RELAXATION OF HIS WRATH. DEFECTS AND ADVAN-
TAGES OF THE CRISIS. 7. ADAPTATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF ACHILLES

AND PATROCLUS TO EACH OTHER. 8. REVULSION OF FEELING. GRIEF AND

REMORSE OF ACHILLES. FEROCITY OF ACHILLES. 9. SOFTER FEATURES

OF HIS CHARACTER. INTERVIEW WITH PRIAM. 10. MORAL SCOPE AND

TENDENCY OF THE ILIAD. IL AMPLIFICATION OF THE SUBJECT. EPISODES.

DEFINITION OF THE TERM. 12. CHARACTERISTICS OF HOMER's EPISODES.

13. CONTRAST OF VIRGIL.

Principle
of poetical
unity, as
exemplified
in the Iliad.

1. The foundation of excellence in every branch of
narrative composition is the talent of seizing and
giving effect to the principal feature of a subject.
The primary qualification of a skilful pleader is in-
stinctively to apprehend the point in which the
strength of his case lies, and constitute it the centre
of his argument. The less momentous or less favour-
able details are either suppressed or scattered inci-
dentally around, so that, like the decorative adjuncts
of a solid building, they may acquire from the con-
nexion an importance which they could not separately
have enjoyed. The art of the historian is but a con-
tinued observance of the same rule. He arranges in
the front of his narrative the main facts supplied by
the Chronicle or Gazette ; the less important circum-
stances which may there, from their bearing on the
petty interests of the day, have been more carefully
are abridged or discarded. Nor, certainly,

detailed,

Cii. VI. ^1. UNITY UF Till-: ACTION. i^G9

is the observance of this priiici[)le hjss essential to
the success of the epic poet than of the liistorian or
orator. It is, accordingl}^, in Homer's fine application
of it that those artifices of his composition are to be
sought, -svliich, in the phraseology of the schools, are
familiarly chissecl under the heads of unity of action,
time, and place, or other similar figures of scliolastic
rhetoric. In order to test the justice of this remark
in its more innnediate reference to the Iliad, we must
consider: first, the general tenor of the historical
tradition on which the work is founded ; secondly, the
special properties of that portion of the same tradition
which has been selected as the principal action.

From the notices interspersed throughout the
poem, it appears that the first nine years of the siege
passed without any event of a decisi\'e character.
After a vigorous attempt to frustrate the landing
of the Greeks, the Trojans, unable to cope with them
in the field, shut themselves up within the walls of
the city, where, by the strength of its fortifications,
they baffled every assault of the enemy. ^ The Greeks
naturally shaped their tactics by those of the besieged,
and, in order to wear out their resources, occupied
themselves in ravaging the country, and reducing other
cities- of the hostile confederacy. In the tenth year
however events occurred to alter the Trojan policy.
Dissensions between Agamemnon and Achilles, the
hero on whose valour the Greeks mainly relied for
success, caused the secession of the latter from the
cause. In proportion as this event temled to dis-
courage the one party, already somewhat disheartened
by a long and unprofitable warfare, it revived the
hopes of the other. The city was at this epocli

' VIII. .5., ct locc. citt. ill Cli. V. ^ 1. • ix. 328.

270 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

crowded with Asiatic auxiliaries, who, however
valuable their services, pressed heavily on the re-
sources of Priam^, and rendered some desperate effort
the more indispensable. Such a combination of
circumstances obviously marked out this as the
moment for a bold attack on the invaders. The
quarrel therefore between the chiefs, as the imme-
diate cause of a change in the languid character of
the war, and of a series of fierce engagements in-
volving the death of Hector the main bulwark of his
country, but, above all, from the fine field it afforded
for developing the character of Achilles, the heart
and soul of the Iliad, could not fail to offer itself to
the genius of Homer, as the centre or pivot of action
in any poem founded on the siege of Troy.

Nor does the peculiar nature of these events mark
out the completion of the design less clearly than its
commencement. From the quarrel of the heroes
down to the restoration of Hector's body, the whole
series of occurrences follow each other by as constant
a chain of cause and effect as the vibrations of a
pendulum, and cease as naturally on the exhaustion
of the impetus which set them in motion. On the
withdrawal of Achilles depend the unwonted boldness
and success of the Trojans. The disasters of the
Greeks excite the sympathy of Patroclus, whose
successful mediation with Achilles leads to his own
death by the hand of Hector. Grief, anger, and
remorse procure the immediate restoration of Achilles
to the field, and the infliction of death on the de-
stroyer of his friend. The duties of friendship and
of religion indispensably require a performance of
the last honours to the remains of the two fallen

^ II. 130., XVII. 220. sqq., xviii. 288, sqq.

Cu. VI. §2. UNITY OF Till: ACTION. 271

warriors. While, tlicreforo, up to this point the
main events are inseparably linked with each other,
it is equally certain that, beyond it, tradition su[)plies
no occurrence standing in any similar epic relation
to those which precede ; nor is it easy to see how the
ingenuity of poetical fiction could have suggested an
addition calculated to form other than a tasteless
excrescence. The subsequent adventures of the
war, the closing career and deatli of Achilles, the
arrival and exploits of Memnon, Penthesilea, Xeopto-
lemus, furnished abundant materials for new poems:
but even the genius of Homer could hardly have
succeeded in bringing any one of those adventures
into appropriate epic connexion with the narrative of
the Iliad. In so far therefore the dogma of certain
antient grammarians, that the first verse, nay, the
first word of the poem contains a sunnnary of the
whole action, however frivolous their mode of pro-
pounding it, can hardly be considered as groundless
in fact. The " anger of Achilles '' and its conse-
quences really include all that the Iliad relates, and
exclude all that it omits.

2. Skilfully, however, as the plot of the poem is simplicity
devised, it Avill yet be found, in respect to actual action, an<i
events, to be but mea":re. " Tlie commander of an "^ '^"f*^ "^

' D characters.

enterprise affronts his bravest warrior, who retires
indignant from the field. Successive disasters lead
to vain attempts to conciliate his anger. At length,
when the enemy's fire threatens his own quarters, he
allows his friend to go forth wiili his followers to the
rescue. The death of that friend by the hand of the
hostile leader imposes on liim the duty of revenge;
the fuKilmentof whicli duty, terminating in tlie death
of the rival chief, restores matters mucli to the same

272 HOMER. ILIAD. Book U.

footing as at the commencement." Nor is this simple
line of action relieved by any of those ingenious
underplots, by which succeeding epic poets have
usually endeavoured to extend the interest of their
narratives. In the Iliad are no cunning schemes
of designing villains, treacherous friends, or jealous
rivals, to^ baffle the designs of the principal actors ;
no attempts to mystify or conceal the proposed
order of occurrences, in order to surprise or dis-
appoint by unlooked-for disclosures. The opening
of the poem contains a prediction of the events that
are to follow during the greater part of its progress,
and before we are far advanced we are made equally
familiar with the remainder. The few unforeseen
occurrences adorn, but do not impede, the smooth
train of the principal action, which, gliding over them,
advances steadily to its appointed issue.

This limitation of the main subject is not only a
characteristic property of the poem, but one of its
greatest excellences. In every department of art
simplicity is an essential element of grandeur, and
grandeur is the main feature of the Iliad. Any sub-
ordinate complication of parts would have detracted,
in a proportional degree, from the dignity of the whole.
It might, however, plausibly be urged, admitting the
justice of this principle, that in so far as such secondary
plots constitute the medium for exhibiting variety of
character, their exclusion has deprived the poet of
opportunity for portraying many of the passions and
vices which supply not the least instructive lessons of
human nature. In this alleged deficiency, however,
consists another chief element of the ideal sublimity
of the Iliad. The term hero, in the true spirit of the
Homeric minstrelsy (whatever may be its sense in

Ch. VI. § 2. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 273

the page of later mythology), oxcIikIcs, as a general
rule, without any actual exemption from the failings
incident to humanity, those baser vices which inspire
disgust or contem[)t. liut the war of Troy was the
greatest of all heroic adventures. Tiie chiefs who
took part in it were the noblest and tlie last of tlie
race of genuine heroes. So they are described by
both Homer and llesiod^ an intermediate stajre be-
tweeii the divine and human iintures, superior in
moral and physical attributes as well to their sons
and descendants as to the ordinary men of their own
day. The degeneracy from heroism to common liu-
manity is dated, by the latter poet expressly, by the
former indirectly, from the extinction of this gene-
ration. It was natural therefore, in a selection of tlie
Trojan war as his subject, tliat the poet's efforts to
impart variety to his characters should be limited to
such combinations of virtue and vice, greatness and
weakness, as should still allow that essential attribute
of heroism, generosity, to predominate. This limi-
tation, Avhile it rendered success the more dilHcuIt,
rendered it also, if attained, tlie more complete ; inas-
much as the sympathies called forth by human action
or suffering are the more pure and pleasing, in pro-
portion as they are less alloyed by the shame arising
from exposure of the baser features of our nature. Tlic
gratification, therefore, which we derive from the
Iliad's varied portraiture of imperfect excellence, if it
ever admits of our remarking tlie absence of the villain
of the piece, certainly never admits of our regretting
it. Among the chief beauties of one of the greatest
works of modern graphic art, the Last Supper of
Leonardo, has been remarked the skill with which the

1 Works and D. 1(1.1. 174. ; conf. O.l. ii. -JTi!.. 11. \xiv. 4'»4. nlibi.
VOL. I. T

274

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

Character
of Achilles
the main
poetical
feature of
the Iliad.

artist has varied the expression called forth on the
countenances of eleven individuals of the same habits
and interests by the sudden announcement of a fact
in which they had all an equal concern, and where
the predominant emotion in the breast of each was
fundamentally the same : surprise at the imputation
thrown out, and conscious innocence of the crime
imputed. But in one this feeling is tempered with
indignation, in another with doubt, in a third with
humility, in a fourth with mortification, in a fifth
with scorn. Similar is the power displayed by Homer
in modifying the shades of his heroes' characters.
All are actuated by a common spirit of chivalrous
enterprise, all engaged in a common pursuit of martial
renown ; but differ no less in the peculiarities of dis-
position and language which mark their generous
course, than in their capacities for attaining the
glorious ends towards which it is directed.

3. But the grand poetical feature of the Iliad is the
character of Achilles. Its conception is the highest
efli'ort of the poet's genius ; on its delineation the
richest resources of his art are concentrated. It is,
accordingly, in the number and variety of the oppor-
tunities which the action supplies for developing the
great qualities of the hero that its excellence mainly
consists. This consideration renders it expedient, in
the following pages, to combine the analysis of these
two fundamental elements of the work : its epic
structure, and the character of its protagonist.

The character of Achilles is conceived on the same
principle which the sculptors of later ages transferred
to their representations of the deity under human form.
The hero of the Iliad, like the statues of Phidias, is
an ideal personage, of which all the component parts

Cn. VI. §3. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 275

are human, but in their combination present a wli«jle
creature surpassing, in the splendour of his attributes,
any living example of humanity ; uniting the full
measure of those qualities wlTuh, in tlu- spirit of his
age, constituted the sublime, the beautillil, ^jv the
terrible, in mortal nature. Beyond this general out-
line it is the more diilieult to deline wherein tlie
grandeur of the portrait consists, owing to the wide
difference in the moral impressions wlTu-h many of its
more prominent features are calculated to awaken in
the present age, as compared with that for which it
was originally designed. His valour, his generosity,
the warm aifections of his heart, the graces of his
person, his elegant accomplishments, are common
to him with most other heroes of chivalry. l>ut
there is in Achilles alone a power of exciting awe and
admiration, which seems to depend on the less obvious
associations through which it operates, and which can
only be appreciated by identifying ourselves with the
feelings or prejudices of the poet's own audience.
Among the theories by which it has been attempted
to illustrate the sources of our moral judirments,
there is one which accounts for those habituallv
passed on certain passions or affections, not so much
by reference to any essential difference in their
quality, as to the degree in which they are displa3-ed ;
or in other words that certain virtues, wlien car-
ried to excess, become vices, 'i'hus, when liberality
exceeds the bounds of prudence, it becomes extra-
vao^ance ; a just regard for personal dignity de-
generates into pride ; a strong sense of retributive
justice into vindictiveness. The right application of
this rule depends, however, on the faculty of dis-
tinguishing where the transition from moderation to

T -2

276 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

excess takes place ; a faculty reserved for the more
advanced stages of ethic culture, or which is at least
very imperfect in the primitive moralist. The es-
timate which the mind, undisciplined by the restraints
of true religion or philosophy, forms of many modes
of conduct which excite in more enlightened ages un-
qualified censure, is regulated chiefly by a previous
estimate of the source in which they originate. Such
as can be traced to some just or amiable impulse claim
sympathy or approval, and the degree in which they
are displayed tends less to alter their intrinsic value
than to enhance the grandeur of their effect. Of this
generous, though defective principle of heroic moral-
ity, the character of Achilles embodies the form and
pressure. All his affections are in their origin noble
or generous. This was indispensable to his heroic
excellence. That all should be exhibited in excess
was essential to his heroic greatness. His conscious
superiority to all other mortals renders him haughty
and impatient of control. Just resentment against
ingratitude effervesces into implacable wrath, ab-
sorbing many of the best affections which at other
times predominate in his bosom. The conflict of
generous feelings created by the sudden loss of a
beloved friend, leads to a bloodthirsty spirit of re-
venge against his destroyer. But, in order rightly to
appreciate these darker traits, they must be contem-
plated, not in their naked magnitude and terror, but
in their contrast to the softer touches by which they
are relieved ^ ; to the affectionate heart, the chivalrous
sense of courtesy and urbanity, the spirit of mercy
to the vanquished, and sympathy with aflliction, for
which the poet describes him as habitually distin-

' 1. 334., XI. 599. sqq., xix. 55 — 65., xxi. 100., xxiii., xxiv. 157.

Cn. VI. §4. UNITY OF TUE ACTION. ACHILLES. 277

guislicd, and of which liis interview with Priam is so
touching an example. Those harslier features may
thus be likened, adopting tlie poet's own vein of
imagery, to the thunder storm a\ liidi, passing over
the face of a beautiful landscape, imparts new charms
to the returning serenity of the scene ; or to tlic
inundations of the mountain torrent, which disturb,
but cannot permanently corini[)t, the purity of its
waters. Nor is it the least admirable part of this
extraordinary portrait, that in so much boldness of
design and intensity of colouring there is no exag-
geration. Achilles frets, rages, storms, but he never
rants. Ilis most overwhelming paroxysms, which, in
the heroes of other epic poems, seldom escape bombast
or extravagance, are in him but the natural outbreaks
of a noble, but wayward and impetuous spirit.

4. One s^reat excellence of the quarrel scene which Quirrei of

. . . . Achillct

forms the foundation of the poem, is the skill with and Aga-
whicli the poet has managed to put both chiefs in the '"'^"'"°°*
Avrong, yet without an}' real sacrifice of their heroic
dignity. The step taken by Achilles in calling the
council, though obviously with the view of publicly
arraigning the conduct of his commander, is open to
no serious charge of presumption. It was the duty,
as well as privilege, of the leading champion of the
army to stand forth as its protector against the
reckless levity even of a superior, who had subjected
it, for the indulgence of his own selfish passions, to
the wrath of the terrible deity under whose wcajjons
it was smarting. Achilles is also careful to secure
the divine sanction, by ])lacing his cause in the hands
of the seer Calchas. Ilis subsequent conduct, how-
ever, cannot be so easily justified. lli> reply t'> the
prophet's demand of support, should hi.s candour

278 HOMEE. ILIAD. Book II.

embroil him with Agamemnon, is in a strain of
sarcasm ao^ainst that hero altoo;ether unwarranted at
this stage of the discussion ; and tends to provoke, if
not to palliate, the indecent abuse with which Aga-
memnon assails the divine minister. In the sequel,
the violence of both parties renders it the less easy to
discriminate on whose side lies the balance of right or
wrong. Agamemnon's offer to restore the damsel, on
condition of compensation at the common cost for the
loss of his share of the spoil, if not the most generous
mode of settlement, was certainly one which he was
entitled to propose ; and the taunting reply of Achilles
provokes, and in some degree excuses, the declara-
tion of Agamemnon in his retort, to indemnify himself
at the sole expense of the Myrmidon chief. The
patience of the impetuous hero is now exhausted, and
his fury reaches a climax which renders divine inter-
ference necessary. The appearance of Minerva, the
goddess of wisdom, to check the violence of Achilles,
is an obvious figure of his own better judgment
suggesting, even in the climax of his wrath, that a
personal assault would be a far less effective mode of
chastising the insolence of his chief, or the apathy of
his fellow- warriors, than a secession from the war ;
which, by proving their dependance on his valour,
would secure to him in the end a more complete
triumph, and to them a more humiliating punishment.
The circumstance here noticed of the anger of
Achilles being directed, not only against Agamemnon
but his companions in arms, supplies an apt illustra-
tion of a familiar and just remark of the antient
critics, that Homer seldom tells us any thing in his
own words which can be appropriately communicated
in those of his heroes. Nowhere has the poet himself

Cu. VI. § 4. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 279

given to uiKlerstand that tlie wmtli of Achilles ex-
tended beyond the single person of Againenmon :
but tlie omission is abundantly made good in the
dramatic element of the action. ( )ii the departure
of Pallas, the hero indirectly, but severely, taunts
the Greeks with their slavish acquiescence in the
injustice of their commander : " Jiapacious king, didst
thou not reign over worthless vassals, tliis outrage
had been thy last." ^ In the sequel he accuses them
collectively of having wronged him - ; and at a later
period he chides Patroclus for his sympathy with
their distress, suffering, as they were, but the just
reward of their guilt. ^ This ingredient of the hero's
wrath is indeed indispensable, to explain or palliate
his implacable bitterness of feeling even towards his
own favourite comrades. But although their conduct,
in thus passively allowing their champion and pi'o-
server to be slighted and despoiled, inay have af-
forded him reasonable ground of otfence, it admits
of excuse or even justitication. There is no moral
obligation more distinctly enjoined in the Iliad than
obedience to the supreme authority. Amid a full
liberty of advice and remonstrance, a respectful
deference to the soverei2:n ^vl\\ of Aramemnon is a
duty indirectly, but pointedly, inculcated by the
poet, and on all occasions scrupulously fullilled by
the other chiefs.'^ In the quarrel, whatever its i]i-
trinsic merits, the respective position of the litigants
imposed on Achilles the duty of moderation, or even
submission. To his brothers in arms, thcrelbrc, he
might naturally appear to have forfeited by his
violence much of the advantage derived from the

1 I. 231. I. 2d0. ' XVI. 18.

* I. 277., n. 203. s^i 346., iv. 4Ul. .sqq. 411. s<j<i.

T 4

280

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

Course of
the action
after the
secession of
Achilles.

National
partialities
of Homer.

justice of his cause. Nor here again has the poet,
however sparing of his personal explanations, left
us dependant on conjecture. Nestor, who represents
the sober judgment of the host, incidentally but
distinctly intimates that, however Atrides may have
been to blame, Achilles, by his insubordination, had
shifted a large portion of the fault from his com-
mander to himself.^

5. After his interview with Thetis, Achilles retires,
to nurse in solitude his indignation and hopes of
speedy triumph. The preparation for this result
supplies materials for the seven succeeding cantos.
The poet's concern for the honour of his countrymen
required that their disgrace should be brought about
slowly and gradually, after a long and valiant
struggle for their previous ascendancy. Accordingly,
as has been observed by a celebrated critic, " the
distress thickens as the poem advances, while every-
thing is so contrived as to aggrandise Achilles, and
render him, even when absent, the capital figure."
The succeeding battles are enlivened by the intro-
duction of new characters, and by episodes illustra-
tive of the history of the leading heroes.

Among the most striking internal evidences of
unity of design in the Iliad, is the expedient by which
the poet has guarded lest the disasters of his country-
men should involve any compromise of that supe-
riority, moral and martial, which he throughout
ascribes to them over their Trojan adversaries. An
anxiety to sustain the character of his own country,
is a feeling which might be expected to influence
every poet. But that several poets, under the self-
imposed necessity of recording the defeat and humi-

' Conf. locc. sup. citt.

Ch. VI. §5. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 281

liation of their ancestors, should resort to the same
subtle device for preserving the national honour seems
next to impossible. This device consists chief!}- in
veiling his patriotic sympatliies under a general tone
of impartiality, or even of occasional favour to the
Trojans; while, wherever "sve are left to judge from
facts, the advantage is entirely on the Greek side.
The Iliad abounds in allusions to the noble defence of
their country by the besieged, and to the cruel fate
Avhicli destined so valiant a race to destruction by a
vindictive invader. Our feelings are frequently moved
by the touching appeals of the orphan, the widow,
and the parent, on their successive bereavements.
Yet, as if these images of afflicted patriotism, or op-
pressive ambition, were not effectually dissipated by
the notorious reality that all the distress was but
the punishment of crime, all the aggression but a
righteous attempt to obtain redress, the Trojans, at
the very outset, are made parties to a new act of
perjury and assassination. The assault of Pandarus
on Menelaus, if it can be reconciled, through the
common expedient of ascribing the act to divine
instigation, w^ith the poet's principle of exempting the
heroes of the Iliad from the baser vices, is certainly
the nearest approach to a violation of that princi[)le
in the poem. It tends, consequently, still further
to lower the character of the Dardanian warnors as
compared with their Hellenic rivals. Other gross
examples of Trojan treachery are episodically cited
from the earlier transactions between the two nations.^
Similar art has been employed in the military parallel
of the two. AViiile the courage of the Trojan cliiefs
is frequent subject of warm eulogy, yet, wherever

1 XI. 138.

282 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

brought into fair personal collision with Greeks of
equal rank, they are worsted. Despite the assurance
that even Achilles had been known to " turn pale on
meeting Hector or iEneas face to face," yet the
former of these two heroes not only, when actually
brought into collision with Pelides, flies panic-struck,
but is repeatedly beaten in single combat by both
Ajax and Diomed. The superiority indeed of
Diomed to Hector, ^Eneas, and all other Trojans,
wherever the gods do not interpose, is maintained in
every encounter. Menelaus defeats Paris, Patroclus
Sarpedon. Nowhere is any Greek warrior of rank
subjected to humiliating discomfiture. The proudest
exploit of Hector, his slaughter and spoliation of
Patroclus, is so described as to be conspicuous merely
for its ferocity. The Greek hero, after being disabled
by Apollo, is mortally wounded by another Trojan,
when Hector steps in with the finishing blow, as his
butcher rather than conqueror. When the same
Hector, guaranteed against personal risk by the
assurance of divine protection, challenges the best
warrior of the Greek host, he is described in a like
ironical spirit as spreading terror through its ranks ;
yet in a few minutes no less than eight champions
come forward, and he only escapes death from the
one he engages by the interposition of the heralds.
To the ultimate defeat of the Greeks it is required
that, besides the secession of Achilles and Patroclus,
the flower of their remaining warriors, Agamemnon,
Diomed, Ulysses, should be disabled by wounds. The
Trojan leaders on the other hand. Hector, JEneas,
Sarpedon, Paris, are successively, when vanquished,
either preserved from harm by their jDatron deities,
or, if wounded, miraculously cured and restored

Ch.VI. §5. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 2S3

to the battle. The successes of the Trojans collec-
tively are throughout described as due to the special
agency of the gods; those of tlie Greeks are often
the result of their own valour, even in tlie face of
the same divine influence which, in tlicir own case,
is required to paralyse their power of resistance
before they can be subjected to defeat. The Trojan
leaders never venture on hostile collision with adverse
deities; the Greek heroes engage them repeatedly
and successfully. Xor do the former ever appear
great in calamity, stemming by their solitary valour
the adverse tide of war. Numerous instances of this
higliest order of courage are to be found on the side
of the Greeks.

The first day's combat terminates with little positive oixiumcy
advantage on either side. This, however, is already °^^*^^'""-
a serious decline in the fortunes of the Greeks.
" While Achilles fought, the Trojans never ventured
from beneath the protection of their city walls." ^
The construction of the rampart during the truce is,
therefore, a tribute to his glory at the expense of that
of the army, and is claimed as such by himself."- The
result of the ensuing disastrous combat is the " Sup-
plication" of Atrides for relief. The hero's trium[)h
was now complete, but not the measure of Aga-
memnon's punishment or his own satisfaction. It
was hardly to be expected that repentance, so evi-
dently originating in mere self-interest, should at
once obtain grace. Nor was the resentment of
Achilles of that vulgar kind which depends on a
balance struck between the amount of insult received
and apology offered. The ideal grandeur of his

1 IV. .512., ct locc. cilt. in Cli. v. § 1. '•' i.\. .152.

284 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

character required that no inferior order of influence
should have power to bend a resohition he had deli-
berately formed and pronounced. His anger there-
fore, when the period arrived for its removal, was
not to be appeased, but supplanted by some still
more powerful affection. This transition introduces
the second act of the great moral drama of the
Iliad, where Achilles was to be exhibited under a
new class of equally powerful emotions, but tempered
by softer ingredients.
Relaxation 6. lu the confcrcncc of the ninth book, there
Deacts^nd bctrays itself, under his apparent obduracy, a lurking
*^fth"^^-*- ^^o^'^^ t^ abandon his prospects of martial glory,
and an anxiety that circumstances might occur,
without detriment to his honour, to restore him to the
field of battle. As the national distress approaches
its climax, symptoms appear of a relaxation of his
wrath, in a spirit of compassion for one of its in-
nocent victims.^ That this first object of his sym-
pathy, the physician Machaon, should combine with
his military duties the most beneficent art of peace,
can hardly be attributed to accident. Patroclus,
deeply moved by the distress of his countrymen,
avails himself of this opening to ask and obtain
permission to lead forth the Myrmidons to their
relief, but on condition of his confining his succour
to the delivery of the camp. The mode, however, in
which this permission is granted shows that it was
not merely a concession to friendship, but extorted
partly by the danger which threatened the Myr-
midon quarters. For, immediately afterwards, ob-
serving the flames rising from the ship which Hector
had set on fire, Achilles becomes himself urgent with

' XI. 599.

Cn. VI. § 6. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 285

his lieutenant to arm without tlehay, and under-
takes in person the ofHce of marshalling his troops.
Powerful as is tlie interest of tliis crisis, there is
perhaps no portion of the action which alfords so f;iir
an opening for censure. The moment Ijeing now
arrived which Achilles had from the first foreseen
might render his interference necessary for the
safety of his own shi[)s, wliy, it may be asked, sliould
he throw upon Patroclus alone the burthen of their
protection ; exposing his beloved friend, for the grati-
fication of his own obstinate pride, to a risk, tlie
magnitude of which was afterwards so fatally proved ?
If himself so alarmed as to hurry on the arming of
his troops, was he not bound to march forth at their
head, rather than maintain at tlie sole peril of Patro-
clus a mere shadow of adherence to his purpose ?
The only apology which occurs is, that a sense of
danger was what entered least into the thoughts of a
hero when going forth himself, or sending his friend
to battle. Tiie predominant feeling of Achilles in
such a moment would be, not alarm for the welfare
of Patroclus, but envy of the achievements in store
for him. Reflexion followed afterwards.

Tlie poetical advantage, on the other liand, of
this mode of management is obvious. It was essen-
tial to tlie complete working out of the character of
Achilles, that, wherever he was called to act a pro-
minent part, he should ap[)ear under some powerful
stimulus. Had his return to the ranks been volun-
tary, as a concession to the prayers or pcace-oflerings
of his fellow-chiefs, his first appearance on thi,' lield
wouhl have been comparatively tame and insipid :
had it been forced from liim by the assault on his
own quarters, he would liave gone forth uiidrr

286

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

Character
of Patro-
clus. Its
adaptation
to that of
Achilles,

humiliating, almost ludicrous, circumstances ; he
would, in fact, have been burnt out of his tent, and
liable to the taunt of havino; been can2:ht in the
snare he had set for others. Or again, had Patroclus
fallen fighting by the side of his chief in the ranks,
there would have been little to distinguish his fate
from that of other unfortunate warriors, nor, conse-
quently, either motive or apology for those subsequent
revulsions of feeling, — grief, shame, remorse, — on the
part of Achilles, so indispensable to the fulness of
his portrait, or for those ebullitions of vindictive
fury against Hector, which give the tone to the
whole subsequent action. One more important be-
nefit resulting from this mode of management was,
the easy and natural opening it afforded for cordial
reconciliation with his fellow chiefs, in the debt of
gratitude imposed on him by their gallant fulfilment
of his own neglected duty, of stemming the adverse
tide of war to rescue the body of his friend.

7. Nowhere, perhaps, has the poet more finely
displayed his knowledge of human nature than in
the adaptation to each other of the characters of his
hero and his hero's friend. Between men of ordinary
tempers, attachments are perhaps more easily ce-
mented where there is a near similarity of disposition :
but with men of high passions or eccentric minds,
the risks of collision are too great to admit of that
harmony essential to the maintenance of strong per-
sonal friendship. A certain contrast is perhaps,
in every case, more favourable to a reciprocal esti-
mate of character than close resemblance. There
cannot therefore be a happier selection of the oppo-
site, but not uncongenial qualities which were here
to be exhibited in such harmonious conjunction.

Ch. VI. §7. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACUILLKS. 287

AmorifT the varieties of heroic character shadowed
forth in the Ihad, the virtues for which Patrochis
was especially distinguished were, benevolence, ten-
derness of heart, and aniial)le manners.^ This is the
disposition which experience shows to be alone or
chiefly calculated to secure the affections, or influ-
ence the mind, of such a being as Achilles. Vet,
even under these favourable conditions, the Thessa-
lian hero's impetuosity of temperament scarcely ad-
mitted a very cordial bond of union with an equal.
It was necessary therefore that the relation between
them, without involving any servile subjection,
should partake of that between patron and client, or
chieftain and vassal. Menoetius the father of Patro-
clus was a noble stranger, driven with Jiis only son,
by adverse destiny, from his own country, to seek an
asylum at the court of Peleus. The young refugee
had been educated with Achilles, also an only child,
on the mixed footing of companion and dependant.
He was the elder of the two, and the influence he
liad obtained over his youthful patron by his amiable
qualities w^as such, that the last act of Menoetius, on
sending him forth to the war-, was, in the presence
and with the sanction of Peleus, to charge him with
the duty of moderating the dangerous ardour of the
jMyrmidon prince's temper. Friendship indeed were
l)ut a feeble term to express the feelings entertained
by Achilles towards his beloved comrade, whom he
"honoured equal to his own soul." In the hero of
the Iliad, the tender like the terrible passions re-
quired to be made up of more than ordinary ingre-
dients ; and in the fulness of his affection were thus

1 XVI. 2 S(i., XVII. G71., XIX. -iH-i— 300. ' xi. 785.

288

HOMEE. ILIAD.

Book II.

■Revulsion
of feeling.
Grief and
remorse of
Achilles.

united, personal respect, fraternal love, and reverence
for the will of a parent whom lie was destined never
again to see.

8. The companion in arms who occupied the next
place to Patroclus in his esteem is selected to convey
the fatal intelligence. It is abruptly communicated.
Artificial breaking of bad news were little in the
spirit of the true heroic minstrelsy. The violence of
the transition is more judiciously obviated by repre-
senting Achilles, before the arrival of Antilochus, as
already foreboding the truth, from certain appear-
ances in the battle as viewed from the rampart.^ The
description of the effect produced by its fall an-
nouncement is of the last degree of splendour. After
the first paroxysms of grief, those reflexions on his
late conduct, formerly excluded by the excitement
of other passions, press on him with terrific force.
The fidl conviction how recklessly he had exposed
his friend, deprived of his protecting arm, to the
fury of an enemy appointed as the instrument of his
own wrath against the whole Hellenic host, now
flashes upon his mind. Now was the time to re-
member, that, so long as he maintained his purpose
of absenting himself from the field, the gods had at
his own request decreed victory to Hector, rout and
slaughter to the Greeks. No exception had been
made in favour of Patroclus. Now was the time
to curse that blind indulgence of his selfish pride
which had blunted all the more generous affections
of his nature. The bitterness of his soul, harassed
by these tormenting thoughts, at length finds vent
in language, which could anything contribute to
ennoble, it would be its having been deemed worthy

* XVIII. 6. sqq.

Ch. VI. § 8. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACHILLES. 28})

of citation amonn^ the last words of Socrates, as trans-
mitted bv Plato. ^

No less striking is the transition, in ]iis dialogue
witli liis niotlier, from remorse to the tliirst of
vengeance, and of nduit, amid all his mental vicissi-
tudes, is never lost sight of, fresh glory to be ac-
quired in its exaction. The succeeding scenes are so
many new illustrations of other traits of grandeur
in his character. His simple appearance on the ram-
parts, uttering his shout of war, si)reads rout and
panic through the Trojan host. In his frank recon-
ciliation with Agamemnon his native generosity
shines forth unsullied. Xo studied attempt to main-
tain dignity or exact terms. Apologies unheeded,
gifts disregarded ; everything at once forgotten and
forgiven. The ensuing books at length exhibit the
mighty hero on the field of battle, when dupiter
himself pronounces divine interference necessary to
balance the contest ; and the gods are despatched in
a body, to guard lest the impetuosity of his prowess
should violate the decrees of fate by the premature
sack of the city.

His ferocious treatment of the corpse of Hector Ferocity of
cannot but offend, as referred to the modern standard ^"^'^^''^
of humanity. The heroic age however must be
judged by its own moral laws. Ketributive ven-
geance on the dead, as well as the living, was a
duty inculcated by the religion of those barbarous
times, which not only taught that evil inflicted
on the author of evil was a solace to the injured
man, but made the welfare of the soul after deatii
dependant on the fate of the body from which it
had separated. Hence a denial of the rites deemed

' xvm. 98.; conf. Tlat. Ap. Soc. p. 28. v.
VOL. I. U

290

HOMER. ILIAD.

Book II.

Gentler
features of
his charac-
ter. Inter-
view with
Priam.

essential to the soul's admission into the more favoured
regions of the lower world, was a cruel punishment
to the wanderer on the dreary shores of the infernal
river. The pathetic complaint of the ghost of Pa-
troclus to Achilles, of but a brief postponement of his
own obsequies^, shows how efficacious their refusal
to the remains of his destroyer must have been in
satiating the thirst of revenge, which, even after
death, was supposed to torment the dwellers in
Plades. Hence, before yielding up the body of Hector
to Priam, Achilles asks pardon of Patroclus for even
this partial cession of his just rights of retribution.-
The corpse of Patroclus had also, it must be re-
membered, been insulted, stripped, and mutilated, by
this very Hector, and was destined, had it remained
in his power, to usage similar to that now inflicted
on his own.^ Such being the primitive Pagan law
of retributive equity, the extent to which the poet
has here called it into action was essential to his
conception of the character of Achilles, in whom no
aifection, amiable or the reverse, could exist but in
overpowering excess. The same apology extends
to his other outbreaks of vindictive fury ; to the
slaughter of the twelve human victims on the pile
of his friend, and the refusal of quarter to his
prisoners. This latter suspension of his usual humane
rule of conduct is, also, pointedly ascribed by himself
to the obligations of vengeance imposed on him by
the fate of Patroclus.'*

9. The funeral games usher in an agreeable change.
Soothed by the fulfilment of his duties of mourner,
he appears, as director of the festivit}^, adorned by
all the gentler graces of courtesy and humanity, as

XXIII. G9. - XXIV. 592. ^ xvii. 125. sqq. * xxi. 100.

Cii. Vr. §9. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ACIIILLKS. 2^)1

displayed more especially in the marked respect, or
even reverence, of his manner towards Agamemnon,
llis interview witli Priam elicits traits of a still
nobler order. The obligations both of vengeance
and friendship had now been amply satisfied. Pa-
troclus might exult among his companions in the
shades, in the glory of his passage from the upper
world; and a twelve days' interval liad relaxed the
intensity of his own feelings. At this juncture, the
venerable Priam suddenly appears before liim as a
suppliant for the body of his son ; and the occasion
is seized by the poet for placing the keystone to tliis
model of heroic perfection. That stern bosom, lately
so inflexible by any influence but its own fierce
passions, now melts with pity for an aged parent
worn down by domestic and public calamity, and
with admiration for the heroism wliich impelled liim,
alone, through the dangers of a Myrmidon camp, into
the presence of an enemy whose hands were still red
with the blood of his children. Yet even liere, in
the performance of the humanest duties, the diu'ker
characteristics of the hero's nature are finely pre-
served. When Priam, emboldened by his unexpected
kindness, having obtained so mucli more than he had
reason to hope, ventures to insist on more than was
reasonable to demand, to exact the promised boon on
his own terms rather than receive it on those of the
donor, both he and we are reminded of the former
Achilles, by the terrible thongli momentary change
of tone, in which he warns the trembling old man to
beware, while profiting by the generosity of the lion,
lest he should rouse its fury.'

And here we part with Acliilles, at tlie moment

' XXIV. 559. sqq.
i: 2

292 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

best calculated to exalt and purify our impression of
his character. We had accompanied him through
the effervescence, undulations, and final subsidence of
his stormy passions. We now leave him in repose,
and under the full influence of the more amiable
affections : while our admiration of his great qualities
is chastened by the reflection, that, within a few short
days, the mighty being in whom they were united
was himself to be suddenly cut off in the full vigour
of their exercise,

" et de tarn raagno restaret Achille,
Nescio quid, parvam quod non bene compleat urnam."

The frequent and touching allusions, interspersed
throughout the Iliad, to the speedy termination of its
hero's course, and the moral on the vanity of human
life which thev inculcate, are amonor the finest evi-
dences of the spirit of ethic unity by which the
whole framework of the noem is animated.
Moral 10. This iudissoluble connexion between the genius

tendency of of the entire poem and of its protagonist, while con-
the Iliad, stitutiug the fundamental characteristic of the Iliad,
involves also certain collateral peculiarities in its
bond of epic unity, as compared with other standard
works of its class. The action of all the remaining
more celebrated productions of the epic muse may
be described as directed towards their main point of
interest ; that of the Iliad is concentrated around it.
In the Odyssey the restoration of Ulysses to his
home and royal authority, in the iEneid the esta-
blishment of the Trojan dominion in Latiuin, in the
Jerusalem the reconquest of the Holy Sepulchre, in
the Paradise Lost the fall of our first parents, offer
each a distinct historical object, on which the action
is from the first steadily advancing, by however

Cii. \J. § 10. UNITY OF Tin: ACTION. '2'J'.]

(ortuous a course. In tlie Iliad no similar object can
be discovered. Although the limits of the action arc
as clearly marked out as in any of the above cases,
yet its progress cannot be said to have in view, nor
does its conclusion involve, any distinct hislurical
consummation. The fall of Troy, the grand catastro-
phe of the Avliole train of events celebrated in the p(jem,
is extraneous to its own narrative. As little does
the reconciliation of the chiefs, or the death of Hector,
form its definitive scope. The selection, therefore, of
this particular series of events was owing obviously
to its moral, rather than its historical importance ;
to the opportunities it afforded lor portraying the
great qualities of one extraordinary character, with
the conception of which the poet's mind was teeming.
The genius of the Iliad, consequentl}', is superior to
that by which those other heroic poems are animated,
in so far as the mind of man, in all the depth and
variety of its passions and affections, is a more
interesting object of study than the vicissitudes of
human destiny or worldly adventure.

The term floral, which, owing to the poverty of this
branch of our ethical vocabulary, has here been used
in its wider sense, to distinguish the inner intellectual
desiun from the external or historical faets of the
poem, must not be understood to indicate, as it might
according to its more familiar im})oi-t, any of that
formal didactic spirit Avhich frequently ])crvades the
epic compositions of civilised ages. There is nothing
of this tendency in the "moral" element of the
Iliad. But although the main scope of the epic
muse is rather to entertain by the description of
great events or remarkable characters, than to
illustrate speculative ethic doctrines, still, as those

V 3

294 HOMEK. ILIAD. Book II.

descriptions must more or less act on the moral
feelings, it is at least desirable that the impression
made should be beneficial rather than mischievous.
There is, besides, a natural aversion in the human
mind to contemplate evil triumphant and virtue
degraded, which renders such exhibitions offensive
to the taste as well as the understanding, and in so
far injurious to the poetical as well as the ethic spirit
of works of imagination. In respect to this just
amount of didactic propriety, the Iliad, both in the
general scheme and the details of its action, well sus-
tains its superiority of character. Each of the actors
in the ruling transaction of the poem, Achilles and
Agamemnon, are in their respective mode and degree
in the wrong. Each is reduced, by the disasters
consequent on his error, to bitter repentance and
humiliation. The treachery of Pandarus is the im-
mediate cause of his own death. He is the first
hero of note slain in the engagement which it was
the special object of that treachery to bring on. Of
the two great nations engaged in the war, the Greeks
were the hostile invaders ; but their cause is based
on justice, and we therefore readily sympathise with
the poet's anticipation of their ultimate success. On
the other hand, amid our concern for the cruel fate
of the amiable Hector, and the grief of his desolate
family, the reflexion that they are all more or less
accomplices in the outrages of Paris and Pandarus,
forces us to acknowledge the hand of retributive
justice in the infliction of the scourge. Helen is
represented as unhappy in her adulterous state, often
brooding mournfully over the past^, and exposed to
mortification and slight even from her paramour's

1 III. 139. 173., VI. 345. sqq., xxiv. 764.

Cu. VI. § 10. UNITV Ul-' Tin: ACTK^X. 205

kinsfolk.^ Paris himself is exliibited as an object oi"
dislike and contempt, botli to liis own countrymen
and the Greeks ; and although he escapes death 1)V
the hand of Menclaus, Ave are Avarned tliat his linal
punishment is at hand.

Tliis excellence of Homer will appear the more contnwtof
remarkable, as contrasted with thu striking infe- ^'"'^ ^■''^""''•
riority of his most distinguished successor in regard
to the same important feature, amid the lull light
of ethic science and pliilosophy. The hero of the
-/Eneid is held up by its author as a model of piety
and virtue. But how sadly do we miss that harmony
between the dramatic and the descriptive elements of
the poem, so beautifully maintained in the Iliad! In
all the principal transactions in which ^Eneas is
engaged, his real character and conduct are in open
conflict with Virgil's description. In his connexion
with Dido, if he be supposed to have had no ulterior
object in view, he must be condemned as a heartless
sensualist. If, as the poet implies, that connexion
Avas formed under the faith of a virtual marriage, he
becomes a perjured adulterer ; while his cold solemn
indifference to the misery caused by his cruel and
ungrateful treatment of an amiable and confiding
female is odious in the last degree. His invasion of
Italy is an act of open usurpation and outrage. His
arrival on the coast spreads discord and bloodshed
among the previously happy tribes <>f tliat country.
A father forces his daughter to violate lier j)lighted
truth, a motlier is driven to suicide l)y the evils
accumulated on her fiimily and nation. .Ml our
[)artialities ought to be on the side, not of the hero
whose cause we are called on to espouse, and which

' -Viiv. 7(38. s<|«|.
V 4

296 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

is crowned with success, but on that of his adversary.
The only palliation Avhich can be suggested for these
moral blemishes of the ^neid, the divine authority
under which the hero acts, tends, if rightly estimated,
but to aggravate the offence, by exhibiting not only
weak humanity, but the Deity himself as the patron
of injustice and oppression.
Ampiiflca- 11. Ncxt to tlicse higher features of poetical ex-
suttject. ^ cellence in the composition of the Iliad, the property
which demands attention is, the equable perspicuity
of its narrative. It is perhaps the only epic poem
of great length and variety of adventure, which
can be read through without the consciousness of any
such breaks or interruptions of the natural course of
events, as to require, from time to time, a certain
effort to revive impressions of former transactions,
requisite to the full understanding of those in which
we are engaged. The action pursues one continuous
course, unentangled by either side plots, anticipations,
or retrospective narratives, involving abrupt transi-
tions from one branch of subject to another. In the
Odyssey, a work of less dignified order, the poet has
followed a different method, and apparently sought
to increase its interest by the same multiplicity of
events and complexity of arrangement which he
avoids in the Iliad. The example of the former work
has been preferred by his successors, none of whom
have aspired to the more simple concentrated unity
which distinguishes his great masterpiece. Such
scantiness however of fundamental materials, re-
quired, in order to secure variety and spirit to the
narrative, a proportional richness in that subordinate
class of incident or descriptive detail which may be
comprehended under the general term of Amplifi-

Cii. VI. §11. UNITY OF Tin: ACTION. EriSODES. 207

cation. This subsidiary element ot" tlie action may
here be considered as of two t:inds, the first of -wliich
consists in the mere extension of the general narrative
of the poem ; the second is that i)ecLdiar species of
accessory matter familiarh' termed Episode,

The epic poet of Homer's day Mas also tlic popular
historian. His duty Avas to embody the events lie
celebrated in sucli a form as should secure them a
permanent hold on the national sympathies. C)no
effective mode, therefore, of varying the course of a
naturally limited subject Avould be, to replenish it
with collateral notices of men or events of personal
interest to the audience. Such is the cataloiiue of
forces, offering a concise summary of Greek geogra-
phy and family history. Such are the genealogies,
and tales of old heroic exploit, interspersed here and
there as opportunity occurred. Hence too the mim-
ber and duration of the battles, securing to so many
different heroes a prominent share in the achieve-
ments of this great national war.

As a general rule, these excursions tend as much
to adorn as to varv the narrative. At times how-
ever it must be allowed that the poet on such occa-
sions, according to the familiar proverb, inclines to
slumber, and wanders into trivialities of action or
dialogue well calculated to produce a similar disposi-
tion on the part of his readers. As an example may
be adduced the long colloquy of Idomeneus, first
with the god Neptune afterwards with his own
esquire Meriones*, explaining the motives wliicli had
induced those two Cretan heroes temporarily to (piit
the field, and describing the quantity and proper dis-
posal of the arms and acct>utrements stored up in

' xiu. 219. hi{.

Episodes.

298 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

their quarters. The oratory of Nestor, the poet's
favourite mouthpiece of heroic tradition, though al-
ways in good keeping with his character, is also
perhaps at times unduly discursive.

The foregoing examples belong cliiefly to the class
Definition of amplification above characterised as the extension
of the general course of the narrative. The most
important class however is that comprised under the
head of Episode. This term in the old critical vo-
cabulary had a wider import than now familiarly
attaches to it. Aristotle^ seems to extend it to
every species of circumstantial detail beyond the
fundamental facts of the story, in his well known
definition of the action of the Odyssey : "A man,
after having been many years absent from his home,
a solitary wanderer and persecuted by Neptune,
while his goods are plundered and his family op-
pressed by his wife's suitors, at length returns, alone
and in distressed condition ; when discovering him-
self to a few friends, he succeeds, with their aid, and
without personal loss or damage, in destroying his
enemies. This forms the proper subject of the poem,
the remainder is but episode." According to this
definition the phrase would comprehend a large
portion of every epic poem, and of the Iliad more
especially. It will here be taken in the more limited
signification which it usually bears in the language
of modern criticism, as applicable to such portions of
the text as could not only be omitted without a
serious breach of continuity in the principal action,
but themselves possess such a subordinate degree of
integrit}^, that, if recited alone, they would constitute
a more or less distinct body of epic narrative. The

1 De Art. Poet, xviii.

Cii. Vr. § 12. UNITY OF THE ACTION. KPISODKS. 2'.»D

most important episodes of this class in the Iliad
are: the visit of Hector to Troy in the sixth book;
the Dolonea, or midnight expedition of Ulysses and
Dioined, in the tenth ; the description of tlie Shield
of Achilles ; the Funeral Games ; the dialogues be-
tween Priam and Helen in tiie third book, Diomed
and Glaucus in the sixth, and ..-Eneas and Achilles in
the twenty-first.

12. Episodes, in this narrower sense, admit of a chunuur-
further distinction of character, founded on their nomtr*
greater or less coherence Avith the principal subject, ^p'*"*^^"*-
The Dolonea, for example, and the Funeral Games,
though not indispensable, are continuous portions of
the main narrative ; the address of Glaucus to Diomed,
andof ^Eneasto Achilles, are occupied with matter alto-
gether extraneous to it. The episodes of this latter
class in the Iliad arc comparatively brief. Here we have
another proof of the poet's judgment. The funda-
mental law for the use of all such accessaries is, that
they should offer no unseasonable interruption to the
main subject. Their length therefore should, as a
general rule, be regulated by their degree of con-
nexion with it. Wherever they seriously divert at-
tention from it, they cannot with propriety be so
freely prolonged, as when they merely extend and
vary its natural course.

The poet's method of introducing his episodes, also
illustrates in a curious manner his tact in the dra-
matic department of his art. AVIiere, for example, one
or more heroes are despatched on some commission,
to be executed at a certain distance of time or place,
the fulfilment of their task is not, as a general rule,
immediately described. A certain interval is allowed
them for reaching the appointed scene of action,

300 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

which interval is dramatised, as it were, either by a
temporary continuation of the previous narrative, or
by fixing attention for a while on some new trans-
action, at the close of which the further account of
the mission is resumed. The examples of this mode
of management, which extends also to other portions
of the text besides episodes in the proper sense, offer,
in the closeness of their parallel, no unimportant evi-
dence of unity of workmanship. In the heat of the
battle called the " Prowess of Diomed," Hector is sent
by the seer Helenus with instructions to the Trojan
matrons to propitiate the aid of Minerva. He sets out
for the city, and the interval necessary for his journey
was to be made good. The description of tlie battle
might for this purpose have been continued. In this
way however, owing to the sameness of the oc-
currences, we should have remained comparatively
stationary. As a more effectual mode of preventing
time from standing still, the hero whose valour was
the cause of the mission, is engaged in a new variety
of chivalrous adventure, supplying one of the most
interesting pieces of family history in the whole cycle
of Hellenic tradition.^ At the conclusion of the tale
we rejoin Hector, already arrived at the gate of the
city.

On the mission of the heralds for Priam, to ratify
the conditions of single combat between Paris and
Menelaus, the interval is similarly made good by the
dialogue on the city walls, an episode of nearly as
distinct character as the dialogue between Diomed
and Glaucus.

In the first book Ulysses, having been appointed
to restore Chryseis to her father, prepares his vessel

^ VI. 119. sqq.

Ch. VI. §12. UNITY OF THE ACTION. EPISODES. 301

and crew, and sets sail. Tlie poet tlicn leaves liim
to pursue his voyage, resumes for a wliilc the affairs
of the camp, and then, rejoining liim ah'eady arrived
at Chrysa, completes the account of tlie mission.

In the seventeenth book Antilochus is despatclied
from the field of battle to the camp, to announce tlie
death of Patroclus to Achilles. The adventures of
the battle are then continued to the conclusion of
the canto, and at the commencement of the next
the messenger is found already at the tent of the
j\Iyrmidon chief.

In the eighteenth book, Thetis, after promising to
procure from Vulcan a new suit of armour for her
son, is dismissed on her journey to Olympus. The
poet then reverts to the transactions of the camp,
and, after a proper interval, rejoins Thetis at the
residence of the god.

The concise simplicity of the terms in which the
subject, in each case, is relinquished or resumed,
gives additional point to the parallel :

VI. IIG. cog oiOOL <^u)vr,rrag UTri^r, xof>'j^oe.io7>.os "Kxrcu^ . . .
^41- Episode of Dionied and Glaucus during 121 lines.
23". ' iLHrwf/ o' coV "Xxaias rs TruT^ag xa) (^r^yov 7xav£v.

iir. llG. ' hlxrcu^ o\ Trpor] cIttd o'jco xr^yjxag e — su-s'^. . .
^^^^' Episode of Priam and Helen during 129 lines.
243. xr^o'jxzg cuvoL a.<n\t Sz<x}> ^ic/dv oc>xia —iTra.

I. 312. ol ix\v STTtir aua^avTsg STrirr'Xsov 'jyc^a xh^sitOa . .
Transactions in the camp during 1 18 lines.

a'jTa:> Uo-jo-asug
430. eg 'Kc'-jfrr/^ Txavrv a; cov Irir/./ Ixaroa/Sr^v.

xvii. 700. Tov IJ.Z)/ f}axy>yj.r,'jTri. ToOig s^s^ov ex ToXs'jUOiO . . .
Continuation of combat during 63 lines.

Virgil.

302 HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

xvin. 2. ^AvTi\o^og 6 'A^/Xvji" vrooag ra^hg oiy/sTiog

148. TVjV [xkv Sep OuXv[X7rovos TroOsg (psoov . . .
Transactions in the camp during 220 lines.

369. 'li(^al(rTou 8' i'^avs ^6[xov Sing aoyupoTTS^a..^

The Odyssey^ contains examples of the same
method: but as, in that poem, the principal ad-
ventures are more numerous, and the scene more
widely shifted in the natural course of the action,
the dramatic eifect is less remarkable.
Contrast of 13. Of cpisodcs Standing in closer connexion with
the main subject, the chief requisites are that they
should be suggested by the natural train of the nar-
rative, and not rudely interrupt any important crisis
of the principal action. With these conditions, they
may, without detriment to epic unity, be prolonged
to a far greater extent than those of the other more
independant class. The longest episodes of this de-
scription in the Iliad are the "Dolonea" (expe-
dition of Diomed and Ulysses), and the Funeral
Games. The excellence of the Greek poet's art will
here best appear from a comparison with parallel
cases in the most admired epic poem of after ages.
It has been already remarked, how naturally the
midnio;ht undertakino* of the two Greek warriors
suggested itself to the mind of a patriotic bard, to
relieve a gloomy interval and cheer the drooping
spirits of their countrymen. In the parallel episode
of Nisus and Euryalus in the Jj^neid^, whatever the
individual merits of its composition, the servility of
the imitation is unrelieved by any such epic pro-

1 Conf. XV. 405., xvi. 1. - xvi. 341—452. ^ ix. 167.

Cn. VI. §1:1. UNITY OF THE ACTION. EnSODES. 303

])ricty. It not only forces iincxpcctcMlIy into primary
importance two hitherto unknown pcrsoiia«]fcs, but
eniraG-es them in an adventure as devoid of all in (In-
ence on the general action as abortive in its own
object. Attention has also above been drawn to
the poetical propriety, or even necessity, of the
funeral honours bestowed by Achilles on J'atroclus.
The fulfdment of this sacred duty had, ever since
the death of his friend, been anions; the thoughts
uppermost in the hero's mind. It had been solemnly
promised to the shade of Patroclus in their midniglit
interview. Here too nothing is interrupted or in-
terfered with. Victory Avas restored to the Grecian
arms. The Trojans were confined trembling within
their citv walls. The entire action was lod^jed in
gloomy suspense in the hands of xVchille?, for the
express object of condensing our whole interest on
the burning pile of his friend. In the borrowed
episode of the ^Eneid \ the violation of all the rules
of propriety is as palpable as their observance in the
Iliad, .Eneas, released from the obstacles interposed
by Dido to his expedition, sails under divine auspices
direct for Italy. lUit, while avc are anxiously looking
for his arrival at this all important scene of tlie main
action, a storm is suddenly raised and drives liim
back to Sicily ; and for what pui'pose ? To perform
the obsequies of Anchises, who liad died there a year
before on the previous passage of the fleet. This
most important duty luul, therefore, been neglected
at the proper time by Ids "pious" son, to whom it
would, even now, never have occurred but for the
accident of the storm. There could hardly l)c a
more unseasonable interru})tion of the main stream

' Bfx.k V.

304- HOMER. ILIAD. Book II.

of the narrative, or a less justifiable addition to the
author's stock of plagiarisms from his Hellenic
original. These remarks apply, with even greater
force, to the other pair of parallel episodes in the two
poems, descriptive of the armour presented to the
hero of each by their respective mothers. The arms
of Achilles, the gift of the gods to his father, had been
lost, ignominiously stripped from the corpse of Patro-
clus by Hector. This was the event which, next to the
death of his friend, most deeply affected the hero, while
it also deprived him of the power of exacting ven-
geance till the deficiency was supplied. Thetis
therefore most opportunely steps in to procure him
another suit ; and of this occasion the poet avails
himself to introduce a masterpiece of brilliant de-
scription. In the iEneid^, the hero has lost no arms.
He is still in possession of those with which he had
engaged Achilles on the field of Troy, and cut his
way through the Greek host on the last fatal night of
the city, and w^hich were therefore surely equal to
cope with Turnus on the banks of the Tiber. There
is consequently no pretext whatever for his mother's
ofiicious proposal to procure him a fresh suit. The
impropriety and superfluity of this excrescence on
the correct and elaborate Jineid have been, strange to
say, contrasted Avith the aptness and elegance of the
" Shield of Achilles," by the same critics^ who are
most strenuous in stigmatising that beautiful episode
as a spurious supplement, on the ground of its in-
congruity with the main action of the Iliad.

1 VIII. 370.

^ Heyn. not. et Excurs. ad loc. ; conf. Observ. ad II. vol. vii. p. 518. sq.

Ch. vir. §1. THE ILIAD, aciiili.es. 305

CHAP. VII.

nOMER. CUARACTEUS OF Tin. ILI M).

1. SrrrLEMENTART HEM.VRK8 ON THE Cn.V.llACTER OP ACIIII.T.F.S. 2. lll.H

OUATOUY. DEl'LTATION OF AOA31EMXON. — 3. CONS18TKNCV l.N THE KE-

TAIL8 OF IIOMER'8 DELINEATIOX. 4. CHAJIACTEU OK AGAMEMNON. H. 1119

ORATOnr. ATE.. — G. CHARACTER OF DIOMED. 7. HIS ORATORY. 8. CHA-
RACTER OF JIENELACS. r.VR.VLLEL OF THE ODYSSEV. 9. CHARACTER <JF

NESTOR. — 10. HIS ORATORY. 11. CHARACTER OF A.JAX. — 12. HIS ORATORY.

13. DISTINCTIVE FEATURES OF GREEK AND TROJAN NATIONAL CHARACTER.

14. CHARACTER OF PRIAM. ITS DEFECTS. 15. ITS ATRTUE.S. 16. CHA-
RACTER OF HECTOR. 17. HIS ORATORY. — 18. CHARACTER OF jtNEAS

19. CILVRACTER OF HECUBA. FUNER,U. DIRGE OF HECTOR, 20. CHAR.VCTERS

OF PARIS AND HELEN.

1. Consistently with the general phin of this analysis sujipic-
the object of the present chapter is twof(jl(l ; to "'maS
illustrate the characters of the Iliad, and, throuirh •^'' '^*'''':

' O ractor of

them, the origin of the work in wliicli tliey are Achiiics.
delineated. It is proposed therefore first to ofter a
concise sketch of the character of each hero, as
exhibited in his general conduct, and then to trace its
nicer traits of individuality in tlie dramatic details
by which it is shadowed forth.

The heroes who present tliemselves as chief objocts
of attention are, on the side of the Cireeks, Acliillcs,
Agamemnon, Diomed, llys.ses, Menelau.s, Xcstor,
Ajax ; on that of the Trojans, I^riam, Hector, .Knca.s,
Paris, with rli<- three heroines, Hecuba, .Viidromacho,
Helen.

The ireneral view of the character of .Vchilles has,
for reasons already explained, been embodied in the
previous chapter. Among tlie finer traits of the

VOL. I. X

306 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book IT,

portrait, attention will here be cliiefly directed to those
specimens of his poetical oratory in which the vi-
cissitudes of his mental emotions are most power-
fully and graphically displayed. The difficulty which
must always attend the efforts of the literary critic
to convey to others his own impressions of the more
delicate features of peculiarity in the creations of ori-
ginal genius, is greatly relieved in the case of Homer,
by the graphic spirit and precision of the touches by
which those features are delineated. The eloquence
of Achilles is not a mere general expression of ideal
heroism. It identifies itself by certain distinct and
tangible marks, as the oratory of the one individual
Achilles, placed in his mouth by the one individual
Homer. The same generosity, the same haughty
pride, impetuous ardour, and wayward excitability,
already traced in the vicissitudes of his conduct,
find vent in equally wayward, often almost inco-
herent, bursts of eloquence ; in abrupt transitions from
calm to storm, from tenderness to wrath, bespeaking
the corresponding struggles of resentment, remorse,
love, hatred, grief, or compassion, in his bosom.
Much also of the effect here, as in the poet's other
more striking portraits, depends on his management
of that peculiar species of epic mechanism which,
for want of a better title, may be comprised under
the general head of " Homeric commonplace; " where,
often unconsciously, but sometimes with evident
design, certain emphatic modes of expression are
reproduced, the better to mark, or stereotype as it
were, corresponding modes of thought or action.
This important element of Homer's art will here-
after be more closely considered in treating of his
style. Its general nature and value will, however,

Cii. VIT. §2. THE ILIAD. ACHILLES. 3U7

sufficiently appear from the examples about to be
adduced.

2. It is in his address to Agamemnon's deputation, msoratory.
in the ninth book, that the genius of the hero's elo- ofAgamca>
quence is most vividly dispLayed. This Avhole debate """'
is indeed a wonderful specimen of rhetorical as well as
poetical power, perhnps the highest effort of Homer's
dramatic art. The order and dignity with which it is
conducted, the happy allotment to each speaker of his
own characteristic tone and style, and the skill with
Avhich their respective resources of natural oratory are
brought to bear on the momentous question at issue,
are all equally admirable. The harangue of Ulysses
is distinguished by the persuasive eloquence of the
sage, the courtier, and the practised pleader ; that of
Phoenix is the touching, but somewhat diffuse appeal
of the antient guardian to his beloved pupil ; while
Ajax steps in at the close, cutting short the fruitless
negotiation by a blunt expression of sullen resentment
at the stern unforgiving temper of their host. The
address of Achilles himself is one continued struggle
of a proud spirit, to preserve calmness amid a fierce
conflict of passions. So long as the train of his dis-
course is confined to explanation of his own conduct,
it maintains a comparatively equable tenor : but no
sooner does it involve any closer allusion to the author
of his wron":, than his indi^jnation effervesces into
sallies of virulent, almost bewildered invective. It is
this mixture of calmness and impetuosity, of haughty
self-command and fervid agitation, which gives the
tone to the whole speech, subdividing it, by successive
bursts of excited feeling, into clauses or paragraj)hs,
which, rising in pathos to a sort of climax, again
subside into more placid mood, until a fresh recur-
rence of the foruier stimulus.

X 2

308 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

The deputation is received courteously, even af-
fectionately : but neither friendship for its members,
nor the abject submission of Agamemnon, can bend
the sternness of the hero's purpose. Ulysses, the
chief spokesman of the party, obtains a patient hear-
ing. Achilles then, after a gentle taunt at the
studied grace of the Ithacan chief's oratory, declares
his own intention to speak his mind bluntly and
openly, in two remarkable lines which passed into a
proverb against every species of duplicity or artifice :

312.

s^Qoog yap [x.oi xsivog bixcog 'Ai'v)ao Tru'kr^criv,

0^ ^ srspov ]tx£V xsuQfi svi <pps(riv, a?^Xo os sittyj.

As he passes on to stigmatise the weakness and
iniquity of Agamemnon's rule, his language becomes
agitated to incoherence : 3i6.

sTTsi ou7t apoL rig X^F^^ ^^'•'>
[xapvoKT^ai ^rjioKTiv Itt avopam V(o7^s[x\g a\:l'
'ia-t] [xoipa fxevovri xa) si ^aka. rig ttoT^s^i^oi*
ev 6b Irl ri^r, ri^\v xaxog rjSs xa) s(rS7^6g'
xarSav ofxibg o r rtzpyhg (xvr]p, ors TroXka sopycog. . . .

He next recapitulates, in a more tranquil strain of
honest satisfaction, his own disinterested services to
the common cause, contrastino^ them with the easer-
ness of his laggard commander to appropriate their
fruits, under the figure of a parent bird, which fares
ill and stints herself in her efforts to provide for her
helpless nestlings : 323.

cog 6 opvig aTrrrifri vso(r(To7<ri 7rpo(^spr^(ri

(xaa-rax lirei Xt 7\.a^y](Ti^ xaxlog 6 cipa ot 7rs7^zi aurfi^

dig xcCi eyoi . . .

This simile offers a fine example of another power-

Cu. VII. § 2. THE ILIAD. ACHILLES. 309

ful weapon of Homer's poetical rlietoric, the Onomato-
poeia, or adaptation of the sound of words to their sense.
The enij)liatic expression of scorn in the figure,
consists greatly in the succession of low sibilant or
lisping syllables in its more prominent metrical
cadences.

As the train of ideas again touches on sorer points,
the hero's wrath finds vent in a series of abrupt in-
terrogatories, wound up to an electrifying climax of
withering sarcasm: 335.

sy.su 0' uTTo [XQitvou 'A^a/tov

TSf'TTEorSco I ri OS Oz7 7ro7^s[xi!^s[xivai Tocostro'iv
'A^ysiou^ ; Ti 65 y^aov cuvr^yoLysv sv^ao OLyslpa.g
ArpziOrjS ; tj o'j)^ tj7\.svr^g svsjc r^uxoixoio ;
ij ixodvQi <piXsou(r^ a?v0^ou^ y.sfi07raiv avdf^uiTvwv
'A TpsT6a< ; . . . ,

His injunction to the negotiators faithfully to re-
port his answer to their employer, " who had not
dared himself to appear in his presence," brings on
another still fiercer sally of broken invective, termi-
natino; in a scornful dismissal from his thoujihts of so
contemptible an object : 372.

aJiv uvctUjeir^v Itt isiy.svog \

ouO av er aurig

s^a-iTOL^rjiT livis(T(jiv ' uT^ig 3= o'l ! a?v7y.a Ixr^Xo^
sp^irco ' sjc yap eO ^pivag s7Xsro txr^rlsrot. 'Z.v'jg.

From this point his language, resuming and main-
taining to the close a more sober and placid tone, is
seasoned witli moral reflexions on tlie vanity of life
its duration and pursuits, and witli allusions to the
special fatality of his own destiny, all marked by a
simple and impressive melancholy. His final decla-

X 3

310 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

ration to abide by his previous resolve is couched
in cahn and friendly, but peremptory terms.

With the above series of passages may be collated
Ills dialoo^ue with Patroclus in the sixteenth book.^
The same characteristics of his eloquence are there
reproduced, in strikingly parallel forms, in the torrent
of broken sentences with which he passes in review
the disasters of the army, the circumstances of its
defeat, the need of his succour, the speedy change it
would produce, the folly and shame of Agamemnon,
his own triumph 67.

nsx'hlot.Taij •^(jipr\g oXiyr^v sri fxoipav s^ovtsc^
'ApysToj • Tpcocov OS TToXig stt) 7r6i(roL (is(dr}XB
Odfxruvog ' ou yap s^% xopuSog XsixrcroiKri [/.stcottov
iyyuSi 7\.a[j.7roixsurig' toluol pcsu <pBuyovrsg evo(.u7\.ovg
TrXryCSJai/ vbx6(ov

Consistency 3. Lcaviug the Tcadcr to trace for himself, in the
tails of other transactions where Achilles takes the lead, the
same consistent adaptation of his oratory to his cha-
racter, we shall close these extracts with a series of
parallel passages, evincing in a singularly pointed

1 Were we disposed to condemn any portion of tlie Iliad as rhapsodical
interpolation, on the mere ground, in most instances so fallacious, of dis-
crepancy of fact, it would probably be vv. 84 — 86. of this otherwise
brilliant passage. They are not only, in their literal sense, inconsistent
with the transactions in B. ix., but, in the existing context, quite un-
meaning. For what conceivable reason was there why the Greeks should
be willing to restore Briseis after the relief of the camp by Patroclus,
if they had not been willing to purchase the same relief by the same
concession in their previous desperate extremity ? Strike out these three
lines, and vv. 83. and 87. are in perfect harmony. Here again, it seems
probable that some primitive rhapsodist, chiefly conversant with this
subdivision of the poem, has thought fit to complete his own idea of the
hero's present position, by adding the three senseless lines in question.

Homer's
delineation.

Ch. VII. §3. THE ILIAD. ACHILLES. 311

manner the systematic, though pro])ably unconscious
unity, with which the poet is wont to individuahse
his portraits. The texts in question are, where the
hero, when tempted to enUirge on any sore subject,
such as his own injuries, errors, griefs, suddenly
breaks off and dismisses it, as if fearful of being
betrayed into some exhibition of unmanly or queru-
lous irritation. According to the courtesy of Homeric
art already referred to, this abrupt dropping of the
subject is expressed by the same or a closely similar
form of words, recurring in each case in so easy and
spontaneous a manner, that they have never attracted
the attention of a single critic, in illustration of the
genius either of the hero or of the poem. The first
example is from his address to Patroclus, vindicating
his conduct against the charge of unreasonable im-
placability : XVI. 52.

a7\.Xcx. too" alvov a^og xpoiOir^v xa) S'Jixov Ixavsi ' . .
xovpr^v, Tyv apa [xoi ys^ag s^z7^ov uhg 'A^a/tov, ....
rr^v a\f/ sx p^=/pcov ey^iro xf'Siwv ^Ayajxiixvcov ....
aAXa TO, [xsv Trporerv yQai sdcrofJLSv. . . .

The next is from his dialogue with Thetis, when
agonised by remorse : xviii. lor.

cog spig SK re Qscbv %k r avSpcovrcov dyroXoiro,
Hcd '/^oT^og, og r i^srjx? irol^v^povoi. Trsp ^aXsTrr^vai^ .
cog s'xs vuu eyJi'KuirTZV civa.^ dvooihv 'AyaixB'xvcuv. . . .
aXXa xa [xev tt porsTuySoci sd<roixsv dyvu[xsvoi

TTSp,

A third is in his reconciliation with Agamemnon :

XIX. 5G.

W^rpBiOyj, i] ap ri too' uix^OTspoifriv dpsiov
67rAero, <roi xai sfxoi, ors vCot Trsp dyvufxivco xr^c^

X 4

312 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book. n.
Quixo^r'pto spihi [xsvsYiua[xsv sIvshol xovf'rjg

Qoy.ov sv) o-rrjQsfTGTi tplXov ^a[xci(ravrs g dvdyxji.
A fourth is in his consolatory address to Priam :

XXIV. 519.

TTCog erT^rig stt) vriotg 'A^auov sX^lasv oiog

dvopog sg o^Sa,'K[xohg, og toi yroT^iag re Kcci s(rS7\.ovg

uliag i^svdpi^a ; a-ioifjfisiov vu roi r^rop !

su Suixio xaTaxs7(rSo(.i iacoixsv^ d^wixsvoi Trsp. .

Not only is this expressive formula appropriated,
under its several varieties, throughout the twenty-
four books of the Iliad, to Achilles alone, but the
untranslatable phrase Trporeru^Sai^ in which its value
so greatly consists, is limited to the above pas-
sages alone, in the poet's works or in the Greek lan-

Similar in spirit is the scornful interruption of his

invective against Agamemnon in the text already

quoted : ix. 376.

dXig 8e ol ! dlO\ot. exrikog

so^srco' SH yap su ^^svctg, x.r.7^}

Attention must also be directed to the consistent
propriety of the imagery employed in the embellish-

' Further illustration of Homer's deep insight into human nature, and
of his fine tact in exhibiting in words the waywardness of a proud but
generous temper, may be derived from the parallel of a late illustrious
British poet, among whose eccentricities this same haughty petulance
was one of the most conspicuous. The works of Byron, where involving
allusion to the vicissitudes of his own destiny, offer examples of this
abrvipt dismissal of sore subjects, so similar, both in spirit and expression,
to the passages above cited, as almost to appear paraphrases of the woi'ds
of Achilles. See Childe Harold, canto iv. stanzas 7. 52. 133. 164. ; couf.
III. 46.

Cii. VII. §3. THE ILIAD. ACHILLES. 313

ment of the hero's portrait. Recourse has here been
had alone or chiefly to the higher phenomena of the
heavens, and other grand or terrible objects. His
sudden appearance, alone and unarmed, on the
rampart, routing the Trojans by his simple war
shout, is compared, in one of the finest descriptions
of the poem, to a column of smoke ascending from a
beacon fire, lighted as a signal of distress on a dis-
tant island assailed by hostile fleets : xviii. 205.

cug (i or z Kairvog icov s >^ arrrsog aitjzc> iJcriTai,
TTjT^oSev ix vr^(rou rr^v Srjioj aix^i[xd^QVTai^ ....
(vg oLtc ' A^iT^T^Tjog xs(paXrig (rs\ag a/^s'p' txavsv.

Similar is the comparison of the terror which his ap-
pearance on the field spreads through the Trojan lines,
to the smoke of a burning city. The parallel between
the two texts is here as remarkable in the expression
as in the spirit : xxi. 522.

cug 6 OTS xuTTVog kov s\ g ou pavov su ouv IhcIv s i
ol/TTzog alSoixevoio.

As seen by Priam, hot in pursuit of Hector and the

' For this verse Wolf would prefer tlie reading transmitted by an old
commentator, as approved by Aristarchus :

'Q,s 5* Sre irvp iirl ttovtov apnrpeTres cudep' 'lK7]Tai.

The change, even in the face of so high authority, must be pronounced
fatal to the value of the passage. It would not only exclude one of the
noblest i)arts of the figure, but destroy the aptness of the simile. Tallas
had enveloped the hero's head in a cloud, beautifully figured by the
beacon column of smoke, out of which the llame rises. In the readiu" of
Aristarchus the cloud disappears altogether. The metre in the "■enuiiie
text is also, according to Homer's custom, finely adapted by its sonorous
roundness to the grandeur of the object described, a merit to which the
hurried succession of dactyls in the proposed alteration has no claim
whatever.

314 HOMER. CHAKACTERS OF Book II.

routed Trojan host, his destructive ardour and the
splendour of his appearance are jointly illustrated, in
a passage of singular beauty, by the brilliant but
noxious dogstar.^ On other occasions the lustre of
his person, on going forth fully equipped to battle,
is likened to that of the rising sun.

Of the circumstances which unite to make up
the sublimity of the Iliad, one of the most effective
is the vicinity of the scene of action to the sea.
In no case has the poet turned this advantage to
happier account, than in the connexion established
between that grandest of natural objects and the
grandest of his o-^vn creations. Achilles, after his
altercation with Atrides, retiring to nurse his indig-
nation in solitude, " sits alone on the beach, looking
across the dark blue sea." ^ The sea-shore is the
scene of his touchino; interview with the shade
of his friend^, when, after wandering restless the
night long mourning his bereavement, he lies down
oppressed with fatigue, and slumbers on the beach.
In the ensuing solemn dedication to Patroclus of the
locks formerly destined for his native river Spercheiis,
he utters his vow, "looking across the dark blue
ocean." ^ Again when, after his revenge is satiated,
grief and remorse once more predominate in his
breast, starting from his troubled sleep he wanders
disconsolate on the shore. ^ His summons to the
winds to hasten across the Thracian sea, and fan the
sluggish flame of the funeral pile of his friend, while
he watches the midnight progress of the consuming
element, is another sublime trait of mythological

imagery.^

' XXII. 26.

2 I. 349.

3 xxiii. 59.

* XXIII. 143.

* XXIV. 12.

'^ xxiii. 192. sqq

Cn. VII. §4. THE ILIAD. AGAMEMNON. 315

The illustrations with which he seasons his own
eloquence are marked by the same features of dig-
nity and solemnity. Those of the historical class
more especially, are derived from objects of deep
national interest or of remote mythical antiquity.
Such are, in his address to Agamemnon's depu-
tation, the allusions to the power, wealth, and splen-
dour of the Egyptian Thebes, the Pythian sanctuary,
or the ]\Iin3'ean Orchomenus ; such, on other occasions,
his appeals to the dreary but venerable Pelasgic
shrine of Dodona^ ; to the war in heaven, the
hundred-handed Briareus", and to the melancholy
and mysterious fate of Niobe and her children.^

AGAMEMNON.

4. The character of Agamemnon, inferior as it is character
both in moral and poetical dignity, affords a no less
signal example of the poet's skill in this department
of his art than the ideal excellence of Achilles. The
chief of the Pelopidas belongs to that not uncommon
class of persons in whom good and evil, strength and
weakness, are so curiously blended, that their con-
duct seems to depend, as much or more on the ex-
ternal influences to which they may be exposed, than
on their own judgement. Chief of the most powerful
family of Hellenic princes, and commander of the
confederate force in a great national enterj^rise ; of
royal presence, valiant, and skilled in the art of war,
he possessed many of the requisites for the fulfilment
of his high duties. A patriotic anxiety for the wel-
fare of his army is also habitually uppermost in his
breast. But without firmness of purpose or steady
princi[)le, easily elated by good or cast down by

1 XVI. 233. 2 I. 396. sqq. 3 ^xiv. 602. sq.|.

of Aga-
memnon.

31 G HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book 11.

adverse fortune, he is misled by the caprice of either
state of mind into actions, the folly or wickedness of
which, on the first revulsion of feeling, he is himself
the foremost to acknowledge and lament.

At the commencement of the poem, the extremity
to which Troy was reduced, with the subjection of
the surrounding country, placed him in the position
of a conqueror at the head of a victorious army. In
the transactions of the first book accordingly, he
appears a vain-glorious man, deaf to every con-
sideration but his own personal dignity and en-
joyment. Hence his outrageous treatment of the
venerable priest and afflicted parent, and his un-
manly attack on the augur Calchas, each for pre-
suming to interfere with his objects of sensual
indulgence. In the subsequent altercation with
Achilles, whatever his defects of temper or policy,
there is, as has been seen, much to palliate or even
justify his conduct. In the sequel, acting under the
authority of Jupiter, he convenes his councils, and
prepares for the renewal of hostilities, with becoming
dignity : but on the unexpected result of his trial of
the temper of his troops, he is bewildered and power-
less ; and to prevent the complete disorganisation of
the host required the energy and presence of mind
of Ulysses. In the field, down to the disastrous
termination of the second great battle, his bear-
ing is that of the brave and experienced general :
but with his rapid reverse of fortune despair as
rapidly succeeds to confidence. During the afflicting
scenes that follow, our sympathy with his patriotic
anxiety for the national weal is more than counter-
balanced by contempt for his abject humiliation to
the lately contemned Myrmidon chief, and for his

Ch. Vir. § 5. THE ILIAD. AGAMEMNON. 317

dastardly proposal of flight, checked by the spirited
remonstrance of Dionied.^

5. The oratory of Agamemnon is replete, like that Hisoratoiy.
of Achilles, with idiomatic touches vividly expressive ^*'-"-
of his dominant peculiarities. The folly of his first
childish ebullition of offended royalty against the
prophet Calchas, for simply declaring the cause of the
pestilence, stands self-convicted by his own subse-
quent admission that the augur was right, implied in
his offer to deliver up the damsel. Like the pampered
patient, he swalloNvs the nauseous drug but vents his
rao;e on the vial that contained it. Nor can there be
a livelier picture of the effect of a desperate reverse
of fortune on the mind of a vacillating and despond-
ing commander, than his conversation with Nestor
on the night after his first defeat: x. 9i.

l^divsi^ aXXa (xiXsi 7r6Xs[xog xa) xtiOs' ^A^aicov '
alvcug yap Aavacov Trspifjzl^na.' oi)(is iJ.oi i^roo
s[jL7re6ov' d/OC dy^ay^vxTTjUai, Hpa/nr^ oi [xoi 'i^co
(TTrfiBcov BxSpcoTXzi' Tpo^izi. UTTo (pal()t[xa ySiu.

Here however, as in the case of Achilles, the most
striking illustration of unity of poetical conception
consists in a series of parallel passages, offering
similar evidence of Homer's peculiar mode of em-
ploying the mechanical element of his art to indivi-
dualise the portraits of his heroes. Agamemnon has '
just been described as a man not devoid of talent or
generosity, but of ill-regulated mind, liable to be
hurried by the impulse of the moment into actions,
to the folly or crime of which he is keenly alive in
hours of reflexion and repentance. This joint as-

I IX. 27. siitj.

318 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

cendancy of the weak and wicked element of our
nature is expressed in Homer's vocabulary by the
term Ate, and personified under that title as a female
deity. The phrase denotes, in its narrower sense,
Evil or Sin, combined with mental delusion, but
admits of a variety of significations, according to the
degree in which those fundamental ideas may be
modified. Sometimes it indicates calamity produced
by crime or folly ; sometimes vice or delusion with-
out reference to their consequences. As a member
of the poetical Pantheon, Ate is the Evil genius,
satan, or tempter, by whom men, or even gods, are
seduced into actions involving future shame and
remorse. She is, in fact, a type of the prominent
failing of Agamemnon's character. Accordingly, out
of about thirty occasions in which the term occurs
in the Iliad, it has been used no less than twenty-
four with especial reference to his conduct, while of
the remaining examples it has been but rarely, and
quite incidentally, connected with the name of any
other person or object.^ The greater proportion of
cases are in the hero's own appeals to the power
of the demon in palliation of his errors, according to
the practice, so familiar with Homer's warriors, of
fastening the blame of their own misconduct on their
objects of superstitious worship.

^ In connexion with Agamemnon or his affairs, the phrase occurs as a
noun, in i. 412., n. 111., viii. 237., ix. 18. 115. 504, 505. 512., xvi. 274.,
XIX. 88. 91. 126. 129. 136. 270.: as a verb, in viii. 237., ix. 116. 119.,
XIX. 91. 95. 113. 129. 136. In the remaining examples it is used, twice
with reference to the rash valour of Patroclus, xvi. 685. 805., as the
cause of his death ; once in each case respectively, to characterise the
folly, delusion, or vice, of five other persons : Helen, vi. 356. ; Paris,
XXIV. 28.; Phoenix, ix. 537.; Dolon, x. 391. ; Agastrophus, xi. 340. ;
and once in a general sense, xxiv. 480.

Cn. VTT. §5. THE ILIAD. AGAMEMNON. 319

The first example is in the supplication of Achilles
to his mother to intercede with Jove to avenge his
cause, in order " that Agamemnon may be made to
rue: " i. 4i-2.

These lines again occur in the address of Putruclus
to the Myrmidons in the sixteenth book.

In his own harangue to the host, immediately
after the quarrel, Atrides attributes the dehiyed ful-
filment of his hopes to the combined influence of
Jove and Ate: ii. in.

In the eighth book he imputes to the same cause the
ill success of his arms : viii. 236.

In the council convened after his first defeat, he
renews his former complaint in similar terms : and,
on Nestor's assigning his late treatment of Achilles
as the cause of the national calamity, he exclaims, in
a piteous tone of querulous dejection : ix. ii5.

(o yspov, ou Ti t^svOog ifxag drag xaTs\s^ag'

da(r oifXTju^ ouo' aurog dvalvoixar ....

aXX' £7re) daa-d^xTiVy (pf/B(r) T^zuyoiXzr^cri TVidr^cragj

Phoenix, in his intercession for him with Achilles,
palliates his errors and reproves the obduracy of the
Myrmidon chief, in a beautiful allegory, worthy even
of the pure genius of Christian philosophy. The
power of Sin on the human mind is figured by " the
swift and im])etuous Ate, outstripping her attendant

320 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

goddesses of Atonement, who, though feeble, de-
crepid, and squalid, are yet able and ready, when
invoked, to heal the wounds inflicted by their ter-
rible precursor : " ix. 502.

xa) yoip ts Airal s]<ri Aiog xovf>ai (xsyaAoio,
ycoT^ai ts, prjiroLi ts, Trapa^T^coTrig t 6<^Qa7i[X(o '
al bd TS xoci [xsTOTnG-ff "Attis aT^syovcri xiod(r(x.i.
7) §' "At 7} <r9svaprj ts xcu dpTiTros. . . .

But the most curious passage of the series is in
Agamemnon's apologetic address to Achilles, on their
final rconciliation. His only excuse for his conduct
is an appeal to the irresistible power of Ate, as
exercised on the destinies of Jove himself, and to the
parallel between his own case and that of the king
of Olympus : xix. 134.

(og xai sycov,

O'j hvvoi[xrjV XsXaQsVQ' d.Trjg i) 7rp corov aacSrjv.
otXX' sTTs) aao-a/xTjv, xal ^su ipf>sua.g s^sXsto Zsug,
a\{/ sQsXa) apsfTCtJ^ ....

Nor can there be a more spirited contrast than the
contemptuous, though courteous brevity of the
Myrmidon hero's reply to this long-winded harangue
of his crest-fallen commander. In the sequel, how-
ever, Achilles admits the reasonableness of Aga-
memnon's proposal to place the whole blame to the
joint account of Jupiter and Ate : xix. 270.

Z,su TTCCTSpy i] ixeyd'kag OLTCLg dv^f'sa-Gri ol^oKToa I

Here, as in regard to the TrpoTSTu^^ai scl(ro[xsu of
Achilles, the question occurs : whether such consis-
tent unity in the delineation, by so very delicate a

^ The parallel in ix. 119. sq. above cited is here worthy of notice.

Ch. Vlf. § 6. THE ILIAD. UIOJIED. -321

process, of so very peculiar a character, can reasonably
be ascribed to more than a single artist ?

From the epoch when Achilles reappears on the
stao-e, Asramcmnon falls back anion"; the secondary
actors of the poem. Of the more amiable features of
his character the most prominent is his warm
brotherly affection for Menelaus, to which attention
will be directed in our notice of that hero.

DIOMED.

G. Amono; the warriors of the Iliad, Diomed is character

1 • T n / of Diomed.

the one who m general excellence ranks nearest to
Achilles, or even in some respects may be said to
surpass him. The character of Tydides is not indeed
marked by the grander features, moral or physical,
which distiiio'uish the Thessallan chief: but if there is
less to awaken admiration or awe, there is more to
conciliate esteem. As Achilles is the type of ideal
heroism, Diomed is that of military virtue. He may,
indeed, be pronounced a blameless specimen of the
Greek warrior ; and, hence a singular merit in the
delineation of his portrait, is the tact of the poet in
imparting to it such traits of individuality, as to
exclude the insipidity commonly attaching to irre-
proachable excellence in heroes of chivalry. Diomed
is the youngest of the seven leading chiefs ; and his
most prominent feature, next to the energy of his
bearing, is its modesty. AVith a habitual deference
to the maturer judgement of his colleagues, he is yet
always ready, Avith manly frankness, to assert his
opinion Avliere duty requires. Hence he is usually
]Mit forward when any alarming crisis calls for
prompt and bold decision. During the absence of
Achilles he is the soul of every martial achievement,

VOL. I. Y

322 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

until forced by wounds to retire from the field.
Conjointly with Ulysses, he is the special favourite
of Minerva. They are the two heroes who unite, in
the amplest degree, the qualities of which she was
the patroness, valour, discretion, and enterprise.
In every encounter, whether against men or gods,
Diomed under her auspices is successful. He dis-
comfits not only Hector and JEneas, the former on
two occasions, but Mars himself, and is never worsted
or repulsed but by divine interference. When
causelessly rebuked by Agamemnon for an apparent
want of martial zeal, he listens in respectful silence ;
and reprimands his esquire for presuming to retort
on the commander in chief.^ His justification is
better secured by the brilliant lead taken by him in
the ensuing combat. In the sequel, as the critical
turns of fortune demand prowess in the field or
vigour in the council, the services of Diomed seldom
fail to be called into request. In the seventh book^,
when the prolonged silence of the elder chiefs implies
an acquiescence in the dishonourable terms of peace
proposed by Priam, Diomed, by a single pithy remon-
strance, insures their immediate rejection. In the
disastrous flight of the Greeks in the following battle^,
when a " divine panic " spreads through the lines,
extending even to Ajax, Ulysses, and the Atridce,
Diomed, alone exempt from its influence, remains to
succour the aged Nestor, nor can his efforts to stem
the torrent of the victorious enemy be restrained but
by the irresistible arms of Jupiter. When, after the
fatal issue of the same battle, Agamemnon's proposal
to abandon the war appears to meet with the tacit ap-
proval of his fellow- chiefs'*, Diomed, after again vainly

' IV. 401. sqq. ^ 393^ 3 ym. 78,sqq. * ix. 29.

Ch. VIT. § 7. THE ILIAD. DIOMED. 323

waiting till some more aged councillor should have
risen, respectfully but resolutely condemns the
dastardly suggestion. On hearing the result of the
mission to Acliillcs, again a gloomy despondency
paralj'ses the assembly ; again Diomed, after the
customary pause, denounces their pusillanimous de-
pendance on the arm of a single warrior instead of
their own valour. When Xestor proposes the mid-
night expedition to the Trojan camp, the young hero
as usual modestly holds back, to give place to some
more experienced warrior, before devoting himself
to the hazardous enterprise.

7. The language of Diomed is in strict keeping ms oratory,
with his character, brief, simple, and decided. lie
never takes part in the debate but when the judge-
ment of his elders is at fault. He then speaks
concisely and to the point. Among the heroes of
the Iliad there is none, not even Ajax, who does so
much and says so little. His qualities therefore, as
an orator, are shadowed forth as much in the cir-
cumstances by which he is induced to speak, as in
his own eloquence. Even here however the poet
has managed, through his favourite epic mechanism,
strikingly to individualise the style of that eloquence,
by certain characteristic turns of expression, slightly
varied for the occasion, but limited to Diomed alone.
The first example occurs after the humiliating pro-
posal of peace by the Trojan herald : vii. 398.

(og s^Pad ' ol o' a pa. ttclvt sg dnriv syevovro ry icuTrr].

0\f/S 6: Or; 'MzTzBlTTS (O Y} V UyafJoS ^ I [MTi OYj § '

lxr,T dp Tts vuv XTr'iixuT 'A?vc|avOpoio fj£yj(j(j(jD, ....
dig s^^a^'* 01 f) dpa iravr sg sTriayov ullsg'AyaKov,
[xv^ov dyarr (X d^zvoi A/o/xryO£Oj lT7rood[xoi o.

r 2

324 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book IT.

The next is after Agamemnon's suggestion of flight :

IX. 29 — 50.

coi^e^aS^'ol S' oipa7rcx.vrsga.xr]V eyivovro (TKOTrr,^

"Arpsior)^ (Tol Trpaira [xa-^r^froixai a.^pa.hsoVTi, . . .
cog £<^a6i'' ol 8'apci Travrsg STTia^ov uisg'A^aioiV,
jauSov dya(r(roiy.svoi AioiJ.rj^sog i7nroZay.oio.

A third is after the failure of the mission to Achilles :

IX. 693 — 710.

wg et^ad ' ol 6 dpaTrdvrsg axr]V sy suovTo cr kottji^
S'^v 2' dvico i](Tav r sr nqor sg ulsg 'A^ocicSv,
oys OS Ot) [xsrssiTTs parjV ayaoog L\ioy.r}6rig'

'Arpsldrj, xvOicrrs, Siva^ dvdfxov 'Aya/As^avov,
[XT) o<^s7isg 7^i(r(TS(rSai a^u^ova JJTqXstcuva., ....

(og scpab ' 01 a pec Traursg sxYjVT^crav paci Avjs^,
[xd^ov dya(T(rdu.svoi Aioix-J^h sog iTTTrohdixQio.

A fourth is after Nestor's proposal of the midnight
expedition to the Trojan camp : x. 218.

(ti g e ^ ad' ' ol a. p a Trdvrag dxr^v ly sv OVTO (TicoTrr^y
ro7(ri 8s xa) [xstssitts ^otjv dyocSog Aio[xrj^r}g'
NsVrop, s[x orp'jvsi xpadir] xou Sv[xog dyrjvcop . . .
cog sv^a^i'' ol S' eSsT^ov Aio^rjf^s'i 7roX?\.o} STrscrSai.

In each case a dilemna, a pause, a silence ; Diomed
steps forward, by a few concise remarks restores con-
fidence, and his views are applauded and adopted.^

The 8v)v 8' dusco riirav, and the o\{/s oe orj fxsTssiTTs, under
their occasional varieties, are here as exclusively cha-
racteristic of Diomed, as the aXXa rd fxh 7rpoTSTu^S(x.i
sdrrorxzv is of AcliiUes, or the "Arvj of Agamemnon.

^ Conf. XIV. 103. sqq.

Ch. VII. § 8. THE ILIAD. MENELAUS. 325

On the reappearance of Achilles, Diomcd, with
every other hero put forward in the absence ol' the
protagonist, falls into the background. In the games
however he maintains, under the auspices of his
patroness Minerva, his superiority over every com-
petitor in gymnastic achievement.

Any remarks on the character of Ulysses, the hero
who next m point of importance would demand
attention, will be reserved for the analysis of the
Odyssey. In that poem he acts the part of Prota-
gonist. To it consequently we must look for his
entire portrait, of which his appearances in the
Iliad are but supplementary touches. In the fol-
lowing case it will be proper to reverse this order,
and complete the picture presented in the Iliad, by
the additional traits derived from the Odyssey.

MENELAUS.

8. Menelaus unites, but on a smaller scale, the character
valour, modesty, and discretion of Diomed, with the laus.
milder virtues of Patroclus, and with a quickness of
temper and warmth of feeling peculiar to himself.
Although described as inferior in the aggregate of
his warlike accomplishments to the other leading
chiefs^, he yields to none in courage or adventurous
spirit. But the animating principle of his conduct,
which gives the tone to his whole character, is gra-
titude to his fellow-countrymen for their exertions
in his cause, with a painful sense of tlie calamities
which they were doomed to suffer for his sake.
Towards Agamemnon these sentiments, combined with
fraternal love and veneration for his higli rank and
office, produce a devoted attachment to his person,

' VII. ] 04. sq., X. 237. sqi^.
y 3

32G HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

and unqualified deference to his will. Nor is Aga-
memnon less conspicuous for brotherly affection.
This reciprocal feeling forms one of the most agree-
able features in the character of each, and has
furnished the poet with many lively and pathetic
scenes.

The first appearance of Menelaus is in his duel
with Paris. His joyful eagerness for the combat is
here ascribed by himself, rather to the prospect it
offers of terminating the privations of his friends,
than even to his desire of avenging his injuries or
asserting his rights : iii. 97.

[xaTvKTTa yap aTvyog lxa.vsi
6u[xou 6[x6v' (ppovico Ss ^iaxpivSi^[xsvai rj^Yi
'Apysioug xa) Tpfoag ' stts) xaxa. TroXXa TrsTroa-Ss

r/ 5 * .vj 3/ <\

eivsH sfxrjs spiOog

In the disastrous night of the Dolonea the welfare of
those friends is still uppermost in his thoughts : x. 25.

cog 8* axiTiog 'M.sveKaov s^s rpoy.og " ouOs yap ctr'^rto
uTTVog sttI ^T^stpapoKTiv e<$>/^av=, [xiq ri TraSoisv
Apyeioi^ roi di] soev eivsxa ttovauu £9 oypr^v ....

The brotherly affection of Agamenmon is touchingly
displayed in the adventure of the fourth book, when,
supposing his brother's life in danger from the wound
of Pandarus, with his characteristic despondency and
self-reproach he blames himself as the cause of the
fatality: iv. 155 — '169.

<$i/X£ xa(rlyur}Ts, Qdvarov vv roi opxC srafxvoVf

olov 7rpo<TTri(rag ttoo 'A^aicoi/ Tpco(ri [xd^scrSai

aXAct [jLoi alvov d^og (re^sv eVcrsra/, w MsvsTias,

a'/ xe Savfig,

xai xsv sXsy^ia-Tog 7ro7^voi->^iov" Apyog lxoifji.rjV. . . .
The fraternal tenderness of Aaamemnon is also

Cn.Vir. §8. THE ILIAD. MENELAUS. 327

beautifully expressed in his anxiety lest, in compli-
ment to his own royal dignity, Menelaus, though
inferior in martial accomplishment to many other
chiefs, should be selected by Diomed as the comrade
of his midnight adventure.^

The dauntless valour of Menelaus, and his sensi-
tive keenness of temper, are jointly displayed in his
forwardness to accept the challenge of Hector ; his
modesty and good sense are no less conspicuous in
his ready submission to Agamemnon, who, anxious
as well for his brother's safety as the credit of the
Greek arms, urges him to resign the dangerous honour
into abler hands.- On the gloomy night after the
second day's battle, the Spartan chief, roused from
his sleep by sympathy with his brother's disquietude,
and anxiety to share his labours and distresses, rises
and hastens to his side.^ AVhen Nestor, therefore,
taxes jMenelaus with a slackness to support Aga-
memnon^ in his arduous duties, the latter warmly
defends him from the groundless charge, attributing
even his errors to over-regard for his own imperial
person and authority.

After the death of Patroclus, Menelaus takes the
lead in the field, stimulated by a powerful combi-
nation of influences, grief for the loss and gratitude
for the services of so generous a supporter of his
cause, and a sense of the peculiar shame that would
attach to himself should the body of his benefactor
remain in the hands of the enemy. ^ Inspired by
these feelings, he signalises himself so much beyond
his apparent powers, as to have obtained for this
portion of the poem the title of Prowess of Menelaus.

1 X. 240. ; conf. 408. sqq., iii. 213., xvii. 587. - vii. 04—120.

= X. 2.5. ' X. 114—120. sqq. "' xvii. 1. sqq. 92. 564. 671.

T 4

328 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

The brilliancy of Ins conduct secures him the pa-
tronage of Minerva, and the spirit with which she
animates him is illustrated by a figure singularly
adapted to his character and person. He is compared
to a fly, the emblem of boldness and activity apart
from physical strength, which, when repeatedly driven
off by superior force, still nimbly returns nothing
daunted to the attack: xvir. 57i.

](ryavaa. oaxssiv. . . .

In the chariot race with Antilochus, his generous
sense of gratitude again appears, in his reasons for
the frank concession of his acknowledged prize to
his young comrade : xxni. 606.

ou yap Ksv [xs ra^ aK\og av^p 7ra.ps7rsi(rsv 'Ap^auov *
a70\ot. (TV yap dry 7ro7\.X Tra'JBS >cai ttoAX £[xoyr}<rag,
(Tog TB Trarrip ayaSog, xa) aOsX(pBog^ slfvsK e/Ji=7o. . .

Parallel of In the Odysscy these characteristics are sustained
sey. ^^' with a simple unstudied consistency, which speaks
powerfully in favour of the common authorship of the
two poems. The same lively gratitude towards his
companions in arms maintains its ascendant in his
declining years, tempered by melancholy reflexions on
the many that had perished, and on the disasters still
endured by others for his sake. His warm affection
for Agamemnon is now chastened by grief for his
death, which his own capricious fortune had deprived
him of the power either to avert or avenge ; a grief
embittered by the thought, that the day of their
parting had witnessed the only recorded dissension
between them.^ Hence the surprise expressed by

^ Od. IV. 538., III. 136.

Cu. VII. § 8. THE ILIAD. MENELAUS. 329

TelemacliLis to Nestor, on licaring of the fate of
Agamemnon, that ]\Ienelaus should not have appeared
either as his defender or avenger: Od. in. 249.

TrXa^sT sir w^'jpcoTroitg ;

In the sequel when the same Telemachus, as the
guest of Menelaus, admires the splendour of the
Spartan palace, its proprietor offers the following
simple but eloquent tribute to the memory of his
departed friends and brother : Od. iv. 90.
scog ey(o ttbc) Hz7va ttoAuv (ilorov (Tvvaysl^MV
rj7^ct)[xr^v, Tzicog [J.01 dos7\.!psov a.7<7^og sVsC^VcV ....

cog ouTi yaUwv roirros xrsa.TB(r(riv ava.(T(rco

cbv &^:?vOv, TCtirarr^v tts^ syoiv Iv Ocoixa(ri ixoic>av
valsiv^ oj 0' avo^zg (t^joi sixfxsvui^ 01 tot oT^ovto

Tf 1 y /

pojYj ev Sijf/zirj.

AVith this may be compared the description of the
grief which overwhelms him (538. ) when his brother's
murder is predicted to him by Proteus. The an-
nouncement of his Ithacan guest's name elicits
another characteristic burst of generous feeling
towards an old and dear companion in arms : 169.

(V TToVoi ! r; ixoChci 01) (piT^ov dvspog o\og stxov Oio
j'p^sS', 0^ s7vzx' hxs7o 7ro7.iag eixoyr^trzv diSXoug.
xai [Xiv scbr^v sX^o'vra (piy^r^a-sixsv =^op/ov a?^Xajv ....
xat XB 01 "Apys'i vacca tto'X/v xrx) OwuaT srs'j^a. . . .

The contrast between the unity and simplicity of the
poet's delineation of this beautiful character, and the
odious and incongruous features by which it is dis-
figured in tlie works of the other representatives of
the " common epic genius," will be noticed elsewhere.^

' Infra, vol. u. \k 128. 309.

330 HOMER. CHABACTEliS OF Book II.

NESTOR.

Character 9- Tlic character of the Pylian hero, while from
of Nestor. -^^ broaclcr features a more popular spechiien perhaps
of Homer's art than those hitherto considered, is no
less remarkable for delicacy of traits and colouring.

Nestor is the self-satisfied old veteran, dwelling
with garrulous complacency on the glories of the
past and the degeneracy of the present race of
heroes ; assuming, as a matter of course, the superi-
ority of his own wisdom and experience to that of
the existing generation ; omitting no opportunity
of fighting his battles over again ; and swelling his
harangues on these favourite topics with diffuse
historical illustrations derived chiefly from his per-
sonal achievements. Yet these failings are more
than compensated by his good qualities. His pre-
tensions to youthful prowess are well supported by
the valour which adorns his old age. He is as
fearless, if not as active in the field, as the youngest
of his comrades. While inculcating on all occasions
his prior claims to deference in council, he arrogates
no title to dictate or domineer, and readily appreciates
good advice from whatever quarter it may proceed.
Indefatigable in his labours for the public good, he
is throughout cheerful and good humoured, as free
from undue elation as from despondency. Hence,
during the whole series of national reverses, the
unvarying placidity of the hearty old veteran acts
as a sort of counterpoise to the abject humiliation
of the commander in chief, and sheds a friendly ray
of comfort over the general gloom of the camp.

That his real wisdom did not deroo:ate from his
high pretensions is vouched for by the poet's own

Cu. VII. § 10. THE ILIAD. NESTOR. 331

testimony to the substantial value of many of his
suggestions, as expressed in the following recurring
formula :

NsVrojp o'j xa) tt^oVSsv d^l<jTri (^atvsTo ^O'jJ^r,. . . .

Nestor is in fact, throughout, the presiding genius of
the Greek councils. Hence the vision which exhorts
Agamemnon to resume martial operations assumes
the form of Xestor. The council held for considering
the import of that vision is convened at his quarters.
In tlie ensuing assembly he prescribes a mode of
marshalling the troops, adopted by Agamemnon. In
the duel between Ajax and Hector he is intrusted
with the arrangement of the ceremony on the Greek
side. In the sequel he proposes the fortification of
the camp, and gives the plan for its execution. He
urgently inculcates on the troops certain points of
military discipline, as valuable in theory as they were
little observed in practice.^ He is the first who
ventures to press on Agamemnon the necessity of
appeasing Achilles, and selects the commissioners for
the management of that delicate affair. On the same
anxious night he enjoins the posting of the guard
around the camp. The midniglit expedition of
Diomed and Ulysses also originates in Nestor's sug-
gestion, as does the permission obtained by Patroclus
from Achilles to lead forth the Myrmidon troops, on
which hinges the whole subsequent fortune of the

war.

10. The more characteristic peculiarities of the Hisorator>-.
Pylian chief supply some of the liveliest specimens

1 That they should not break the order of the phahinx, in their ardour
ft single out objects of personal encounter ; nor attend to the plunder of
the slain, until victory -was secured over the sui-vivors. iv. 303., vi. 67.

332 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

of the sly satirical humour with which the poet
seasons even the graver portions of his narrative.
The orations of the old hero frequently commence
with that common figure of senile rhetoric, an apo-
strophe to what might be said or thought by others
whose opinions were likely to weigh with his au-
dience ; as in the following parallel passages :

I, 254. w TTOTTOi ! 7} [xiyoi TTEvSos 'A^otit^ocyaiccv Ixavsi'
Tj HSU yrj^rj(rai Ylola^xog Ylpia.[xoio rs rraldss,
aXkoi rs Tpobsg ixiya xsv xs^apolaro Quy-to^
s] (Ti^Coiv roL^s TTOLvra TruSoiaro ^apvaixBVOiiv.

VII. 124. w TTOTTOI ! ^ [xsya TTsuSog 'Ap^aii'^a yaiav Ixavei '
7} x= fxey o][xa)^sis yipcov l7T7TrjXaTcc ITtjXsu^^, . .
robs vvv si TTTcocrcrovrag uip' ' Eijcropi TTavrag

aKo()(Ta.i.

XV. 661. (b (piTvoij dvsfisg scrrs, xoCi alSto QsVS' evi Bu^xco

cb\k(.0'J dvSfiCOTT(OV. . . .

Next follows, if the case be one of distress or diffi-
culty, a lamentation over his own decay of vigour,
but for which, it is implied, a very different turn
might be given to affairs. The justice of these re-
grets is then enforced by a reference to some heroic
adventure, the fortunes of which had hinged on his
youthful prowess. This passage usually commences
with the following expressive poetical formula :

siQ cog 7jl6cooi[xiy joir} Os fxoi s'XTTsdog sir).

These excursions, it is true, may occasionally pro-
voke by their diffuseness : but such is the general
spirit of their narrative, and of the sketches they con-
tain of the men and manners of former times, tha,t
the reader of the present day is as little disposed as

Cu. VIT. § 10. THE ILIAD. NESTOR. 333

the poet's own audienee to grudge the lively old
■warrior tlie full indulgence of his egotistic eloquence.

His tirst speecli\ in which he attempts to smooth
matters between the two angry chiefs, embodies in
more concise limits than usual the prominent points
of his oratory, lie begins by bidding them reflect
on what their enemies tlie Trojans, or their own
friends at home, will think ; reminds them how
much older he is than either of them, and of the
deference he deserves at their hands ; that his youth
had been associated with far better men than the}^,
or than the world had since beheld ; by whom he had
been specially invited to take part in their glorious
exploits, and who had always reverenced his coun-
sels. Yet after asserting these lofty pretensions,
he delivers his opinions with a gentle persuasiveness
which, combined with their own propriety, usually
secures a ready acquiescence.

Among the more satirical touches of the portrait,
may be adduced the busy importance with which he
tutors the deputation to Achilles at the moment of
their departure, as to the proper mode of conducting
their negotiation, " especially Ulysses," whose own un-
assisted discretion in any such case might be presumed
at least equal to that of his Pylian Mentor: ix. 180.

TTsiaav (OS ttsttISqisv d[XDixova YIri7^suoya.

The expressive word at the commencemerit here
vividly reflects the bustling activity witli which the
self-satisfied old sage puts forth to the last moment
his prolific stores of advice, nodding and wliispering
in turn to the members of the commission the sug-
gestions best suited to their respective capacities.

' 1. -254.

334 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

Equally characteristic is the melancholy grandi-
loquence with which, after some long detail of his
3^outhful exploits, he sums up his reminiscences of
the admiration and renown they had procured him :

XI. 159.

ev5' ctvopa xrsivag 7r'j[xaTov T^nroV

iravTsg 8' suysrocovro Sscov Ati', Neo'Topj r avopibv.
cng SOU, SI TTQT sov ys, [xsT av6f>r/.(riv I

and again : xxiii. 632. sq.

£vS' ourig [Moi b[xo7og oLvr^p ysv£T\

wg TTOT sov ! VUV aUTS VSCUTSpOl dvTlOU)VT(OV

spymv roiovTcov ' s[j.e 8s ^pr] yr\pa!i XuypS

TTSldsG-dai, TOTS aUTS IXSTSirpSTTOV 7]p(i)S(T(n, \

He consoles himself with the reflexion that he re-
mains at least superior in council to all his contem-
poraries: IX. 104.

ou yap Tig uoov aWog dixsivovot rouos yorfl-si^
oTov syo) voso), Tjixkv tzoCKoli ip 'in xa) vvv.^

A few additional remarks suggested by the repro-
duction of the Pylian hero's character in the Odyssey
will be reserved for the analysis of that poem.

The character of Phoenix, though but a slight
sketch, offers, in its correspondence and its contrast,
an interesting parallel to that of Nestor. Phoenix
is also an aged Mentor, with similar credit in his
own sphere for wisdom and persuasive oratory. No
less diffuse in his discourse, he is equally fond of
seasoning it with the experience of his early days.
But the same features are presented under different
colours. In Phoenix a grave, even sad composure is
substituted for the hearty self-sufficiency of the Py-
lian chief. His appeals are directed rather to the

' Conf. IV. 324. " Conf. ii. 337.

Cii. Vll. §11. THE ILIAD. AJAX. 335

heart than tlie judgement. The scope of his episo-
dical iUustrations is warning rather than example ;
they are selected not from the merits, but the errors
of his past conduct, and their pernicious consequences.
The whole of his expostulatory address to Achilles
in the deputation scene, is marked by a mild melan-
choly suavity of tone and sentiment, finely contrasted
with the complacency and good-humoured censorious-
ness of Nestor's harangues on similar occasions.

AJAX.

11. Ajax is the model of a sturdy man of war, and character
little or nothing more. With colossal stature and ^ '^^''^'
Herculean strength he combines experience of the
mechanical part of a soldier's duty, and a large share
of tliat species of courage which consists in a natural
insensibility to danger and confidence in his own
prowess. His services consist, accordingl}^, less in
Ijrilliant achievement than in stemming the adverse
tide of war by his physical force. Hence, although
described in general terms ^ as both in personal ap-
pearance and valour the champion next in rank to
Achilles, and as the warrior on whose exertions the
soldiery at large chiefly relied in disastrous emergen-
cies, he is greatly surpassed in the more excellent
points of military virtue by other heroes, especially
by Diomed. In the games, when successively pitted
against that hero, Ulysses, and Polypoetes, in the
broadsword, wrestling, and the disk, tlie eftbrts of
his ponderous strength are in each case bafllcd by
the activity and tact of his antagonists. He is also
as susceptible as the meanest soldier, of that super-
stitious panic^ which any supposed evil omen is apt

' XVII. 279. alibi. ' xi. .-344. alibi.

336 HOMER. CnARACTEllS OF Book II.

to Spread tliroiigli the ranks. Achilles and Diomed
are indeed the only heroes entirely exempt from this
weakness. It is hence with some consistency that to
Ajax is assigned no separate " Aristea," or " Prowess."
While frequently described and put forward as the
" rampart " or "bulwark"^ of the host, his services, as
indicated by these figures, are of the passive rather
than active kind. Here again it is not probably
accidental, that while, in order to bring about the
Trojan triumph Avith least possible detriment to the
national honour, all the other first rate warriors,
Agamemnon, Diomed, and Ulysses, are disabled in
the early part of the battle in which Patroclus fell,
Ajax is preserved unhurt to stem the advance of the
enemy.

Even this, on first view, rude and ordinary cha-
racter, is tempered with fine shades of moral pecu-
liarity. The innate generosity of the heroic genius,
in place of the ardent enthusiasm of Achilles, the
energy of Diomed, or the sensitive quickness of
Menelaus, is combined in Ajax with a morbid sensi-
bility to personal honour. This feature is observable
even in the Iliad, where comparatively little oppor-
tunity exists for its display ; but is brought out more
prominently in the Odyssey, and constitutes the
groundwork of his character as reproduced in the
tragic drama. Intellectually considered Ajax is the
dullest of the heroes. Hence, while his rank and
services secure him a seat in the select council of
Agamemnon, he is with much propriety excluded
from all part in its debates. He owes his appoint-
ment as one of the mission to Achilles, less, evi-
dently, to any personal fitness for so delicate an

^ epKos 'AxaitJj', passim.

Cu. Vir. § 12. THE ILIAD. AJAX. 337

office, than to his character as representative of the
sentiments and chiims of the mass, or common sol-
diery of the host.

12. One of the happiest similes in the Iliad is that ii is oratory,
where Ajax, slowly and suUeidy retreating as he
attempts alone to stem tlie advance of the Trojans, is
compared to an ass driven from a corn-field by the
cudgels of a troop of urchins, and leisurely finisliing
his meal as he retires amid the blows of his l»uiiy
assailants.^ Ilis own character and that of his
oratory are jointly shadowed forth in the epitliets
(douyuiog and afxaprosTriqg -, applied to him by Hector,
and to him alone throughout the poem. The first
jointly expresses his gigantic strength, and the
boastincr self-confidence in that attribute to which he
frequently gives utterance : for Ajax, consistently
with the mixture of coarseness and sincerity in his
character, was, like various other warriors of better
judgment, somewhat of a braggart. Here again may
be remarked how nicely the poet has adapted to the
genius of his heroes, the language through which
each indulges in this propensity. Notliing can be
more different than the garrulous complacency of
JS^estor's self-commendatory harangues, the blustering
vain-glory of Hector, and the turgid " who's afraid "
simplicity of the few big words in which Ajax ex-
presses his sense of his own prowess. His address
to Hector before their single combat may be taken as
an example : vii. 196.^

eV = l OiJTlVCC Zzl^il^zV SfXTTT^S'

o'j yu.0 Tiii [xs ^Iri ys sxcov dexovra fjir^rai^

O'JOz [XzV lOOzir^ ' STTzl ryjO =lXz VT^lOOt. y O'JTCOg

sXttoixcii sv ^a'AOLixivi yzvity^Jai re r^a:^iixzv ts !
1 XI. 558. ^- XIII. 824. ^ Qy^f. vii. 226., xiii. 76. 810. alibi.

VOL. I. Z

338 jMER. CHAEACTERS of Book. II.

His style of oratory also justifies the other epithet of
aixaprosTn^g, or " blunderer," ironically bestowed on
hini by the Trojan chief. His speeches, while brief
and blunt, are often deficient both in argument and
consistency. In his address to Achilles ^, for example,
as a member of Agamemnon's deputation, he com-
mences, with an apparent intention of abruptly
closing the debate, by denouncing the heartless ob-
duracy of their host and the fruitlessness of further
remonstrance : yet, after laying some stress on the
unreasonableness of the hero, who " while deprived
of but one mistress refuses a compensation of seven,"
he winds up in the very tone of supplication which
he had just before condemned in his companions.
The shorter specimens of his oratory are chiefly ex-
hortations to his men, or prayers for divine aid
in critical moments of the combat. The longest
concludes with his celebrated supplication to Jupiter
to remove the preternatural darkness which shrouded
the battle, " that, if doomed to destruction, they
might at least have the satisfaction of perishing by
daylight." ^ Longinus has overrated this figure, in
classing it with the sublimer passagCvS of Homer.
It partakes of the character of -what, in modern
criticism, is called a conceit ; though a noble one, no
doubt, and marked b}^ that simple species of dignity
to be expected in the poetical conceptions of Ajax.
Parallel of lu ordcr to appreciate the consistent maintenance
of this hero's character as reproduced in the Odyssey,
we must bear in mind the altered circumstances
under which he appears. His presence in the in-
fernal region was the result of his own act of wounded
pride, consequent on his defeat by Ulysses in the

' IX. 624. 2 XVII. 645.

:he Odys
jey,

Ch. Vn. § 13. THE ILIAD. TROJANS. 339

competition for the arms of Achilles, Suddenly the
repose he liad sought in this dismal retreat is dis-
turbed by the appearance of his successful opponent
in the same human form as at their last fatal parting.
In the gloomy sullenness -with which he keeps aloof,
while the other spirits flock round the adventurous
stranger ; in the stern silence with which, rejecting
his generous rival's conciliatory advances, he stalks
away into the darkest recesses of Erebus ; the poet
has shadowed forth, with singular truth, the mode in
which pride, sorrow, and resentment would display
themselves in such a character upon such an occasion.^

TROJAN CHARACTERS.

13. Before entering on the separate characters of Distinctive
the Trojan heroes, attention must be directed to the |!;trcTof7he
broader features of national distinction in the "-enius ^'"'^^'^ ="^'^

^ Trojan

of the rival races. In the delineation of these the national
poet's deep knowledge of mankind is seen extending,
from the narrow circle of personal peculiarity, to
those more comprehensive varieties of human nature
which originate in an equally comprehensive range
of physical or historical causes.

Allusion has already been made to certain defects
in the character of the Trojans incidentally stigmatised
in the Iliad, either by Homer himself or his heroes ;
to their want of moral princi[)le, to the levity and
treachery of their international dealings, to the pal-
pable injustice of their cause, to their obstinacy in
upholding it, and to the profligacy of their domestic
manners. How far these defects, as compared with
the rightful motives, fair dealing, and primitive habits
of their adversaries, may be laid to account of Homer's

' Od. XI. 543. sqq.
z 2

340 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

national partialities, how far they may rest on a
historical basis, are questions on which it were little
profitable to enlarge. The contrast itself may, at
least, be considered as shadowing forth certain funda-
mental features of distinction, which have always
been more or less observable between the European
and Asiatic races. The state of society in Troy re-
sembles, it is true, in the main, that of Greece at the
same period. In each, the patriarchal simplicity on
which the social edifice was based is modified, without
being altogether superseded, by the refinements of
an earlier Eastern civilisation. Among the Trojans,
however, the levity and corruption of Asiatic life
had encroached on the primitive manners to a greater
extent than in Greece ; and this excess it is which,
in the poet's description, forms the chief moral dif-
ference between Greek and Trojan.

The character of the latter nation is graphically
portrayed in that of its royal family, as sketched
out in the episodical notices occurring in the Iliad,
and which prove those distinctive peculiarities to be
of no recent date. The Dardanian line of princes is
the oldest recorded in Homeric tradition. The order
of succession is given in a speech addressed to Achilles
by ^neas\ himself a prince of the blood. As his
account is little more than a bare pedigree, it may be
presumed that any particulars he furnishes of the
adventures of his kinsmen were such as formed their
chief title to celebrity. These details accordingly,
with those incidentally supplied in other parts of the
poem, relate, not to the warlike achievements or bold
enterprise of the race, but to their wealth, luxury,
gallantry, and the magnificence of their courtly state,

' XX. 213. sqq.

Cii. VIT. § 13. THE ILIAD. TROJANS. 34.1

or to the calamities consequent on their treachery
and impiety. Their moral defects are exhibited,
at the same time, in appropriate conjunction with
the personal graces which contribute both to the
excitement and gratification of" sensual appetite.
Dardanus, the founder of the dynasty, was son of
Jupiter. Erichtlionius, son of Dardanus, was the
richest monarch of his time, possessing the finest
breed of horses, the noblest species of royal wealth
in those days. The surpassing beauty of his grand-
child Ganymede attracted the notice of Jupiter, who
transported the youth to Olympus, to act as his
page and cupbearer. Tros the Father of Ganymede,
and third sovereign of the line, was, in compensation
for the loss of his son, enriched by Jupiter with a
still nobler breed of horses than that possessed by
Erichthonius.^ Laomedon nephew of Ganymede, and
fifth occupant of the Dardanian throne, surrounded
Troy with Avails so magnificent as to have been
fabled the joint work of Neptune and xVpollo. In
the same fable, his subsequent impiety towards these
deities involved him in a series of calamities, which
terminated in the destruction of his city, taken
and sacked by Hercules."^ His elder son Tithonus,
distinguished like Ganymede for his beauty, en-
o-ao'cd the afi^ections of Aurora, who carried him otf
and espoused him. Anchises, cousin of Tithonus,
was indebted to the same personal charms for the
honour of sharing the bed of Venus. Priam, the
younger son and successor of Laomedon, if less
favoured than some of his kinsmen by the amorous

1 II. V. 265. ; conf. xxm. 348.

' II. vii. 4.52., XXI. 446., v. 640. sqq., xx. 146. Seliol. Vcn. ad loc.

Apolloil. II. 0. sqq.

z 3

342 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

attentions of the goddesses, makes ample amends by
the number of mortal concubines who enjoy, in
common with the reigning sultana, tlie honour of
his embraces. The paramount authority of his race
in the court of love and beauty is further vouched
for by the Judgement of Paris, whose subsequent
achievement forms an appropriate and fatal conclu-
sion to the catalogue of family crimes and gallantries.
Character 14. Priam's court and domestic establishment,
its^dSs. where the produce of his amours, amounting to fifty
sons and twelve daughters, reside with their re-
spective consorts in separate domiciles^, offer an in-
teresting combination of patriarchal simplicity with
Oriental licentiousness. The old king's character is
itself a fiiir type both of the good and evil in that of
his nation. With much that is generous in conduct
and feeling, and a certain tact in the arts of govern-
ment, he is signally deficient in that honest principle
which alone can secure the welfare of a state. His
afl'ectionate heart and domestic virtues are fatally
counterbalanced by an over-indulgent temper ; and
his indifterence to, or even sympathy with, the ruling
vices of his family involves the ruin of his country.
Nor does the political morality of his councillors appear
in a better light than his own. The Greeks are de-
scribed as having, before commencing hostilities, used
every effort by negotiation to obtain redress. Upon
one of these occasions- it was gravely suggested, by a
member of the Trojan senate, to murder the ambassa-
dors ; and the proposal, though not carried into effect,
seems to have been complacently received. How little
congenial measures of reparation were to the mass is
further implied in the current tradition of later times,

' VI. 242. 2 XI. 139.

Cii. YII. § 14. THE ILIAD. PRIAJI. 343

where Antenor and JEneas, the only Dardaiiian chiefs
who had the merit of disapproving; the pernicious
policy of their countrymen, are represented as secret
partisans of the Greeks.

The poet has, as usual, availed himself almost
exclusively of the dramatic mode of portraying this
spirit of national levity. In the remarks which the
appearance of Helen elicits from the assembled elders
on the city ramparts, those venerable personages take
pride, rather than shame, in the circumstance of
their handsome prince having seduced and trans-
ferred to their own city the f\iirest princess in
Europe. The poetical value of this passage, so
justly extolled by illustrious critics, does not here
immediately concern us : its ethic spirit alone is
now in question. These grave representatives of
the national wisdom are seated on a tower, looking
towards the plain, where the fate of their country
was staked on the issue of a single engagement.
Suddenly Helen, the guilty cause of their calamities,
is seen approaching. What are the reflexions that
might be expected to suggest themselves on such an
occasion in such quarters ? Ought it not to have
occurred to these sage councillors the more forcibly,
what an iniquitous thing it was, that so many brave
men should bite the dust, and whole nations be in-
volved in destruction, for the mere gratification of
a pair of frivolous adulterers ? But, instead of this
they complacently remark, that " it is no wonder the
Greeks and Trojans should wage long and bloody wars
for the possession of so divine a woman." ^ Equally
characteristic is Priam's own lanirua^i^e in the innne-
diate sequel, when, calling Helen affectionately to his

' ni. 155.
z 4

344: HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

side he assures her that " she is no Avay in fault ;
that the gods alone are to blame, as the cause of
their common affliction."

Anotlier example of the skill with which Homer
imposes on his light-headed Dardanian heroes the
duty of exposing their own defects, is in the meeting
of council \ where Antenor proposes putting an end
to the war by the restoration of Helen and her goods
to her rightful husband. He enforces this suggestion
by a reference to the fresh crime of treachery and
assassination of which the Trojans had been guilty,
and to the hopelessness of success in so bad a cause.
• No one seconds this motion, Paris then, with cha-
racteristic effrontery, tells the venerable sage, that
*' if he is serious in what he says he talks like an
idiot ; " and declares that he will not part with Helen
on any terms, but that, as to the property brought
with her from Sparta, they may dispose of it as had
been suggested, l^riam here interposes, and, without
any notice of the advice of Antenor, commends the
offer of Paris as fair and conciliatory, and advises a
mission to the Greek camp on the subject ; which
proposal is approved and adopted.
Its virtues. 15. Such, howcvcr, are the amiable qualities by
which the weaker points of the old king's conduct
are relieved, that while we condemn his vices, it is
difficult not to admire his general character. It is,
in fact, partly in the excess of his more engaging
attributes that his defects consist, in that over-sensi-
bility of heart and warmth of the social affections
which are so often combined with blind indulsrence
to their favourite objects. Inexcusable as such
indulgence may be, yet the mixture of paternal

' Yii. 347. sqq.

Cii. Vir. § 15. THE ILIAD. TRIAM. 3 15

affection and courtly gallantry Avliicli Priam displays
towards tlic fair adulteress, when once received on
the footing of a daughter-in-law, is worthy of all
admiration. She herself ])ears grateful testimony to
liis kindness, under the mortifications to which she
was habitually exposed from her other Trojan con-
nexions. The most touching acknowledgement of this
nature is contained in a single parenthetic sentence
of her lamentation over Hector, the only one of her
new husband's near relatives whose behaviour to her
resembled that of her father-in-law. During the
long years that had elapsed since her arrival in Troy,
never, she exclaims, had a single harsh word been
addressed to her by Hector : xxiv. 768.

dcXX' si rig (xs koi a'AXog sv) iJ-zya^oimv svirrroif

r) sx^^'f^^ sKupog Os Trarrjp cog r^mog al = i,
aX?^a (rh r6v y l7rU(r(Ti Trapocupa'xzuog xarsf^uxsg.

Pages of studied panegyric could hardly equal the
effect which this half line produces, partly by its very
brevity, partly by the force of the contrast it pre-
sents. Another trait of the old sovereign's paternal
sensibility equally illustrates the poet's power of con-
veying the liveliest impressions in the fewest words.
Wlien the conversation on the walls is interrupted
by the intelligence that Paris is about to engage
Menelaus, and that Priam's presence is required to
arrange the forms of the duel, we are told simply ^,
that after receiving the message " the old man shud-
dered, and ordered his chariot to be prepared." Ko
elaborate description of parental anxiety could ex-
press half as much as this short sentence.

' III. 2o9. ; conf. 305. sqq.

346 HOMER. CHARACTEKS OF Book II.

It is, however, in tlie closing scenes of the Iliad
that the brighter side of Priam's character is most
prominently brought forward. All sense of his vices
or follies is here absorbed by compassion for the
calamities in which they have involved him, and
admiration for his heroism in braving the dangers of
a hostile camp and the wrath of Achilles, to rescue
the remains of a beloved son from mutilation and
disgrace. But even here the poet, still true to nature,
never loses sight of the less favourable traits of the
portrait, which, as now reproduced under a change of
fortune, impart a new variety to the whole composi-
tion. Hitherto Priam had been contemplated in a
comparative state of prosperity, and distinguished,
even in his displays of weakness, by a decorum and
placidity of deportment becoming his royal state.
Now, at the moment when his energies are intent on
the fulfilment of the noblest duties, his temper, undex
the accumulated excitement of the crisis, breaks
through all the restraints of courtly dignity into
ebullitions of senile petulance and irritation, as cha-
racteristic of the genius of the man as inconsistent
with the greatness of his conduct. The scene in the
palace previous to his journey is one of the finest
in the Iliad. ^ Priam, his family, and the entire city
are plunged in the deepest afiliction ; their favourite
prince and bravest champion slain ; his body daily
insulted in their sight by his ferocious conqueror.
The mode in which the national grief finds vent exhi-
bits a fine combination of Oriental and patriarchal
manners. The old king, enveloped in his mantle, is
seated in the centre of the palace court in a state
of gloomy stupor, indifferent to all that is passing.

^ XXIV. 159. sqq.

Ch. VII. § 15. THE ILIAD. rillAM. 347

His sons are Aveeping and his daiiglitcrs wailing
around him ; the halls and porches thronged with
citizens, flocking with sympathetic curiosity to the
centre of the common woe. At this moment Iris,
invisible to all but Priam himself, breathes her mes-
sage from Jove in his ear. Tlie first symptom of
response to the divine intimation is a tremor per-
vading his frame. On a sudden, morbid despair
gives place to unwonted vigour; he rises and de-
clares his resolution forthwith to visit in person the
]\Iyrmidon camp, and ransom the body of his son.
He is assailed by the remonstrances of his wife
against the madness of his project, but in vain. On
turning to give the requisite orders for his journey,
he finds everything in confusion ^ ; his palace is
crowded with importunate idlers ; his sons are be-
wildered by this sudden change from listlessness to
temerity, and the promptness of their obedience falls
short of the eagerness of his commands. His temper
then gives way, and he breaks forth into invectives,
first against the busybodies who encumber his hall,
and whom he drives with his sceptre into the street ;
next against the sluggish apathy of his sons, taunt-
ingly contrasting it with the devoted zeal of their
deceased brother. The petulance of these sallies is
tempered by the most touching expressions of grief
and patriotism. Every word and act is admirably
suited to the character and the occasion.

The sequel of this adventure supplies the more
delicate finish to the portrait both of Priam and
Achilles. The ardent zeal, senile importunity, and
pious resignation of the venerable suppliant, are
beautifidly contrasted with the generous sympathy

' XXIV. 237. sqq.

348 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book H.

and liaughty impetuosity of the terrible Myrmidon.
The ohl king returns to the city with his precious
freight, greeted by crowds of admiring citizens, and
the ensuing I'ites in honour of the slain champion
afford an impressive conclusion to the great drama.
Upon the whole perhaps the character of Priam is,
next to that of Achilles, the most delicately con-
ceived and finely drawn in the poem. The parallel
which it offers to that of Shakspeare's Lear cannot
fail to su2:2:est itself to the critical student.

HECTOR.

Character 16. lu the charactcr of this hero, as in that of his

father, good and evil are so curiously blended, that it
is hard to say which element predominates. Homer,
partly it would seem in order to maintain a fair
show of impartiality, partly to enhance the glory of
the Greek warriors by whom the Trojan champion is
successively worsted, magnifies his prowess in general
terms, as of the most transcendant order. But these
eulogies are confined alone or chiefly to words. In
actual achievement Hector is greatly surpassed by
the leading Greek heroes. He rarely enters the
lists on equal terms with an enemy of equal rank,
but he is beaten ; and his whole series of triumphs is
artfully so described as to appear owing less to his
own valour than to supernatural interference. The
moral courage of Hector, on the other hand, is
worthy of all praise. Though easily over-elated by
success, he is not, like the Greek commander, apt
to be cast down by discomfiture. The vaunting
bravadoes with which he pursues the tide of victory
in the absence of Achilles are, it is true, singularly
unbecoming in a leader who, before the secession of

Cii.Vir. ^10. THE ILIAD. HECTOR. .3-49

that hero, never ventured to quit tlie protection of
the city walls. This timid policy, however, he him-
self pointedly describes as having been imposed on
him by the Trojan elders^; nor on the reappearance
of his formidable adversary is he disheartened, but
endeavours, like a brave soldier rather than a prudent
tactician, to maintain his newly acquired superiority.
Towards the close of his career, although he flies before
Achilles when tirst broui2:lit face to face with him on
the tield, }-et, having once made up his mind to the
combat, he acquits himself manfully, and submits to
his fate with calnmess and dignity.

Among tlie heroes of the Iliad, Hector is the one
whose social virtues are exhibited in the most eno-ao^ino^
colours, less perhaps from any actual superiority to
various other chiefs, to Ulysses for example or Mene-
laus, in those qualities, than from the greater oppor-
tunities for their display. His chaste affection for one
virtuous spouse appears the more admirable as con-
trasted with the licentious habits of his race. Helen,
also, bears lively testimony to that unvarying cour-
tesy and fraternal kindness which supported her
under the mortifications to which she was exposed
from the rest of her paramour's family^, so wrll de-
served on her part, so heartlessly inflicted on theirs.
The deep distress which his death spreads over the
city is a testimony to his worth, both as a benefactor
and a warrior ; and the interview with Andromache,
where his virtues as a husband, a parent, and a pa-
triot, are so beautifully portrayed, is too familiar to
every student of the poet to require comment. These
finer ingredients of liis character also shine forth in
a singularly amiable light in his first personal en-

' 11. xv. 721. - XXIV. 768.

350 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book. IT.

counter with Achilles, where his habitual terror for
the invincible hero suddenly gives way on seeing his
youthful brother Polydorus pierced before his eyes
by the Myrmidon lance. The electric effect on his
energies is described in one of the poet's most brilliant
sketches : xx. 419.

evTspcL ^sptrh s^ovra, X/a^Ojasvov Trpor* ya/v],
xap da 01 o^fjaT^iMiov hs^ut a^T^ug ouO ao sr statj
^rjoov sxag crrpai(p6i(r^\ aXX' uvTiog •j^aQ' 'Ap^iXrjoj,
6^0 ^opu xpaSacov, <p7^oyi eiKiXog.

With a clearer insight into the difference between
riorht and wrono; than was common amono- his
fellow-councillors, Hector was sufficiently alive to
the crime of Paris, and the consequent iniquity of
the Trojan cause. Yet the national spirit of indif-
ference extends even to him. In stifrmatisino; as he
frequently does, his brother's guilt, no account is
taken of his own, as accomplice or abettor. His
share in the prevailing levity is also painfully ex-
emplified in his conduct regarding the duel of
Paris and Menelaus. It was his imperative duty, as
Trojan commander, and original proposer of the
truce, to have enforced, at whatever cost, the fulfil-
ment of its terms, so solemnly ratified by his father
in his own presence ; but so far is he from showing
even a desire to preserve faith, that the base mode
of its violation meets with his virtual sanction and
approval.
His oratory. ^^7^ g^^ ^^^ characteristic defect of Hector, of
which Homer chiefly avails himself to individualise
his portrait, is his turn for vainglorious boasting.
The success which has here attended the poet's

Ch. VII. §17. THE ILIAD. HECTOR. 351

efforts cannot be better illustrated than by the fact,
that the name Hector is familiar to this day in our
own tongue, as a popular synonyme of our verna-
cular phrases " bluster " and " swagger." In Hector
the infirmity assumes a more offensive form than in
the Greek heroes who indulge in it, owing to the
magnitude of his deeds being, as a general rule,
so little in keeping with that of his words. During
the brilliant career of Diomed in the fiftli book
the Trojan chief, it is indirectly implied, was either
bewildered or intimidated ; for the first notice of
his presence on the field is a reproof levelled at his
backwardness by his Lycian ally Sarpedon. The
justice of the taunt is proved by the mode of its re-
ception : " Hector makes no reply, though cut to the
heart." ^ It rouses him, however, to exertion, but
his valour is still directed only against the secondary
Greek warriors ; nor does he venture to face Diomed
until reinforced by Mars in person. After the dis-
comfiture of the god by Diomed, no more is heard
of Hector, until, quitting the field, he proceeds to
the city to propitiate divine aid against the formi-
dable Greek.- On his return, guaranteed on divine
authority^ against all personal risk, he challenges the
best champion of the enemy to single combat, in an
address full of vainglorious pomp ; but, on Ajax
entering the lists. Hector is described as trembling,
and ready to evade the contest could he have done
so with a good grace.'* In a subsequent battle, when
Diomed is actually forced off the field by the
thunderbolts of Jupiter, after struggling, with a
heroism altogether unknown to the Trojan chief,

1 V. 472— 493. ' vr. 10-2. ' vn. 52. * vii. 21R.

352 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

against his irresistible adversary, the assertion by
Hector of the whole credit of a victory in which
he had no share, and his exulting taunts against the
Greek hero, form a climax of bullying rhodomontade :

VIII. 164., cf. 532.

£pi£ xaxr] yXrjv?] ! stts) ouh, s\^avrog i[xs7o,
TTu^yiou 7]ja£Tspcov =7r</3^Vea/. . . .

The same tone is maintained in the ensuinsf address
to his troops ; and here may be observed another
characteristic of his vaunting rhetoric, that his allu-
sions to the past, present, or anticipated successes of
the Trojans are habitually, if not invariably, couched
in the first person. By his single arm the whole
Greek army was to be cut to pieces, their fleet to be
destroyed : viii. i78.

ra ou [xsvog a[xov lod^ti' . . .
aTOC OTi Jisv Or] vrjU(r)v svn yT^ac^uf^fjfri yivrntxaiy . . .
fo^ TTup) VTJa^ eviTT^ricrco, xtsIvcu os xal auTOus.^ . .

In the sequel his scorn for "the girlish caitiff"
Diomed, is somewhat damped by his defeat in single
combat by that hero, from whom he escapes his
death-blow by a timely flight.^ The blunt simplicity
of the Greek hero's style of asserting his real su-
periority is here finely contrasted with Hector's
inflated tone of exultation, often called forth by
victories in which he had no share. His contempt
for Achilles while absent, is equal to that for
Diomed, and is amusingly displayed in his present
by anticipation of the Myrmidon chief's horses to
Dolon, in reward of his proffered services as spy.'^

1 Conf. 498. 526., xi. 288., xvi. 835., xvni. 293. These and other
similar passages seem too pointed to be the result of anything but specific
design.

2 XI. 359. sqq. ; conf. xi. 542., xiv. 408. ^ x. 329.

Ch. Vri. Jil7. THE ILFAl). HECTOR. ?)53

Another favourite form in whicli his vainglorious
spirit displays itself, is liis prospective enjoyment of
the eulogies to be passed by posterity on his exploits.^
This weakest point in his character is also illustrated
by one of the happiest similes in the Iliad. When
charging with impetuous valour, and threatening, in
his usual tone of menace and bluster so long as he
meets with no resistance, to annihilate Greeks, ships,
and ramparts, but suddenly halting and retreating
before a body of resolute opponents, he is compared
to a fragment of rock rolling furiously down a preci-
pitous declivity, but brought to an immediate stand-
still on reaching the level plain. -

It is, however, in the last scene of the life of
Patroclus, that this unfavourable side of Hector's
character is most broadly exhibited. On the panic
produced by the sudden appearance of the friend of
Achilles on the field, Hector is the first to fly,
strenuously exhorting his troops to folloAV him.-'
No sooner however had the death-blow of Patroclus
been inflicted by another hand, than Hector steps
in, and, putting the finishing stroke to his sufferings,
forthwith arrogates to himself the whole credit of
the conquest.* The dying words of Patroclus are a
spirited reproof of the meanness and ferocity of this
conduct. In the ensuing struggle for the body, the
risk of a meeting with Ajax upon equal terms is
avoided by a speedy retreat into the ranks. This
pusillanimity calls forth two successive reproofs
from the Lycian prince Glaucus'^, similar to tlie one
formerly administered by that hero's brother Sar-

' VII. 87 300 , VI. 477. = xin. 136. sqq.

' XVI. 367. sqq. 656. * xvr. 818—843.

* XVI. 538., XVII. 129—141.

VOL. I. A A

354 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

pedon. The same afternoon Hector flies terror-struck
before the mere voice of Achilles, standing naked in
the distance. Yet, in the evening council of war,
he affects to disdain the notion of any superiority in
the mighty Hellene, on whom he even pledges him-
selfS scorning the wise caution of Polydamas, to
inflict summary chastisement on the following day.
It need scarcely be added, that this bravado was
as completely falsified by the issue of the ensuing
combat as it was fatally expiated.

^NEAS,

Character 18. Thc commandcr next in rank to Hector is one
of that respectable and blameless class of heroes, who,
without salient features either of singularity or defect,
have been often promoted by popular epic poets to
the dignity of protagonist. In this capacity, as the
experience of most readers can testify, they seldom
fail to acquit themselves with much propriety perhaps,
but Avith a proportional degree of dulness.^ In the
Iliad however the commonplace attributes of iEneas,

' XVIII. 285. sq.

^ Among the great poets of antient or modern times, tliere is none
more deficient in that highest attribute of his art, the portraiture of
human character, than the elegant and popular bard of Rome. It is
therefore both a curious and a fortunate coincidence, that precisely the
one among Homer's heroes whom the nature of Virgil'.s subject led him to
select as the protagonist of his own poem, should be the one whose equa-
bility of disposition came more immediately within the sphere of its author's
talent. Hector or Diomed would in his hands infallibly have forfeited
their genuine Homeric spirit. An elaborate effort to maintain their dis-
tinctive features would have resulted but In servile imitation ; an attempt
at novelty would have invested them with the ranting ferocity of Turnus,
or the solemn dignity of ^neas himself. Even the slight variations in
the character of the Dardanian chief are not successful. While they fail
to enliven its tameness, they divest it of that moral worth which in the
Iliad forms its most agreeable attribute.

Cn. Vir. § 18. THE ILIAD. ^.NEAS. 35.5

unshackled as he is witli any such higher respon-
sibility, are not without their value. They add at
least a pleasing variety to the other livelier traits of
human nature, and a seasonable relief to the levity
which forms the general characteristic of the hero's
countrymen. The valour of vEneas, if less impetuous,
is more steady than that of Hector. His under-
takings are always equal to his professions, and often
superior to his means of performance. He engages
manfully both Diomed and Achilles, and on each
occasion acquits himself with credit.^

It was not to be expected that the portrait of such
a character would be marked by any broad dramatic
touches ; yet Homer has managed to shed a warmer
ray of interest over it, by allusions to certain pecu-
liarities in the political destiny of the hero, of some
importance in their connexion with the mythic cycle
of which the Hiad forms the nucleus. During the
early part of the assault on the Greek lines iEneas
is described as standing aloof, from resentment at
some indignity lately put on him by Priam, and
which is implied to have been but one of a series of
similar slights proceeding from the same quarter."^
Neither the time, place, nor manner of the offence
are mentioned, as being probably matters familiar
to the poet's public, and embodied, like other legends
to which he incidentally alludes, by other popular
organs of mythical lore. Some light, however, is
thrown on the mystery by the circumstance that
^Eneas, in spite of his royal blood and personal merit,
is never represented as taking part in the delilier-
ations of the Trojan council. One of the most im-
portant meetings of that body, in which the proposal

' V. 217. 5((., XX. 160. sq. - xni. 459. ; conf. xii. fl9.

A A 2

35G

HOMER. CHARACTERS OP

Book II.

Character
of Hecuba,
Funeral
dirge of
Hector.

of Antenor to accommodate matters by restoring
Helen was discussed and rejected, was held imme-
diately before the action where ^neas is described as
offended at Priam. ^ All this must be taken in con-
nexion with the cyclic legend, that Antenor and
vEneas alone among the Trojans had from the first
advocated conciliatory measures. Such conduct could
hardly fail to be personally offensive to Priam, as the
abettor of his son's iniquities. Hence it may be
supposed that the insult resented by ^Eneas was con-
nected with the late suggestion of Antenor ; and the
intimacy between the two heroes is confirmed by the
circumstance, that the sons of Antenor are described
as lieutenants of the troops of ^neas." In the sequel,
the patriotism of the Dardanian chief gets the better
of his wrath ^, and the next allusion to his personal
history is on occasion of his encounter with Achilles.
His safety is here described as an object of interest
even to the deities most hostile to Troy, and Neptune,
in delivering him when defeated, proclaims the decree
of destiny, that on the destruction of Ilium and ex-
tinction of the race of Priam, " yEneas and his de-
scendants shall continue to reign over the Trojans." '^
From this text it has been not unreasonably inferred
that in Homer's time there existed a state, probably in
the Troad or its neighbourhood, which traced its origin
to a remnant of the Trojan people, and the reigning
family of which claimed a descent from ^neas.

19. The spirited individuality imparted to the
other leading Trojan characters, Hecuba, Andro-
mache, Paris and Helen, is the more remarkable in
proportion to the limited nature of the parts which

' VII. 347. = II. 822. 3 XIII. 489.

* XX. 307. ; conf. Hymn. Ven. 197., Heyn. Exc. xvir. ad ^n. IT.

Ch. VII. § 19. THE UAAU. IIECUEA. 357

they respectively perforin. The portrait of eacli
appears to be worked up witli the same distinct traces
and lively colours as those of Achilles or Hector;
yet, on examining the machinery by which so much
effect is produced, we find it amounts to but a few
incidental speeches or turns of dramatic action.

Hecuba's most prominent appearance on the scene
is during the climax of national and domestic ca-
lamity consequent on the death of her son. Her
character, as there exliibited under the influence of
sore ailliction and excited passions, is a mixture of
the fond mother, the devoted wife, and the high-
tempered vindictive virago. AVhile feehngly alive to
the cruelty of the Hellenic invaders, she entirely
overlooks the provocation they had received, or the
folly and iniquity of its authors. In her reply ^ to
Priam's announcement of his purpose to visit the
quarters of Achilles, her affectionate solicitude for
her husband's welfare displays itself, not in the calm
persuasive remonstrance suited to such an occasion,
but in an impetuous burst of reproof on the madness
of his enterprise. Her invectives against Achilles
in the sequel of the same address, bespeak the ferocity
of the bereaved tigress, rather than the grief of the
human mother. In her imputation to him of those
very vices of treachery and falsehood which especially
attached to her own family, but with ^vhicli he of all
men Avas least chargeable ; and in her broad mis-
statement of" the merits of the cause in which Hector
fell, and of his conduct as its champion, the loose
morality of her race appears in graphic conjunction
with her own ardent temper and revengeful spirit :

XXIV. 205.

' XXIV. 200,

A A 3

358 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

ouOs T^ (T ai6s(reTai • . . .

TOiJ syci) ixiff-ov riTrap s^oiixi

s(rSiui£ua.i 7rpo(r<^ucra ' tot ccvnra %pya ysvoira
rraioog 6p.ov ! eirsi ou I xoLxi^oy.Bvov ys xccrsxra, . . .
. OUTS <p6(doij [X£[xvYjixivov OUT aXswprig.

Another natural, though far from pleasing, trait of
Hecuba, is her harsh treatment of Helen. That he-
roine herself keenly contrasts the unkindness of her
mother-in-law with the unvarying gentleness and
courtesy of the generous Priam.

The funeral lamentation ^ uttered alternately by
Hecuba, Andromache, and Helen, over the corpse of
Hector, is another example, to be classed with the
debate in the tent of Achilles, of Homer's talent of
adapting to different speakers their proper vein of
oratory. The tone of Hecuba is here comparatively
subdued, as befitted the occasion. Yet, in the midst
of her fond ebullition of maternal grief, her vin-
dictive spirit against Achilles still breaks forth, in her
expressions of sarcastic triumph over the previous
death of his friend by the hand of Hector.

In Andromache, all spirit of anger, so little con-
genial at any time to her gentle nature, is absorbed
in excess of woe. She dwells on her own widowed
state, on her infant bereaved of such a father, her
country of such a protector. Her mind, wandering
with mournful pride over his former glories, antici-
pates with prophetic liorror the approaching fall of
the city, and the cruel fate reserved by the Greeks
for those nearest and dearest to the author of so
much disaster to themselves. Any general remarks
on the character of this most interesting heroine will

o
^ XXIV. 723. sqq.

Cu. VII. §-20. THE ILIAD. PARIS AND HELEN. 359

be reserved for the Odyssey, where the parallel be-
tween lier and Penelope will aid in illustrating the
common genius of the two poems.

Helen's affectionate testimony to the social virtues
of her slain brother-in-law, though replete with tender
feeling, and expressed with all the suavity and grace
which became her, is alloyed by something of the
querulous captious spirit which also appears in her
Avhole demeanour throughout the poem. She mourns
his death, less as a national calamity, than for the
loss it entailed on herself of a friend and supporter
under the humiliations to which she was exposed from
her other relatives, to whose conduct she cannot
withhold a taunting allusion.

20. The best answer perhaps, to the charge of in- characters
capacity in a "a poet of so rude an age " to conceive so JjefeT'^"''
elaborate a composition as the Iliad, is to be found in the
characters of Paris and Helen, the hero and heroine on
whose destinies the action of the poem fundamentally
hinges. Their joint portrait also illustrates a former
remark, that the intermediate stage of manners,
equally removed from barbarism and refinement,
which supplied such materials for the epic art, is
precisely that best adapted to secure its perfection.
Paris and Helen are the beau and the belle, the man
of fashion and the w^oman of pleasure, of the heroic
age. Such characters are essentially unpoetical in
more civilised periods. No two can here be more in
harmony with the genius of the poem or wdth each
other. Both are unprincipled votaries of sensual en-
joyment ; both self-willed and petulant, but not
devoid of amiable and generous feeling. Both are
distinguished for personal graces and accomplish-
ments, and the consequent importance they attach

A A 4

360 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

to elegance of attire, and other means of turning
those advantages to account. In both, this combi-
nation of attributes has been shadowed forth with a
graphic precision, the more remarkable considering
the limited appearance of each on the scene.

The general conduct of Paris exhibits that mixture
of conflicting qualities, of bravery and effeminacy,
petulance and good-humour, self-conceit and sub-
missive respect for the superior worth of others, so
common, as the experience of every man of the world
can testify, in persons of similar tastes and habits. It
is obviously not the effect of accident, that in the
opening scene of the first battle \ this gallant adven-
turer, the primary cause of the whole mischief, ap-
pears as the prominent figure, strutting with all the
airs of a national champion in front of the Trojan
lines. No sooner however does he observe Menelaiis
advancing to engage him, than conscience-smitten
and crest-fallen he retreats into the ranks : but the
moment after, stung by the reproof of Hector, he
proposes and manfully sustains a single combat with
his rival. The ensuing altercation in the chamber
of Helen, and the mode in which by mutual con-
sent it is brought to a close, are equally charac-
teristic. After lounging the greater part of the day
in her apartments, he is found by Hector^ engaged
in burnishing his armour ; and when again roused to
activity by his brother's reproof, he issues to the
battle with an ostentatious gaiety illustrated by one
of the finest similes in the Iliad, that of the horse
emancipated from the stall and prancing across the
plain to the river.^ The more rational side of his

' ni. 16. sqq. ^ vi. 313. s vi. 506.

Ch. VII. § 20. THE ILIAD. HELEN. 361

character is exhibited ciiiefiy in liis interviews with
Hector, whose martial superiority comniands his pro-
found respect. He submits in silence to the most
cutting reproofs of his noble brother, and cheerfully
obeys all his suggestions. It is true, on the other
hand, that Hector's remonstrances are directed solely
at his want of energy in tlic field. I hey never touch
on his amorous indulgence, or the duty of reparation
for his crime. The proposal of Anteiior to the latter
effect is received in a very different spirit, with
tlie petulant effrontery of the spoiled child and pam-
pered man of pleasure.

Helen is the female counterpart of Paris. Daughter
of an illustrious royal house, the most beautii'ul
princess of her age, she is Avedded in extreme youth
to a husband who, however worthy of her choice,
seems not to have engaged her affections. She be-
comes, consequently, an easy victim of the fascinating
adventurer destined by the goddess of love as her
future partner. Helen, as frequently happens with
frail women, a natural result perhaps of the same
susceptibility in which their failings originate, is
distinguished by tenderness of heart and kindly dis-
position. Traces of better principle seem also to
lurk under the general levity of her habits. Though
a faithful consort to Paris, who on his part is no
way deficient in the duties of husband or lover, she
still entertains a fond remembrance of her days of
youthful innocence. She looks back at times with
remorse and regret, almost with longing desire, to
her native land, her deserted child, and the home of
her fathers ; and is as ready to acknowledge and con-
demn lier own faults, as to appreciate the opposite

362 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

virtues of others.^ The finer touclies with which her
portrait is worked up are all of the more delicate
dramatic description. In the emotion she displays
at the invitation of ^Eneas to go forth to the ramparts
and witness the preparation for the duel between her
past and present husband ; in her dignified advance
to the admiring old senators ; in her grief and self-
reproach at the distant view of her countrymen and
former friends ; in her petulant argument with her
patron goddess after the defeat of Paris; in the
taunts thrown out against his cowardice, coupled with
returning fondness for his person ; in her frank ac-
knowledgment to Hector of the common failings of
herself and lover ; and in her afi'ectionate lamentation
for the fate of her noble brother-in-law, mingled with
selfish tears for her own distresses, are exhibited to
the life all the finer features of that mixed female
character, which, while we pity and condemn, we are
constrained to love and admire.

If the facts in the foregoing analysis be correctly
stated, and the citations admit of being verified, it
seems difficult to understand how any impartial
reader, who has carefully weighed those facts and
citations, can believe it possible that a series of such
singularly delicate portraits, individualised by so
subtle a unity of mechanism, not only in their
broader features of peculiarity, but in the nicest turns
of sentiment and phraseology, can be the produce of
the medley of artists to which the Wolfian school
assigns them. It were about as probable that some
ten or twenty sculptors of the age of Pericles, under-
taking, without previous concert, each a difierent

1 III. 139. 173., VI. 344., xxiv. 764. sqq.

Cu. VII. § 20. TUE ILIAD. 3G3

part or limb of a statue of Jupiter, should have
produced the Olympian Jove of Phidias, as that a
number of ballad-singers of the ante-Olympic era
should have combined, by a similar process of patch-
work, in producing the Achilles, or Agamemnon, the
Priam, the Hector, or the Helen of Homer.

364 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II

CHAP. VIII.

HOMER. ODYSSEY. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT.

1. EPITOME OF THE ACTION. — 2. PLAN OF THE POEM CONTRASTED WITH THAT

OF THE ILIAD. 3. APOLOGUE OF ALCINOUS. 4. VOYAGE OF TELEMACHUS.

NOEMON. PIR^US CLYTIDES. 5. MELANTHIUS AND MELANTHO. THE SEER

THEOCLTMENUS. 6. PERVADING INFLUENCE OF APOLLO.

1. A SIMILAR course of analysis will here be pursued
in regard to the plan and composition of the Odyssey
as in the previous case of the Iliad. Attention will
first be directed to the mechanical structure, and
next to the poetical design, of the work.

Epitome of. After all the other heroes of the Trojan war had either perished
the action, qj. resettled in their homes ^ Ulysses, bereaved of his fleet and
companions, victims of their own impiety in slaughtering the oxen
of the Sun 2, is detained in exile by the sea goddess Calypso in
her island of Ogygia.^ The origin of his disasters is traced to the
vengeance of Neptune, who, indignant at the blinding of his son
Polyphemus, had vowed unrelenting persecution, to any extent
short of death, against the hero, up to the moment when he should
set foot on his native island.* The rest of the gods, friendly to
Ulysses, take council concerning him in Olympus, during the
absence of Neptune in Ethiopia.* Pallas entreats Jove to send
Mercury to Calypso with an order for his release.^ She then
proceeds to Ithaca, to instigate Telemachus, after protesting in
public assembly against the oppression of his mother's suitors, to
undertake a voyage to Pylos and Sparta ^, and inquire of Nestor
and Menelaiis, the most recently returned among the heroes of

111. 286. ; conf. iii. 181. 188. sqq. ^ 3. ; conf. xii. 353., xi. 108.

* 14. 51. 84. ; conf. iv. 557., v. 30., vii. 244., xvii. 140. * 21. 75. ; conf.
VI. 331., IX. 532. sqq., xi. 102., xiii. 125. 341. ^ 22.; conf. v. 282.

« 84. ; conf. v. 28., x. 277. ^ 279. sqq. ; conf. 11. 262.

Ch. VIII. §1. CONCORDANCE OF TIIK TEXT. 365

the war^, concerning his father's fate. In the disguise of Mentes,
.1 neighbouring chief, she is hospitably received by the young
prince. Pheniius, the court bard of Ithaca, attends unwillingly
at the banquet- of the suitors. In the course of the various
dialogues mention is made of the distressed condition of old Laertes
in his country retirement^, and of the vengeance recently inflicted
at Mycenaj, in the eighth year after the fall of Troy, by Orestes,
on ^-Egisthus the murderer of his father Agamemnon.'*

11.

The next morning the Ithacan assembly is held. The debate is
opened by iEgyptius, father of Antiphus, one of the mariners of
Ulysses devoured by Polyphemus. Antinoiis and Eurymachus,
the ringleaders of the suitors, justify their own conduct and
blame Penelope, who, after authorising their courtship by a pro-
mise to select a husband from among them on com[)letion of her
pretended -web^ had treacherously failed of performance. They
make light of the projected voyage of Telemachus, not expecting
he will have the spirit to carry it into effect.^ After the council,
Telemachus offers up a prayer to Pallas, reminding her of her
promises and advice of the day befoi-e.'^ She appears to him in
the form of ]Mentor an old friend of his father. With her assist-
ance he takes his measures the same night ; collects his crew,
borrows a vessel of Noemon^ another friend, and sets sail, com-
municating his intention to no one in the palace but his father's
nurse Euryclea, on whom he enjoins secrecy.^

III.

In the morning he arrives with Mentor at Pylos. Nestor de-
scribes the fate of the heroes of Troy, all of whom, with the single
exception of Ulysses, had either perished or resettled in their
native seats.'*^ Nestor also mentions the recent death of -Egisthus
by the hand of Orestes, eight years after the murder of Aga-
memnon. '^ He advises his guest to visit Sparta, where Menclaus,
being lately returned from his own eight years of wandering '^^

' 286. ; conf. m. 306., iv. 82. - 154. ; conf. xxii. 351. M89. ;

conf. IV. 735., et locc. citt. •* 300. ; conf. 30. 40., in. 198. 257. 306.

sqq., IV. 82. 91. 546., XI. 409., xiii. 382.

'■ 87. sqq. ; conf. xix. 138. « 301. ; conf. iv. 638. sq. " 262. ;

conf I. 279. ^ 386. ; conf. iv. 630. " 348. 373. ; conf. iv. 742.

10 181.; conf i. 11. ct locc. citt. " 198.; conf i. 300., et locc. citt.

12 306. ; conf i. 286., iv. 82.

3G6 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

will be more competent to aiford the desired information. Next
morning Telemachus sets out in a chariot with Pisistratus son of
Nestor, and on the second night is hospitably received at Sparta
by Menelaus.

IV.
On the morrow Menelaus relates his travels, and informs his
guests of what he had heard of the detention of Ulysses in the
island of Calypso, from Proteus the prophetic sea god of Egypt ',
who had also predicted his own return in the eighth year, just
after the death of ^gisthus by the hand of Orestes 2, as since
fulfilled. During the absence of Telemachus, the suitors are
apprised of his expedition by Noemen^, who, in want of his
vessel, inquires of them the probable period of his return. They
are astonished at the prince's boldness, supposing him to be only
absent at his farm."* By advice of Antinoiis they determine to
waylay and murder him on his voyage home. Antinoiis fits out a
vessel for that purpose, and takes his station at the island of
Asteris.^ Penelope, informed by Medon^ the herald of the
suitors' plot, extracts the particulars of her son's expedition from
Euryclea^, and sends for the chief gardener Dolius from the farm,
in order that he may convey the intelligence to the old king
Laertes.^

In the council of Olympus Pallas again complains of the fate of
her favourite Ulysses, and Jupiter assures her that both the hero
and his son will safely return and baffle the designs of the suitors.
He then dispatches Hermes^ to procure the release of Ulysses,
and his passage from Ogygia''' to Scheria; whence the Phrea-
cians will transport him, laden with rich presents", to Ithaca.
On the fifth day afterwards the hero sets sail on a raft. After an
eighteen days' voyage '^ he arrives within sight of Scheria, where
Neptune, on his journey from Ethiopia '^ descries him, raises a

1 557.;conf.i. 14., et loco. citt. -82.91.546.; conf. 1. 286., et loco, citt.,
300., et loco. citt. ' 630.; conf. 11. 386. ^ 638. 663 ; conf. 11. 301. ^669.;
conf. 846., XIII. 425., xv. 28. 300., xvi. .'552. « 696. ; conf. xvr. 412 , xxii.
371. ■^ 742. ; conf. 11. 348. 8 735 gq^^ . ^.Q^|; ^xiv. 205. 387., i.

189., XI. 187., XV. 353.

^ 28.; conf. i. 84., x. 277. 1° 30. sq. ; conf. i. 14., et locc. citt.

^' 37. ; conf. XIII. 119. 135. 10. sq., viii. 389. 438. '"^ 278. ; conf. vii.

268. »3 282. sqq. ; conf. i. 22.

Ch. VriT. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 307

storm, and dashes the raft to pieces. Ulysses, under the joint
protection of Pallas and the sea goddess Leucothca, after swimming
during two days on a plank, reaches the shore of Scheria in safety,
but colli and naked, near the moutli of a river' ; and, nestling in
the bushes falls asleep.

VI.

Nausicaa, daughter of Alcinoiis king of the Phfcacians, warned
by iNIinerva in a dream, descends in the morning with her damsels
to the river-, to wash the family clothes. Ulysses, roused by their
voices, awakes and implores her protection. She supplies him
with food and raiment^, and instructs him to follow her into the
city at a later hour, and, on arrival at the palace, to appeal to tlie
good ofRces of her mother Arete'*, who will procure him a safe
convoy home from her father. Pallas continues to befriend tlie
hero, though secretly for fear of her uncle Neptune, whose wrath
against him was to remain unrelaxed until his arrival in Ithaca.^

VII.

After sunset the hero enters the city, guided by INIinerva in
the disguise of a Phajacian maiden. Throuc-h the intercession of
Arete ^ he is hospitably received by Alcinoiis, and promised a
passage home. The queen recognises the clothes ^ given him by
Nausicaa, as part of her family wardrobe. On being questioned
on the subject, he relates his eighteen days' voyage from Ogygia^
and shipwreck on their coast.

VIII.

On the following day he is honourably entertained by the
Phneacians, and presented with valuable gifts, which queen Arete
packs in a precious box.'' During the banquet Alcinoiis mentions
an anticnt prophecy, that one of His vessels would be destroyed on
its return from friendly convoy of some wandering stranger to his
home, and that their city would be overwhelmed with an earth-
quake by their patron and progenitor Neptune, from jealousy '"

' 441. ; conf. vi. 85.

2 8.5. ; conf. v. 441. ^ 214. ; conf. vii. 238. * 310. ; conf. vii. 145.,
XI. 338. ^ 331. ; conf. i. 21., et loco. citt.

« 145.; conf. vi. 310., xi. 338. '' 238. ; conf. vi. 214. » 268.

244. ; conf. v. 278., i. 14., ct locc. citt.

■' 389. 438. ; conf. v. 37., ct locc. citt. '° 5G5. sqq. ; conf. xin. 149.
sqq. 172.

308 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

of their skill and activity in naval affairs. He then requests
Ulysses to relate his history.

IX.

The hero complies ; and, commencing with his deiaarture from
Troy, describes his attack on the Ciconians, his visit to the Loto-
phagi, and his adventures in the cave of Polyphemus. He relates
how that giant, furious at the loss of his eye, offers up a successful
prayer to his father Neptune' for vengeance on his mvitilator :
" that, if ever destined to revisit his native land, the hero might
return a solitary wanderer, after the entire destruction of his fleet
and comrades ; and that on his arrival in Ithaca he might be
welcomed by fresh troubles and calamities."

Ulysses next describes his arrival at the island of ^olia, and
hospitable reception by the lord of the winds, who at parting
gives him the adverse gales secured in a bag, Zephyrus being left
out to guide his course. The good intentions of the god are de-
feated by the folly of the mariners, who open the bag and the fleet
is driven back to the island. They then sail to the port of the
Ltestrygonians, by whom the whole armada is destroyed, with the
exception of the hero's own vessel and crew. He next arrives at
the island of the goddess Circe, where, after baffling her magic
arts by aid of Hermes, and checking an attempt at mutiny by his
lieutenant Eurylochus 2, he is entertained by the goddess during
a year. At its expiry he sails by her instructions to the infernal
regions, to consult Tiresias^ regarding his future destinies. In the
hurry of departure Elpenor-*, one of his mariners, heavy with
sleep falls down the stair and breaks his neck.

On arrival in the Shades Ulysses conjures up the ghosts in the
mode enjoined by Circe. The first to appear is that of Elpenor'^,
who complains of his neglected obsequies, and is promised satisfac-
tion on the hero's return to the upper world. Tiresias^ predicts

1 532. sqq. ; conf. i. 21., et locc. citt.

' 429. ; conf. xii. 278. sqq. ' 492. ; conf. xi. 90. sqq., xxni. 251.

323. + 552. ; conf. xi. 51., xii. 10.

* 51. ; conf. x. 552., xii. 10. « 90. sqq. ; conf. x. 492., et locc. citt.

Ch. Vlir. §1. COXCOUDANCE OF THE TEXT. 3G9

the future calamities of Ulysses, consequent on Neptune's anger'
at the blinding of his Cyclop son, also how the impiety of the hero's
crew, in slaughtering the oxen of the Sun"'^ in the isle of Thrinacia,
will involve their destruction and that of the hero's remaining
vessel ; but that he himself will be spared, and return home in a
foreign ship to exterminate the suitors. A mysterious prophecy
is added concerning his subsequent destiny.^ His mother, Anti-
clea, next appears, and acquaints hira with the state of his family
at the epoch of her own death from grief for his supposed loss ;
Penelope is described as a mourning widow, and Laertes as wasting
his life in solitude at his fiirm.* After relating his interview with
the shades of other celebrated females, the hero pauses, and Arete
congratulates the audience on the genius of the guest she has been
the means of introducing to them.'' In the sequel he relates his
dialogue with the ghost of Agamemnon, who describes his own
murder^ by iEgisthus and Clytemnestra. While praising the
superior virtue of Penelope, he w^arns Ulysses against over-reliance
even on her fidelity, advising him, on his return, first to ascertain,
in disguise ^ the state of his domestic affairs. After interviews
with Achilles, Ajax, and other heroes, Ulysses sails back to the
island of Circe.

XII.

He performs the promised rites to Elpenor^, and commences
his voyage homewards, with directions from Circe how to escape
the perils of the Sirens, Scylla, and Charybdis. She charges
him more especially not to meddle with the oxen of the Sun on
the shore of Thrinacia. On approaching the dangerous passes he
encourages his crew by the remembrance of their former escape
from the jaws of Polyphemus. "With the loss of two men, de-
voured by Scylla, he reaches the Thrinacian coast. His crew,
instigated by the mutinous Eurylochus^ land, in spite of his re-
monstrances, and slaughter the sacred cattle.'*' On again setting
sail the vessel is destroyed by a tempest. Ulysses alone escaping
is carried to Ogygi.i, the isle of Calypso. Here he ends his

' 102. ; conf. i. 21., ct loco. citt. " 108. ; conf. xii. 3J3., i. 8.

2 119. sqq. ; conf. x. 492., ct locc. citt. * 202. 180. sqq. ; conf. xv. 358., iv.
733., et locc. cut. ^ 338. ; conf. vi. 310., ct locc. citt. " 409.; conf.
I. 300., et locc. citt. "^ 454. ; conf. xiii. 397., et locc. citt.

^ 10.; conf. XI. 51., x. 552. » 278.; conf. x. 429. '^' 353. ; conf.

I. 8., IX. 108.

VOL. I. V. V.

370 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

narrative, having previously described his passage from Ogygia to
Scheria.

XIII.
The Phoeacian nobles load the hero with presents, in addition to
those in the box of Arete. ^ The next evening he embarks in a
Plijeacian galley, and on the ensuing morning is set ashore in
Ithaca fast asleep, together with his valuables.- Neptune com-
plains to Jupiter of the hero's convoy home with so rich a cargo,
as an interference, on tlie part of the Phceacians, with the decree
"that he should reach his native land in forlorn condition^;"
with Jupiter's sanction, therefore, the god inflicts on them a part
of the punishment decreed against their officiousness, by chang-
ing their vessel into a rock.* Ulysses awaking, is accosted by
Minerva, who informs him of his son's absence in Sparta, and of
the ambush of the suitors.^ She promises greater efforts in his
cause, being now no longer exposed to collision with her uncle,
Neptune ^ ; and he supplicates her to guard him against the fate of
Agamemnon,^ She then transforms his outward appearance into
that of an aged beggar^, gives him a staffs, and, bidding him
proceed to the hut of his swineherd Euma^us, departs for Lace-
dcemon ^° to attend to the affairs of Telemachus.

XIV.

Ulysses, on approaching the farm of Euma^us, is attacked by the
dogs, and loses his staff.^' He is protected and hospitably enter-
tained by the swineherd, to whom he relates a series of fictitious
adventures.

XV.

Pallas, on arriving at Sparta '2, warns Telemachus in a vision
to return home, avoiding in his voyage the ambush of the suitors'^;
and on reaching Ithaca to visit the swineherd. The prince ac-

^ 10. sqq. ; conf. viii. 438., v. 37., et locc. citt. ^ 119, 120. ; conf. v.
37., et locc. citt. ^ i25. ; conf. i. 21., et locc. citt. * 149. 172. ; conf.
VIII. 5G5. 5 425. ; conf. iv. 669., et locc. citt. <> 341. ; conf. i. 21., et
locc. citt. ~' 382. ; conf. i. 300., et locc. citt. ^ 397^ 439 . conf. xi. 454.,
XVI. 172. 455. 9 437. ; conf. xiv. 31., xvii. 195. 10 440. ; conf. iv. 620.,

XV. 1.

1' 31. ; conf XIII. 437., xvii. 195.

1. ; conf. xiii. 440., iv. 620. " 28. 300. ; conf. iv. 669., et locc.

12
citt.

Cn. Vril. §1. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 371

cordingly, retracing with Pisistratus his former route, arrives at
Pylos. AVhen about to onibark for Ithaca lie is accosted by the
seer Theoclynienus ', a i'ugitive from Argos on account of homi-
cide, to whom he aftords a passage to Itliaca. The vessel escapes
the ambush of Antinoiis by a circuitous course. The same even-
ing Eumasus describes the death of Anticlea, mother of Ulysses,
from grief for the supposed loss of her son 2, with the low condi-
tion of Laertes.^ Tclemachus, on reaching the nearest shore of
Ithaca, lands, and, committing Theoclynienus to the care of Pi-
ra3U3 -*, one of his crew, until his own an'ival in the city, sends the
vessel on to port ^ and proceeds direct to the SAvineherd's dwelling.
Thcoclymenus, before parting, prophesies ^ the speedy restoration
of the affairs of Ulysses.

xvr.

Telemachus finds Ulysses at 'breakfast with Eumreus, whom he
sends to apprise Penelope of his return. Ulysses, restored by
Pallas to his natural form ^, reveals himself to his son. They
concert measui'es for the destruction of the suitors, by removing
the arms from the palace hall ^5 and assaulting the gang unawares.
In the meantime, the vessel of Telemachus enters the port of
Ithaca.^ The valuables he had collected in his travels are de-
posited in the house of Clytius.^'^ Soon after, the suitors' galley,
disappointed of its object, returns.'* Antinoiis proposes a fresh
attempt on the life of Telemachus, but is dissuaded from it by the
less depraved Amphinomus.'- Penelope, apprised by Eumasus of
the arrival of Telemachus, reproaches the suitors with their late
designs against her son's life, communicated to her by Medon the
herald. 13 Eumceus, in the course of the evening, rejoins Tele-
machus and Ulysses, now retransformed by Minerva into a mendi-
cant,'^

XVII.

In the morning Telemachus walks into tl;e town. He a^ain

1 2-23. sqq. ; conf. 529. 540., xvii. 72., xx. 372. 2 353. ; conf. xi.

202. 3 353_. conf. iv. 735., et locc. citt. ^ 540. ; conf. 223., et locc.
citt. 5 503. ; conf. xvi. 322. « 530. ; conf. xvii. 160.

' 172. ; conf. 455., xiii. 397., et locc. citt. •* 284.; conf. xix. 4.,

XXII. 109. ■' 322. ; conf. xv. 503. '^ 327. ; conf. xvii. 75., et locc.

citt. " 352. ; conf. iv. 609., ct locc. citt. »- 394. ; conf. xTiii. 124.
153., XX. 244., XXII. 92. " 41.2,. conf iv. 696., xxii. 371. '^ 455.,-
conf. xm. 397., et locc. citt.

n n 2

372 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

receives Theoclymenus under his protection from Piraeus ', to
whose care he consigns tlie goods brouglit from Peloponnesus, in
order to save them from the suitors' rapacity.'- He repeats to his
mother Avhat he liad heard from MeneL^us on the authority of
Proteus, concerning his father's detention by Calypso ^, and Theo-
clymenus renews his prophecy of the hero's speedy reappearance."*
Eumasus, and Ulysses in liis character of beggar, provided with a
new staffs by the swineherd, set out later in the day for the town.
On the way the hero is insulted by Melanthius one of his own
goatherds, son of Dolius and a favourite of Eurymachus.^ Ulysses,
on arriving at the palace, is contumeliously treated by Antinoiis.
Eumteus, in answer to Penelope's inquiries concerning the men-
dicant guest, informs her of his own three days' entertainment of
him at the f;irm, and of the tidings he professed to have brought of
her husband. The queen appoints an interview with the stranger
for that evening, in order to make her inquiries in person.''

XVIII.

Ulysses chastises the insolence of the beggar Irus, a habitual
frequenter of the suitors' banquet. Antinoiis and Eurymachus
continue to take the lead in levity and riot. Amphinomus, with
better feehngs, has gloomy forebodings of evil, which, however,
are not sufficient to induce him to flee from the wrath to come,
destined as he was to fall by the hand of Telemachus.^ Ulysses is
insulted by Melantho, daughter of Dolius, one of tlie faithless
maidens of Penelope, and paramour of Eurymachus.^ The revellers
soon after retire to repose.

XIX.

Ulysses and Telemachus, when left alone, in accordance with

1 72. ; conf. xv. 223. 540., xx. 372. ^ 73. sqq. ; conf. xvi. 327., xv.

540. 2 140. ; conf. iv. 557., et locc. citt., i. 14., et loco. citt. '^ 160. ;
conf. XV. 530. * 195.; conf. xiv. 31., xiii. 437. This passage of book

XVII. has been adduced' by B. Thiersch, among other equally forcible
arguments, in favour of the doctrine of a patchAvork Odyssey. The gift
of Euinaivis is, he asserts, incompatible with xiii. 437., where Ulysses was
already provided with a staff by Minerva. The ingenious critic hns
overlooked xiv. 31., where the hero loses his divine walking-stick in his
encounter with the dogs. "^ 212. 257. ; conf. xviii. 321., xix. 65. sqq.,
XX. 6. 173. ■^ 508. ; conf xix. 53. sq.

8 124—153. ; conf xvi. 394., et locc. citt. ^ 321. sqq. ; conf xvii.

212., et loco. citt.

Ch. VIII. §1. CONCOllDANCE OF THE TEXT. o73

tlieir previous plan, remove the arms from the pahice lialL' Pe-
neloixj holds her interview with lier disguised husband '-, who is
again exposed to the insolence of jNIelantho.-' The queen explains
her stratagem of the web, by which she had deceived the suitors.^
Euryelea, wliile washing the hero's feet, recognises him by a scar
received in liis youth from the tusk of a boar, when hunting in
Parnassus '' ; but, warned by Ulysses, she conceals her discovery.
Penelope resolves to entertain the suitors on tlie morrow with a
contest of archery, in shooting through a row of axolieads'^ with
the bow of Ulysses, the winner to have a prior claim to her hand.

XX.

Ulysses reposes in the outer court of the palace, where his
slumbers are disturbed by the wanton maidens going forth to join
their paramours among the suitors.^ The next morning being
the feast of Apollo, tlie revels of the suitors are renewed at an
early hour.^ Melanthius'-* the rebel goatherd, and Pliilcctius '°, a
loyal oxherd, arrive Avith cattle for the daily banquet. The
murder of Telemachus is again proposed in the council of suitors,
and the project again dropped at the instance of Amphinomus.^'
Ctcsippus throws an ox-heel at the head of the disguised king.*^
Theoclymenus warns them of their approaching fate, but is
ridiculed by Eurymachus, and retires to the lodging of Piroeus,'-*

XXI.

Penelope, as had been arranged, proposes to the suitors the
trial of archery with the bow of Ulysses '•*, which not one of them is
able to string. The hero reveals himself to Eumjeus and Piii-
leetius'"' the oxherd, by means of the same boar-tusk wound
observed by Euryclea.'*' He begs for a trial of the bow, but is
refused by the suitors. Penelope, after urging them to grant his

1 4. sqq. ; conf xvi. 284., xxii. 109. " 53. sqq. ; conf. xvii. 508.

3 65. sqq. ; conf. xvii. 212. •• 138. ; conf. ii. 87. ^ 393. ; conf. xxi.
221., XXIII. 74. ** 572. sqq. ; conf. xxi. 1.

" 6. sqq. ; conf. xvii. 212., et locc. citt. ® 155. ; see infra, § 6. of this

chapter. '* 173.; conf. xvii. 212., et locc. citt. "' 185.; conf. xxi.
189 , xxii. 104. 285. " 244. ; conf. xvii. 394., et locc. citt. '- 299. ;
couf. XIII. 290. '^ 372. ; conf. xvii. 72., et locc. citt.

'■* 1. sqq.; conf. xix. 572. '^ 189.; conf. xx. 185., xxii. 104. 285.

^« 221. ; conf. xix. 393., xxiii. 74.

11 u 3

374 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book IT.

request, retires to her apartments. He then obtains possession of
the bow, bends it, and shoots the arrow through the axe-heads.

XXII.

Supported by Telemachus, EumEeus, Philoetius', and Pallas,
Ulysses assaults the suitors. Antinoiis and Eurymachus are slain
by Ulysses, Amphinomus by Telemachus 2, who supplies his party
with fresh weapons from the armoury above staix-s.^ Melanthius,
detected in a similar attempt, is bound and placed in durance.
Philoetius kills Ctesippus, telling him ironically that his death-
wound is in return for the cow-heel aimed at the head of
Ulysses."* In the end the whole suitor crew are destroyed, except
Phemius the bard ^ and Medon the herald^, both having been
secretly faithful to the interests of the family, amid an apparent
adherence to the suitors. Melanthius and the traitorous females
are hanged in the court.

XXIII.

Euryclea informs the queen of the return of Ulysses, of the
death of the suitors, and of her recognition of the hero by the scar
on his leg.^ Penelope, at first incredulous, is convinced by other
proofs of his identity. Ulysses anticipating a tumult among the
relatives of the suitors, resolves to withdraw in the morning to
the farm of Laertes, and take further measures for the reestablish-
ment of his authoi'ity. On retiring to rest he recapitulates his
past adventures to Penelope, with the mysterious prophecy of
Tiresias relative to his future destiny.*

XXIV.

Hermes conducts the souls of the suitors to Hades. Ulysses,
on arrival at the farm of Laertes, finds him working in his garden^,
and reveals himself. The friends of the suitors, instigated by
Eupithes father of Antinoiis, march to avenge the death of their
patrons. Ulysses and Laertes, with Dolius and his sons, attack
and defeat the rebels ; and, through the interposition of Minerva,
peace and the royal authority are restored.

> 104. 285. ; conf. xx. 185., xxi, 189. 92. ; conf. xvi. 394., et loco,
citt. 3 109. ; conf. xvi. 284., xix. 4. * 290. ; conf. xx. 299.

^ 351. ; conf. i. 154. « 371. ; conf. xvi. 412., iv. 696.

^ 74. ; conf. xix. 393., xxi. 221. s 251. sqq. 323. ; conf x. 492., ct
locc. citt.

» 205. 387. ; conf. iv. 735., et locc. citt.

that of the
Iliad.

Cu. VIII. §2. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 375

2. Ill pointing out, on a former occasion, tlic sim- rianofthc
plicity ot design and continuity oi action in the Iliad, trusted with
as important elements of its characteristic dignity
and grandeur, the plan of the Odyssey was appealed
to in the way of contrast. In proportion as the ad-
ventures of the latter poem are more lively and varied,
ranging over a longer period of time and \vider extent
of space, they naturally involve a greater complica-
tion of plot and a more heterogeneous body of actors.
This variety of materials the poet, in consistently
following out the genius of his subject, has embodied
with a corresponding variety of arrangement. In
spite however of that chequering and interlacing of
tlie narrative, and those frequent transitions from
one to another part of the widely extended scene of
action, the dramatic interest of the poem is no less
united in itself, and no less firmly concentrated
around its one main object, the destinies of Ulysses,
than the graver and more solid plot of the Iliad
around those of Achilles.

It is further evident, that although this com-
plexity, as producing a greater apparent disconnexion
of the parts of the poem, may seem at first view to
favour the theory of their independent origin, yet, if
the corresponding nicety of the mode in wliich they
are interwoven be taken into account, the result is
even less compatible with any such theory than the
more simple arrangement of the Iliad. Hence, while
with some more zealous but less critical followers
of Wolf, the comparatively disjointed action of the
Odyssey has supplied ground for still more deter-
mined attacks than have been directed against the
Iliad, the more sagacious commentators of the same
school have admitted the difiiculties interposed by

n u 4

of A!ci
noiis.

376 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

tills intricacy of mechanical structure to be most
formidable or even insuperable. This might be
made the more apparent, by submitting the integral
portions of the poem to the same specific test of
analysis formerly applied to the corresponding sub-
divisions of the Iliad. In the present case however,
leaving the reader who may be so disposed, to follow
out such narrower scrutiny for himself by aid of the
foregoing compendium, we shall be content with a
few general remarks on some of the more delicate or
more characteristic links in the general chain of con-
nexion.
Apologue 3. The " Apologue of Alcinolls " ^ is perhaps, upon
the whole, the subdivision of the Odyssey combining
the greatest amount of those requisites which, by the
aid of a certain degree of alteration, addition, or cur-
tailment, might constitute it an independent poem ; and
as such, accordingly, it has been classed by modern
authorities.^ It would however be impossible, by
such expedients, to reduce it to any other form than
that of a personal or autobiographical narrative.
But it may safely be pronounced altogether foreign
to the genius of the primitive epic muse that such a
narrative should stand alone. In modern times the
hero of a romance may, with, or even possibly with-
out, the ceremony of a prefatory notice in the title-
page, be introduced relating his history to an ima-
ginary audience : but in an age to which scarcely
an alphabetic letter, still less a written volume, is
conceded, the supposition of a poet or rhapsodist, not
content with telling his story in his own person,
actually presenting himself to his audience in that of

^ B. IX— XII.

2 Wolf. Prol. p. i-21. ; W. Mull. Horn. Vorsch. ed. 1836, p. 101.

Cu. VIII. §4. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 377

his hero, cannot for a moment bo entertained. This
series of adventures must, therefore, from the first
have belonged to the body of narrative ^vith which
it is now connected. The rule obviously extends
with still irreater force to the subordinate cantos of
the series. They may possibly be interpolations. But
the notion of three or four such original independent
specimens of personal narrative were still less admis-
sible than that of a single one.

In the Odyssey however, as in the Iliad, it is even
less perhaps in these bulkier heads of adventure,
embodying standard points of national legend, that
the mechanical unity of parts is displayed, than in a
class of minor transactions which cotdd hardly by
any possibility be other than the personal invention
of the poet. Attention may here again be directed
to the easy artless manner in which the secondary
actors are brought forward, dismissed, and reproduced,
from time to time, often in widely separate portions
of the drama. Tlie names, for example, of three or
four leading suitors, with the principal traits of their
character, may have been matters of common tra-
dition ; but no such indulgence can be extended to
the heralds, waiting-maids, goatherds, bards, beggars,
and other petty performers, who all fulfil their re-
spective functions wdth the same consistent unity as
the protagonist himself. The following examples
have been selected, among many perhaps still more
to the purpose, as illustrating at the same time other
features in the mechanism of the poet's art.

4. In the second book Telemachus, when about to voyage of
sail for Pylos, after the refusal of the suitors to lend ehul n'oc-
him a ship, procures one from a friend called Xoemon^ '"""•

' II. 386.

378 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

otherwise unknown to fame, but who, in the fourth
book, is again introduced as in want of his vessel, and
anxiously inquiring ^ as to the period of its return.
This circumstance is in itself somewhat strange. The
wealth of the Ithacan royal family must have com-
prised ships, and it is nowhere implied that this par-
ticular portion of that wealth had been confiscated
by the suitors, while the existing heir was left in
possession of his lands, cattle, and other goods. To
whatever cause the anomaly be due, it is not likely
to have been consistently followed up by more than
one poet. The borrowed ship is manned with volun-
teers selected by Mentor from the youth of the city.
On reaching Ithaca, on his return from the voyage,
the prince lands at his farm, and sends on his vessel
Ph-acus to the port, commissioning Pir^us^, a confidential
comrade, to take charge of his property, and protect
durinof his absence a strans^er of distinction, to whom
he had afforded a passage from Pylos. We then
leave the ship, and accompany Telemachus across the
country to the cottage of Eumaeus. After a long
interval, in the latter part of the next canto, we
rejoin the ship already in port, and are somewhat
surprised to find the goods of Telemachus lodged,
not in the house of Piraeus to whose care they had
been committed, but of another person called Clytius^,
of whom nothing had yet been heard. At the com-
mencement of the seventeenth book, however, Tele-
machus on arrivins: in the town finds Piraeus in the
marketplace, who accosts him, and begs he will send
servants from the palace to his (Pira3us's) house, to
receive the property lately lodged in it. Here then,
on first view, there is a manifest discrepancy. In

* IV. 630. * XV. 540. ' XVI. 327.

Ch. VIII. §5. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 379

one place Pirneus, in anotlior Clytius, is made to take
charge of the goods. The matter, however, is explained
by reference to the passage where Piraeus is first men-
tioned, and where the patronymic Clytides is added
to his name, lie was therefore, like Telemachus, a
youth as yet unsettled in life, and resident with his
father ; his friend's goods are carried consequently, as
a matter of course, to his father's house, which is after-
wards familiarly described as his own. This artless
chain of mutual connexion supplies evidence, both of
original unity in the parts of the poem, and of an
audience familiar Avith many minor details of the sub-
ject, the suppression of which might give trouble to
a reader of an age some three thousand years removed.
Ilad Homer, in the first address of Telemachus to
Piraeus, happened to omit his patronymic, as he miglit
very naturally have done, this series of passages,
which now so clearly evinces the unity of composition,
would have been adduced as conclusive argument of
patchwork.

5. The male representative of the rebellious vas- Meianthi
salage of Ulysses is the goatherd Melanthius. The ^'"' ^'^^^'"
female ringleader of the same faction is Melantho \
waiting-maid of Penelope. The correspondence of
name and disposition naturally leads to suspect some
blood relationship between the two. Nowhere how-
ever is there any notice to that eff'ect on the part of
Homer. It is only by collation of incidental passages,
at widely distant intervals, that we are led to infer
they are brother and sister. ]\Ielantho is described,
in XVIII. 321., as the dauiihter of Dolius, head ix^^r-
dener and favourite servant of Laertes, and as having
been educated ])y Penelope with great tenderness

* XVII. 212., ct iocc. supr. citt. in § 1.

us
Mel;
tho.

menus the
seer.

380 IIOxMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

for her own service, but now lost to all sense of
shame or duty, and the mistress of Earymachus.
Melanthius is also styled son of Dolius ; and, although
it is nowhere said that tliis Dolius was the same
person as the father of Melantho, the fact may be
inferred from the circumstance of her paramour
Eurymacluis being also described as the patron of
Melanthius, who accordingly occupies a place by his
side when admitted to the table of the suitors.^ The
intimacy with the sister sufficiently explains the
favour shown to the brother.
Theociy- Piroius, tlic friend of Telemachus already noticed,

has another bond of connexion with tlie body of the
poem, through the medium of an important, though
in some sense superfluous episode, that concerning
the seer Theoclymeuus ^, towards whom, in the
absence of the prince, Pir^us fulfils the duties of
hospitality. Neither the first introduction of this
stranger, the detailed genealogy of his race, nor his
presence in the sequel, has the smallest necessary
relation to the historical substance of the action.
While it is not therefore very apparent, on first
view, what may have induced even a single Homer to
admit him at all, it is next to impossible that any
number of independent authors or interpolators
should have conspired in carrying his interference
so systematically through the subsequent stages of
the history. There suggests itself however, on
closer consideration, a somewhat deeper motive than
mere caprice, in the mind of the poet, for the pro-
minence assigned to the mysterious refugee. Among
the most valuable expedients for imparting super-
natural effect to any great catastrophe was that of

' XVII. 257. ' XV. 223., et locc. citt. in § 1.

Cii.VlII. §G. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 08 1

prophetic ngency. In the Iliad are several distin-
jruished oro-ans of the divine will ; Calchas, Ilelenus,
Polydumas. In Ithaca no snch character is men-
tioned, with the exception indeed of Leodes, himself
one of the suitors, and as such virtually disqualihed
for the office of warning his companions of their
impending fate. Homer, therefore, has thought fit
to introduce one from abroad ; nor could a more
appropriate selection have been made than that of
Thcoclymenus, who, as lineal descendant of the Argive
]\relampus, represents the most distinguished line of
Hellenic soothsayers. He is ushered on the stage
under circumstances replete with mystery and terror,
fleeins: the vindictive wrath attendant on one of
those crimes from which even the noblest natures
in unguarded moments are not exempt ; and his
presence and interposition become essential to the
moral conduct of the plot. The contempt with which
his warnings are received, and his brutal treatment
by the suitors, while adding to the measure of their
enormities, supply, as will be seen hereafter, material
for one of the finest scenes of preternatural horror in
the whole volume of descriptive poetry.

6. A still more important illustration of the deli- Pervading
cacy and depth of the poet's divine mechanism is Apoiio.
contained in a series of allusions to certain mysterious
peculiarities in the period and circumstances of the
catastrophe of the poem. These allusions, taken
separately, may appear little more than unimportant
commonplaces or puzzling enigmas ; but, in the true
spirit of their epic connexion, they reflect in a new
and brilliant light both the unity and the grandeur
of the poet's genius.

Ulysses, soon after his return to his native island,

382 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

on two successive occasions, and in terms too solemn
to be misunderstood, places the epoch of that return,
and of the vengeance to be inflicted by him on the
suitors, about the new moon; or, literally, "at the
expiry of one month and commencement of another."^

,!. In the Greek religious calendar, the first days of the

i month were sacred to Apollo from the remotest
period ; and the Neomenia, or feast of the New

i Moon, celebrated in honour of that deitv, continued
to be one of the most popular festivals in every
age of classical antiquity.^ On the morning of the
day destined for the destruction of the suitors,

• the fourtli after the arrival of Ulysses, they appear
earlier than usual in the palace hall. The reason
assigned is, " that it is a great public festival," ^ the
feast of Apollo in fact, as stated a few lines after-
wards, where the heralds are described as leading the
victims in procession through the city, and the people
as assembled in tlie Grove of Phcebus. Now it v/ill
be remembered that Apollo was, in the primitive
mythology, and in that of Homer in particular, the
god of sudden death ^; and the bow, his favourite
weapon, was the emblem of his destructive attributes.
The bow was also the weapon with which Ulysses
was to consummate his vengeance on the suitors.
Hence the competition of archery with the hero's
bow, appointed by Penelope the day before as a test
of their prowess, is selected with ominous propriety
as the gymnastic entertainment of the feast of the
god. Mark then how impressive the combination.

^ XIV. 162., XIX. 307.

^ Hesiod, W. and D. 770. ; Herod, vi. 57. ; Philocb. ap. SclioU. min.
et Scholl. Buttm. ad Od. xx. 1.55., xxi. 258.

3 XX. 156. 276. 4 See infra, Ch. xi. § 5.

Ch. VIII. §0. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 383

The liglit-licarted traitors, like moths playing round
the "flame of a candle, Avere destined, wliile in the act
of honourin2; the jjod of the how and of sudden
destruction, on his own feast day and with his own
weapon, to be suddenly destroyed by the bow of
their injured sovereign. How fearful the self-irony
of their unconscious appeals to the patronage of the
very deity at whose altar they were about to be
sacrificed! In order, however, rightly to apprehend
the spirit of these mysterious forewarn ings of the im-
pending fatality, it will be proper to trace them as
they occur dispersed throughout the latter half of
the poem, and for the most part in the mouths of
persons who seem to have no distinct consciousness
of their import.

The disembarcation of Telemachus on the shore
of Ithaca, with his inspired guest Thcoclymenus, is
greeted by the appearance of a hawk, designated "the
swift messenger of Apollo," ^ tearing a dove to pieces,
and strewino; the featliers on the earth around the
hero. This omen the seer emphatically pronounces
to be significant of prosperity and power to the royal
house of Ithaca. The allusion to the strewing of the
bodies of its enemies by the weapons of the god, as
the feathers of the victim had been scattered bv his
winged messenger, is abundantly obvious.

After the insult offered by the treacherous Melan-
thius to the disguised Ulysses on his walk to the
city, Eumajus puts forth a prayer for the speedy
return of his master, to curb and punish such brutal
conduct. The goatherd scornfully retorts'- with a
•wish, " that Telemachus were as sure of beinjx smitten
that day by Apollo in the palace hall, or of falling

' XV. 526. sqq. ^ xvii. 251. sqq.

384 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

by the hands of the suitors, as he is sure that Ulysses
will never return to Ithaca." Now when it is re-
membered, that not only was Ulysses to return, the
minister of his own wrath and that of the god whom
the base peasant invokes, but that Melanthius himself
was to be involved in the same speedy destruction
as his licentious patrons, these few lines, which the
careless reader passes over as mere matter of epic
routine, will appear replete with ominous allusion to
the impending catastrophe.

Penelope, in the course of the same day, hearing
that Antinoiis had violated the rights of hospitality
in her hall by striking her disguised husband, ex-
presses a wish, in the warmth of her indignation,
" tliat he himself might be stricken by the bowman
Apollo: " XVII. 494.

ai(i' ourwg aurov (rs jiuXoi H.\uroro>^og ^ Kir oXKcov '

and the mode in which the old nurse emphatically
follows up the invocation shows that it is pregnant
with more than common import : 496

b\ yap STT dpfi(nv rsT^og rjULsrsoy^fri ysvoiro,
oux av rig rooTcov ys evSpovou vjm Ixoito.

The queen wishes that " the archer Apollo " would
destroy Antinoiis ; Euryclea rejoins, that, " if her
desire were fulfilled, not one of the suitors would see
the morrow." Now the morrow was Apollo's day ; and
on it the suitors were destined to be slain by the
bow. The nurse's answer therefore, while in its
familiar sense merely expressing a wish for their
speediest possible destruction, indirectly defines the
period appointed for its accomplishment.

On the fatal day itself, Antinoiis, having vainly

Cn. VIII. § G. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 385

attempted to string the bow of Ulysses, proposes to
put off tlie contest until the close <A' tlie festiv;il, and
after prayer to the god for l)etter success. Here,
again, observe the portentous self-irony of some of
his reasons : xxi. 258.

vuv y.\v yap xara Oy'i'xrjv sopry) rrlio ^jzolr)
oLyvTi' rig 0= Xz TU:^a. riTOiivoir \

" Who would pollute so pure a festival by feats of
archery ?" The disguised king commends this pro-
posal, adding sarcastically, that doubtless on the
next morning the god, if it be his good pleasure, will
inspire them with fresh vigour for the undertaking ;
but in the meantime begs to be allowed a trial. In
this request he is supported by Penelope, who pro-
mises that, should Apollo grant him success, his
prowess shall not go unrewarded.^ His petition is,
however, scornfully refused by the suitoi's ; and when
Eumasus, in compliance with the queen's wish, is
about to hand the weapon to the hero, Eurymachus,
in his customary tone of scurrility, tells the faithful
peasant that " he will make him food for his own
swine." At length when Ulysses, bending the bow
and shooting the arrow through the axe-heads, strips
himself of his tattered disguise, and mounts the pave-
ment of his palace hall ready to commence the bloody
work, he utters the terrible sentence, that " he is
now about to aim at a mark which no man yet hath
hit, but which he hopes to pierce by the favour of
Apollo : " XXII. 0.

'/6v OL-jrB fTKOTTov a?v?vov ov rjl)-(o Tit; (bu'ABv oivr^f>,
BKTfjixoii a'l Xz T'j^cotxi, TTopVi OS 'xo< ^'Jp/Ot,' W.7r'j'A7uou !

' XXI. 281.; conf. 338.
VOL. 1. C C

38G HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

This whole train of allusions therefore, in a great
measure pointless if taken separately, assumes col-
lectively an awful significance as concentrated around
the fatality, that Ulysses was suddenly to destroy
the suitors with the bow, on the sacred day of Apollo,
the god of archery and of sudden destruction. The
catastrophe was to take place at the moment when
they were assembled to celebrate, with their charac-
teristic levity of demeanour, the festival of the god,
and while engaged in a trial of skill with the weapon
which, sacred to him, was to deal death to them-
selves ; with the very weapon too, of the man they
were outraging, and whose wife and plundered goods
were the promised reward of the victor.

What however it may be asked, has induced the
genius who conceived this grand poetical moral, to
shroud it under so enigmatical a veil ?^ A sufficient
answer to such questions might perhaps be, that
we have no right to ask them. The following
however suggests itself as a natural explanation of
the mystery. The special patroness of Ulysses was
Pallas. She had been his guardian angel during the
Trojan v^rar, and had conducted him safe through
the dangers of his late adventurous course. To her
therefore tlie first, and ostensibly the sole credit
was to remain of completing the work she had begun.

^ The fact of a coincidence between the catastrophe of the poem and
the feast of Apollo has been observed by O. Muller (Einl. zu ein. Wiss.
Myth. p. 360.) : but, overlooking the whole train of delicate allusions
to that coincidence, he has arrived at the strange opinion that Homer
himself was unconscious of their spirit and value ; that he is merely the
mechanical organ of some obscure tradition, which he neither understood
nor appreciated. The equally strange argument by which this view is
supported, that the poet nowhere specially dii-ects attention to the fact of
Apollo being an agent in the destruction of the suitors, is sufficiently
disposed of by the series of passages above cited.

Cii. Vril. §G. CONCORDANCE OF THE TEXT. 387

Had the agency of Apollo been brought forward in
the prominent form to ^vhich its importance might
otherwise seem to entitle it, Minerva would have
been eclipsed, or a multiplicity of divine interference
have resulted, injurious to the harmony of the action.
The influence therefore of the god of the bow, with
its train of portentous contingencies, has been very
properly kept in the background of the picture. The
few incidental touches by which it has been shadowed
forth speak home, through their very obscurity, with
the greater force to the minds of those who ap-
preciate the true spirit of the poem, but must remain
a dead letter to such as read it on the principles of
Hermann, Wolf, or Heyne.

c c 2

388 HOMER. ODYSSEY^ Book IT.

CHAP. IX.

HOMER. ODYSSEY. UNITY OF THE ACTION.
CHARACTERS.

1. COBrPARATIVE GENIUS OF THE TWO POEMS. TRIPARTITE DISTRIBUTION OF
THE ACTION OF THE ODYSSEY. 2. CHARACTER OF ULYSSES. 3. ITS DE-
GRADATION BY THE LATER ORGANS OF EPIC TR.U5ITION. ITS COMIC IN-
GREDIENT. 4. VOYAGE OF ULYSSES. THE CICONIAJS'S. CHARACTER OF THE

hero's COMRADES. THE LOTOPHAGI. 5. THE CYCLOPS. ^OLUS. THE

L.ESTRYGONIANS. CIRCE. THE NECROMANCY. THE SIRENS. 6. SCHERIA AND

THE PH^ACIANS. NAUSICAA 7. ALCINOltS AND HIS COURT. 8. ULYSSES

IN ITHACA. 9. CHARACTER OF TELEMACHUS. 10. HIS ORATORY.

11. CHARACTER OF THE SUITORS. ANTINOIJS. EURYMACHUS. AMPHJNOMUS.

LEODES. 12. ORATORY' OF THE SUITORS. 13. THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER.

IMPRESSIVE SCENE. THE CATASTROPHE. 14. PARALLEL CHARACTERS OP

PENELOPE AND ANDROMACHE 15. EU3LEUS THE SWINEHERD. MELAN-

THIUS THE GOATHERD. EURYCLEA. MELANTHO. IRUS THE BEGGAR.
EURYLOCHUS. MENELAUS. NESTOR. HELEN.

compara- 1. The faiidamental difference in the genius of the
of the two two poems has been accurately pointed out by Ari-
poema. stotlc.^ The Iliad he defines as patlietic and simple ;
the Odyssey as ethic and complex. Our previous
analysis of the plot of the IHad, in conjunction with
the character of its hero, has been accordingly
little more than a commentary on the philosopher's
concise and pithy definition. The whole machinery
of that poem revolves around the single object of
exemplifying, in the person of one great ideal being,
the efi'ects of those passions which, in poetry or real
life, chiefly excite admiration or terror. The Odyssey
is no less truly described, by the same critic, as a
varied picture of character and manners. We must,
however, guard against too rigid an interpretation of

^ De Poet. XXV. ed. Bip.

Cii. IX. §1. UNITY OF THE ACTION. 389

the letter of this tlisthiction. AVhile the characters
of the lUad, froin the comparatively limited nature of
its subject, are confined to a limited class, they are
perhaps on that account the more wonderful in the
variety and delicacy of their conception. In the
Odyssey, on the other hand, although the ethic ele-
ment predominates, yet the individual displays of
passion and feeling fall no way short, either in live-
liness or truth, of those of the Iliad.

AVhile therefore the Iliad, from the greater so-
lidity and simplicity of its design, and the superior
dignity of its subject and style, ranks as the nobler
poem of the two, the Odyssey must be admitted to
display a greater extent and fertility of inventive
o^enius. Nowhere can a work of art be found com-
bining so great a multiplicity of parts in so harmo-
nious a unity of whole, or exhibiting in the treat-
ment of so ricli a variety of materials such masterly
desi<2;n or vivid colourino;. In the rairino; of tlie
storm, in the tumult of war foreign or domestic,
it displays all the grandeur of the Iliad. In the
terror of the oiant or cannibal, the fascination of the
siren, or the delusive arts of the sorceress, the bold
fancy of Oriental romance is combined with the
genial simplicity of Hellenic fable. In the spacious
halls of the imperial palace, or the still seclusion of
tlie landward farm, the reader feels equally at home ;
and partakes with equal zest of the cheerful fru-
gality of the rustic board, and the gorgeous munifi-
cence of royal hospitality. He listens, as if present,
alike to the tierce altercation and the familiar dialogue,
to the song of the bard, the traveller's tale, and the
scurrilous jest of the licentious brawler. 1 le imagines
himself as busily engaged in ilie dail}" routine of iii-

c c 3

390 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

door life, as in tlie bustle of the market, or the stormy
debate of the council hall. In the passage of the
vessel from coast to coast or island to island, we hear
the flapping of the sail, the dash of the oar, and the
cry of the mariner. We rejoice with the good ship
as she glides over the waves before a prosperous
breeze, and shudder for the fate of her gallant crew
amid the tumult of warring elements. In the charac-
ters are exhibited, with the same unvarying truth and
nature, the patient but dignified demeanour of rank
and worth under grinding oppression ; the heroic con-
stancy of the devoted wife, amid endless trials and
temptations ; the unshaken *fidelity of the aifectionate
husband ; the modest simplicity of the ingenuous
youth ; the bold enterprise, cunning artifice, and stern
endurance of the daring adventurer ; the mixture
of insolence and servility, squalid misery and rapa-
city, in the professional beggar and vagabond. The
gravity of the sage, and the dry humour of the sati-
rist, are contrasted with the levity of the frivolous
courtier, the abandoned rake, or the giddy populace ;
the base treachery and ingratitude of the rebellious
vassal, with the devotion of the faithful subject; the
sportive coquetry of virgin innocence, with the wan-
ton pertness of the courtesan ; the deliberate villany
of the heartless reprobate, with the vacillation of the
half-repentant sinner. The Odyssey is, in fact, a rich
picture gallery of human life as it existed in that age
and country, embracing every subject, from the sub-
lime to the ludicrous, from the terrible to the bur-
lesque, with so close an adherence to nature, yet
so careful a softening down of its more offensive
features, as to charm as much by the purity as the
truth and brilliancy of the representation.

Cir. IX. §1. UNITY OF THE ACTION. .391

This difference in the genius of the two poems Tiipaititp
involves a corresponding variety of their poetical Hon'onhe
structure. The Iliad hin2;es on a sino;le all-absorbinir ^'=t'""cfti»«

, ^, . ° . ° Odyssey.

interest, the excited passions of Achilles. In the
Odyssey, besides the main scope of the narrative, the
restoration of Ulysses to his kingdom, numerous
separate interests present a proportional complication
of underplot. Such arc the private schemes of the
suitors, and their persecution of Telemachus ; the
wrath of Xeptune against Ulysses for his treatment
of Polyphemus ; and the love of Calypso for the same
hero. Hence, while the fate of Ulysses, like that of
Achilles, equally forms the centre of the action, the
subordinate adventures acquire a far greater degree
of separate integrity, and the persons who figure in
them a more independent range of activity, than in
the Iliad. While Ulysses is the hero of the wliole
poem, Telemachus is the protagonist of its first four
cantos. Ulysses himself in his Apologue to Alcinoils
appears as the hero of a distinct action. Even the
suitors assume, towards the close of the poem, a
prominence which, never belongs to any secondary
performer of the Iliad. This difference in the com-
position of the Odyssey, while precluding any such
concurrent analysis of the genius of the protagonist
and of the whole work as in tlie case of the Iliad,
renders it expedient here to follow out the same prin-
ciple in detail, by examining each of the subdivisions
above alluded to conjointl}'- with the characters of
their more immediate heroes. The whole action of
the Odyssey may thus be ranged under three com-
prehensive heads : 1. The adventures of Telemachus
alone ; 2. The adventures of Ulysses alone ; 3. Tlie
adventures of the two together, after their return

c c 4

392 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book 11.

from their travels. The first claim on attention
belongs to Ulysses, whose character, though gra-
phically portrayed throughout his appearance on the
stasre, will be best considered in connexion with his
exclusive occupation of it from the fifth to the twelfth
books. The same series of narrative comprises also
the court and people of the Phaeacians, an episode
offering one of the most spirited satires ever conceived
on some of the more amusing weaknesses of human
nature. The character of Teleraachus connects itself
in a similar manner with the opening books, where
he figures as principal performer ; while the suitors^
Penelope, and other personages of inferior note, as-
sume importance in the latter part of the poem.
Character 2. The hcro of the Odyssey also acts a leadins;

of Ulysses. . . J J d

part in the Iliad ; but the remarks suggested by his
share in that poem have been reserved for the present
occasion, his character, in justice both to its own
merits and the unity of the poet's conception of it,
requiring to be considered as one consistent whole.
It will also be proper to keep in view the relation in
which Ulysses stands to the protagonist of the Uiad^
as illustrative of the poet's tact in adapting the ingre-
dients of each work to the spirit of its composition.

Achilles represents the grandeur of the heroic
character, as reflected in the very excess of its noblest
attributes. Ulysses represents its virtue, possessing,
as he does in greater number and higher degree than
any other chief, the qualities which in that age
constituted the accomplii^hed king and citizen. In
him the impetuous valour of the invincible paladin
gives place to the cool intrepidity of the discreet
veteran. Instead of that intuitive horror of so much
as the semblance of deceit which animates the

Cii- IX. § 2, UNITY OF THE ACTION. ULYSSES. 393

haughty ]\Iyrmidon, Ulysses combines with a just
regard for the real principles of equity, a more
rational estimate of the talents he had received from
nature for promoting tlie legithnate objects of his
ambition. To a ready turn for dissimulation and
a never failing self-command, he unites a patient
endurance of suiFering, and even of insult, wlien
essential to the attainment of his ends. In the Iliad,
where liis attributes of warrior and politician are
alone exemplified, he is constantly put forward in
those emergencies wdiere a combination of courage
and diplomatic tact is required. lie is intrusted by
Airamemnon with the delicate office of restoring
Chryseis to her home, and propitiating the wrath of
the terrible deity to whom her father ministered.
On the bad success of Agamemnon's experiment on
the temper of his troops, and the bewilderment of
that commander, Ulysses, with the aid of his guardian
genius Minerva, restores order and discipline to the
disorganised host. He takes the chief conduct of
the negotiation with Achilles, and in the sequel, as
representing the more intellectual element of military
enterprise, he executes, in appropriate conjunction
Avith Diomed's combative prowess, the midnight re-
connoitre of the Trojan camp. He is also, conjointly
with Diomed, an energetic opponent of Agamemnon's
dastardly plans of desertion or flight.^ In tlie games,
baffling brute strength by dexterous art, he bears
away from the mighty Ajax the prize of wrestling.
This victory Avas but a prelude to that afterwards
obtained in a more glorious competition with the same
rival, when the voice of his fellow-warriors pro-
nounced him the liero Avho, by his various talents,

' II. XIV. 82.

394 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

had, next to Achilles, promoted the triumph of the
national arms. The justice of this verdict was soon
after tested, by his undertaking and successfully-
managing the stratagem of the wooden horse ^, the
most dangerous, as it was the most decisive, measure
of the war. On a former occasion ^ he had performed
a little less hazardous exploit, that of entering Troy
in disguise, for the purpose of obtaining cooperation
among the inmates of the city in any attempt to take
it by surprise.

Skilled however as he is in the arts of intrio;ue, he
never turns them to unworthy account. The strata-
gems above referred to, with other parallel displays
of political tact or patient endurance in the sequel
of his career, are traits which, foreign as they would
have been to the genius of Achilles, are appropriate
and honourable in the hero of the Odyssey. His
habitual prudence was indeed modified, or even
at times overcome, by his thirst for glory, and by
an eager pursuit of the marvellous which led him
into perilous adventures. Proof against the tempta-
tion to sensual indulgence where to yield were dis-
creditable, he displays no stoical contempt for the
sweets with which fortune, in the worst of times, oc-
casionally tempered the bitterness of his cup ; and
a ready vein of comic humour enlivens the gloom,
while it seasons the description, of his most disastrous
vicissitudes. But even the brilliancy of his intel-
lectual qualities is obscured by his social excellences.
He is not only the brave soldier, astute politician,
and bold navigator, but the affectionate husband and
parent, the just and paternal ruler, and the kind and
benevolent master. Throuojhout his career of ad-

^ Od. viii. 494., XI. 524. - Od iv. 242. sqq.

Cii. IX. § 3. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ULYSSES. 395

venture, the ruling objects of his thouglits or desires
are still his wife, his son, and native fireside \ in his
own little sea-girt island, lowly and insignificant as
he himself describes it^, and as it would to this day
have remained, but for the glory which his own and
his poet's genius have shed on its rugged cliffs.

3. There is perhaps no hero whose character, as its dcgra-
conceived by Homer, contrasts more broadly with the the later
form it assumes in tlic fable of the Cyclic poets and ep?c"tra-*^
the Attic dramatists. The valiant soldier is there ^'''°"'
transformed into the skulking poltroon, the sagacious
politician into the plotting traitor, the man of honour
into the low-minded villain. The critical reflexions
suggested by this metamorphosis belong to another
place ; it will here sufhce to observe, that there is
nothing in the part played by Ulysses in either
poem, which aftords the slightest reasonable pretext
for such imputations. He is not, it is true, exempt
from the occasional weakness to which Homer, with a
just regard for the laws of human nature, subjects
even his most perfect characters. Yet his courage
fails him but once ^, under all the trials to which it
is exposed by land or by sea, and that before the
arm of God rather than man, Avhen not only Aga-
memnon and Menelaus, but Ajax and, with the
single exception of Diomed, the whole Greek army,
were infected Avith the same panic. There are
however varieties of courage as of other human
virtues. If Ulysses might, in such company, fly
before Hector backed by the thunderbolts of Jupiter,
Diomed, or even Achilles, might have displayed less
composure in the cave of Polyphemus or the Shades

1 Od. p.'K-siiu : II. II. 200., IV. 3.54. ' Od. ix. 25. sq.

^ II. VIII. 78. sqq.

ingredient.

396 HOMEE. ODYSSEY. Book II.

of Erebus, or have offered a less determined re-
sistance to the temptations of hunger in the island of
Thrinacia. Still less countenance is afforded by the
Odyssey to the charges of the later fable against its
hero's honesty. While the vicissitudes of his destiny
render a succession of intrigues indispensable, yet
on no occasion is an untruth uttered or a manoeuvre
practised for a base object, or where a man of strict
honour and integrity, in any age or country, need
have felt shame in turning his abilities to similar
account.
Its comic With respect to the comic ingredient in the genius

of Ulysses or of the Odyssey, the inquiry may suggest
itself, how far, in a poem where the leading incidents
are grave and serious, and the catastrophe deeply
tragical, any such infusion of the burlesque be con-
sistent with poetical propriety ? The best general
answer to this question is, that the operations of
great original genius are scarcely compatible with
an observance of those restraints to which the pro-
fessional masters of the art, in later nges, have been
subjected. A certain blending of the two ingre-
dients seems also indispensable, on the principle of
contrast, to the full effect of either the ethic or jm-
thetic in such compositions. Even in the sublimely
dignified Iliad many traits of humour are discern-
ible. Such are the episodes of Thersites, and the
scenes of domestic life in Olympus, to -which, as of
more questionable propriet}^, attention will be turned
in treatino; of the theolooical mechanism of the
poems.

In this respect the parallel is obvious between
Homer and the two greatest poets of modern times,
Dante and Shakspeare. The Hellenic minstrel

Cii. IX. §3. UNITV Oh- THE ACTION. ULYSSES. ^397

however as a general rule, excels his rivals, if not
in the broader point of liis comedy, in tlie propriety
at least of its management, by making it season
rather than rudely clash with more serious matters:
and in one respect he stands nobly superior to
them, that all obscenity is banished from his jest,
or, if a vestige of such levity can be discerned,
it is only through the veil of cautious and delicate
eniirma.

Judged by a more fastidious standard, the boxing
match with the beggar Irus has objectionable fea-
tures; yet, if the poet was justified in disguising
his hero as a mendicant, he was bound to carry him
through his part with spirit. Ulysses certainly appears
as the prince of beggars ; nor probably M'as his royal
dignity tarnished, in the spirit of heroic manners, by
the righteous chastisement inflicted on the base pro-
faner of his palace hall. The transformation by Circe
of the hero's navigators into hogs has also moved the
spleen of critics of high authority.^ But the fault
may here lie in their too narrow estimate of the
moral of the poet's romance. Such treatment, de-
grading as it may be to heroes of the Trojan war,
is essential to the ethic spirit of the adventure.
Lions or bears might have furnished a more dignified
metamorphosis than hogs ; but then the real point
of the satire would have been lost. Their punish-
ment is evidently adapted to their offence, the
swinish eagerness with which they swallowed the
intoxicatin": draught of the sorceress.^

The above general description of the hero's cha-
racter will now be illustrated by the details of his

' Lonf^in. ix. 14. ^ x. -IdT. ; ctinl". ii^i.

98 HOMER, ODYSSEY. Book II.

history subsequent to his departure from Troy, as
embodied in the action of the poem.
Voyage of 4. The " Apologue of Alcinoils," whether in the

Ul vsscs

ciconia'ns. Variety or curiosity of its adventures, or in the bril-
liancy of their description, stands to this day un-
rivalled as a tale of supernatiiral wonder, the model
on which succeeding romancers have planned their
fairest structures, and the source to which they have
been indebted for their choicest materials.

The superiority of native inspiration to imitative
art may here be appreciated, by comparing the course
of Homer's hero with the closely parallel episode of
Virgil, the Voyage of ^neas to Latium. In the
spirit that guides the Trojan chief no spark can be
discovered of that electric fire which ought to ani-
mate the bosom of a chivalrous adventurer. Like
an escaped prisoner who has yet but half shaken off
his fetters, moaning over his cruel fate, he wends
his melancholy way, shunning not merely every
opportunity of valorous exploit, but even the remotest
appearance of danger; trembling, above all, at the
very thought of again falling in with those terrible
Greeks ! Compare more especially the outset of the
two expeditions. jEneas lands on the coast of
Thrace with the intention of founding a colony.^
The limits of the new city were marked out, and its
buildings in rapid progress, when he is apprised,
through an omen, of the ferocious character of a
neighbouring potentate, once an ally of Priam, but
who had murdered a son of that monarch confided
to his protection. What was to be done ? In the spirit
of Homer's fable he would at all risks have made

^ ^Eneid. iii. 13. sqq.

Cii. IX. §4. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ULYSSES. 300

good his settlement, were it only to avenge the death
of his kinsman on the perfidious assassin :

rjTrji HzV TTO'AIV 'sTTCrxdzV (!)7^zTz WJTO'jg I

But no : terrified by the thought of so dangerous
a neighbour, he at once abandons his half-built
town, hurries on board, and takes to ilight. How
dilFerent is the first adventure of Ulysses on the
same coast ! As a whet to the courage of his handful
of heroes at the commencement of their voyage, and
a passing compUment to an old national enemy, he
assaults, sacks, and plunders the city of these same
Thracian allies of Priam. ^ The adventure would liave
been crowned with complete success but for the folly
of his men. Deaf to his orders to reembark with the
spoil, they remain carousing on the field, until swarms
of kindred barbarians from the surroundin"; region
collect and attack them ; and it is only after a long
and desperate confiict against overwhelming numbers
tliat he succeeds in effecting his retreat. After this
every thing is life, activity, and energy. When
driven ofi:" his homeward course by the adverse ele-
ments, every new or strange country is visited, every
wonder explored, every enterprise courted which held
out a prospect of glory, or where conduct could in-
sure success.

It will be observed, as a pervading rule of this character
whole train of adventures, supplying in its moral clmradcs?''
application a tribute to the virtue of the chief at
the expense of tlie inferior order of intellect vouch-
safed to his men, that while all the more brilliant
and successful enterprises are undertaken at his in-
stance, often against their will, ever}- disastrous

' Od. JX. 39. sqrj.

400 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

catastrophe is brought about by their folly, sensualit}-,
or mutinous disobedience of his orders. The arm of
retributive destiny is no less signally displayed in the
issue of their respective careers. While the hero,
in spite of infinite obstacles, reaches home in safety,
not one of his unfortunate comrades escapes destruc-
tion ; and for the reason concisely assigned by the
poet :

auTcoi/ yap c4^ST£j&YjCiv oira(T^a7\lr^(Tiv o'hovTO !

The Loto- On arriving at the country of the Lotophagi, two
^ ^^'' men with a herald are sent to explore. Partaking
of the delicious diet of that hospitable race, they
forget their friends and home, and resolve to pass
the rest of their lives amid the delights of the
" Land of the Lotus." Ulysses at once seizes and
binds the delinquents, drags . them to the beach,
hurries them on board ^ Avith the rest of his crew,
lest they too should taste of the intoxicating fruit,
and hastens from the dangerous shore.
The 5. On reaching the coast of the Cyclops, the case

Cyclops. 'g altered. The mariners, after plundering the well-
stocked dairy of Polyphemus, horror-struck at the
distant view of the giant, are eager to return with
their booty to the ships. But the hero's thirst of
glory is now inflamed, and must be gratified. He
achieves accordingly the honour, reserved for him
by the decree of Fate, of punishing a blood-thirsty
cannibal, and disabling him from prosecuting in
future his brutal practices. This adventure is still
the best extant specimen of poetical gigantophonia,
and the prototype of all or most of those which have
since acquired celebrity. It exhibits that iiappy

' IX. 98.

Ch. IX. §5. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ULYSSES. 401

mixture of the serious and burlesque, the terrible
and risible, which constitutes perfection in popular
romance. The more delicate of its humorous in-
gredients is the combination, in the character of
Polyphemus, with his flocks, milk, butter, and cheese,
of the primitive simplicity of pastoral life witli the
ferocity of the giant and cannibal.

The arrival of the fleet at the island of iEolus in- ^^'"'•
troduces a fable of more elegant cast and refined
moral application. The Lord of the Winds, feasting
with his twelve sons and daughters in the palace hall
of his brass-bound islet, receives and honourably
entertains the distinguished stranger ; and, on his
departure, deputes to him such control over the ele-
ments as would secure his direct and speedy voyage
home. The mode in which these kind intentions are
fulfilled is described with much drollery. The ad-
verse gales are sewed up in the hide of one of their
master's oxen, slaughtered and skinned on the spot for
the purpose ^ ; and so securely is their leathern prison
bound with silver cords, that not a breath of unfavour-
able air could escape. Here again, the sordid sensuality
of the mariners and its fatal results appear in the
usual contrast with the virtue of their chief. During
ten days he watches the progress of tlic vessel, the
sleepless guardian of its airy cargo. On the tcntli,
overcome with fatigue, he slumbers, and their folly
and avarice prevail. Tlie moment selected for the
opening of the bag is most appropriate ; just as the
culprits were within sight of the curling smoke of
their native hearths, and anticipating tlie speedy
enjoyment of the treasure which they supposed the
mysterious wallet to contain. The winds, on tlieir

' X. 19.
VOL. I. D D

402 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

escape, as a seasonable reprisal on the author of
their late durance, blow him straight back to their
master's island. The account of his foolish ap-
pearance, on presenting himself again at the court
of iEolus, has much dry comic humour. After
inquiring the reason of so speedy a return, and
listening quietly to the hero's explanation, his flatu-
lent majesty sends him summarily about his business,
as one whose inveterate ill luck, according to the
familiar superstition of every primitive age, renders
him an unfit object of countenance or sympathy.^
The ljes- On reaching the port of the Lsestrygonians, the rest
trygonians. ^^ ^^iq squadron, attracted by its beauty and tran-
quillity, enter and take up their moorings. Ulysses
alone remains with his vessel in the open roadstead,
till better informed of the nature of the country by
the messengers whom he sends to explore it. The
description even of this most tragical adventure is
seasoned with the customary touches of the burlesque,
by the combination of domestic and civilised habits
in the Ltestrygonian character (as of pastoral sim-
plicity in that of the Cyclops) with the ferocity of
the giant and man-eater. The maiden whom the
ambassadors accost on her way to the fountain, and
who proves to be the king's daughter, with ready
politeness conducts them to her father's city and
palace, and introduces them to the queen her mother,
whose " mountain-stature " and hideous aspect freeze
their breasts with terror. The queen, as becomes a
prudent housewife, takes no step without consulting
her husband, whom she summons from the forum,
where he was engaged in public business. On his
arrival, without saying a word, he seizes one of his

' X. 72.

Ch. IX. § 5. UNITY OF THE ACTION. ULYSSES. 403

guests, kills him on the spot, and orders hiin to be
dressed for supper. The two others save themselves
by flight. l)Ut the alarm is given, and the adventure
ends in the total destruction of the fleet in the haven.
Ulysses alone, with his vessel and crew, escapes. The
catastrophe is painted with the poet's usual power.
He brings before our very eyes the collected popu-
lation of ogres hurling the masses of rock from
the surrounding cliffs ; and we hear the crush of
the vessels and the cries of the mariners, harpooned
like tunnies for the evening meal of their cannibal
destroyers.^

The hero's next resting-place is the island of Circe, circc
Here he divides his men into two bodies, who cast
lots for the service of exploring the country. The
lot falls on the party headed by his lieutenant Eury-
lochus. Its members, with the exception of their
leader, who here emulates the caution of his chief,
yielding to the allurements of the enchantress are
changed by her into hogs. They are delivered by
Ulysses who, aided by Mercury, here a plain figure
of the hero's intellectual superiority, baffles Circe at
her own arts, after checking with energetic severity
a first attempt at mutiny on the part of the same
Eurylochus.

After a year's residence on the island he achieves The Necro-
his voyage to Hades. From the narrative of this
expedition every trait of the burlesque is judiciously
excluded. The gaiety with which the royal adven-
turer had so lately recounted even his most cala-
mitous vicissitudes gives place to a solemnity often
rising to the sublime, in his description of the dismal

mancv.

' X. 121.

V D 2

404 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

terrors of the mansions of the dead. The considera-
tion of the poet's doctrine of a future state, as em-
bodied in this episode, belongs to the chapter on his
mythology. Nowhere, perhaps, does the contrast
between the Ulysses of Homer and the Ulysses of
the later fable, between the high-minded fearless
adventurer and the raean-sj^irited insidious manoeu-
vrer, appear in a more prominent light than in the
"Necromancy." The shade of Achilles himself ex-
presses astonishment at the composure with which a
solitary mortal wanders, without divine escort, among
scenes of preternatural terror, at which even a living
Achilles might have shuddered.
The Sirens. The advcuturc with the Sirens inculcates, in a
beautiful allegory, the duty incumbent even on the
most vigorous minds, not only to resist but to avoid
temptation. The sage who exposes himself to its
influence is here exhibited overcome by its power,
and only escapes through the intervention of the
same vulgar agents whom his own wise precautions
had placed beyond its reach. But in his encounter
with Scylla, his martial ardour overcomes his habi-
tual forbearance ; and the cruel destruction of tAvo
of his comrades, described by him as the most heart-
rending of all his calamities, is admitted to be a
judgment for his neglect of the divine injunction,
to trust in this emergency not to his own valour,
but to the protection of the gods, for deliverance.
In the immediate sequel the insubordination and
impiety of the crew, instigated as before by the mu-
tinous Eurylochus^, bring their own wanderings to
a lamentable close, while the hero himself alone

' XII. 352.

Cm. IX. § G. THE PIIyEACIANS. 405

escapes, at the expense of eight long years of banish-
ment and captivity.

G. On his delivery from the thraldom of Calypso, schciiaaiM
another course of maritime disaster brings him to adans. '
Scheria, the land of the Phasacians. This episode
is, perhaps, the most brilliant specimen of the poet's
combined talent for the delineation of character
and for satirical liumour. While there is no por-
tion of his works a ri^rht iinderstandinnr of which
is so indispensable to a full estimate of his genius,
there is none perhaps which has been so little un-
derstood. Appeal may be made to the tenor of the
most esteemed commentaries, still more perhaps to
the text of the most popular translations, where the
gay sarcastic tone of description and dialogue which
seasons the whole adventure, is replaced by the tragic
solemnity of the gravest scenes of the Iliad.

Whether Scheria is meant to represent a real or a
fictitious country is a question which does not now
immediately concern us. There can, however, be
little doubt, from the distinctive peculiarities with
which the poet has invested its inhabitants, and
the precision and force of the sarcasm displayed in his
portrait of their character, that the episode is intended
as a satire on the habits of some real people with
whom he was familiar.^ The Phosacians are de-
scribed as combining certain magical or superna-
tural attributes with a large share of human weak-
ness. They were a maritime colony- which had
migrated to Scheria from another distant shore, and
are still, from taste and habit, rather than commercial
zeal, extensively engaged in nautical enterprise. They
are represented as wealtliy and luxurious, devoted to

' See Append. E. ^ vi. 4.

I) It

406 HOxMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

pleasure and diversion ; careless of all but the present
moment and its enjoyments; vain, garrulous, and
ostentatious ; liars and boasters ; yet, withal, kind-
hearted, good-humoured, and generous. But even
their good qualities are subservient to their vanity.
One chief inducement to their munificent treatment of
strangers Avas, by their own avowal, the prospect
of glory that would accrue to themselves on their
praises being sounded by the wanderer on his return
home.^ Nor does the marked urbanity of the royal
family, or of the graver members of society, afford a
sufficient security to their guest from the roguish
tricks of the populace, or the impertinence of the
young nobles of the court.^
Nausicaa. The sccuc in which the hero is first introduced to

his new friends is singularly pleasing and character-
istic.^ The dream of Nausicaa, the most charming of
her nation and her sex, her conversation with her
father, descent with her maidens to wash the family
vestments at the river mouth, the nymphish sports with
which they enliven their task, and their encounter
with Ulysses, offer a beautiful picture of the antient
simplicity of domestic manners, and of virgin inno-
cence, vivacity, and tenderness. The hero's address to
his benefactress, correctly characterised by the poet
as " gentle and cunning," is precisely that mixture of
delicate flattery and winning supplication best cal-
culated to produce its effect on female sympathies.
The portrait of Nausicaa, as sketched here and in the
sequel with a few masterly touches, is the most ex-
cellent of its kind in either poem. It combines, in
the most attractive form, and under such modifica-
tions as became her sex, the more favourable charac-

^ VIII. 101. 241. 251. ' VII. 15., vm. 158. ^ vi. 24. sqq.

Cii. IX. § 7. THE PH^ACIANS. ALCINOUS. 407

teristics of her native race, frankness, courtesy, and
benevolence, witli a due share of egotistic loquacity
and innocent coquetry.

7. jMinerva finds it necessary to escort the hero Akinoiis
through the streets of the town to the royal residence, coirt."
enveloped in a cloud to protect him from the imper-
tinence of the populace. He is Avelcomed with a
profusion of courtesies by the king, queen, and
nobles assembled in the royal banqueting-hall. The
liarangues of king Alcinoiis, the type, like Priam, of
his people, are made by the poet, in this and the fol-
lowing scenes, and with his usual dramatic skill, the
instrument for developing the common genius of the
race over whom the orator holds sway. The cha-
racteristics of his eloquence are egotism and self-
laudatory bombast, balanced by an equal share of
hyperbolical compliment to his guest, good-humour,
dilfuseness, and incoherent wandering from subject
to subject, as vanity prompts the one, or levity dis-
misses the other. His first short speech, on recover-
inof from the bewilderment into which the sudden
appearance of a stranger of so dignified a presence
had thrown himself and his company, displays at
once the genius of the orator and of the society over
which he presided. " If," says he\ "our guest be a
man, our business is, first by handsome treatment of
him while among us, to banish care from his breast,
and then to help him home to his native country.
There let him take his chance of the lot the Fates have
decreed him. But if he be a god come down from
heaven to visit us, let the gods themselves look to the
matter. For the gods as you know are our frequent
companions, not only sitting in visible forms at our

' VII. 186.
p n 4

408 nOMEK. ODYSSEY. Book 11.

tables, but familiarly joining us in our journeys and
occasional walks ; for we are, in fact, like the Cyclopes
and Giants, their neighbours and cousins." The ef-
fect of this effusion is much enhanced by the caustic
dryness of the hero's answer. Nor can there be a
better proof hoAv completely the spirit of this por-
tion of the poem has been misapprehended, than the
pompous solemnity by which the whole humour of
the dialogue is supplanted in the popular modern
paraphrases.-^

In the sequel queen Arete, who during the ha-
rangue of her husband had been scrutinising the
outward man of the stranger, for the women en-
gross the chief share of the small stock of common
sense allotted to the community, seasons the general
levity of the discourse by asking him who and what

1 VII. 208. The subjoined version of this addi^ess, with however little
pretension to poetical elegance, may claim at least to embody, nearly to
the letter, the ethic spirit and point of the passage, which disappear in
the popular translations :

" AlcinoUs, judge better of my case ;
No god am I, nor like the heaven-born race ,•
Nor outward form in me nor inward mind
Betoken aught surpassing human kind.
But if thou e'er hast known a mortal wirrht
Harassed, pursued, by Fortune's cruel spite,
"Worn out in body, and perplexed in heart.
Of him in me behold the counterpart.
More I could tell of my disastrous fate.
And all I've suffered through celestial hate ;
But let me sup, I prithee, though distressed.
By Belly's importunity hard pressed,
That ruthless despot of the inner man,
Whose stern behest dispute no mortal can.
Vexed though I be, borne down by many a grief.
Yet eat and drink I must for his relief;
All cares forego, and check the gushing tear.
Whilst I replenish him with wholesome cheer."

Ch. IX. § 7. THE niiEACIANS. ALCINOUS. 401)

he was, and how lie came by the clothes on his back,
^^■]lich she recognised as part of her family wardrobe.
His answer to this question calls forth from Alcinoiis a
severe reflection on his daughter's defective hospitality.
The hero vindicates his fair benefactress by a gallant
but glarins: misstatement of fact.^ Soon after, Alci-
noiis, in the course of another turgid oration'-, inci-
dentally makes offer to his still unknown guest of his
daughter's hand in marriage, togetlier Avith a hand-
some establishment, if he will consent to remain
amonor them ; but is careful to assume in the same
breath, that the stranger's patriotism will never admit
of his accedino; to such an arrano-ement. He then
congratulates Ulysses on his approaching passage
home, vaunting the marvels of his own navy and the
enterprise of his seamen, to whom the helm was use-
less, as his vessels knew their own way from port to
port.

The next morning the Senate assembles to de-
liberate on the best mode of honouring the stranger.
In the ensuing banquet, Alcinoiis gives an agreeable
proof how much real politeness he combined with his
levity, in the ready tact with which he checks his bard's
song of the Trojan war, on observing how painfully
it affected his guest.^ This he does by a proposal to
pass on to the gymnastic games, " in order," as he
adds, -' that the stranger, on his return, may in-
form his friends how greatly superior the Phnsacians
are to all other men in boxing, wrestling, and the
like martial exercises." After some display by the
young nobles Ulysses is invited to make a trial.
He declines, on the triple plea of fatigue of body,
anxiety of mind, and the privilege of a stranger.

I vu. 303. ; see iulra, p. 454. - 313. ^ viii. !t4.

410 HOMER. ODYSSEY. Book II.

His refusal exposes him to some impertinence from
the young princes, one of whom taunts him with fear
of the superior prowess of himself and comrades.
Provoked to compliance, the hero sends a quoit far
beyond the mark of their best men, and with a force
which made the Phaeacians " quail beneath its whirl."
He then challenges them to produce a champion to
match him in any other feat of strength or dexterity.
Alcinoiis no way abashed evades the proposal, giving,
with ready effrontery, the lie direct to his own just
uttered vaunt, and a new turn to the whole affair.
He now requests Ulysses to inform his friends on his
return home^, " that the Phaeacians are a peaceful
race, who make little account of boxing, wrestling,
and the like martial exercises, but that they excel all
other men in the arts of good living, and are the
most skilful navigators, the swiftest runners, and the
best singers and dancers in the universe." A show
of the latter accomplishments then takes place. The
song of the bard, the only approach to licentious
description in the poem, is here so completely in
character, and so essential to the spirit of the whole
scene, as to supply strong argument against the
otherwise plausible opinion of its being a later ad-
dition to the original text. On Ulysses compli-
menting his host on the performance of his sons,
Alcinoiis turns with delight to his courtiers, and
commending the hero as a man of sense and judge-
ment, requests each of them to make him a handsome
present. At the same time he orders the youth
who had insulted him to apologise^, and all obey
with great good-humour and alacrity.

Among the richer specimens of the Scherian

1 viu. 251 = 387. sqq.

Ch. IX. §7. THE rHiEACIANS. 411

monarch's meandering eloquence is the harangue in
which he requests Ulysses to relate his adventures,
and explain more particularly " why he always
appeared so much affected by any allusion to the
Trojan war ; " an event, he gravely adds, w^hich, wdth
the destruction of the human race it involved, " was
ordained in order to supply the festive board w4th
agreeable subjects of minstrelsy." Equally charac-
teristic is his comment on his father's prophecy of
the destruction that overhung his own city, from the
divine jealousy of their maritime exploits : " so spake
the old man, and the gods may fulfil his words or
not, as they think fit : " viii. 570.

^Qg dyoosu ysocov roi ^i xsv Ssog r, rs7\.s(rsisvy
7)' x' oLtsT^sg-t^ siTj, dig 01 ^iT^ov sttXsto Su[X(S.

The names given by the poet to his Phaeacian
heroes, with the notices of their origin or previous
history, are all, directly or ironically, allusive to
their favourite pursuits or tlieir flighty ostentatious
character.^ Nausithoiis, the " swift navigator,"
founder of the state, w^as son of Neptune, by Periboea,
the " widely celebrated," daughter of Eurymedon,
the " wide-ruling," king of the giants. This con-
nexion of the good-humoured effeminate race with
giants and Cyclops, the poetical types of barbarism
and ferocity, is conceived in the finest spirit of irony.
Nausithoiis had two sons, Rhexenor, " Crusher of
men," and Alcinoiis, " Strong of intellect." The
satirical allusion in the latter title to the levity and
frivolity of its owner is sufficiently obvious. " Crusher
of men " left an only daughter. Arete, the benevo-
lent, literally the " exorable," who espouses her

' VII. 56. sqq.

412 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

uncle, Alcinoiis, the reigning prince. To her both
Minerva and Nausicaa, with appropriate reference to
her name and character, counsel Ulysses to address his
supplication on arriving at the palace.^ The re-
maining twenty names of noble personages are but so
many ingenious compounds significant of maritime
pursuit, with the exception of two, one of which,
Laodamas, " subduer of the people," is but a modifi-
cation of that of the owner's grandfather, the "crusher
of men."

Among the specimens of primitive " mock heroic "
in this episode, attention may be drawn to the simile
of the lion, employed to illustrate the hero's first
appearance before his benefactress Nausicaa ; no
figure can be less appropriate, if taken in a literal
sense, or happier if considered as a travesty of the
more digidfied epic style. ^ The account of the gym-
nastic games, with the descriptive catalogue of the
doughty Phceacian candidates, is also a burlesque
paraphrase of parallel passages of the Iliad. The
facetious spirit ^ of the adventure is maintained to
the close. Laden with compliments and presents,
the hero embarks in the evening, in a galley expressly
fitted out for his service. Before daybreak the ship
reaches the coast of Ithaca, where he is conveyed

1 VI. 310., VII. 75, 2 VI. 136.

3 The misapprehension of this spirit has throughout proved a stumbling-
block In the path of many a profound commentator. Nitzsch's subtle
inquiries, " WJiy Alcinoiis, on so short an acquaintance, should offer his
daughter In marriage to Ulysses ? " and " Why the Pha3acians should have
landed the hero asleep on his island?" with other similar questions, are
but so many proofs how little this otherwise ingenious critic has under-
stood the more characteristic features of the Odyssey. See Erkliii-r.
Anmkk. zur Odyss. vii. 311. sqq. ; and Plan u. Gang der Odyss., ibid. vol.
II. p. 46. 50.

Ch. IX. § 8. THE ODYSSEY. ULYSSES. 413

gently from the dock on his bed ])y tlic waggisli
crew, and deposited fast asleep ^, together with his
goods, on his native rocks. On awakening he is at a
loss to know where he is, when he is relieved from
his embarrassment by the appearance of his divine
patroness, Minerva.

8. It is in the latter part of the poem that the uiysses in
higher ethic attributes of Ulysses are chiefly dis-
played ; in the conduct of his deep-laid plot ; in his
stoical connnand of temper and feeling under the
trials to Avhich both are exposed from the brutality
of his enemies or the affection of his friends ; and in
his skilful enactment of the fictitious characters which
he assumes. Attention is especially due to the care
with which, in his part of beggar or vagabond, he
guards against too great a sacrifice of his personal
dignity, as well as the risk of detection, by giving
prominence to the circumstance of noble birth and
reduced condition, when called upon from time to
time for an account of his previous life.- That the
language of Ulysses should be marked by the same
distinctive individuality as that of some of his fellow
heroes were consistent neither with the versatility of
his genius, nor the variety of parts he is called upon
to act. The characteristic feature of his eloquence is
an appropriate adaptation to the circumstances in
which he is placed. Like the fabulous Lycian sphinx,
which combined the nature of the lion and serpent
with its own proper body of Chima3ra, Ulysses,
whether the king, the beggar, the warrior, or the tra-
veller, is still in word and deed Ulysses. In the Iliad
he speaks and acts as the wise counsellor, the energetic

» xiii. 119. - XIV. 199. sqq., xvii. 419., xix. ISO.

414 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

disciplinarian, and the skilful diplomatist. In the in-
dio-nant retorts provoked by the insolence of the suitor
tribe, his eloquence assumes a vehemence Avorthy of
Achilles.^ His address to Nausicaa is in the most in-
sinuating style of courtly flattery. In the banqueting-
hall of her father a tone of sarcastic raillery is blended
with the self-satisfied bombast of its habitual guests ;
as, for example, in the proud catalogue of his OAvn ath-
letic attainments, with which he overwhelms the al-
ready crestfallen party in the gymnastic arena.^ In his
interview with Pallas on the shore of Ithaca, he calls
forth the admiration even of the goddess of strata-
gem, by the readiness with which he disguises the
strus^orle of excited feelino-s under the ino-enuous
bewilderment of the benighted voyager ^ ; and in the
hut of Eumseus, accommodating his manners to those
of his landlord, he combines the garrulity of the ve-
teran soldier with that of the itinerant beggar.'*

TELEMACHUS.

Character 9. Tlic charactcr of Telemachus, if little distin-
machus' guishcd by the prominence or the brilliancy of its
features, is second to none of either poem in the
delicacy of its shades or of the touches by which it is
delineated. To be rightly estimated, it must be con-
sidered in its parallel with those of other youthful
heroes of the same rank ; with that of Achilles, for
example, or of his son Neoptolemus. The former
hero, at the outset of his career of conquest, was
several years younger than Telemachus. Neopto-
lemus is also described, at the same early age with
his father, as taking a lead, both in the council and
the field, among the Greek warriors ; while Telema-

' xvm. 37G. ^ vin. 202. sqq. ^ xiii. 256, * xiv. passim.

Ch. IX. § 9. THE ODYSSEY. TELEMACIIUS. 415

elms is represented as without energy, shy of dan-
ger, and incapable of spontaneous action or exertion.
Herein may perhaps be figured the first symptoms
of that degeneracy, mythical or real, in the race
of Achaean -warriors subsequent to the Trojan war,
which, coinciding in the third generation after that
event with their expulsion from their native seats by
the Dorians, forms the line of distinction between the
heroic and the historical acre of Greece. That the
falling off was understood by Homer to commence in
the immediately ensuing stage of descent is implied
in a speech of Xestor, where he remarks on the
Ithacan prince's want of spirit : ii. 276.

TTOtjpoi yap Toi TToi^jsg o[xo7oi Trarcn 7r£?\.ovra/,

In fact, with the single exception of Neoptolemus,
not one of the sons or immediate descendants of the
heroes of Troy is celebrated, in popular tradition, for
warlike genius. The suitors, as sprung from the
secondary class of Achaean nobles, are altogether an
inferior race. Neoptolemus, being himself Avithin
the age which admitted his taking part in the war,
might be numbered rather to the contemporaneous
than to the subsequent generation. There are how-
ever special peculiarities in the case of Telemachus,
tending to explain and palliate his inferiority. De-
prived in infancy of a father's tuition, he had been
educated within a small island, among objects calcu-
lated to inspire a taste for tranquil life, by an anxious
mother, herself of a gentle disposition, and far more
feelingly alive to the dangers to which warfare ex-
posed her objects of affection, than to the glory of
success or victory. On approaching manhood he

416 HOMER. CHARACTEKS OF Book II.

became, with herself, victim of a conspiracy of his
father's vassals, by whose systematic oppression what-
ever spirit he inherited from his ancestors was for a
time effectually subdued. Hence, though at heart a
noble and generous youth, he appears, up to the
moment when his father's return elicits his dormant
energies, as remarkable for langour and backwardness
as were the youthful heroes of the Trojan war for
precocity and spirit.

During the early part of his career therefore, our
compassion for his painful lot is mingled with surprise
and irritation, that a prince of some twenty years of
age should tamely suffer, not himself alone, but his
mother, to continue the victim of a base faction,
without so much as meditating an effort for her de-
liverance. One feels provoked to exclaim, as Nestor
and his other friends frequently do : Why does he not
put his own shoulder to the wheel, instead of queru-
lously longing for his father's return to make good
his inactivity ? Why does he not rally his own party
in the state against the rebels ? Why limit his Pe-
loponnesian expedition to a fruitless inquiry after
Ulysses, instead of asking from his powerful friends
in that country a military force to assist in sub-
duing his treacherous enemies ? One evident motive
with the poet for thus diluting the character of his
youthful hero was to enhance the glory of the father,
whose destinies and influence are made the sole pivot
on which the fortunes of his kingdom and family
depend. Telemachus in fact, from the commence-
ment of his domestic troubles, had been led by his
mother to look for his father's eventual reappearance
as their only sure, though postponed remedy. This
consideration also explains the sudden change which

Cii. IX. § 10. THE ODYSSEY. TELEMACHUS. 417

liis character seems to undergo on the arrival of
Ulysses, into Avhose daring schemes lie enters ^vith
ready devotion.

10. Here, as usual, the poet's mode of delineation iiis oratory,
is purely dramatic. lie vouchsafes not a word of
description, burthening the youthful hero Avitli the
whole duty of exhibiting his foibles through his own
Ian2:ua2;e and behaviour. lie is first introduced
sitting in his paternal hall, an unwilling partaker in
its festivities, and " brooding with sad heart on his
disappointed hopes of his father's arrival to scatter
the audacious crew." Minerva, in the disguise of a
stranger chief, an antient friend of Ulj'sses, appears
at the door, and is received by the prince with prompt
hospitality. His recapitulation, in a tone of querulous
helplessness, of his woes, of his longing for his fa-
ther's return, and of his despair of doing anything
for himself, moves the spleen of his divine guest, and
draws forth a smart reflexion on his degenerate spirit :

I. 252.

TciV \ira.'i\a(jT(^(T 0.(70. Trr^ocryuoot IlaXXctf; 'A^y^vvj •

W TTO—fJl ! Yj 07] TTOXXOV aTTOI^OaSVO'J 'Of^yJCTTiOg

IN /

O-UYi. . . .

i '

Urging him in the sequel to avenge his own cause,
she taunts his boyish inactivity by a contrast with
the diti'erent conduct of Orestes : 296.

ouOs Ti (TS ^f>ri
vr^TTiaas oyzziv Ittsi ouxsri rrj7^ixog =(T(ti !
Vy h'jx. oizig oiov 'riAsog eAAapc (nog \J^s(TTy]g
Travrag st ai/^^fOTO'jc, sttei sxraus Trar^o^Civr^oL ; . . .
xai (Tu, <pi7<.og, [xu7\a yap tr' o^o'co xaXov rs ixsyav n,
aXxiuog s(T(T \ . .

VOL. I. E E

418 HOMER. CIIAEACTERS OF Book II.

He is induced by her remonstrances to assemble the
great council of the island, and solicit the public
sanction to his proposed voyage to Peloponnesus.
His address to the assembly opens in a spirited tone
of invective against the usurpers of his rights, but
speedily subsides into the usual strain of lamentation
over his juvenile incapacity, which here assumes a
very characteristic tone of querulous petulance : ii. 58.

ou yap STT avrip,
olog 'Ohu(r(rsug 'ia-xsu, aoriv aTro olxoxj a[xvvai' ....
7] r ctv ay.'Jvai[X7}Vj si [xoi tuvafxig ys Trapzirj. . . .
vuv 3= [XQi (XTTpi^xTO'jg oOvvug s [x^a7\,7<STS Svuio.

cog (^aro ^cooixsuog, ttot) ol crxriTrroov (ddXs yair^,
haxpu dva7rpy](Tag. . . .

His introduction to Nestor is an agreeable picture of
the bashful ingenuous youth, suddenly finding himself,
on first setting out on his travels, in the presence of
one of the most illustrious sages of Greece.^ In his
intercourse with the Pylian chief the same morbid
difiidence of his own powers is expressed in the same
complaining tone which marked his late dialogue
with Minerva. Nestor, like the goddess, is sur-
prised that a fullgrown youth, son of such a father,
with the example of Orestes before him, and backed
by the patronage of Pallas, should tamely put up
with oppression and insult ; and counsels him to a
bold attempt, by his own resources, to reestablish
his affairs.^ Telemachus is quite bewildered by the
magnitude of the proposal, and exclaims : iii. 226.
CO yspov, ouTTcu rovro sTrog rsT^sscrSai oico '
XiTjv yap [xsya siTTsg I ayr] ^ s^bi l^ oux av £[xoiys
sT^TTO^svco ra ysvoiT, oy^' si Sso) cog sSsXoisu.

^ "I- 22. - III. 195. sqq. 212. sqq. 2 Conf. XVI. 243.

Ch.IX. § 10. THE ODYSSEY. TELEMACIIUS. 410

This speech provokes the disguised goddess again to
denounce the want of spirit, wliicli would distrust not
only his own but the divine exertions in his cause,
lie replies by a request that the subject may be
changed : 240.

vuv sosAco STTog aA/^o [j.sra/'^.Arirrai xai sc>=(T'ja.i.

Ulysses himself, in his mendicant disguise and as yet
unrecognised by his son, utters an equally energetic
reproof of his unmanly backwardness : xvi. 99. sqq.

d\ yap sycuv o'jtco vsog s^irjv noo iir) ()u[xio ....
a'jTix BTTSiT OLir s[xsio xcioi] Tciixoi dJoJjTOiog (pcog^
e] 1X7] iyw xsivokti xotxov 7ra.vrs(rcri yzyoi[xriV.

From the moment however in which Ulysses disco-
vers himself, the dormant energies of the young hero
are rapidly developed, and he ardently co-ojoerates
in all his father's hazardous schemes.

In his intercourse with the suitors he shows that,
Avith all his youthful diffidence and timidity, he com-
bined also some of the political talent of Ulysses ; and
the mode in which the social relations between his
oppressors and himself are m.aintained, with the mu-
tual care to preserve amid mutual hatred a certain
outward show of harmony, may be cited among
the examples of Homer's tact in working up the
details of his plot.^ The suitors, though barefiiced
usurpers of their prince's house and goods, are still
anxious to be so in the capacity of his own and his
mother's guests. They continue therefore, even in
outrage and insult, to pay a sort of formal deference
to him as landlord. Telemachus, on his side, shows

* XVII. s<iq.
E K 2

420 HOMER. CHARACTEES OF Book II.

an equally cautious discretion, and, with an occasional
remonstrance, is yet contented to fulfil the part of
host in the mortifying farce. Almost the only pro-
vocations which tempt him to menace open rupture,
are the brutal violations of the sacred rites of his
domestic hospitality committed by the cre^y of revel-
lers.^ The suitors on these occasions, partly from
policy partly from contempt, pocket the affront ;
and in this way the same insolence is successively
checked, and the rebuke successively submitted to,
each party avoiding to come to extremities.

THE SUITORS.

Characters 11. The characters of the suitors offer a variety
suitors. of the poet's dramatic art peculiar to the Odyssey,
that of portraying the more odious features of human
nature. In the disposition and habits of this con-
federacy, the levity of men of pleasure is combined,
not, as in the case of the Pha3acians, with good-
humour and generosity, but with insolence, profli-
gacy, rapacity, and cruelty. They may be considered
as representing a class of society with which Homer
was still familiar, though gradually becoming ob-
solete, the race namely of petty tyrants, unworthy
scions of heroic stock, whose degenerate liabits ac-
celerated the downfall of the old patriarchal system,
and the chano-e throuo:hout Greece from monarchal
to republican institutions.

The proceedings of the fraternity, amid an indis-
criminate course of outrage against all othei's, are
marked by a singular degree of harmony among
themselves. Yet the individual members of the 2:ano^
present much diversity of character. The " ring-

• XX. 265. sqq. 306.

chus.

Cu. IX. §11. THE ODYSSKY. THE SUITOliS. 421

leaders," ^ Antinoiis and Kurymaclms, arc the worst Antinou?
of the whole, and ready, shonld it seem expedient, i-^'J'""-
to shed the blood of their young- prince as remorse-
lessly as they ravage his property. They arc the
chief spokesmen, and organs consequently of that
vein of scurrilous drollery which marks tlie habitual
demeanour of the party. In their joyous festivities,
their solemn councils, or their murderous j)lots, every
thing becomes matter of jest, often witli a lively wit,
which thougli it may offend does not fail to amuse.
This combination of waggery and brutality, of fe-
rocity and fun, so characteristic of the same class of
persons in every age, is carried through with a tact
and consistency bespeaking the same master-liand
which gave life to the more pleasing frivolities of tlie
Pha^acians. The character of the two Readers, in
addition to other odious vices, is stained with base
ingratitude. Ulysses, as they themselves admit, liad
been to them and their families, not only a paternal
sovereign but a kind patron and benefactor.'^ These
sacred obligations are however not merely set at
nought ; like all other subjects they are made matter
of ridicule in those ironical professions of friendshij)
with which they attempt, or rather affect, to blind
Telemachus to their more outrageous schemes. De-
testable as are both characters, there is yet a marked
difference in tlie mode in which their wickedness
displays itself, favourable on the whole to Antinoiis.
He is, from first to last, the open, reckless, unblush-
ing villain. Eurymachus combines more deceit and
hypocrisy with his depravity, and occasionally suc-
ceeds in so far disii-uisino; it under the mask of better
feelings, as partially to impose on both mother and

1 IV. 629., XXI. 187. - XVI. 4-24. sqq. 437. p-iq.

f li 3

422

HOMER. CHARACTERS OF

Book II.

Amphino-
mus.

Liodes.

Oratory of
the suitors.

son. These different shades of villany in the two
leaders are maintained with unvarying consistency
throughout the action of the poem.

Such unmitigated depravity, however, was not to
be expected in the whole of so numerous a band of
young noblemen even of the most licentious habits.
Others, of whom Amphinomus ^ may be considered
the representative, are exhibited as susceptible of
better influences ; and, although led away by the
pernicious party spirit which animates the fraternity,
to acquiesce or to share in the nefarious counsels of
their leaders, are ready at times to check the execu-
tion of their more atrocious designs. A third class
may also be distinguished, of whom Liodes ^ is the
spokesman, comprising mere passive well-intentioned
suitors of .the queen, whose crime consists chiefly in
their connexion with such bad company, and who,
though unwilling to abandon their chance of the prize,
would, if left to themselves, have been contented ho-
nourably to compete for it.

These general remarks on the genius of the asso-
ciation will now be tested by the portions of the text
in which it is most prominently exemplified.

12. The first speech of Antinoiis ^ aflibrds a fair
specimen of his style of satirical bantering, often
pregnant with a savour of wit worthy of a better
mouthpiece. Telemachus had been emboldened by
his interview with Minerva, to a remonstrance of
no very sturdy nature against the usurpation of
his domestic rights. The reply of Antinoiis is an
ironical sneer at the weak points of the prince's
character, couched in the form of a complaint of his

' XVI. 394., xviii. 395. 412., xx. 245.
~ XXI. 144., xxu. 310.

8 I. 384.

Ch. IX. § 12. THE ODYSSFA'. THE SUITORS. 423

tlomiiicoring spirit, habitually reneAvecl in the sequel.
It concludes with a burlesque petition to the gods,
" to avert the day when such a sovereign as Tele-
machus should mount the throne of" Ithaca ! "

The mock farewell of the party to Telemachus,
previous to the voyage which they never suspect
he will have the boldness to undertake, is in the
same st3de of insolent drollery. The epithets of
overbearing, insulting, and the like (6\{/a7opr;, [xivrjj;
aa-^sTz, r^ixiag alrr^uvwu), which here, as on other
occasions, they ironically select in their addresses to
him, are precisely those which least apply to his con-
duct and most pointedly to their own.^

In the council held after the failure of their plot to
waylay and murder the prince on his voyage home-
ward, Antinoils proposes another attempt on his life.
Amphinomus objects, and the argument by which he
dissuades them is very cliaracteristic : - " To murder
a prince of royal blood, without tlie express authority
of the gods, were a terrible impiety. If therefore
the gods enjoin the deed, I shall agree, otherwise I
protest against it." In the ensuing dialogue between
Penelope and Eurymachus, that prince of ruffians,
at the very moment when he is plotting against the
life of her son, declares, that " should any man venture
to raise a hand a2:ainst his dearest friend Telemachus,
the son of the benefactor wlio had so often dandled
him on his knee, and fed him witli wine and dainties,
that man's blood should flow in torrents from his
spear ! " ^ The whole following scene is admirably
worked up, and, amid our disgust at the brutality of

1 n. 85. 303—325., i. 385., xvii. 406.

2 xvr. 400. ; conf. xx. 244. 247. ' xvi. 43G. sqq.

E E 4

424 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II

Antinoiis, it is impossible not to be amused by the
humour of some of his sallies. Such, for example,
is the mock lecture which he administers ^ to Eu-
mceus, when the latter introduces Ulysses in men-
dicant disguise to solicit a few crumbs from their
table, on the inconsistency of the old rustic's conduct
in thus bringing in hungry vagabonds to consume
his master's store, the very same thing for which he
was in the habit of blaming himself and comrades.
He soon after assails the diso-uised kins; in a similar
tone of facetious insolence. Ulysses is provoked to
retort. Antinoiis in a fury throws a stool at his
head. Even his fellow -revellers are scandalised at
their leader's violence, and interfere to prevent
further outrage. The calm indignation and stern
purpose of vengeance, on the part of the hero and
his son, are here finely contrasted with the sur-
rounding tumult, in one of those expressive formula3
with which the poet loves to identify the recurrence
of any striking image : xvii. 490.-

ouS' apa ^dxpfj -^a^ai (ddXsv ex ^Xsc^apo/iV,
aA?\,' axscov xivr^trs xdifir}, xaxoL jSu(rcro5o^a=ucov.

In the next book the entrance of the besffxar Jrus
ushers in another equally vivid scene of brutal fun
and riot. The puerile delight with which the giddy
crew hail the quarrel between their two ragged
guests as a novel source of diversion, and their
alacrity in ranging themselves as backers or bottle-
holders of the combatants, are described with a spirit
and truth which must strikingly recall to many a
reader the follies of his own schoolboy days : xviii. 36.

1 XVII. 375. 2 Conf. 465., xx. 184.

Cir. IX. § 12. THE ODYSSr.Y. THE SUITORS. 425

CO i^b^rji ! r/7 ^xs'v TTfo ri rraioc; rojourov sr-jp/^rj,

Vrijcr) [xayr,rrxGr^ot.i ! aX7^a ^uy-'AOLfrrroy.zv (vxa.

(US s^a^'* ol o'a'i-a 7ravT=c rivr;'i'^av 7=?;oroyr5^. . . .

AVhen the unfortunate beggar is actually stretclied
bleedino: and bellowing: on tlie floor, their merriment
is at its height, and " they are ready to die witli
hiughter." Ulysses, who has so much contributed to
their diversion, before despised and insulted, is now
suddenly admitted into a high degree of favour, which
however serves but as a prelude to fresh insult.

Here the farcical tenor of the proceedings is re-
lieved by an impressive scene. Amphinomus had
good-humouredly presented the royal mendicant with
a cup of wine, adding kind wishes for his future lot.
Ulysses, aware of the better feelings of this mis-
guided youth, addresses him in return a friendly
remonstrance on the guilt of his present courses,
warning him emphatically to flee from the wrath to
come. Though deeply smitten by the words of his
disguised lord, the ill-starred vassal yet wants strength
of mind to break the ties which bind hini to the scene
of his destruction, but, "shaking his head and fore-
boding evil," he silently resumes his place among his
fellow-victims.

It is now the turn of Eurymachus to take the lead
in the course of facetious scurrility and insult, of
which Ulysses continues the chief butt, in order, as
we are frequently told, " that the I'ull measure of
their crime, and his indignation, may be coin})leted
against the approaching hour of retribution." This
interference of the divine agency is expressed, from

426

IIOMEK. CHAEACTERS OF

Book II.

Theocly-
menus the
seer. Im-
pressive
scene.

time to time, by the recurrence, according to the
poet's familiar practice, of the same emphatic form of
words : xviii. 316.

7\.a)I^T^g '{(rysa-Qai Qtj^xaT^yeog, o:pf>' sti ixa70^ov
Stjv] cLyog xoaOir,v AasoriaOzCo 'OQ'jo-iqog.^

There is here a plain analogy between Homer's mode
of subjecting the moral conduct, as well as the
destiny of his actors to the control of the deity, and
the mode employed by a still more divinely inspired
poet. The "hardening of Pharaoh's heart," for a
similar purpose, is expressed by the recurrence of a
parallel form of expression.

13. In the banquet of the following day, Theocly-
menus the prophetic guest of Telemachus is intro-
duced, and his part in the action relieves the prevailing
course of revelry by an appalling scene of preterna-
tural terror.

Ulysses had just been subjected to another prac-
tical joke by Ctesippus, to the high entertainment of
the party, when the merriment on their faces is
suddenly, by the agency of Pallas, " distorted into
a ghastly grin. Their eyes fill with tears ; their
minds with forebodings of a yet dark but terrible
future ; and the flesh of the animals on which they
are feasting appears dripping with gore." '^ Theo-
clymenus here takes up the word, and, pointing to
the outward change on their persons, proclaims the
further omens of their impending fate which, though
hidden from their eyes, his spirit of second-sight
revealed to his own : " their heads and feet involved
in preternatural darkness ; wailing and lamentation

1 Conf. XX. 284., xviii. 155. ~ xx. 345. sqq.

Cu. IX. §13. THE ODYSSEY. THE SUITOKS. 427

resounding from their lips ; tlieir cliccks strcam-
insf with tears, and the walls and roof of the hall
with blood ; the courts of the palace crowded with
ghosts hurrying down to Erebus ; the sun darkened
in the heavens, and the atmosphere overspread with
mist." Eur3'machus, who with his companions had
in the meantime resumed his previous levity of de-
meanour, replies in the usual strain of facetious
contumely, by ordering the attendants to " conduct
the stranger into the open street, since he is so much
incommoded by the darkness of their saloon." The
prophet calmly replies : " that he has no need of
escort ; that the eyes which could sec, and the mind
that could apprehend, the signs of their approaching
fate, will safely conduct him from a place so soon to
be filled with death and horror." He thus takes his
final leave of the scene of action. The revellers,
nothino; abashed, commence banterino: Telemachus
on the offensive character of the guests who visit his
palace : '* first a beggar, and then a croaking pro-
phet." The prince, no longer heedful of their im-
pertinence, sits watching his father's eyes and motions
for the siirnal to commence the work of ven2;eance.

The catastrophe now rapidly approaches. The The cata-
trial of archery ensues. The jollity of the victims
is kept up to tlic last moment. The first blow
falls on Antinoiis, while holding the festive cup to
his lips^ unconscious of danger. It strikes him in
the throat, the organ of his gluttony and insolence,
when in the act of swallowing tlie produce of his
destroyer's vineyards. His companions, on seeing
him fall, unable to believe there could be willing
mischief in tlie shot, supjiose it accidental. No

I XXII. 11.

428 HOMER. CPIARACTERS OF THE Book II.

sooner, however, are tlieir eyes opened by the hero's
full disclosure of his person and intentions, than the
surviving ring-leader Eurymachus, with dastardly
effrontery, attempts to exculpate himself and pro-
pitiate the wrath of his enemy, by denouncing his
fallen colleague as the chief author and instigator of
their joint enormities, and by submissive promises of
repentance and future good conduct.^ Perceiving
however all hope of mercy to be vain, he dies at last
like a scion of heroic stock. Rushing on his adver-
sary with drav/n sword and battle shout, he is met
and pierced by the fatal shaft, and his body is soon
buried under heaps of his slain comrades.

PENELOPE. ANDROMACHE.

Parallel of 14. The two heroiucs selected by Homer as the
and Andro- joint representatives of ideal excellence in female
niache. character, the one for the Iliad the other for the
Odyssey, are Andromache and Penelope. The qua-
lities of each are fundamentally the same ; gentle-
ness, modesty, and tenderness of heart, womanly
discretion, and the several virtues of the wife and
mother. The native purity of Homer's taste has
been signally displayed, in thus excluding from the
qualities of his higher class of female characters such
as at all savour of masculine s])irit. The attempts,
so popular with later poets, to form an interesting
heroine by combining the boldness of the virago with
the softer graces of the woman, may impart vivacity
to an action deficient in more genuine portraits of
human nature, but can inspire the sound critic or
moralist with little sympathy or admiration. It can
liardly be supposed that originals for such pictures as

^ XXII. 44. sqq.

Ch. IX. § 14. ODYSSEY. PENELOPE. (aNDROMACHE.) 429

Camilla or Clorinda were wanting in an age when the
traditions of Ilippolyta and Peiitliesilea were rife,
and among a nation wliich produced the race of
Spartan dames. Homer therefore, it is obvious, has,
in the conception of his leading female characters,
repudiated these bolder features from choice, not
from want of opportunity for their delineation. That
this correspondence in the essential attributes of the
two heroines arises from no want of the same fertile
talent displa3'ed in his male portraits may also be
evinced by a glance at the varied characters of Helen,
Xausicaa, and Hecuba. Upon the last has been
bestowed the small share of masculine sternness
which he allows the sex : but even in her person,
where it sits so well, it is meant to appear as a
blemish, not as an ornament.

The poet has however managed, even in the
case of Penelope and Andromache, without any es-
sential modification of his original idea, to impart,
through the difference of their lot in life, distinct
features of interest to each. The part of Andromache,
in the Iliad is one of suffering rather than action.
At the commencement of the poem she is the anxious
and devotedly affectionate wife, in the catastrophe
the mourning widow. The only strong emotions
she is called on to display are, tender solicitude
for the welfare of her husband and poignant grief
for his loss. Her appearances, too, on the scene are
rare and brief. Yet there is, perhaps, no heroine in
the whole range of poetical fiction who inspires more
powerful feelings of admiration and interest ; a fine
proof of the poet's faculty of imparting life and
reality to his actors with the smallest apparent
amount of machinery. How striking is her first

430 HOMEK. CIIAEACTEES OF THE Book IT.

appearance on the scene ! Hearing in the seclusion
of her chamber that the tide of battle had turned
against her husband, she hurries forth " like one
distracted," ^ followed by her nurse and infant child,
to the tower that overlooks the plain. The ensuing
interview with Plector, whom she encounters re-
turning to the field on completing his pious errand ;
her allusions to her previous heavy load of domestic
sorroAv ; to the loss of her father, brothers, and
native home, to her husband as supplying the place
of all; her supplication, by his love for her and
their common oifspring, to moderate his valour, and
have mercy on a life so dear to every thing most
dear to himself, are all of the last degree of ten-
derness. How beautiful the description of her smiling
through her tears, as she receives back the uncon-
scious babe from his father's caresses into her arms ;
and of the mute suppressed emotion with which,
yielding to Hector's gentle reproof for her attempt
to Aveaken the firmness of his patriotism, she sub-
missively retires to indulge her anxieties in solitude !
Nor throughout the distressing scenes at the close of
the poem, in her outbreak of agony on beholding her
husband's corpse mutilated and outraged beneath his
native walls, or in her touching lament over it in the
sequel, is the meek afiiiction of this most innocent and
sensitive of sufferers alloyed by a single expression of
anger or bitterness, even against the hand Avhich had
successively bereaved her of father, mother, brother,
and husband. Had Andromache combined but a
small share of the sternness of the Spartan wife
or mother with her anxieties for the safety of Hector,
had she uttered a fcAV natural ejaculations of vin-

^ II. VI. 388. ; conf. xxii. 460.

Ch. IX. §14. ODYSSEY. TENELOPE. (ANDROMACHE.) 431.

dictive wrath against his destroyer, the cliarm which
renders her the most angehc and interesting of her
sex would at once have been dissolved.

There is this ditterence in the fate, and by conse-
quence in the conduct of Penelope, that, while An-
dromache is merely doomed to suii'er, tlie heroine of
the Odyssey, under little less severe misfortunes, is
also called upon to act. There is however also the
somewhat curious analogy, that in each case the all-
engrossing objects of solicitude arc a husband and
an only son. Although the love of Penelope for
Ulysses, and her grief for his loss, are as lively as on
the day of his departure, she begins to despair of his
return. As hope grows fainter from hour to hour,
the necessity of some effort to establish her son in
his ri2;hts forces itself more and more on her atten-
tion : but far from encouraoino; him to resort to
violent measures against the usurpers, her great ob-
ject is to prevent such dangerous schemes from enter-
ino; his head. If but once assured of the death of
Ulysses, she is even ready to offer herself a sacrifice
at the altar of peace, by selecting a second husband
from the ranks of her persecutors.^ If she occa-
sionally gives way to expressions of indignation
against her unmanly courtiers, they are rarely if
ever provoked by her personal sufferings, but solely
or chiefly by the wounds inflicted on the honour of
her husband or family. In the absence of her lord,
the deference due to him is transferred to Telema-
clius, now arrived at the age which qualified him to
inherit his father's rights both public and domestic.
The more prominent examples of her implicit acqui-
escence in his orders are where, after having been

1 Od. XIX. 1.37.

432 HOMER. CIIAKACTERS OF THE Book II.

tempted by her fears or her interests to descend and
take part in the transactions of the palace hall, she
is desired by Telemachus to withdraw from society
so little congenial to her own feelings. She obeys at
once, and in silence. These scenes, in their occa-
sional recurrence, are described in one of the usual
graphic forniulas by which the poet loves to individu-
alise events and characters : i. 356.

" aXX slg olxov ]rju(ra to. <r' a.\jrr\£ sf)ya xo[xi^s
lo-Toy T rj7^axa.Triv rs, xa.) a.[x(pi7r67<oi(ri xsXsus
epyov sTToi^sa-Uai ' [xudog 6 au6ps(r(ri ^j.^'kr^a-si
■7va.(Ti^ [xaXi(rrcc 6" lixoi' rou yap xpardg 's(rT sv) o'Uco."
t] [J.SV Qa[Ji^ri(ra(Ta 7rd7\iv otxovTis ^s(^7]X5i.

The same "lines occur in the Odyssey xxi. 35o., and in
the Iliad vi. 490. at the close of the interview between
Hector and Andromache; with the slioht variation
required by the circumstances of each case.

The pensive melancholy which forms the habitual
tone of Penelope's mind, is similarly dramatised by an
appropriate trait expressed in a single recurring form
of words. When under the influence of any painful
emotion, after some afliicting announcement, or fresh
mortification at the hand of her persecutors, she is
described as retirino; to her chamber, throwinsf her-
self on her bed, and weeping over her absent lord
and domestic woes until slumber relieves her sor-
row. For example, after the scene in which she
reproaches Antinoiis with his insidious designs
ngainst the life of her son, it is added : xvi. 449.

7] [xsv ap e\(TavaSici(T uTrspcoia. (riyaXosvTa

xT^alzv sTTSiT 'OSuo-rja, (piT^ov ttqo-iv, o:^pa ol uttvov
T^Quu err) (d7^s<papoia-i ^aAs yT^auxcoTTig 'A^vjvvj.^ . . .
1 Conf. I. 362., XIX. 602., xxi. 356.

Cii. TX. § ]o. ODYSSEY. KUMTICUS MELANTIIIUS. 433

15. The subordinate actors of tlie Odyssey are rum.Tus
delineated with the same spii-it and propriety as its herd,
leadiiio- characters. The cottao-e of the s\vinelierd
presents ^ a lively picture of the habits of rustic life,
and the better sort of relation betwixt landlord and
serf in tlie poet's nge. l''unucus is one in whom
gratitude to a benelicent master, if it liave not
obliterated tlie recollection of Ids oavr early days of
freedom, has at least extin2:uished all desire for a
change in his present condition. His patron, and his
patron's family, are the ol)jects around Avliich his
thouirhts and affections are now concentrated, and
tlie favourite tlieme of his rustic eloquence. Ilis
only griefs are the prolonged absence and supposed
death of Ulysses, and the domestic distress of the
royal house ; his only cares to husband his master's
store, cherish his memory, and long for his return.
His hospitality to tlie afUicted "wanderer is prompted
even more by his desire to support the credit of his
lord's establishment, than by his own benevolent dis-
position.

Tn the treacherous goatherd j\Ielanthius, on the Meianthius
other hand, we have to the life the base-born, low- hmr'' "
minded, rustic blackguard, whose brutal conduct and
scurrilous tongue made him a fit partisan and asso-
ciate of the faction whose cause he had espoused.-
The affectionate, and at times officious zeal of the
faitliful old nurse Kuryclea, or the housekeeper Euryciea.
Eurynoine, is equally well contrasted with the inso-
lent levity of the wanton ]\lelantho. Xor can there Meiantho.
be a more spirited portrait than that presented in
the beggar Irus, of the lazy idle vagabond, or of the irus the
bully and sycophant, blusterer and coward, united '"''"■^'""

^ XIV. sqq. passim. xvii. 2 12. S(|q.

VOL. I. F F

434 HOMER. CHARACTERS OF THE Book II.

in such a character. The poet's faculty of indivi-
dualising his actors equally displays itself where
there is the least apparent intention or opportunity,
even where they extend beyond the pale of human
Euryio- nature. The mutineer Eurylochus, the poor sluggard
Elpenor, the seer Theoclymenus, the enchantress
Circe, the monster Polyphemus, tEoIus, Proteus, and
the Ltestrygonian ogres, are all instinctively, as it
were, assigned their place in the imagination, under
some proper variety of person and conduct.
Nestor. Among the internal evidences of unity of origin in

iiJien.^"^' ^^^ t^'^o poems, attention has already been drawn to
the close similarity of the mode in which their
author's faculty of conceiving and representing human
nature, under every difference of scene and subject,
is displayed in each. That similarity is, perhaps,
most delicately exemplified in certain pairs of cha-
racters belonging one to each poem, between whose
lot, or the parts they are made to perform, there
happens to be some analogy. The parallel of Pene-
lope and Andromache has already been considered.
There is, also, little difficulty in recognising in the
beggar Irus the hand which delineated Thersites,
or in the placid gossip of Eumajus the dramatic
skill which animates the more dignified loquacity of
Nestor. Ulysses indeed, in his assumed character
of veteran warrior, exhibits the peculiarities of the
old Pylian hero, even to certain idiomatic turns of
his oratory, with a fidelity which, free from all sus-
picion of imitation, seems to guarantee the two
portraits as works of the same master.^ A similar
inference results from the consistency with which the

1 XIV. 222. 468. 503.

Ch. IX. § 15. ODYSSEY. MENELAUS. NESTOK. 435

characters of the H'uul are reproduced in the Odys-
sey. This point has ah'cady been ilhistrated in the
case of Menelaus. The distinctive qualities assigned
to that hero in the Iliad, whether in his personal
capacity or his relation to his fellow-chiefs, re-
appear in the Odyssey in such precisely identical
colours, as to leave no roc^n for doubt that the
author of each poem, whether the same or different,
had, at least, the very same prototype present to his
inind.^ The remark ap[)lies with more or less force
to Ulysses, Nestor, and Helen. The examples of
Menelaus and Ulysses are important in a historical
point of view, from the refutation they afford of
a popular doctrine of tlie Separatist school, which
would account for the harmony of characters, facts,
and style in the two poems, by a corresponding
unity in the genius at large of the primitive epic
minstrelsy. Upon this principle, the same harmony
would be observable in the works of other accredited
organs of that genius. But the reverse is notoriously
the case ; both these heroes being invested by the
remaining poets of the Epic cycle, or the Attic dra-
matists who borrow from them, witli very different
and very degrading attributes.-

Nestor, even during his short appearance on the
scene, has time to display the same essential pecu-
liarities which distinguisli him in the camp before
Troy ; the same benevolence, cheerfnlncss of temper,
and frankness of demeanour; the same affectionate
familiarity with youth ; the same love of conversation
and good cheer; the same fluency of orator}-, with
the same tendency to wander from the immediate

1 Supr:i, CIi. vii. § 8. "- Info, C'li. xv. § 8., xviii. § IG.

F F 2

43G HOMER. CHARACTERS OF Book II.

subject of discourse, on his own topics of egotistic
enlargement.^

The Helen of the Odyssey, reconciled to her home
and husband, is the same Helen whom we knew in
the Iliad as the paramour of Paris, under such small
degree of variety as was warranted by change of des-
tiny and lapse of time. Although described as still
beautiful, her person and manners are shaded by a
veil of matronly gravity, to be expected after an in-
terval of ten years, and under such altered circum-
stances. She is distinguished by the same elegance
and courtesy, and the same voluptuous habits. She
enters the hall of the Spartan palace^ with a pomp
of female luxury never assigned by Homer to any
other heroine, preceded by three waiting-maids, one
bearing her throne, another soft rugs or cushions, a
third her richly stored silver work-basket. In the
course of the dialogue, there appears the same mix-
ture as formerly of self-reproach and easy indiffer-
ence, in her allusions to her past conduct ; while the
longing after her first husband and native land,
which in the Iliad also occasionally came over her
mind, is here described by herself as having, towards
the close of the war, so grown upon her, as to render
her as false to the cause of the Trojans as she had
formerly been to the bed of Menelaus.^ A curious
trait of primitive luxury, which the poet, with a fine
adaptation to her character and habits, obviously
therefore not without some moral signification, has
attributed to her"*, is the use of a drug calculated
to banish thought, and promote oblivion of past or
indifference to present subjects of vexation. This

> III. 32.sqq. ^ iv. 121. sqq. ^ 0(50. '^ 220.

Cii. IX. § 15. THE ODYSSEY. HELEN. 437

drug was a present from tlie queen of Kgypt, wliose
court she had recently visited witii her husband. Tlie
view of some commentators that it was <)[)iuin, used
in tlie East, as they suppose, from time immemorial
as at this day for the same purpose, is certainly not
devoid of probability.

F V .1

438

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book II.

CHAP. X.

HOMER. ILIAU AND ODYSSEY. DISCORDANCES OF

THE TEXT.

1. INCONGRUITY OF HISTORICAL DETAILS A COMMON FEATURE OF PROLONGED

EPIC NARRATIVES. 2. EXAMPLE FROM THE ODYSSEY. 3. ANOJL\.LY A

CHARACTERISTIC FEATURE OF GREAT ORIGINAL GENIUS. 4. OTHER SOURCES

OF ANOMALY IN POETICAL WORKS. 5. JOURNEY OF TELEMACHUS. ANA-
LOGY OF THE ATTIC DRAMA. 6. EURYLOCHUS IN THE ISLE OF CIRCE.

7. VARIATIONS IN THE PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE DISGUISED ULYSSES.

8. HIS DIALOGUE WITH THE CYCLOPS. WITH EUJI^US. TRANSACTIONS IN
SCHERIA. — -9. RETURN OF TELEMACHUS FROM SPARTA. CHRONOLOGY OF

THE ODYSSEY. 10. ANOMALIES OF THE ILIAD. FORTIFICATION OF THE

C-OIP. SECESSION OF ACHILLES. 11. DLTIL OF HECTOR AND AJAX. THE

GODS IN ETHIOPIA. THE SLEEP OF AGAMEMNON. ARMS OF PATROCLUS,

of historical
details a
common
feature of
epic narra-
tives.

Incongruity 1. The aiialysis of tliG plan and structure of eacli
poem, in so far as bearing on the question of their
authorship, has hitherto been limited solely or chiefly
to their internal evidence of unity and consistency.
It remains to consider those incongruities to which
so great importance has been attached as arguments
on the opposite side. That many such discrepancies
do exist, is undeniable ; and the mere adduction of a
certain amount of them has, in many quarters, been
considered as an adequate triumph of the ingenuity
of the critic over the unity of the poet. Nor have
the adherents of the old opinion ventured by any
bold line of criticism to impugn such inferences.
They have usually been satisfied either with at-
tempting by subtle explanations to strain palpable
discordances into harmony, or with accounting for
them by interpolation or corruption ; expedients
which tend, in fact, but to strengthen the case of

Ci£. X. § 1. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 439

tlieir opponents. The subjeet will here be taken up
on broader principles, involving considerations of no
small moment, as adecting not merely an insulated
point of Homeric criticism, but the genius at large of
epic poetry in every stage of its cultivation.

The first question which here presents itself, and
one of momentous bearing on the whole inquiry, is :
How stands the case with regard to other epic authors,
and what would be the consequence of an equally
rigorous enforcement in their case of the same tests
ap[)lied to Homer ? It wouhl require no very rigid
scrutiny of many an elaborate poem of modern times,
which it were absurd to doubt is, in its integrity, the
genuine work of the author whose name it bears, to
satisfy any impartial reader that such anomalies are
much more frequently the result of oversiglit, of the
contempt of genius for petty details, or even of wilful
intention on the part of a single poet, than of that
discordance which marks the operations of many.
The action of the aEneid, to select the example most
apposite in the eyes of the classical student, presents
incoherences and self-contradictions far surpassing,
both in number and degree, the utmost that have
ever been detected in either Iliad or Odyssey. The
same holds good, to a greater or less extent, not only
of Dante, Milton, and probably every other great
poet, but of many a standard prose writer, sacred
and profane.^ Before therefore such anomalies can
supply ground for any legitiniate inference, it must
be established upon some sound principle, what por-
tion of them in any given case is to be ascribed
to the one, and what to the other, of the two classes
of causes above specified. As preliminary to any

^ See Appendix F.

F F 4

440 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

such inquiry, another no less important question
offers itself : Whether the Iliad and Odyssey are to
be judged in this particular by the same law as any
similar work of historical times, or by certain by-laws
applicable to tliem alone ? To this question there
can be but one answer in any reasonable quarter :
that the same rule ought to be applied to all ; or that,
if any exception be made, the strongest claim to in-
dulgence belongs to the poet of a period least pro-
vided with technical aids to accurate composition. If
then it can be proved, by the same internal criteria
as would be valid in regard to Virgil or Dante, that
the anomalies of Homer are, in a large number of
cases, such as cannot reasonably be explained other-
wise than by the purely personal class of causes, we
are in some measure precluded, by the fundamental
law that every author is his own best interpreter,
from judging other cases, where possibly the same
criteria may not exist, by any more subtle rule.
Example 2. lu Order to have the general question more

Odyssey. tangibly before us, it may be proper, by an illus-
trative example, to form some clear estimate of the
mode or extent in which the peculiarity here under
review is observable in the structure of either poem.
The example about to be selected is one generally
held to be the most intractable, even by the keenest
defenders of Homer's unity. It occurs in the Odys-
sey, i-n the comparative chronology of two parallel
courses of the action : the journey of Telemachus,
and the voyage of Ulysses from Calypso's island.
Telemachus starts on the evening of the second day
after the poem opens, with the intention of being
back in Ithaca on the twelfth at furthest.^ He

1 II. 374. sqq. ; conf. iv. 632.

Cii. X. §J. DISCOEDANCES OF THE TEXT. 4-il

arrives on the morning of the third day at Pylos,
and on the evening of the fiftli at Sparta, where the
poet leaves him on tlic morning of the sixth, to
return to the affairs of Itliaca. In his eonversation
with ]\fenelaus on that morning, tlie young hero is
])ressed to remain ten or twelve days at Sparta. Tiiis
invitation he declines, adding tliat he would willingly
spend a year there, but that his companions whoui
he had left at Pylos were already impatient for his
return.^ The next book takes up the history of
Ulysses. Mercur}^ is dispatched to Calypso's island,
on the next day at soonest, it may be presumed,
after that on which we parted from Telemachus ; the
seventh, consequently, from the opening of the poem.
The raft of Ulysses is ready on the fourth- day after-
wards (the 11th from the commencement). He sails
seventeen days (28th) ; on the eighteenth (29th) his
raft is destroyed.^ After being tossed on the waves
two whole days ^, he reaches the island of Scheria on
the third (32nd). He remains there three days^
(ooth), and an the fourth is landed on his native
island''; the 25t]i since parting from Calypso, and
the 36th from the opening of the poem.

Now Telemachus does not reach Ithaca, on his
return, until the day after his father, the thirty-
seventh of the poem, and the thirty-sixtli since his
own departure from home. He had, therefore, been
absent three times the period originally promised.
We left him at Sparta on the sixth day, determined
to return home forthwith ; add three days for his
journey and voyage, deduct the nine from the whole
thirty-seven, and it results that he had remained

1 IV. 505. sq(i. - V. 262. ' v. 270.

* V. 388. ^ VI. sqq. " xiii. 11!).

442 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

twenty-eight days with jMenelaus, more than double
the twelve proposed by that hero and declined by
himself. He had consequently kept his companions,
formerly described as so anxious for his return,
together with his borrowed ship, lying off the coast
of Pylos a whole lunar month. Here then is a very
palpable discordance, perhaps the most important in
the text of either poem, and which has therefore been
very plausibly adduced as an argument of original dis-
connexion between these two portions of the Odyssey.
The validity of any such inference must, however,
depend on another consideration of no small import-
ance as affecting this and other similar cases of ano-
maly : Whether they be less compatible with the
genius of a single poet, ranging with the native free-
dom of a lively imagination over an extensive sub-
ject, than with the cautious artifice of the professional
bookmakers whom the modern theory substitutes in
his place ? Considering the wonderful ingenuity dis-
played by these supposed amalgamators of discordant
materials, the pains they must have been at to soften
down so many discrepancies of fact or allusion, to
connect by mutual references so many petty inci-
dents, even where the absence of such mechanical
links would never have been felt, is it likely, or even
possible, that they would have overlooked an error of
eight-and-twenty days in the chronology of a narrative
the whole duration of which does not exceed forty ?
The functions of these supposed compilers were ob-
viously, as regards mere mechanical combination,
equivalent to those of original authors. Their pro-
ductions were as much entitled to the credit of original
design, as any modern Roman building constructed
by Vignola or Fontana with columns and cornices

Cii. X. § 3. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 443

supplied by the ruins of antient edifices. It were
quite as probable that one of those artists would
have been contented, in tlie adjustment of his bor-
rowed masonry, to place a Corinthian and Tonic
capital side by side in the same series, as that such
a blunder as that above noticed would have been left
uncorrected by the masters of the Pisistratian school
of patchwork epic architecture.

This consideration goes far to vitiate, in its source,
the whole train of sceptical reasoning usually resorted
to in such cases. The introduction, for example, of
warriors severely wounded on one day, I'resh and
vigorous on the next, or even on the same, is a license,
and no small one certainly, of familiar occurrence in
the IHad. A critical study of the text, however,
evinces it to be one inherent in the spirit of the old
epic muse, and as inseparable from the subordinate
parts into which it is proposed to subdivide the poem
as from its collective integrity. But even setting
aside this fact, were such license more compatible with
the cautious artifice of a bookmaker than with the
genius of an original autlior, in a narrative working
throughout on supernatural mechanism ? Compilers
of such tact and skill as those here in question would
never surely have ventured, without some precedent
in the usage of epic art, arbitrarily to introduce, in a
poem which they were about to offer as the most
finished specimen of that art, a novelty calculated to
shock either the judgement or the taste of their
public.

3. It is an old and sound remark \ that faultless Anomaly
precision of detail is the attribute of mediocrity ; nan"cha-
anomalv the invariable characteristic of the hi<Ther "^'^'■'^''c

J o of great

' Lonnrin. Dc Sublim xxxiii.

444 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

original orcler of genius in every branch of imitative art.

genius. Among the modes in which that anomaly displays
itself in poetry is a disregard of the strict rules of
narrative probability, especially where likely to inter-
fere with the general effect of a composition. Similar
violations of rio;id truth or nature are often observable
in the works of the great antient sculptors and modern
Italian painters, even in those where the general result
is most to be admired. Here, a shadow is made to
fall on objects which, on strictly optical principles, it
would not have reached ; there, a figure filling up a
space in the grouping of the background is larger
or smaller, more or less distinct, than the strict rules
of perspective enjoin.^ Such license, in the abstract,
cannot, it is true, be defended. It may, therefore, in
so far, be subject of regret that Homer or Raphael
should yield to artists of an inferior order in the me-
chanical adjustment of their works. It must how-
ever also be remembered, that had they been equally
scrupulous, they would not have been Homer or
Pvaphael, nor should we have had either an Iliad or
a Transfiguration. Our limited knowledge of the
higher economy of creation enables us to perceive
the fact, though not to assign the cause, why so much
in the visible works of nature which appears to us

^ Hence may in part be explained that carelessness of perspective and
poverty of landscape accompaniment, which seem to have characterised
many even of the higher productions of Greek painting and sculpture.
These blemishes can hardly be attributed to incapacity, in an age which
produced an Archimedes, and in the face of so deep a knowledge of
drawing and anatomy as is displayed in the same works. The scope of
Greek design was to represent human life and character in the most
beautiful or striking forms, or the most harmonious groups. Geometrical
precision in the adjustment of lines of building or scenery was a secondary
consideration. So in fact Plato, Critias, p. 107. b. sq.

Ch. X. § 3. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 445

defective may yet be so connected with acknowledged
advantages as to be indispensable to their existence.
We often see a countenance in the individual fea-
tures of wliich no actual blemish can be detected,
but where we are as little struck by any beauty ; on
the other hand one is apt, on beholding a handsome
face combining certain irregularities of feature, to
imagine that by slightly varying its lineaments, by
adding length or fulness in one part, or subtracting
it in another, perfection would be the result. l>ut,
could the alterations be effected, they would probably
but tend to prove how inferior the work of " nature's
journeyman" was to her own; and, undoubtedly, the
same secret blending of imperfection and excellence
in the parts is as essential to aggregate beauty in the
works of human genius as in those of nature.

This principle has been distinctly seen and laid
down by both Aristotle^ and Longinus.- Among the
various classes of anomaly which it involves, that
here in question has been comprehended by the for-
mer critic under what he defines, in scarce translatable
phraseology, as the " Imitation of the Impossible." In
the abstract he observes it cannot be defended, but
is to be excused or even admired, where tending to
enhance the general effect of a work. For illustration
of the rule he appeals, as usual, to Homer ; and one
of the examples cited will be noticed in the sequel.
In fact, one of the most remarkable of the poet's
talents is this very one of making even discordances

^ Poetic, c. XXV. xxvi. ed. Bip. ; conf. Plat. Critias, p. 107. c.

- De Sublim. sect, xxxiii. A renuirkable passage, where this great critic
characterises the petty anomalies of Ilomei-, so captiously foumleil on by
his hypercritical successors of the present day, with singular j)oiut, as,
irapop;'ifj.aTa, 5t' afifAeitw (Iki] ttov, koI iis (TVXfv, inrh ixfya\ocpvias dv«7rt(TTaTCi>s

446 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

of detail contribute to general harmony of effect.
Hence it is that such blemishes, palpable as they
often are, have rarely been observed, still less con-
demned by those who judge the Ihad and Odyssey
in the true spirit of their author. Nor, in the whole
rano-e of subtleties in Vhich successive schools of
Homeric criticism have indulged, is there one more
fallacious or pernicious than the practice, lately so
much in vogue, of picking petty flaws and holes
in the mechanical structure of the poems, while all
their grander features of moral and poetical harmony
are overlooked. Against such an ordeal, no epic
composition, even if indited by the pen of Calliope
herself, could stand for a moment,
other 4. Admitting however, that such anomalies may

anonKiiy°[n procccd as well from the inadvertence, or even artifice,
poetical Qf ^ single poet, as from patchwork or interpolation,
the question naturally arises : What are the criteria
for ascribing those discernible in Homer's text to the
one rather than the other class of causes ? They
are to be sought partly in the internal structure of
the text itself, partly in the tenor of those same
commentaries where the above distinction has been
confounded. The discordances in question occur, in
more or less palpable form, not only in the integral,
and as regards subject or space least connected heads
of narrative, but also in contiguous passages ; and are
often so closely interwoven with the minutest fibres
of the text, as to be essential to the very pith and
substance, not merely of its historical import, but of
its syntactical structure. The cases, however, to
which importance has been attached by the advocates
of primitive non-integrity, are confined solely or
chiefly to the former class, while the latter are either

Cii. X. § 4. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 447

overlooked, or noticed as mere eccentricities of the
poet or poets from whom the separate rhapsodies are
supposed to emanate. I Jut it is not easy to see upon
what principle this method can be justified ; or how
so fatal an importance can be ascribed to discord-
ances occurring at wide intervals, and where over-
sight were both natural and excusable, wliilc the
same irregularities, in a more glaring position of con-
tiguity, pass unheeded. The only apparent ground
of the distinction is, that the one class of examples
supplied the sceptical doctrine with arguments pos-
sessing an outward show of plausibility, while a
similar inference extended to the other would equally
annihilate the textual integrity of the supposed se-
parate elements, cutting them up into such shreds
and patches as would have been found impracticable
materials for the ingenuity even of the artificial
compiler. Here there is an inconsistency on the
part of the commentators quite equal to any imputed
to the text, and which can only be avoided by the
more logical conclusion, that the same peculiarities
occurrino- throuirhout the same work, in the same
forms, originate m the same cause, anomaly of
genius in the same author.

The cases now about to be quoted may be classed
under two heads. The one comprises incongruities
to all appearance intentional, where Plomer's object
seems to have been, with a disregard or even a
wilful violation of rigid consistency, to produce a
certain poetical effect, or obtain a wider field for the
exercise of his inventive powers ; the remainder are
such as seem to be altogether involuntary, resulting
from the natural contempt of genius for minor details.
The usual custom would here enjoin that precedence

Telema
chus.

448 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

should be given to the text of the IHad ; but the
example already selected as the basis of illustration
having been derived from the Odyssey, it will be
preferable to carry on the analysis in the first in-
stance through the remainder of the same work.
Voyage of 5. Among the integral subdivisions of the poem
set apart in the popular theories on the subject as
originally independent compositions, one of the most
important is the description of the voyage of Tele-
machus to Peloponnesus, comprising the four opening
books down to verse 624. of Delta. The young hero
announces his intention in a public assembly of the
citizens, and asks a vessel from the suitors, which is
insolently refused. He afterwards borrows one from
his friend Noemon, and mans it with a select body of
Ithacan youths. He then takes a formal leave of the
suitors, informing them at the same time of his
having elsewhere procured the means of transport to
Pylos, and that the object of his voyage was to
concert means for their destruction. In their reply
they again turn his project into ridicule.^ He next
communicates his intentions to the old housekeeper
of the palace, Euryclea ", binding her by an oath to
keep his absence secret from his mother until his
return, or until a lapse of ten or t^velve days from tlie
date of his departure.^ Now let us consider what a
tissue of anomalies is here. What can be more in-
consistent than the conduct of Telemachus, in formally
apprising the suitors, who had just before discoun-
tenanced his voyage, of the arrangements he had
made to carry it into effect in spite of them, telling
them also plainly that their own lives were at stake
in the matter? It was little else than an invitation

1 ir. 212. sqq., 38G. sqq., 316., m. 363. - ii. 349. ^ 373^

Ch. X. §5. DISCOKDANCIiS OF THE TEXT. 449

to tlic'iii to arrest his person. In tlie next place, is it
credible that a project proclaimed aloud by himself
in the national assembly and the palace hall, a project
already, like all other topics, matter of scurrilous jest
with the suitors, should have remained a mystery to
the housekeeper of the palace until announced to her,
under a vow of secrecy too, b\- her young master ?
What more unaccountable than that Telemachus,
after the pains he had taken to make the thing-
notorious to the whole town, after having, without
an}' vow of secrecy, manned his vessel with twenty
young citizens, whose friends must all have been
privy to the affair, should yet have been such a sim-
pleton as to believe, that the swearing in of a single
old woman to silence would keep his departure secret
from an anxious mother durino; a fortnight's absence,
and amid the incessant gossiping of which she and
her concerns were the principal butt on the part of
the suitors and their adherents ? Upon AVoltian
principles, it is plain, that neither the passages in
which Telemachus bids adieu to the suitors, nor that
where he swears in Euryclea, could be by the author
of the council-scene or of the previous account of
the prince's conduct. The text however is here in-
tractable, and the anomaly has been overlooked. In
the sequel the case becomes worse. During several
days, not only Penelope but the suitors are repre-
sented altogether ignorant of the expedition, until
Nocmon, standing in need of his vessel, applies to
them for information as to the probable time of the
prince's return, in tlie very natural confidence that
they must be cognizant of his motions. But they are
as much amazed as if thev had never heard a svllable

VOL. T. G G

450 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

of the matter, and inquire ^vith mucli anxiety into
the circumstances of his departure, " having been all
along under the impression that he was gone into
the country to look after his farm!"^ All this in-
congruity appears the more glaring, when it is con-
sidered hoAv easily it might have been avoided. The
young hero might have been made, preserving silence
in public, first to sound the suitors as to their
acquiescence in his voyage. On discovering their
repugnance to it, he might have said no more on the
subject for the present, but, affecting to abandon his
scheme and to be really going into the countrj? for a
week, might have secretly borrowed his vessel and
taken his other measures without risk of detection.
In this way, both Ins exaction of the vow from
Euryclea, and the subsequent ignorance of his mother
and the suitors, would have been quite natural.

The question then occurs. How can Homer, either
as author of the whole Odyssey or of this particular
rhapsody, be justified in such a disregard of proba-
bility ? The answer is, first, that no unprejudiced
reader probably has ever been offended by his mode
of management ; and secondly, that the more precise
method above suggested might have been less condu-
cive to the general effect of the poem. The prince's
announcement of his project in the public assembly,
with his request of a ship so contemptuously treated
by the suitors, gives a spirited turn to the debate.
Their subsequent indifference to so really important
a matter, of which they had been so formally warned,
supplies some graphic touches both to their own
character and that of Telemachiis, who, hitherto a
quiet passive youth, had appeared to them incapable

> IV. 630. 638.

Oil. X. § 5. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 451

of venturing on any bold step for the assertion of his
riglits. Hence the contempt willi wliich tliey treat
his proposed xoynge as but an innocent bravado, and
their amazement on discoverini; its actual execution,
are valuable ingredients of the ethic spirit of the
Odyssey. That the publicity given to the expedition
was incompatible with ignorance on the part of the
servants and other secondary personages, caimot here
enter into consideration. It is a fundamental prin-
ciple of Greek poetry, epic as well as dramatic, and
one largely exemplified in both Iliad and Odyssey,
that none but the leading personages shall be entitled
to know more or less of what is o-oinsr on than suits
the poet's convenience. Hence, on the Attic stage. Analogy of
by an exaggeration of this principle, all the secrets drama.
of the plot are intrusted to the chorus, which is often
a body of females of the middle class, representing
consequently the most loquacious and least trust-
worthy portion of the community ; and on the modern
theatre, under the rubric " aside," remarks are made
witlnn a few yards of the person from whom they are
supposed to be kept secret, in a voice which would
suit the commander of a battalion. To these par-
tial inconsistencies the Greek audience, in its day,
submitted, as docs our own at the present, in consi-
deration of advantages only to be obtained at their
expense. By a parallel species of license, it is here
assumed that the Ithacan public, in the vulgar sense,
are not privileged to interfere. The poet has thus
obtained a further opening for several interesting
scenes : first, between Telemachus and his faithful
old nurse, and afterwards between her and Penelope,
when the truth is at last revealed to the queen.
This crisis is brought about through the medium of

Gli 2

Circe.

452 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

Noenion, the lender of the vessel, and in so far a
principal in the transaction, but who, a discreet and
reserved person as his name denotes, had hitherto
remained in the background, until under the pressure
of his own affairs he applies to the suitors for intel-
ligence ; and thus, by the proper epic agency, the
case becomes too notorious for either them or the
queen to remain any longer in the dark.
Euryio- Q^ ^}^jg privilecre of the ei^ic art apijlies, not merely

chus in the . ■'■ o 1 L L i J

isle of to ignorance but to knowledge, which will also be
found, in numerous cases, to exist or be wanting at
the discretion of the poet. For example, on landing on
the island of Circe, Ulysses sends a party, headed by
his lieutenant Eurylochus, to explore the country.^
On their approaching the dwelling of the sorceress,
she appears at the door and invites them to partake
of her hospitality. All enter, with the exception of the
leader, who suspected treachery. The party within
are converted by their landlady into hogs. Eury-
lochus remains awhile expecting their reappearance,
but in vain. He then returns, greatly alarmed, and
reports them missing to his chief. Ulysses deter-
mines himself to go in quest of them, and orders
Eurylochus to act as his guide, who, not yet re-
covered from his fright, refuses. The hero proceeds
alone, defeats the arts of the sorceress, and returns
to the vessel to bring up the rest of the crew to her
palace. On his arrival the men surround him, eager
to learn the fate of their comrades. He bids them,
drily, put their equipage in order, and come them-
selves to see and partake of the good cheer that
awaits them. Upon this Eurylochus interposes, and
strongly dissuades them from obedience, assuring them

' X. 208. Fqq.

Cu. X. § 7. DISCOKDAN'CES OF THE TEXi". 453

tliat " the sorceress will convert tlieni also into hogs
or A\ ikl beasts." ^ Here then Eurylochus is suddenly
inspired with a knowledge of the previous fate of his
own detachment, which no part of the text admits of
his having obtained by natural means. He had not
seen what happened. The terror he displajed on
returning to the slii}> was but the foreboding of some
mysterious evil ; nor, had he been privy to the real
cause of his men's detention, could he have limited
his report to a simple statement of their not being
forthcoming. Ills knowledge therefore is evidently
but an afterthought of Homer, introductory to the
scene that followed, and supplying a few additional
touches to the character of the mutinous lieutenant,
a personage of some importance among the second-
rate heroes of the Odyssey.

7. Another case which, from the more favourable personal
arrangement of the text, has aflbrded a readier "nhe'drs-
handle to casuistry, occurs in the variations made by s"'*^^

* . . , I Ij'sscs.

the disguised Ulysses in the personal narratives with
which he successively entertains Eumasus, the suitors,
and Penelope. These passages are richly illustrative,
not only of the conventional knowledge or ignorance
authorised by epic usage, but of the hero's ready
talent for dissimulation, and the spirit of comic
humour which runs through the action of the poem.
In every emergency he has at once a ne-w and [)lau-
slble version of his life and adventures at command,
adapted to the circumstances of the case or the dress
he has assumed. When accosted by Minerva, in her
disguise of a shepherd boy, on tirst awakening from the
sleep in which he had been deposited on his native
coast, ignorant where he is, he inquires the name of

' X. 433. "

G G 3

454 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

the country. When told that he is in Ithaca, he is
ahnost overpowered with joy, but suppressing all
outward demonstration gravely replies, " that he had
heard indeed of such an island in his own native land
of Crete, but had never expected to visit it." He
then enters on a fictitious account of his life, and the
manner of his transport to this strange country.^
His patroness hears him patiently to the end, and
then, discovering herself, banters him on his un-
rivalled talent for the arts of intrigue.

On reaching the hut of Eumaaus in his new charac-
ter of mendicant, a longer and more varied series of
fictions is required to amuse his host.^ Little of his
previous matter of fact is retained but his Cretan
origin and certain exploits in the Trojan war. The
additions comprise a predatory voyage to Egypt, and
sundry adventures in Lybia, Phoenicia, and Epirus.

In the suitor's hall this account is again partly
repeated, partly varied.^ His captivity in Egypt still
forms the basis of the narrative, but the details are
different.

Penelope, on the other hand, in their midnight
interview*, is favoured with another version of the
Cretan story formerly told to Minerva. On this oc-
casion, no longer content with the humble capacity
in which he had previously figured as natural son of
a Cretan nobleman, he has the boldness to announce
himself a brother of king Idomeneus.

This spirited series of fictions, so characteristic of
the genius of the poem, so replete with the liveliest
features of Homeric style, has yet been stigmatised by
modern hypercriticism as interpolation or patchwork,
and on the very ground which constitutes a chief

' XIII. 256. - XIV. 100. 3 XVII. 419. ^ xix. 172.

Cii. X. ^ 7. DlSCORDxVNCES OF TilE TEXT. 455

part of its value : that the different accounts contradict
each other ! that it is "improbable," forsootli, "the
l)en-o-ar should address conflictino- stories to the differ-
ent members of the household, because, by communi-
cating: amono- themselves, thev miMit have detected
his self-contradictions."^ Had Homer been obtuse
enough, from any such considerations, to obtrude
again and again the same hackneyed tale upon liis
audience, he would be as little entitled to the praise
bestowed by Aristotle on his own inventive genius,
as his hero would deserve the like compliment paid
liim by his patroness Minerva.

In the Pha3acian palace this talent for innocent
fibbing is still more broadly exemplified. When
Alcinoiis reproves his daughter for want of hospi-
tality, in not at once conducting the stranger from
his landing-place to the palace, Ulysses vindicates
her by an assurance that she had pressed him to
accompany her, but that he, from modesty, had
loitered behind.- The fact as previously narrated
is the very reverse. Tlie hero, noway disinclined to
her escort, had postponed his entry into the city by
her express order.''' Plis reply, evidently, is just what
occurred to him at the moment to get his fair bene-
factress out of a scrape.

That this spirit of ready pretext was common to
the Laertian royal family, appears from another simi-
lar expedient on the part of Telemachus. A\'liile
still an inmate in the palace of Menelaus, he is warned
by ]\Iinerva in a dream to return home fortliwith,
for that his mother had consented to espouse Eury-
machus'^, and that his presence is urgently required

1 B. Thiersch, Urgestalt d. Odyss. p. 74. - vii. 298. sqq.

3 VI. 29 J.

G G 4

456 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

to look after bis own interests. The next morning,
when Menelaus inqnires the cause of such haste,
Telemachus answers simply, that he has become
anxious about the management of his property at
home during his long absence.^ A^^y mention of
his vision or his mother's marriage, by exciting
curiosity, miglit liave involved delay ; he therefore
seizes the first pretext that offers, as a means of eifect-
ing his escape. Nor, on his arrival in Ithaca, does he
express the least surprise at finding matters exactly
in the same position as when he left home.

8. The preceding examples have been limited
chiefly to cases- wliere the anomaly appears more or
less intentional on the poet's part. In the following
it may be attributed solely to oversight or inadver-
tence,
iiisdiaiogue Ulysscs, ou escapiuii: from Polyphemus, pushes ofi^

with the . "^ i- o ., i ' i ^

Cyclops ; his vcsscl " as far from the shore as a man's voice could
be heard," ^ and then triumphantly taunts his baffled
enemy. The giant, in return, hurls a fragment of
rock in the direction of the ship, which narrowly
escapes destruction. The hero, nothing daunted,
rows out to a distance " double that at which he
uttered his first address," and again gives vent to his
reproaches, to which Polyphemus again replies. The
q\iestion, then, is : How could this second harangue
reach the ears of the giant, if uttered at twice as
great a distance as a man's voice could be heard ?
with When Ulysses, in the hut of Eumseus, complains of

cold, and asks for the loan of a blanket, the swine-
herd is made to remark in reply, that " in his esta-
blishment each man had but a single blanket for his
own use." Six lines afterwards he is described as

' XV. 88. 2 jx_ 473_ 49] _

Eumaeus,

Cii.X. §8. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 457

lending his guest " one both large and warm, "which lie
always kept by him for a change, or for extra covering
in very cold weather." ^

The account of the hero's arrival and reception in Tr.msac-
Scheria offers a most curious succession of glaring dis- schetia.
cordances, which yet, owing to the impracticability of
the context, has never given serious vunbrage in scep-
tical quarters. In the first place, the poet and his
hero between them are guilty of making the sun
set at least twice in one day. Ulysses in his narra-
tive to Arete says, that on awakening from his slum-
ber in the bush, " after the sun had gone down,"^ he
descried Nausicaa with her maidens playing on the
beach. The poet, however, in his own previous ac-
count of the same events ^ informs us that the sun
set on that evening just before the party reached the
grove of Minerva, several hours after it had disappeared
accordinf]^ to his hero, allowino: a reasonable time for
the journey and other intermediate transactions.
Aristarchus proposed to smooth down this difficulty *,
very arbitrarily as well as unnecessarily, by alteriu""
the text. But even this remedy would be inadequate
to the disease, for the sequel gives a virtual contra-
diction to both passages. Although Ulysses does
not proceed from the grove to the city until after
another considerable interval, consequently until after
comj^lete darkness must have spread over the land,
yet the whole account of his entry implies it to have
taken place in broad daylight. Not oidy was Pallas
obliged to cover her favourite witii a cloud, to pro-
serve him from the impertinence of the [)opulace, but

1 XIV. 513. 521. M'lr. 289. ' vi. 321.

'' By c'liaiiging Svafro (vii. 289.) into SeiAero, a term foroigu to tbo
vocabulary both of iloinoi and of IK-llas. Scliol. I'alat. ail Inc.

458 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

he was himself able to take a minute survey of the
objects of curiosity on his walk ; of the port and
arsenal ; of the external ornaments of the palace ; the
fruit trees, flower-beds, and fountains of the royal
gardens. The mode in which this tissue of petty in-
congruities is interwoven with the nicest fibres of the
text is not only such as to exclude the possibility of a
solution, but amounts to a literary curiosity ; for the
same sentence which describes tlie hero as gazing
with admiration on the brilliant objects that adorned
the exterior of the royal residence, introduces him into
the banqueting-hall, where he finds Alcinolis and his
guests engaoed in the usual solemnities before retiring
to bed.^
Return of 9. Let US now rctum for a moment to the more
chusTo'm serious chronological discrepancy from which we
Sparta. originally set out, and inquire how far it may be
explained by the same twofold peculiarity of the
poet's genius, a disregard of minute details, and a
readiness to sacrifice them to poetical eiFect. Homer
had undertaken to interweave the adventures of Tele-
machus with those of Ulysses, in the relation to each
other of principal subject and episode. Telemachus
is first sent to Pylos and Sparta. The circumstances
under which his voyage takes place, with the state in
which he left his mother and household, require that
his excursion should be speedily performed, or at
least that he should set out with the intention of
using expedition. This intention is adhered to up
to the moment when we leave him to attend to the
affairs of his father. Here a different mode of
management was required. Whether in deference to
the popular legend, or from the poet's desire to mag-

1 VII. 138.

Cii. X. § 9. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 459

iiify tlic adventures of Ulysses, nearly a lunar month
is devoted to the voyage of that hero from Calypso's
isle to Ithaca. In resuming the history of Telemachus
therefore, either a tacit anomaly Avas unavoidable, or
his previous arrangement must have been varied, in
order to bring his course into chronological harmony
with that of his father. This alternative, it seems,
whether from oversight or indifference, did not occur
to the poet ; and he has allowed the case to remain as
it stood, leaving us to explain it as wc best can. It
may be observed however, that althougli there is
discordance there is here no actual self-contradiction.
The inconsistency results merely from the reliance
which the reader is led to place, naturally enough no
doubt, on the previously expressed intention of Tele-
machus to return speedily. We are at least at liberty
to imaiiine that Menelaus had found means in the in-
terval to persuade him to remain three weeks instead
of three days. The narrative of the visit, as resumed
in the fifteenth book, implies indeed this alteration
of plan. Neither the remonstrance of Pallas at his
long delay, nor her account (which, tliough false,
seemed true to the prince.) of the momentous change
in his domestic affairs, appear compatible with an
adherence to his oriijinal intention of remaining' but
a week or ten days from home.

It may be remarked, in further illustration of the chronology
chronological discrepancy in the voyageof Telemachus, odysscy.
that the computation of time throughout the Odyssey,
witli its greater variety of events and localities, has
no pretensions to that regular and progressive ac-
curacy observable in the Iliad. ^ Discordances of a
similar, though less glaring, nature existin othercases,

' Sec Appendix G.

4 GO HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

where the structure of the text still more effectually
excludes any sceptical inference. For example, on
the night of the disguised hero's arrival in the hut of
Euinfeus, its inmates are senttobed with the usual for-
malities.^ That same night Telemachus, still at Sparta,
is warned by Minerva in a vision to return home "
He sets out at daybreak, and, after a journey by land
and sea of two days and nights, reaches the coast
of Ithaca on the third morning. During his voyage
we leave him ^, and rejoin the party in the hut, who
are found at dinner on the day after that on which
they had been sent to bed. They again retire ^ to
rest, and we return to Telemachus, who lands, and
leaving his vessel on the shore walks up and joins
his father at breakfast in the hut ^, on the third
day after the arrival of Ulysses in the island, ac-
cording to the chronology of his own adventures, but
on the fourth according to that of his son's. The
reckonino- stands as follows : —

Ulysses. Tfxemachus.

First niglit in tlie hut =■ First night at Sparta.

r Second night at Pherse.
Second night in the hut- | ^j^j^.^ ^.^^^^ ^^ ^^^^

Third night in the hut = Fourth night in the hut.*'

1 XIV. 523. ^ XV. 1. sqq. ^ xv. 301.

4 XV. 494. ^ XV. 495., xvi. 1. sqq.

<* The accuracy of this table, in the case of Telemachus, is clearly borne
out by the description of his course. In that of Ulysses, where the
chronology of the narrative itself is not so distinct, the computation Is
confirmed by xvii. 515.

Nitzsch (Erklar. Anmkk. Bd. ii. S. lill.) would evade this incongruity,
by assuming that Pallas appeared in vision to Telemachus at a later hour
of the same morning on which her Interview with Ulysses took place
in the cave of the nymphs. This were out of Scylla into Charybdis ; and
as the poet has already been convicted of making the sun set twice in the
same evening, he would here make it rise twice In the same morning.

Ch. X. §10. DISCOKDANCES OF Till-: TEXT. 4(1 1

Tlirougliout the poem, it is said that Ulysses re-
turned home on the tenth year after the fall of Troy,
the twentieth after his own departure from Ithaca.
But the chronolo,iry of Ids vicissitudes since the siege
does not bear out that statement. He describes him-
self as having been detained seven years in the isle of
Calypso ^ and one in that of Circe.- Add about
seven months, as the sum of the lesser portions of time
to be collected from the ninth to the twelfth books
inclusive, the result does not exceed eight years and
seven months. Let us now turn to the Iliad.

10. Several cases of incongruity have already been Anomalies
incidentally cited ^ from the opening scenes of that
poem, consisting in a certain accumulation of pre-
liminary details at the expense of strict historical
order, with the apparent object of laying a broader
foundation for the ensuing narrative. These cases
may be numbered to the class above described as
ori(iinatin<r in design rather than oversio^ht. Such is
the advice given by Nestor to Agamemnon in council
as to the mode of marshalling his army ; advice which,
however appropriate it might have been in the first
year of the war, was, historically speaking, quite out
of place in the tenth. Such is the like injunction
of Iris, disguised as Polites, to Priam, with her
report relative to the advance and appearance of the
Greek host. Another soniewhat similar example is
here subjoined.

During the nine years of the war previous to the Fortiflca-
quarrel of the chiefs, the Greek fleet and camp are camp!

IMincrva is plainly described as parting from Ulysses in broad dayllglit
(xiii. 189.344. sqq.) : while it is distinctly stated (xv. 8.40. sq.) that her
subsequent appearance to his son -was during the nighttime.
> VI r. 2.59. - X. 469. '' (Jh. v. § 4. sq.

462 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

represented as having remained unprotected by any
species of entrenchment, on an open coast, in the
midst of a hostile countrj^, under the poetical
pretext that the terror of Achilles was a safeguard
against hostile aggression.^ The historical insuffi-
ciency of this pretext is obvious. Had every one of
the 100,000 men who composed the host been an
Achilles, their united valour would have been un-
availing against the enterprise of a few daring peasants,
armed with a tinder-box and favoured by a dark
night and a scirocco wind. But setting this aside,
it is further said that Achilles was occasionally
absent for weeks ^ together, by sea and land, ravaging
the country or besieging the towns of Priam's Asiatic
allies. AVhy then, it may be asked, did the Trojans
neglect these opportunities of attacking the enemy
in his quarters, and setting fire to his tents and
ships ? The construction of the rampart belongs,
therefore, historically, to the first year of the war.^
Yet the details of every portion of the poem so
incontestably prove its poetical connexion with the
tenth, as completely to exclude every species of
sceptical inference. That a camp protected by
Achilles should require no artificial defence was es-
sential to the heroic grandeur of his character. The
construction of the rampart, on the other hand, after
his secession, was both an additional homage to his
glory, and necessary to the future conduct of the
poem ; to relieve the monotony of a series of field

1 II. IX. 352., IV. 512., et locc. citt. In Cb. v. § 1.

2 IX. 325. sqq.

^ Tlmcydides, accordingly, in his pragmatical notice of tlie Trojan war,
dismissing the authority of Homer, describes the Greeks as fortifying
their camp Immediately after their establishment on the coast (i. xi.).

• o

Ch. X. § 10. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 4G3

engagements, and impart variety to the martial vicis-
situdes of the action.

The knowledge which the Trojans are from the secession of

n 1 c ^ ^ o ^ ^ • r Achilles.

first assumed to possess oi the quarrel ot the chieis,
the secession of Achilles, and other transactions in
the Greek camp, is altogether conventional. The text
contains not a hint at the time or mode in which they
obtained the information, or at the consequent change
of tactics on their own side. In these details, the
more methodical spirit of the modern Muse would
have found abundant materials for episode. We
should have had Trojan spies or treacherous Greeks
sending notice to the city, a council held to deli-
berate on the important news, and a determination
adopted to abandon the previous timid line of defence
and fiice the enemy in the field. Homer probably
saw no great poetical capabilities in such details.
He therefore tacitly requests his readers to take
them for granted, and introduces the Trojans at once
familiar with all that had taken place, boldly marching
out on the plain instead of skulking beliind their
city walls. Even Priam, in his dialogue with Helen,
while obviously aware that the principal Greek hero
was not present, neither makes any remark on his
absence, nor betrays the least curiosity as to its
cause. ^

> This simple fact, the absence of the principal hero from the fiehl
(luring three great battles and sixteen whole books of the poem, -while all
the other chiefs are exhibited in a state of constant activity, ought, with
reasonable critics, to go far in itself to vitiate the attacks on the original in-
tegrity of the series of martial cantos. The hypothesis of a careful cultin'^
out of all the passages bearing on the hero's presence, and the insertion here
and there of the numerous allusions to his absence, a hyj)Olhesis which
"W. IMiillcr plainly inculcates, and which the arguments of his fellow-
commentators necessarily involve, seems an astonishing climax of sceptical
credulity.

464 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

Duel of 11. In the seventh book, Apollo and Minerva con-

M-IxT' "'"'^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ j)i'*^P^'^^^y ^^ concluding the day's battle
by a single combat between Hector and Ajax, and
agree that Hector shall be the challenger. Helenas,
the Trojan soothsayer, is then brought forward as
the inspired medium of communication with Hector,
whom he encourages to the adventure by an assu-
rance of having overheard the two deities stipulate for
his comino" forth unscathed from the eno'asjement. ^
Not a syllable however occurs of any such condition
in their actual conversation. The intelligent critic
will not fail to perceive the close congeniality of
spirit between these cases and the previous examples
of conventional knowledge or ignorance cited from
the Odyssey. Nor can anything be more incon-
gruous than that the Greeks, after the treaclierous
conduct of the Trojans on that very morning, should
here complacently accept their renewed proposals of
truce, and again place confidence in their oaths with-
out the least notice of their late perjury. Yet every
rational inference of a sceptical nature is excluded,
by the distinct allusion of both Hector and An tenor ^
to that perjury ; allusions so inseparably linked with
the whole spirit of the context that no casuistry can
get rid of them. The previous case of single combat,
like the dream of Telemachus in the Odyssey, having
served its purpose, is dismissed, and in no way allowed
to interfere with the subsequent conduct of the ac-
tion.

The gods in When Achilles requests his mother to interest
Jupiter in his behalf, she replies, that he must wait
until the return of the god from Ethiopia, whither
he had gone the day before " with the rest of the

' VII. 53. 2 VII. G9. 351.

Ethiopia.

Ch. X. §11. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 465

deities."^ Yet we had just before been told, that on
tlie morning of the day on which this dialogue took
place, Pallas had been sent by Juno to check the fury
of Achilles, and that, after having executed her
commission she rejoined " the rest of the deities " in
Olj'inpus."^ Apollo was also on that same morning
still in the camp, shooting his arrows at the Greeks.
Here is a naked self-contradiction which has yet,
owing to the indissoluble connexion of the text, been
passed over as a mere inadvertence by the keenest
modern impugners of Homer's unity, and the antient
commentators who notice it have been censured in
the same quarters as hypercritical cavillers.^

On the night after the first great defeat of the Greeks, Agamem-
it is said, that "all the other chiefs^" slept soundly, """"'^'"p*
with the exception of Agamemnon, kept awake by
anxiety of mind. Yet shortly after, we are told that
" Menelaus had passed an equally sleepless night "
from a similar cause. }n the sequel of the first
quoted text, Agamemnon's restless anxiety is de-
scribed as amounting to despair, when he " looked
across the plain and beheld the Trojan watchfires."
Yet a few lines afterwards it appears he was still in
bed in his tent ; for it is added that, after musing
awhile what was to be done, he arose, dressed
himself, and proceeded to the quarters of Nestor.
This incoherence has been noticed by Aristotle in a

» I. 42.3. 2 , 221.

^ Sec Ilcyn. ad II. i. 424. Since the above was written, the author
has observed that Lachniann, undismayed even by Ileyne's sneer at such
"grammatical subtlety," has gallantly come forward to relieve the school
of criticism to which he belongs from the discredit of having overlooked
so important a link in the chain of evidence in favour of its doctrines.
Betrachlt. iib. Homer's II. p. 6.

■* X. inlt.

VOL. I. II II

of Patro-

elus,

466 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book 11.

passage of the Poetica, which is the more interesting
from the circumstance that its author, who, hke
Homer, though seldom wrong in essentials is some-
times careless of details, has himself run into a very-
natural oversight, by quoting, as the basis of his
criticism, instead of v. 1. of the tenth, the parallel
exordium of the second book of the poem.^
The arms If the arms of Achilles fitted Patroclus, why does
the former hero lament his inability to revenge his
friend's death for want of arms ^, since the arms of
Patroclus, which were lying in his tent, would equally
have fitted himself? This inconsistency, though as
palpable as many others to which sceptical impor-
tance has been attached, happens to be inseparably
linked with the historical essence of the action ; and,

^ De Poet. XXVI. t^ 51 Kara. ixeraKpopciv eXp-qrat, olov'
&Woi iJLev pa Beol re Kal arepes ....

uixa 5e (l>7]<nv '

^TOL '6t' 4s TreSi'oy rh TpuiKhi' a.6pi]<yeiev,
avKSiu (Tvplyyciiv 6' ufidSov '

rb yap Trayres avrl rov noWol Kara iJ.iTa<popdv elprjTai.

The a\oyov here imputed is twofold : first, the impossibility of Aga-
memnon looking across the plain while lying in bed in his tent ; where it
really exists : secondly, the impossibility of the Trojans making merry
around their bonfires, if the whole human race except Agamemnon were
asleep ; the apology for which is, that the whole signifies metaphorically
the greater part. In this latter case, however, the &Xoyov is chargeable
on the philosopher himself, not the poet.

Such oversights are not uncommon with Aristotle in parallel cases.
Yet this text, the spirit of which ought to be apparent to whoever
competently apprehends the genius of either author, has so bewildered
the commentators, that a recent respectable editor of the Poetica has
even resorted in despair to the unjustifiable expedient of entirely
omitting the words from S/xa to uixaSov, in which lie the whole real
pith and marrow of the passage. Graefenhahn ad loc. and in nott. p.
206.

^ xviii, 192.

Cn. X. §11. DISCORDANCES OF THE TEXT. 4G7

accordingly, the subtle attempts of the scholiasts to
explain it aAvay have been ridiculed by the same
modern critics who are themselves in tlie habit of
adducing far more trivial incongruities in support of
their views, where the arrangement of the context
happens to be more favourable.^

It were tedious to enumerate the additional ex-
amples of Homeric self-contradiction derivable from
the text of tlie Iliad. Enoui:;h has been said to bear
out the original position, that as such anomalies can
be proved by internal evidence, at least in a large
proportion of cases, to originate in a corresponding
anomaly of the genius of a single poet, the funda-
mental rule of all sound criticism, that every author
is his own best interpreter, precludes any arbitrary
attempt to explain other cases, where the same criteria
may not be so distinctly ap[)licable, upon any more
subtle or far-fetched principle.

' Heyn. ad ]oc.

n H *J

468

HOSIER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book II.

CHAP. XI.

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. DIVINE MECHANISM.

DOCTRINE OF DIVINE INTERPOSITION IN HUMAN AFFAIRS, AS EMBODIED BY

HOMER. 2. HUM.VN PERSONIFICATION OF THE DIVINE AGENCT. 3. SCHEME

OF DIVINE MANAGEMENT IN THE POEMS. 4. CHARACTERS OF THE DEI-
TIES. 5. AGENCY OF APOLLO. NEPTUNE. THE RIVER GODS. VULCAN.

MINERVA. DIVINE INSTIGATION TO CRIME. — 6. POETICAL DEFECTS OF

homer's divine MECHANISM 7. THE GODS IN THEIR RELATION TO EACH

OTHER. DOMESTIC BRAWLS IN OLYMPUS. 8. DIVINATION. DREAMS.

OMENS. 9. OF homer's OWN BELIEF IN THEIR EFFICACY. HIS DOCTRINE

OF A FUTURE STATE. 10. HIS DIVINE MECHANISM COMPARED WITH THAT

OF MODERN POETRY. IL HIS DOCTRINE OF HUMAN APOTHEOSIS. 12. OF

ALLEGORY IN HIS DIVINE MECHANISM.

Doctrine of
divine in-
terposition
in human
affairs, as
embodied
by Homer.

1. The religious mechanism of the Iliad and Odyssey
cannot, for reasons stated in another place, be pro-
perly classed under any single one of the three more
general heads, of action, characters, or style, into
which the analysis of an epic poem resolves itself.
It has therefore been reserved for separate treatment
in the present chapter, with joint reference to the two
poems, the questions it involves extending equally
to both.

A belief in the direct agency of the Deity in the
conduct of human affairs is a principle of natural
religion common to every people and state of society.
The devout Christian and the enlightened heathen
each delight to trace the hand of a supreme being in
the works of nature or the course of worldly destiny,
and to acknowledge his retributive justice in the
punishment of vice or the reward of virtue. Such
sentiments, in all ages, are viewed with respect, even
by those least susceptible of their influence. Yet, if

Cii.XI. §1. DiVlNE MECUANISM. 469

the source in wliicli tlicy originate be more narrowly
investigated, it Avoukl appear as if their value de-
pendod rather on the objects on -which they are
brou2:ht to bear, than on their own intrinsic reason
or propriety ; for the man who carries the same train
of reflexion into the ordinary concerns of life, who
discovers in every petty disappointment a sign of
divine displeasure, in every trilling piece of good for-
tune a token of fiivour, is an object of derision rather
than respect. It is, however certain, that the agency
of the Deity, if exercised at all, is exercised as ac-
tively in the one as in the other class of cases. He
would at least be a bold casuist who should pretend
to mark out the relative amount of importance which
entitles one transaction of this world to the special
guidance of Providence, and leaves another to the
independent management of its inhabitants. The
causes of this different estimate of mere varieties of
degree in the same moral sentiment, lie beyond the
scope of the present inquiry. It w^ill here suffice to
remark that the distinction itself is justified by the
practical experience of life. In the one case, such
impressions are found habitually connected with good
sense and intelligence ; in the other, with weak
judgement and infirmity of purpose. In the one
therefore they are esteemed the philosophy of reli-
gion ; in the other are condemned as bigotry and
superstition.

The pantheon of Homer embodies the system of
natural religion prevalent in primitive Ilellas. The
direct part assigned by him to the gods, in the con-
duct of human affairs, represents the same divine
influence which, in purer systems, is limited to a
single deity. The rule, therefore, above laid down

II II 3

470 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

for estimating the value of any theory of special
interference by the importance of the objects on
which the divine agency is brought to bear, supplies
a fair general criterion for appreciating the celestial
mechanism of classical fable. Not that, in every case
where the influence of" that tlieory were unbecoming
the philosopher, it would be equally inappropriate in
the hero of a poem : but the analogy holds good of
each. Wherever the tendency of such influence is to
destroy the freedom of human thought or action, and
convert rational beings into irresponsible automata,
the effect must be mischievous, whether exemplified
in the creed of the devotee or the imagery of the epic
muse.

But the agency of the Deity is not confined to the
physical affairs of man. The disposition of his mind,
its good and evil impulses, proceed necessarily from
the same omnipotent first cause as the varieties of his
worldly destiny. Hence that indisputable, though
incomprehensible dogma of all religion, natural or
revealed, that men are predestined, or in other words
constrained, to the indulgence of passions and the
commission of crimes which the same religion teaches
them to avoid. The Greek mythology, while recog-
nising this dogma in its full extent, differs in so far
from that of most other antient nations, that instead
of placing the two contending influences under the
guidance of conflicting agents, the Deity and the
Demon, it unites them in the same.^ The Greek

^ The goddess Ate, though invested by Homer with functions in some
degree parallel to those of Satan or Tempter, possesses no claim to the
dignity of an independent antagonistic evil principle. She represents
merely a certain form of the vice or weakness common to gods and men,
just as Eris represents discord, or Cholos immoderate anger.

Ch. XL §1. DIVINE MECUANISM. 471

system acknowledges no iudcpendent Evil Principle,
but exhibits the several personifications of divine
attribute, according to tlieir own partialities or the
decrees of Fate, now encouraging to virtue, now
tempting to crime and hurrying into perdition. This
system, although involving in its details offensive
anomalies, seems yet, if referred to first principles,
the more reasonable of the two. If the existence of
one omnipotent Deity be admitted, the influence of
the Evil Principle can only become efi'ective by his
authority, and every impulse to which liunianity is
subjected must ultimately originate in the same source.
To assign, therefore, a separate independent agency
to that element of divine power which men are pleased
to consider as hostile to themselves, can tend little
either to the dignity or the consistency of the Supreme
Being. AVith regard, again, to the question here more
imn:iediately in point, how fiir such a distinction be
conducive to the spirit or propriety of a poetical
mythology, the simplicity of the Greek plan seems
greatly preferable to that collision of good and bad
demons which forms, with most other nations, the
mechanism of heroic poetry. Any such methodical
separation of attribute would have been incompatible
with that variety of character and freedom of action
in the members of the Greek puntlieon, in which its
poetical value so greatly consists.

The doctrine of fatality, while replete with a mj^s-
tery and terror which render it a fine instrument in
the hand of an accomplished poet, is a philosophic
rather than a poetical doctrine. Hence its full de-
velopement in the poetry of Greece was reserved for a
later period. Although it lies at the root of Homer's
fable, it is seldom there put forward in so prominent

II II 4

472

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book II.

Human
personifi-
cation of
the divine
agency.

a form as in the tragic drama. With Homer, natu-
rally weak or wicked men are indeed instigated to
folly or crime by the decrees of Fate or the agency
of its ministers ; but he takes no pleasure in exhi-
biting just or well-intentioned persons irresistibly
impelled to guilt and consequent destruction, as in
the case of CEdipus and other heroes of the Attic
stage.

2. There can be little doubt that even in the rudest
ages of Greece men of a high range of intellect had
formed worthy notions of the divine attributes, many
of which are embodied in the poetical mythology
Avith a corresponding degree of dignity. On the
other hand, the lively fancy of the race led them, in
the popular developement of their pantheon, to extend
its principle of petty interference with the daily con-
cerns of life to an excess unparalleled, perhaps, in any
other system. Nor was the principle of human per-
sonification, however essential to the poetical effect of
the Greek pantheon, free from moral disadvantage.
In the material polytheism of other leading antient
nations, the Egyptians, for example, the incarnation
of the Deity was chiefly, or exclusively, confined to
animals, monsters, or other fanciful emblems. The
preference by the Greeks, as their visible type of the
Deity, of the only one among his creatures whose in-
tellectual powers entitle him to a community with the
divine nature, appears on first view far more consistent
with the celestial dignity. The consequences were,
however, in some respects unfavourable. The Ori-
ental system was essentially allegorical. It brought
the deities into but slight physical contact with
humanity. Human apotheosis, with its attendant
confusion of the social relations of men and gods, was

Cu. XI. § 3. DIVINE MECHANISM. 473

there unknown ; and, even where the customs of earth
were transferred to heaven, it was in so symbolical a
form as to obviate much risk of humanising effects.
In Greece, on the other hand, it was an almost neces-
sary result of the spirit and grace with which the
deities were embodied in human forms, that they
should also be burthened with human interests and
passions. Heaven, like earth, had its courts and
palaces, its trades and professions, its marriages,
intrigues, divorces. This comnumity of the two races
led to amorous intercourse between them, sup[)lying
another fertile source of abuse and partiality in the
divine administration of the affairs of earth. If the
infusion of celestial blood into human veins added
lustre to the race of heroes, the promotion of mortals
to the honours of Olympus detracted proportionally
from the dignity of the host of heaven.

Homer's genius here, as in other respects, reflects
that of his nation. The divine character and agency,
as shadowed forth by him, combine the respective
excellences and defects of the popular system. Ke-
plcte for the most part with grandeur and beauty,
his celestial portraits are apt to degenerate into the
gross or fantastical; and hfe supernatural mechanism,
while often appropriate and effective, is at times
trivial, misplaced, and detrimental to the spirit of his
action.

3. The general scheme of divine management in scheme of
both poems is consistent and well imagined. Tlie su- chan"i!m7n
preme first cause, or efficient unity of the Deity, is each poem.
Fate or Destiny. Her decrees, although the manner
and time of carrying them into effect might be modi-
fied at the discretion of her agents, were unalterable.
By one of them tiie destruction of Troy had been fore-

474 HOMEPw ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

ordained of old, as a judgement on the accumulated
impieties of its royal family. The immediate motive of
fulfilment was the crime of Paris. Jupiter, as confi-
dential minister of the supreme fiat, is represented as
impartial. Juno, Neptune, Minerva, and some other
inferior deities, favour the Greeks. Apollo, Yenus,
and Mars take part with the Trojans. Jupiter himself
however, at the crisis of the war which forms the sub-
ject of the Iliad, is involved in temporary hostility to
the Greeks, by espousing the cause of Achilles, in re-
payment of a debt of gratitude for services rendered to
himself by that hero's mother. The six deities above
mentioned as taking a keener interest in the contest
appear, when free from Jove's control, indefatigable in
their efforts to promote the interests and stimulate
the energies of their favourites ; to rally them in
defeat, reinvigorate them when fatigued or wounded,
and, in a proportional degree, to depress the spirits
and baffle the schemes of their adversaries.

The divine mechanism of the Odyssey, both in
principle and in detail, offers the same essential
features as that of the Iliad, under such incidental
varieties as were involved by the corresponding
variety of the subject and scene of action. Ulysses,
the most virtuous hero of the age, is predestined, on
his departure from Troy, to numerous trials and
hardships before his resettlement in his native island.
Jove, as the minister of fate, is friendly to him.
The adverse power is Neptune, lord of the element
which was the principal scene as well as cause of the
hero's disasters. The moral springs of the celestial
agency, though of an inferior order, are, in their
operation and results, closely parallel to those of the
Iliad. In the latter poem, Jove's not unreasonable

Ch. XI. §3. DIVINE MECHANISM. 475

advocacy of the cause of Thetis and her son entails
on the Greeks, while asserting their own just riglits,
a series of severe calamities. In the Odyssey, his far
less justifiable indulgence of Neptune's vindictive
rage at the well-merited punishment inflicted on his
cannibal offspring, subjects the blameless hero to
nine years of banishment, and his innocent wife and
family to nearly as many of cruel insult and oppres-
sion. The oilice of guide and protector to Ulysses is
undertaken by Minerva, the divine representative of
the qualities by which he was himself chiefly distin-
guished. She had already, during the Trojan war,
been his constant patroness, and now as zealously
counteracts the malii^nant schemes of her uncle.
These are the only great Olympic deities wlio take a
prominent part in the Odyssey. The other super-
natural agents, Circe, Calypso, ^Eolus, Proteus, be-
long, consistently Avith the genius of the poem, to
the mvthoWical rather than the religious element
of the Greek pantheon.

The mode in which the divinities interpose in the
affairs of men is similar in each work. Sometimes
they appear in their own proper person, sometimes in
the diso:uise of mortals. In the rare instances where
they assume the shape of animals, an exclusive pre-
ference is given to the winged part of the creation.^
It seems doubtful, by reference to the passages bear-
ing on the point, whether Homer's gods were essen-
tially invisible to men, whose eyes were at times
endued with the faculty of perceiving them, or
whether their persons were naturally distinguishable
to human ken, and only concealed or disguised by
means of clouds or mists, as circumstances might

' 11. VII. 59., XIV. 290. ; Odyss. iii. 372., xxii. 240.

476 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

require.^ Even where they appear openly, the power
of recognising them is usually limited to certain
privileged individuals. Thus Minerva is visible to
Achilles alone in the quarrel scene of the Iliad, to
Ulysses alone in the cottage of EumaBus and in the
removal of the arms " ; Apollo, Yenus, and Mars, to
Diomed alone in the fifth book of tlie Iliad. Some-
times this divine privilege is figured less as a quality
of the gods than as an incapacity of mortal eyesight,
symbolised as a mist before the eyes, removable in
the case of favoured heroes.^ The supernatural asther
which habitually envelopes their own bodies is also
frequently resorted to as a covering to such other
persons or objects as they .may be anxious to con-
ceaL Even their material appendages, arms, chariots,
and the like, when separated from their own persons,
require this aid.'^ Little or no description is given
of the personal appearance of any deity, unless in the
poet's usual indirect mode, by epithets or incidental
notices. Thus the white arms and full round eyes of
Juno ; the majestic form and azure eyes of Minerva ;
the golden tresses and smiling countenance of Venus ;
the lofty stature and slender but athletic grace of
Diana; the brawny arms and limping gait of Vul-
can ; the delicate youth and noble aspect of Hermes,
are specified. The broad chest of the dark- haired
Neptune, the waist of Mars, and the forehead and
brow of Jupiter are also appealed to as symbols of
strength and majesty.
Characters 4. The charactcrs of the gods are as finely con-
deities, ceived as consistently maintained. The conduct and

1 II. XIV. 282., XVI. 790. ^ n j 193 . Qd. xvi. 158. sqq., xix. 33.
3 II. V. 127., XX. 321. 341.; Od. vii. 41.

* II. III. 381., V. 356. 776., viii. 50., xvii. 270., xxi. 597. ; Od. vii.
140., xiii. 189,

Ch. XI. §4. DIVINE MKCIIANISM. 477

bearing of Jupiter is distinguished, except in liis
conjugal relations, by a dignity befitting the ideal
lord of tlie Hellenic pantheon. Wliile never sub-
inittinfj, amid the conflicting: interests of his subor-
dinate deities and their rebellious opposition to his
views, to the least compromise of his authority, he
exhibits a happy mixture of severity and mildness in
his mode of asserting: it. Alone amono; the "jods he
abstains from all personal intercourse witli his ter-
restrial subjects. His controlling power is exercised
through the agency of inferior deities, while he himself
sits apart on the summit of Olympus or Ida, contem-
plating, in proud consciousness of his surpassing
glory, the progress of mundane events.

Juno is high-tempered, self-Avilled, and imperious ;
■with lofty notions of her own prerogative as queen of
Jupiter, she is easily mortified and incensed by his
slowness to admit her pretensions. Ardent in the
pursuit of her objects, she is little scrupulous in her
mode of attaining them, a warm friend and a bitter
enemy.

The character of Neptune, allowance being made
for difference of sex, has much resemblance to that
of Juno. As vindictive as his royal sister, and
haughty and impetuous like the element he rules,
he is the only deity, besides Juno, who, presuming on
the privilege of a brother, as she does on that of a
wife, ventures boldly to follow out his own schemes
in defiance of Jupiter's commands.

Apollo is the sublimest of Homer's gods. Tii the
Hind, to which poem his visible interposition is con-
fined, his presence and power are portrayed under
features of mingled beauty, grandeur, and terror.
Even in the (Odyssey, where he never openly appears,

478 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

his indirect influence is shadowed forth under equally-
awful and impressive forms. ^

Minerva, the patroness of intellectual pursuit and
of the art of war in its nobler departments, is, even
in the hurry of battle, calm and dispassionate, fertile
in expedients, and a zealous champion of mortals who
resemble her in character. Energetic in forwarding
their views against her equals in rank, she exercises
a politic forbearance when brought into collision with
her superiors.

Mars is the type of the more offensive, as Pallas
of the nobler side of the military character. His
Avarlike ardour savours at all times of ferocity rather
than valour, and degenerates in the heat of battle
into blind indiscriminate fury.

Vulcan, in both poems, is the lowest of the Olympic
host in the scale of divine dignity. He is repre-
sented as a mere blacksmith, distinguished but for
skill in his art, brawny arms, his love of good cheer,
and talent for buffoonery.

Venus, the divorced spouse of Vulcan, and now
the paramour of Mars, combines with her familiar
attributes of beauty, grace, and levity of habits, a
tender and affectionate heart. On the few occasions
where her concern for her son JEneas or her favourite
Paris impels her to take part in the combat, her
interference with the province of her more martial
sisters is visited by severe castigation at their hands.

It will now be proper to illustrate the above
remarks by individual cases, where the poet's mode of
management appears more especially deserving of
approbation or censure.

' See above, Cb. vni. p 381. sqq.

Cii. XI. § 5. DIVINE MECHANISM. 479

5. Perliaps the noblest example, in either poem, of Airpncyof '
divine interposition iii human aiiairs is the pestilenee Neptune,
inflicted by Apollo on the Greek host. The Apollo
of Plomer, it must be borne in mind, is a different
character from the deity of the same name in the later
classical pantheon. The attributes under which he
is here chiefly represented, but whicli were afterwards
obscured or superseded, are replete with a terror and
mystery singularly adapted to the higher mechanism
of epic poetiy. Ilis primitive proper function,
common also to his sister Artemis, and forming by
a natural train of association the basis of those which
make up the fulness of his divine office, is that of
angel or minister of death. Throughout both poems,
all deaths from unforeseen or invisible causes, tlie
ravages of pestilence, the fate of the young child or
promising adult cut off in the germ of infancy or
the flower of youth, of the old man dropping peace-
fully into the grave, or of the reckless sinner sud-
denlv checked in his career of crime, are ascribed
to the arrows of Apollo or Diana. The oracular
functions of the god arose naturally out of the above
fundamental attributes ; for who could more appro-
priately impart to mortals what little foreknowledge
Fate permitted of her decrees, than the agent of her
most awful dispensations ? The close union of the
arts of prophecy and song explains his additional
office of god of music, while the arrows with which lie
and his sister were armed, symbols of sudden death in
every age, no less naturally procured him that of god
of archery. Of any connexion between Apollo and the
Sun, whatever may have existed in the more esoteric
doctrine of the Greek sanctuaries, there is no trace in

480 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

either Iliad or Odyssey.^ He is there the god, not
of life and light, but of destruction, who promptly
responds to the call of his injured saint with his
weapons of vengeance. The few verses in which he
is described as " descending, dark as night, the sides
of Olympus, his quiver rattling on his shoulders," and
as dealing death at each twang of liis silver bow, is
one of the finest examples of that simple brevity with
which Homer loves to shadow forth his grandest
conceptions. Another exercise of Apollo's power,
which can hardly be justified but in figurative con-
nexion with this primary attribute, is his share in the
death of Patroclus. The introduction of so noble
a god in the character of a ruffianly pugilist, to stun
a brave warrior with a blow of his fist, Avere otherwise
irreconcilable with the fine taste and judgement of
Homer. It may possibly symbolise some popular
Jegend of this hero having been seized, in the heat of
battle, with a vertigo or giddiness, which rendered
him an easy victim of the second-rate warrior who
dealt him his death blow. Such fatalities belong to
the class ascribed to the agency of Apollo.

In the Odyssey, attention has already been directed
to the brilliant exemplification of the mysterious
power of this god, in his cooperation with Minerva
for the destruction of the suitors. That poem also

^ Not only is the sun assigned a separate personality by the poet, but
Apollo is frequently introduced under circumstances incompatible with
the character of Sun-god (xxiii. 190.). The popular explanation, there-
fore, of the pestilence of the Iliad, as an efiect of the burning rays of the
m idsummer sun, is out of place. Homer has himself confuted it by
th e epithet wkti ioiKuc, applied to the god (i. 47.), an illustration to
which no rational poet could well have resorted, to figure the influence
of the sun. The dog-star, not the sun, is Homer's agent of pestilential
heats.

Cu. XL §5. DIVINE iMECIIANLSM. 481

abounds with incidental allusions of a pointed, often
touching nature to the sudden dispensations of the
twin deities.^

Closely parallel to the pestilence of Apollo, both
in grandeur of conception and gra[)hic conciseness
of terms, is the description, in the Odyssey, of the
destruction of the raft of Ulysses by Xeptune. The
god, returning from Ethiopia, descries, from the sum-
mit of the Asiatic mountains, the object of his ])er-
secution already, in spite of all his efforts, within
siglit of a friendly coast. AVitli a brief ejaculation
of wrath and surprise, " he brandishes his trident ;
the clouds gather, the sky is darkened, the winds
rush forth, the billows rise," and, in a few seconds,
the ill-starred voyager, his vessel shivered to pieces,
is again abandoned to the fury of the waves.

Perhaps the boldest excursion of Homer into this The River
region of poetical fancy is the collision into which, ^" ''
in the twenty-first book of the Iliad, he has brought
the river god Scamander, first with Achilles, and
afterwards with Vulcan when summoned by Juno to
the hero's aid. The overwhelming fury of the stream
finds its natural interpretation in the character of
the mountain torrents of Greece and Asia Minor.
Their wide shingly beds are, in summer, compara-
tively dry, so as to be easily forded by the foot-
passenger. But a thunder-shower in the mountains,
unobserved perhaps by tlie traveller on the plain,
may suddenly innnerse him in the flood of a mighty
river. The rescue of Achilles by the fiery arms of vuican.
Yulcan scarcely admits of the same ready explanation
from physical causes. Yet the subsiding of the
flood at the critical moment when the hero's destruc-

» VII. G4., XV. 409., xviii. 202.
VOL. I. II

482

HOMER. ILIAD AKD ODYSSEY.

Book II.

Minerva,
The gods
as insti-
gators to
crime.

Defects of
the poet's
divine
mechanism.

tion appeared imminent, might, by a sliglit extension
of the figurative parallel, be ascribed to a god sym-
bolic of the influences opposed to all atmospheric
moisture.

In the more remarkable cases where the Deity
appears in either poem as instigator of crime, the
divine agency is figui'ed in the person of Minerva.
In the Iliad, Fate requires the truce between the
two armies to be violated, and Pallas is despatched
from Olympus with a commission to that effect. She
selects Pandarus, a prince of naturally treacherous
character, as her instrument, and assuming the form
of a comrade, tempts him to the act by seductive
views of the favour it will insure him with Paris
and his party. The Lycian chief is easily persuaded.
His perfidious shot at Menelaus causes a renewal of
the battle, in which, as a reward of his villany, he is
among the first heroes who fall.

In the Odyssey, the same goddess exercises a
similar, but still more cruel influence on the destinies
of the suitors. The hearts of these, in great part
rather weak than wicked, youths, when momentarily
tiu^ned to repentance, are by her hardened and con-
firmed in the career of guilt which was to involve
their common destruction.^

6. Attention will now be turned to those cases
where the active interposition of the gods appears in
a less favourable light, whether from the extent to
which it is carried, or the triviality of its object.
It is in the battles that these defects of the poet's
mechanism are chiefly observable. That the patron
deity of a warrior should invest him with superhuman
prowess, or accompany him in person on his career

' See supra, p. 426.

Cu. XL § G. DIVINE iMEClIANISM. 48

of victory, is an allowable stretch of poetical license.
The escape of a cham[)ioii in a crisis of great danger,
or the harmless consequences of an apparently fatal
Avound, may also, without any serious breach of
poetical propriety, be traced to the same miraculous
aid. Homer has ingeniously availed himself of these
expedients to maintain the credit of his countrymen
in defeat. All the hostile fury of Jove and his ele-
ments, directed in the face of Diomed or Ajax, is
required to insure the retreat of those heroes before
a victorious enemy ; while Hector or -^neas rarely
escapes from a Greek champion of equal raidv but
through the intervention of tlie gods. These displays
of divine tactic amount, however, at times, to so
complete a suspension of the independent action of
the heroes, as is greatly injurious both to their own
dignity and that of their patrons. It can tend but
little to magnify the prowess of a victor, that his
spear should be directed with surgical accuracy, by
his patron god, into the most vital part of his adver-
sary's body, while the return shot is, by the same
agency, made to spend its force in the air. In the
last combat between Achilles and Hector, this mix-
ture of the frivolous with the tragical greatly tar-
nishes both the grandeur of the catastrophe and the
glory of the conqueror. The balancing of the
heroes' fates in the scale of Jove, the sudden depar-
ture of Apollo from the side of Hector on perceiving
his destined hour to be come, and the occupation of
the god's previous post by Minerva, to whom alone,
as patroness of the Greeks, the issue of the battle was
now intrusted, are a series of figures highly conducive
to that feelin£X of ominous forebodin<T^ with which the

I I

481: HOMER. ILIAD AKD ODYSSEY. Book II.

niind loves to contemplate the approach of some
areat and fatal event. But when the same Minerva,
after Achilles has missed his aim, nimbly picks up his
spear and replaces it in his hand, while the Trojan
hero, whose well-directed weapon rebounds harmless
from the shield of his adversary, looks round in vain
for a similar service from his faithless esquire, our
previous sense of propriety in the supernatural inter-
position gives place to offence at sucli vexatious
meddling. It was natural that the heroes, under
these circumstances, should be powerfully impressed
with their dependance on the arbitrary exercise of the
divine authority. A belief that the brow of Jove
frowns on their efforts is often a valid excuse for
flight. If a sword shivers on the mail of an antago-
nist, the fault is attributed less to the temper of the
blade, or the awkwardness of the thrust, than the
displeasure of Minerva. If an arrow flies harmless
from the bow, Apollo is taxed with partiality for the
object at which it was aimed.

AVhere however the adventures described, and
the style of the narrative, assume a familiar or
humorous turn, such interference, if not more
worthy of the divine majest}', is less prejudicial to
heroic dignity, and at times has a lively agreeable
effect. When Diomed, for example, in the chariot-
race, is on the point of passing Eumelus, Apollo, of
whom the Argive prince Avas no favourite, jerks the
whip out of his hand. Minerva his patroness
alertly restores it, and in revenge overturns the
chariot of Eumelus. In the foot-race the same
goddess, to favour Ulysses, causes his competitor to
slip and fall among the cowdung, when on the point
of success. Here the deities appear less as ministers

Cu. XL § 7. DIVINE MECHANISM. 485

of Fate than as fainillar genii of the chiefs, promoting
and taking part in their amusements.

The Iliad, in its continued scries of battles, where the
favourite warriors of different deities arc pitted against
each other, affords more frequent opening than the
Odyssey for this officious exercise of the divine in-
fluence. The most signal example in the latter poem
is found, accordingly, in the portion of the action
which offers the nearest resemblance to that of the
Iliad, the assault of Ulysses on the suitors. The
darts of the enemy are here so carefully turned aside
by Minerva as to prove harmless, while those of the
royal party are guided with deadl}^ accuracy into
vital parts. The apology which here suggests itself,
tlie completely miraculous nature of the whole adven-
ture, is perhaps but another ground of censure on this
portion of the poem, Tlie destruction of above a hun-
dred able-bodied young chiefs by four individuals,
without so much as a wound on the part of the
assailants, is in itself a violation of all historical
possibility, only to be glossed over by a copious
admixture of preternatural agency. The most pointed
instance in the Odyssey of that more venial class of
petty interference already exemplified in the games
of the Iliad, is, by a similar coincidence, the favour
shown by Pallas to Ulysses in the athletic arena of
the Phaiacians.

7. The foregoing remarks on the poet's pantheon jhegods

have been confined to its members in their relation '"their re-
lation to

to the human species. It remains to consider their each other,
character as exhibited in their dealings with each
other. The anomalies here observable are no less
strikingly illustrative of the joint merits and defects
of the system of human personification. In the

1 1 3

486

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book. II.

Domestic
brawls in
Olympus.

examples subjoinccl, it will be proper to distinguish
between what is derogatory to the character of the
Deity in the higher sense, and what is also inappro-
priate in a poetical point of view.

When Achilles applies to his mother to intercede
with Jove in his favour ao;ainst Ao;amemnon, she
postpones the fulfilment of her son's request for a
fortnio;ht, owino- to the absence of the o:od at a fes-
tival of the Ethiopians in his honour. This is a
figure nowa}^ inconsistent with the poetical dignity
even of the king of Olympus. Omnipresence, or
all-pervading control over mundane affairs, far from
being an essential, was scarcely a possible attribute
of the chief of a pagan pantheon ; while, poetically
speaking, the visit of the celestial host to the
distant fabulous land on the banks of ocean, to
grace with their presence the annual sacrifice of a
favoured race of worshippers, is a fine image, and
is repeated with like happy effect in the Odyssey.^
On the return of Jupiter, the scene between him
and Thetis, her supplication, his hesitation lest his
indulgence of her wish should prove a source of
discord with Juno, and his final concession of her
suit, are all quite worthy of the poet and the Iliad.
When however in the sequel, the divine king and
queen actually come to high words on the subject,
and the enraged husband threatens to lay violent
hands on his spouse if she torment him further, while

1 Od. I. 22., V. 282. ; conf. II. xsiii. 205. If, indeed, it be referred
to a bigher and purer standard, the case is different. Coupled with the
slumber of Jove on Mount Ida, in the fourteenth book of the Hind,
this passage supplies a fine commentary on the address of Elijah to the
worshippers of Baal : " Cry aloud, for he is a god ! either he is talking,
or he is pursuing, or he is on a journey ; or, peradventure, he sleepeth
and must be awakened!"

Cu. Xr. § 7. DIVINE MECHANISM. 487

their lame son Vulcan excites the mirth of the
deities by the ludicrous performance of his ofhce of
peacemaker, and finally restores good-fellowship by
briskly circulating the goblet, neither the general
s])irit of the description, nor the grandeur of some of
the passages it contains, can reconcile to such an
exhibition, in the circle of the gods, of scenes dis-
creditable to the humblest of their worshippers upon
earth.

The frequent occurrence of such improprieties in
the standard text-book of the national religion ga.ve
great offence to the early Greek philosophers, whose
anxiety to maintain the dignity of Olympus, conjointly
with the credit of Homer, gave rise to the allegorical
system of interpretation, Avhere not oidy the divine
brawls, but a large portion of the facts or imagery of
the poems, were fancifully explained as types of
physical phenomena or ethic dogmas,^ The attempts
of modern commentators to reconcile the anomaly
have not been more successful.- The only reasonable
explanation or vindication of these passages is to as-
sume their object to be satirical. They reflect partly
the poet's own disposition to banter the extravagance
of the popular theology, partly the inclination of the
Greek public of all ages to extract materials for jest
from the objects of gravest interest. They thus

' Ileyn. Exc. III. ad II. xxiii. ; conf. obs. ad II. xv. 18.

- Some would discover in these Olyinpiun biMwls traces of an earlit'r
and ruder state of the po])ular pantheon, to the traditions of which the
poet's veneration for the oKlen time has led him to give occasional pro-
minence. (Ileyne ad II. i. 581. 587.) Apart from other objections to
this view, it seems very rpicstionable whether such a subjection of the
Deity to the meaner failings of humanity were in better keeping witli
the more primitive, than the more complicated, stages of i'agan super-
stition.

I I 4

488 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book 11.

possess a historical, in addition to their poetical
value, as the earliest specimens of a taste afterwards
so characteristic of the genius of Hellenism. It
must here be remembered that Homer's works were
not composed for the perusal of a limited and fas-
tidious public, but for the entertainment of a whole
nation. In more refined periods, on the subdivision
of the various orders of literary composition, such
talent for the burlesque found exercise in its own
proper sphere: but in an age when the popular
minstrelsy formed the whole cycloptedia of literature,
the temptation to administer to so important an
element of national taste was irresistible, even in
works with the general style of which Homer himself,
or his more critical hearers, might have felt such
license to be not strictly congenial.

This view is confirmed by the fact that these

domestic squabbles are exclusively confined to the

social intercourse of the gods, although many portions

of the narrative in both poems offer equal opportunity

for the exercise of the same satirical license in human

affairs. In the Iliad, the household relations of the

Trojan king and queen were easily susceptible of

such touches of the ludicrous ; and in the palace of

Alcinolis, where the whole action is seasoned with a

broad tone of raillery, there was abundant opening

for their introduction. The limitation is not difficult

to explain. It is of the very essence of the higher

class of satire that it should be aimed at the highest

objects. Doubtless such scenes were really enacted

in the palaces of the Greek chiefs, from which the

poet has transferred them to the halls of Olympus.

This reality, however, was precisely what destroyed

their aptness for poetical treatment. Amid the

Cii. XI. §7. DIVINE MECHANISM. 489

simplicity of manners among all clnsscs in those clays,
domestic broils were probably of too familiar occur-
rence in human families to supply popular subjects of
comic allusion ; while their introduction in such cases
would have been at variance with Homer's funda-
mental principle of exalting the character of his
human race of heroes. The distinction here drawn is
pointedly illustrated by the different turn given by
him to his descriptions of matrimonial infidelity, in
the respective cases of a divine and a human libertine.
Agamemnon, to enhance the value of his sacrifice in
parting with Chryseis, tells his assembled countrymen
that he prefers her as a bedfellow ev^n to his queen
Clytemnestra. This is certainly, to modern ears, no
very delicate allusion. It may, however, be urged in
palliation, that the code of heroic morality was by
no means severe as to the practice of extra-nuptial
concubinage : and, in this particular case, a ten years'
absence from home and domestic enjoyments might
go far in the way of apology. Aery different is the
effect when Jove, on the summit of ]Mount Ida, in
protesting the ardour of his amorous affection for
Juno, assures her that it greatly surpasses what he
had ever experienced for any other female with
whom he had cohabited ; and then proceeds gravely
to sum up^ for her conviction his adulteries with
Danac, Europa, and some half-dozen other paramours,
so celebrated in classic fable. It is impossible the
poet could mean so strange an address to be taken
seriously. He could have no other conceivable object
but that of satirising this absurd chapter of the
national theology.

Hence, too, may be understood why this particular

' XIV. 315.

490 HOMER, ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

class of satire should be more liberally indulged in the
Iliad than in the Odyssey. In the former poem the
general gravity of the subject was precisely what im-
parted zest to such traits of the burlesque ; in the
Odyssey, a work of an essentially humorous character,
while the poet had less temptation to resort to Olympus
for a comic seasoning of his narrative, its introduction
from that source would have been proportionally less
effective. The subject offered also in other respects
less opportunity. In the Iliad, the brunt of the theo-
lo^-ical satire is concentrated around the domestic
intercourse of Jupiter and Juno ; in the Odyssey, the
latter divinity takes no part. The only other deities
of higher rank interested in the action, Neptune and
Minerva, present neither in their personal character
nor their adventures similar opening for ridicule.
The theological pasquinade of the poem is therefore
confined to the inferior deities, Proteus, Circe, iEolus ;
with the exception of the episode of i\lars and Venus,
in the song of Demodocus, Avhich is indeed a brilliant
specimen of this style of composition.
Divination. 8. Auothcr modc of interposition in human affairs,
less direct but little less effective than the personal
activity of the gods, is that of divination or theo-
mancy. The same rules above laid down for estimat-
ing the poetical propriety of mythological mechanism
here equally apply. That the future Avill of heaven
may be imparted through the agency of dreams and
other ominous warnings ; that unusual phenomena of
the visible world portend parallel vicissitudes in the
affairs of its inhabitants, are doctrines countenanced
even by enlightened systems of religion. On the
other hand, there is no chapter in the intellectual
history of man which exhibits his rational powers

Dreams
Omens.

Cii. Xr. § 8. DIVINE MECHANISM. 491

in a more deirracrmfr litrlit than tliat which records
the delusive influence of this species of superstition on
tlie minds of the greatest heroes, or the conduct of
the most important enterprises.

Homer's mode of management is here, upon the
^vllole, judicious and elegant. Of the numerous forms
of divination familiar in later times, those to which
he has given prominence are comparatively few. The
decrees of Fate relative to the course of events in
each poem, being intrusted for their execution to the
various nembers of the pantheon, may be divulged
by them, as occasion suggests, to favoured mortals,
either directly by means of prophetic inspiration, or
through the medium of dreams and prodigies. The
functions of the seer thus consisted partly of a sim-
ple knowledge of futurity received from the Deity,
partly of his skill in the interpretation of omens. ^
There is no trace in llomcr of the arts of divination
having been yet reduced to system, as an element of
public polity. Before a battle, the gods were pro-
pitiated by sacrifice; and, if an omen appeared on this
or other similar occasions, it was hailed as more espe-
cially pregnant with prophetic import. But such in-
dications do not seem to have been formally sought
after, still less considered indispensable to the success
of an enterprise. Neither the poet nor his heroes
show any knowledge of those petty solemnities which
exercised, in more civilised ages, so great a sway over

1 High autliority exists for the belief that Homer endowed bis heroes,
when at the point of death, with tlie power of foretelling future events ;
that the soul, on the threshold of the other world, was admitted to a
participation in its privileges. The passages quoted in favour of this
view are, the dying assurance of Patroclus to Hector, that Achilles will
speedily avenge his fate (xvi. 851.), and the similar prediction by Hector
(xxii. 358.) of the death of Achilles. Conf. Vh\<\ A]k>1. Socr. p. 39.;
Ileyn. obs. ad II. .xxii. 358.

492 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEr. Book II.

the fortunes of both Greece and Rome, and arc so
happily described by our own satirical bard, as

'* the roguery
Of old aruspicy and augury,
That out of garbages of cattle
Presaged the event of truce or battle ;
From flight of birds or chickens pecking,
Success of great'st attempts would reckon." . . .

Prophetic dreams are classed by the antients
under two heads : first, those where the Deity in
person, or through agents, issues his commands
directly to the sleeper ; secondly, those where the
events are shadowed forth in the action of the dream,
either as they afterwards take place, or in the form of
trope or allegory. The Iliad contains but two dreams,
both of the former class. In the first, Agamemnon
is warned by Jupiter to prepare for battle ; in the
second, the shade of Patroclus appearing to Achilles
enjoins the speedy performance of his funeral rites.
In the Odyssey, where, in the more familiar spirit of
the subject, this species of omen is of more frequent
occurrence, there is one example of the allegorical
class. In both poems the apparition is described in
one of those simple epic forms with which Homer
loves to stamp identity on his favourite images. The
spectre stands over the head of the dreamer, and
after a short address vanishes, when the sleeper awa-
kens.^ In the mission of dreams the gods, as in their
ordinary control of human action, are the agents of
deceit as well as of instruction. This doctrine is for-
mally inculcated in the Odyssey, where dreams are
described as of two kinds, veracious and delusive, each
kind passing to the region of earth through a difie-

1 II. u. 20., xxiii. G8.; Od. iv. 803., vi. 21., xx. 32.

Cu. XI. § 8. DIVINE MECHANISM. 4113

rent gate of heaven.^ The same doctrine is illustrated
in each poem by a closely parallel example. In the
Iliad, the dream sent by Jupiter in the semblance of
Nestor persuades Agamemnon to take the field, by
a false assurance of the immediate conquest of the
city. In the Odyssey Minerva, in her own person,
urges Telemachus to return home from Sparta forth-
with, by an equally false account of his mother's
contemplated marriage with Eurymachus.^

The native purity of Homer's taste is signally dis-
played in the choice of his ordinary prodigies or
omens. They are derived chiefly from the phenomena
of the atmosphere or the motions of its winged in-
habitants, whose importance in the system of Pa-
gan divination was such as to have furnislied the
iamiliar names for the art. Nor, certainly, is there
any part of the animal creation better entitled to
the distinction. Their privilege of roving through
the boundless realms of space to the very gates of
heaven, might in itself prompt the fable of their
being the chosen messengers of God to man : while
the majestic soaring of the eagle ; the rapid flight and
fatal swoop of the falcon ; the scream of the sea-
fowl flitting around the projecting cliffs, amid the
dash of the surge and the roar of the storm ; the dis-
mal croak of the raven from the stunted tree of the
desert, are objects calculated, in all ages, to inspire
feelings of ominous terror and mystery. The only
other animal which, with Homer, enjoys a similar
privilege is the serpent, a creature whose peculiarities
have obtained it a like preeminence in the supersti-
tious code of all the antient nations. The atmo-
spheric prodigies of favourite introduction are, in each

^ Od, xix. 562. ^ XV. 10. sqq.

494 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book U.

poem, thunder, sudden change from light to dark-
ness, or the reverse ; and, in the Iliad, the descent
of red drops of rain, as a figure of bloodshed.^ This
phenomenon, if a mere fruit of the poet's imagination,
might seem arbitrary or far-fetched. It is one how-
ever of ascertained reality, and of no uncommon
occurrence in the climate of Greece.^ The allotment
to these various omens of their relative degrees of
propitious or adverse import, by reference to the time
or place of their occurrence, was the office of the pro-
fessional soothsayer. In ordinary cases, however,
popular opinion supplied common rules of interpre-
tation. When the prodigy appeared on the right
hand, it was favourable ; on the left, the contrary.^
Its appearance immediately after an invocation of
the Deity was usually considered in itself an answer
to the appeal, and an earnest of divine sympathy.

Among the nobler examples of such prophetic
warnings may be cited, from the Iliad, that vouch-
safed to the victorious Trojans during their assault on
the Greek rampart, the ultimate failure of which was
portended.^ An eagle appears on their left, grasping
in his talons a snake, which, wounded and enfeebled,
still fiercely maintains the combat, until his enemy,
agonised by a last decisive sting in the throat, drops
him on the field and flies screaming from the scene
of his discomfiture. The poet was partial to this class
of images. The destruction of the suitors is pre-
figured to Telemachus by a hawk devouring a pigeon,
and strewing its feathers on the ground ; and to
Penelope by an eagle destroying a flock of domestic

' II. XI. 53., XVI. 459.

^ See Heyn. ad locc. ; and Lit. Gaz. ] 842, May 7. p. 314., Oct. 1. p. 682.

* Od. 11. 154. ; II. XII. 201. ■* H. xii. 201.

cacy.

Cu. XL § 9. DIVINE MECHANISM. 495

fowls in the court of the palace.^ Prophetic import-
ance has rarely, if ever, been assigned by Homer to
low or trivial images.^ In tlie Odyssey, a dexter
sneeze of Telemachus is indeed hailed as an omen by
Penelope, but witli a laugh, and evidently in the
humorous spirit whicli pervades even the graver parts
of tlie poem.^

9. AVhatever prominence may have been given to of iiomcr'a
the primitive arts of divination in tlie poet's descrip- their cm-
tion, it may still perhaps be a cpiestion how far he
himself was imbued with a belief in tlieir efficacy.
Here and there the mind of the individual seems to
shine forth superior to that of his age. Both Nestor
and Priam, while deferring to the popular doctrine,
are made to utter reflexions little respectful to its
professors.-* But the reply of Hector to the Trojan
augur's comment on the omen of the eagle and
snake, xii. 237.

r-juYi fj (juovoirri TavuTTTSp-jy-frm Xz^^suzig

slg olcovos df>io-roc, arxuvzO-Sai Trep) Trdrpr^g,
inculcates principles as just in themselves as they are
foreign to tlie prevailing spirit of classical Paganism ;

1 Od. XV. 525., XIX. 536.

"^ The superiority of the primitive bard to his more refined succes-
sors, even in this delicate branch of liis art, will a])poar from a col-
lation of the images above cited from either poem with the poverty or
vulgarity of those on which Virgil has hinged the fortunes of his hero.
Such is the consumption of their dining-tables by the Trojan warriors ;
a piece of heroic gluttony predicted by the filthy prophetess of the
Harpies, and which, as accomplished through a subtle trickery on (he
first landing of the host in Latium, forms the divine indication of the
future empire of the world. Such are the sow and litter of thirty pi<Ts,
selected as the symbol of the imperial republic and her tribes of statesmen
and warriors. .En. iir. 257. 300., vii. ] 15., viii. 43.

' XVII. 541. 4 II „ ,^1 ^ ^^,^. 220.

496 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

principles which strike at the root of the whole art
of divination, and an equally free expression of
which might have involved the fortunes or the life of
an Athenian commander in the days of Pericles. In
placing these noble doctrines in the mouth of Hector,
who elsewhere shows himself so little under their in-
fluence, the poet seems but to avail himself of the ha-
bitually vainglorious tongue of that hero, to insinuate
his own secret contempt for the ascendancy assigned
by his age to blind fiitality over personal exertion in
the conduct of events. Similarly scornful allusions to
the arts of augury occur frequently in the Odyssey \
though chiefly placed in the mouths of unprincipled
rakes: but the tenor of several, as of the remark
of Penelope on the sneeze of her son, is plainly sati-
rical.
His doc- Nowhere does the poet's theology appear in a less

futurcltate. favourablc light than in his doctrine of a future
state, as developed both in the Necromancy of the
Odyssey and in parallel texts of the Iliad. The
judgments of the infernal tribunal are limited to
punishment. To reward there is, at least, no direct
allusion ; and the lot even of those whose lives
were distinguished by great or good qualities is de-
scribed as one of privation and gloom compared
with that of the upper world. It is true that the
poet's design was not to give a topographical descrip-
tion of the land of souls, but to narrate a visit to
a particular region of it for a specific object. But
when we consider the number and excellence of the
heroes and heroines described by him as condemned
to this dismal tenor of existence, there remains little
room for even the hypothesis of an Elysium. If

1 II. 178. sq<|., XX. 358. sqq.

Cu. XI. § 10. DIVINE MECHANISM. 497

Achilles, Ajax, Agamemnon, Tireslas, Alcmcna,
Ariadne, Leda, were excluded from its joys, wlio
could have been entitled to share in them ? Tlie in-
cidental notices of a better fate reserved for certain
favoured heroes, imply rather their apotheosis than
a mere improvement of their condition in Hades. In
the Iliad, the allusions to the infernal rer^ions are
equally gloomy, and, both in sentiment and style, in
the closest harmony with the more detailed descriptions
of the Odyssey. This is not only a defect of Homer's
system of mythology, but a striking eccentricity of
his genius. That the exclusion of a Paradise from
the world of souls could, in his day, have formed
part of the popular Greek theology is incredible. It
were repugnant, not onl}^ to the spirit of that system,
as inculcated from the earliest to the latest periods
of classical paganism by other little less valid autho-
rities, but to the first principles of natural religion
imprinted in the human breast, even to those of com-
mon sense and equity. In a system which enforced
the law of retributive justice by such terrible inflic-
tions on the wicked, the denial of recompense to the
good, or, worse, the actual deterioration of their lot,
seems absurd as well as unjust. This singular doc-
trine, therefore, must be considered as the poet's own,
as the peculiar tone which he preferred giving to tlie
more awful element of his poetical mythology.^ The
argument which so strange an anomaly supplies of
unity of genius in the two works, where it is so har-
moniously exemplified, is sufficiently obvious.

10. Throughout this analysis. Homer's poetical nomcr's

I'll • 1 i 1 Ml (livino nie-

meclianism has been exammed, not merely as iliustra- chani<m

^ Sec Pluto (llepiib. p. 38G. si[.), who admits tlio superiority of its
poetical ctrcct.

VOL. I. K K

498 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

compared tiiig liis own geiiius, but in connexion with those
of modern fanclamental principles of art which apply to the
epic poetry, ji^gi^aturc of all agcs and countries. In following
out tlie same object, a few remarks are here subjoined
on the general features which distinguish his mytho-
logical agency from that to which recourse has been
had by standard modern poets of a similar class.

The elegant facility with which the Greek my-
thology embodies in material forms the phenomena
of both the moral and the physical world has been
considered in a previous chapter.^ The creations of
that mythology are neither the arbitrary inven-
tions of fantastic poets, nor the studied personifi-
cations of didactic allegory. They shadow forth,
in their native freshness, the original views and
impressions of the most gifted family of mankind
concernino^ the structure and o-overnment of the
universe. This harmony, or rather identity, between
religious dogma and popular superstition, imparts
to Homer's supernatural agency a poetical truth
and reality which must be wanting in any system
where those two elements are distinct. Hence the
disadvantage under which the modern poet labours,
in his attempts to impart the interest of the mar-
vellous to his narrative. The pure spirit of the
Christian religion essentially disqualifies it for the
mechanism of a heroic poem. The popular sympa-
thies of our own middle ages hinge, indeed, on the
Roman Catholic legendarium, somewhat as those of
the Hellenes on the Homeric mythology : but the spirit
of the former class of traditions is as repugnant to
the genius of the Heroic Muse as to that of the pure
religion which they contaminate. Of this the more

' Supra, J). 103. sqq.

Cu. XL § 10. DIVINE MECHANISM. 41)1)

judicious poets of the romantic school seein to have
been sensible, rarely admitting the agency of saints
or martyrs into their epic mechanism. The aids to
whicli they preferably resort, magicians, fairies, and
goblins, have the other drawback of being in glaring
collision with the standards of religious belief, and,
by consequence, with an essential ingredient of that
popular sympathy which it is their object to awaken.
The attempt, on the other liaiid, to blend the religious
with the magical element of romantic fable involves
offensive anomalies. Of this we have a striking
example in the most popular model of the modern
epopee, the Jerusalem of Tasso ; in the action of
which poem the grave dogmas of spiritual theology,
the delusions of Roman Catholic priestcraft, the terrors
of Northern da^monology, and the gay idealities of
Pagan Polytheism or Arabian romance, are all worked
up into a single heterogeneous compound. AVhat
can be more false, either in poetry or in reason, than
that a few cabalistic words of some lascivious sor-
ceress or malignant necromancer should have the
power of thwarting the schemes of Jehovah for the
future destinies of Christendom ; that anijels and
archano-els should undertake the same officious func-
tions as the fighting machinery of the Iliad, direct
the blow of a Christian chief, or parry the thrust of
his ^Mussulman adversary, or that the souls of de-
parted saints should appear fighting in the air, with
mortal weapons, against legions of hostile da2mons ?

Had, however, the marvellous agency of the Greek
poet been confined to the normal standards of Pagan
worship, the result might have been an undue re-
straint on that play of inventive genius which con-
stitutes the charm of all epic fiction. Put of this

K K 2

500 IIOMEK. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

there was here no clanger. The principle of physical
personification, on which the whole Hellenic system
was based, afforded ample freedom for expatiating
in the most visionary realms of mythological fancy.
Every newly explored region of earth or water sug-
gested a fresh stock of representatives for the new
objects or ideas which were brought to light. The
Cyclopes, for example, Proteus, and other marvels or
monsters of the Odyssey, had no place, probably, in
the primitive Hellenic pantheon. The fables con-
cerning them obtained currency in the progress of
navigation along the shores of the Mediterranean ;
and, when once familiar in popular legend, they were
easily engrafted on the genealogical stem of Olympus.
The Cyclopes, types perhaps originally of some newly
discovered race of ferocious maritime barbarians,
were first admitted as sons of Neptune, gigantic
shepherds of the verdant shores of the western deep :
afterwards, when the more subtle interpreters of fabu-
lous geography selected ^tna as their place of abode,
they became Vulcan's journeymen, forgers of Jupi-
ter's thunderbolts. Circe, who, in her simple capa-
city of marine enchantress of the remote West, stands
in as little connexion with the Greek pantheon as any
similar creation of medieval romance, became, daughter
of the Sun, guarding the gates of his palace and the
neighbouring frontier of Erebus ; and, in the exer-
cise of her functions, was, like Calypso, Proteus, or
Polyphemus, subjected to the presiding powers of
Olympus.

In selecting his supernatural mechanism for sub-
jects of higher national interest, it was natural that
the poet should prefer those members of the pan-
theon whose authority was universally received and

Ch. XL §11. DIVINE MECHANISM. 501

acknowledged. In the Iliad, accordingly, this rule
has been observed. In the Odyssey, he was equally
led by the spirit of his subject to give prominence
to a more fantastic class of fable. But even there
such license is admitted solely in the extra-Hellenic
portion of the adventures. Those confined to a Hel-
lenic scene of action are conducted in the Odyssey, as
in the Iliad, under the guidance of the same strictly
Hellenic class of divine aixcnts.

11. By some modern commentators Homer has His doc-
been supposed ignorant of the doctrine of human human
apotheosis, or of the practice of hero-worship, as it "t'o^'^^osis.
prevailed in later Greek superstition. It is true that
neither poem contains any specific notice of divine
honours paid to deceased heroes. There can, how-
ever, be no doubt that this dogma of his national
creed, although he may not have allowed it jirominence
in his fable, was quite familiar to liini. Both poems
in fact contain frequent allusion to deified mortals.
Such are Tithonus and Ganymede in the Iliad ; Ino,
Hercules, and the Dioscuri in the Odyssey. The
same honour conferred by Aurora on Tithonus was
destined by Calypso for Ulysses.^ Persons thus in-
vested with immortal attril)utes were undoubtedly ob-
jects of worship to their admirers or descendants upon
earth. There were however, in the general spirit
and conduct of Homer's fable, obvious inducements
for leaving this feature of the popular pantheon in
the background. The contrast between the powers
and duties of his heroes and those of his gods was a
main spring of his dramatic action. In order to give
effect to that contrast it Avas necessary, on the one
hand to magnify the character of his heroes solely as

1 Od. V. 13G.

K K li

502

HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Book II.

Of allegory
ill his di-
vine me-
chanism.

men ; on the other, amid the community of the two
natures, to secure a clear ascendancy of authority
and power to the divine agency. Even admitting
therefore, that Achilles and Agamemnon may have
been worshipped as gods in the poet's time, as they
were in historical ages, they could hardly, without
a complete sacrifice of the spirit and propriety of
his fable, have been represented as so worshipped in
the Iliad. The same rule has been observed by the
more distinguished of Homer's successors. The ho-
mage paid by the surviving heroes of the Trojan war
to Achilles, or by Orestes and Electra to Agamemnon,
in the mythology of the tragic poets, differs in no
way from that offered by Achilles to Patroclus in the
Iliad. The honours conferred are in each case those
due merely to departed heroes, not to deified mortals.

12. It would scarcely be doing full justice to this
head of subject, were we to take leave of it without
devoting a few special remarks to the symbolic or
figurative element of Homer's mythological mecha-
nism ; or in other words to the question, how far the
operations of the gods, in the poet's descriptions, are
to be understood in a literal or personal sense ; how
far they are to be interpreted as shadowing forth
some more recondite or mysterious class of physical
influence. This question, while in every age a fertile
source of error and extravagance, never has formed,
nor can form, even when rationally treated, a very
agreeable or instructive subject of enlargement, and
will here occupy a proportionally limited share of
attention.

Setting aside such purely metaphysical abstrac-
tions as Eris, Ate, Ossa, the Litse, and so forth,

functions but little dif-

concernnig

whose allegorical

Cii. XI. §1-2. DIVINE MECHANISM. 503

ferencc of opinion can exist, it will not probably
be disputed, that all, or most, even of the leadin*^
Olympic deities are typical, in their origin at least, of
some power of nature, moral or material; that Ju[)iter
and Juno, for example, represent generally the celestial
elements; Neptune, the liquid part of the creation;
Vulcan, fire ; Minerva, the wiser more sagacious,
Mercury, the more astute and subtle exercise of
Imman intellect. It Avere however absurd, on this
account, to insist that every performance recorded of
any one of these deities is a mere symbol of some
actual effect or developement of the physical influ-
ence over which he is supposed to preside ; that the
quarrels of Jupiter and Juno, for example, do but
typify the conflicts of the atmospheric elements, the
alternations of heat and cold, drought and moisture,
or other vicissitudes of the weather and the seasons.
It would, on the other hand, be unduly straining
the principle of literal interpretation, to doubt that,
where an easy and natural opening occurred for
giving greater prominence to the symbolic ingre-
dient in the character or agency of his gods, the poet
-would at times avail himself of wdiat might often
prove an elegant variety of flgurative embellishment.
As to the occasions in which any such more extended
method of symbolic interpretation may be admissible,
the reader's own taste or judgement must supply his
best or only rule of distinction. The cases in whieli
that method has been resorted to in the foregoing
pages are few, and not, it is presumed, chargeable
with undue latitude. Such -was the explanation
iriven of the seizure of the hair of the infuriated
Achilles by Minerva, at the moment Avhen he is
drawing his sword against his commandei*, as a

K K 4

504 HOMER. ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. Book II.

figure of his own better judgement prompting a less
violent, but more eficctive mode of exacting ven-
geance for the insult and injury to which he had
been subjected. Nor, consistently with a due respect
for the taste or correctness of the poet's genius, can
the assault of Apollo on Patroclus be taken in any
other than a figurative sense. That there is also a
more or less symbolic import in the prominence
given to Neptune as representative in the Odyssey
of the agency hostile to Ulysses, is implied by the
pointed terms in which the vindictive influence of
the god is restricted to the purely maritime portion
of the hero's adventures.^

^ I. 21. 75., VI. 331., IX. 532. sqq., xiii. 131. sqq.

APT 1] N T) I X.

APPENDIX A. (p. 200.)

ox A PECULIARITY IN THE TREATMENT OF UOMER'S TEXT BY
WRITERS OF THE "WOLFIAN SCHOOL.

The authors chiefly distinguished by the perversion of tlie critical
art alluded to in the text are, Hermann (De Interpolat. Homeri,
Opusc. vol. V. p. 52.), Lachmann (Betrachtungen iiber die Ilias),
and B. Thiersch (Urgestalt der Od3'ssee). The method of Heyne
and some others, while little less destructive, admits of this apologv,
that they acknowledge the excellence of the work while questioning
the source from which that excellence proceeds. They perceive
the beauty of the creation amid the materialism of their views as
to its origin. Hermann and Lachmann, on the other hand, with
some less eminent fellow-labourers in the same field, glory in their
blindness to all higher poetical unity in the Iliad, pronouncing the
whole poem a cento or patchwork, for which nothing but a delusion
on tiie part of the old critical public could have obtained credit as
a standard of imitation. Hermann, in following out this view,
denies accordingly the title of the Iliad to have been the primary
model of the Hellenic epopee, in the early purer ages of art.
This honour he asserts by preference to some one of the Cyclic
poems, to the /Ethiopis, for example, or the Cypria, discarding the
Iliad as but an abortive attempt of some later clumsy compiler
to emulate or surpass those more classical prototypes.' After
dissipating this phantasmagoria of poetical perfection, which
during thirty centuries had deludcil successive generations of
admirers and critics, he and his coadjutor Lachmann have tanta-
lised us by showing how, had Pisistratus been better qualified for
the task he undertook, he might by a more skilful arrangement
of the same materials, have produced a poem, or even several,

' Op. cit. p. 69.

506 APPENDIX B.

really deserving the reputation which the existing patchwork
Iliad has so unworthily usurped. To attempt to confute in detail,
by any serious line of argument, the subtleties by which these
doctrines have been supported, would be an abuse little short of
that of propounding them. The reader is referred to the general
remarks in Chapter x. p. 438. sqq. and in Appendix F. p. 512.
infra, on the principles against Avhich those subtleties so grievously
militate.

APPENDIX B. (p. 218.)

ON THE SUPPOSED VULGATE, OR EDITIO PRINCEPS, OF HOMER,

BY PISISTRATUS.

RiTSCHL (Die Alexand. Bibl. p. 60. sqq.) vt'ould meet the obstacle
which the absence of all notice of an Attic or Pisistratid edition
of Homer interposes to the claims of the Athenian usurper as
original compiler of the poems, by the hypothesis that the editions
cited by the Scholiasts under the title of "common," or " vulgar,"
a'l Koivai, or a'l ^rj/Liwcftc, represented the text of Pisistratus, consi-
dered as the Editio princeps, or Vulgate, which formed the ground-
work of all the others. He illustrates this view by the analogy of
the Aristarchean text, as the similarly standard authority in later
times. The illustration, however, is little apt. In the references to
the Aristarchean text, Aristarchus is at least habitually quoted as
its editor, while neither Pisistratus nor Athens are ever hinted at
in connexion with this supposed Athenian vulgate. Nor upon this
view would the citations have been worded in the plural " common
editions," al Koivai. The frequent variation of this phrase into al
Koiporepai, " the more common," seems in itself conclusive proof
that neither expression indicates more than its literal meaning
implies ; the mass of ordinary, probably nameless, texts current in
later ages, as distinct from the few of more recognised authority.
Add to this that the Greek technical term for vulgate text or
reading is ■n-apaCoaiQ. It is habitually applied in that sense to the
text by Aristarchus, and would without doubt have been similarly
applied to that of Pisistratus had any such existed, or had any
similar authority attached to it. See the passages cited by Bekker
in Append, ad Scholl. p. 826. ,

APPENDIX C. 507

APPENDIX C. (p. 2.31.)

SUPPLEMENTARY REMAKKS OX THE UNITY OF THE MECIIAXir'AL
STRUCTURE OF THE ILIAD.

In order to save an accuinulatioii of details, two principal Jieads
of mutual reference have been omitted in the above Concordance.
The one would have comprised the passages illustrative of the
unvarying partisanship of the same cause by the same deities :
Juno, Minerva, Neptune, being ranged from first to last on the
side of the Greeks ; Apollo, Mars, Venus, on that of the Trojans ;
■while Jove is impartial. This consistency might, with better
reason perhaps than in some other parallel cases, be explained as
a result of the "common genius" of the heroic tradition. Yet
it is somewhat remarkable, that Euripides (Troad. init.j, after
some older epic authority it may safely be presumed, describes
Neptune as tiiroughout the siege the warm friend of the Trojans,
whose bitterest enemy he appears in the Iliad.

The other case of harmonious concordance in such recurring
details, to which no special prominence has been given in our
Epitome, is the disappearance from the field, throughout the
remainder of the action, of the heroes successively slain in the
earlier engagements. It seems inconceivable that any universal
or unanimous tradition as to the vicissitudes of the ten years' war
should have agreed in representing the following six heroes of
princijial note, Elephenor chief of the Eubceans', Tlepolemus of
the Rhodians^, Pandarus of the Lycians^, Odius of the Ilali-
zoniansS Pirous and Acamas of the Thracians\ besides many
of secondary distinction, as all killed in the first battle after
the secession of Achilles ; or consequently, that any number of
"independent poets" should have so harmoniously dispensed with
the services of all six in the sequel. The well-known single
exception therefore to this rule of consistency, in the case of
Pyliemenes*, can admit of but two reasonable solutions. It is
either an oversight of the poet; or verses 658 — 9 of the xiilth
book are, as their own internal evidence seems also strongly to
imply, an early interpolation by some popular rhapsodist, better
versed in the " Baltic of the Ships " as his habitual part in the
recital than in the " Prowess of Diomed."

1 IV. 4G9. - V. 659. =* v. 290. ' v. 39.

* IV. 527., VI. 7. " V. 576. sqq. ; conf. xiii. 658.

508 APPENDIX D.

The mind of the same poet is also curiously exhibited by-
Homer's partiality for certain names in the adjustment of his
fictitious characters, or " men of buckram," as they may be called;
the accumulation of which names, unconsciously perhaps on his
part, creates some trouble to hypercritical readers. Thus in xr.
578, we have one Apisaon among the crowd of slain warriors,
and another in xvir. S^S., both Trojans ; in xv. 515. we have a
Schedius, and again in xvii. 306., both Phocians ; the com-
mon names being distinguished in each case by different patro-
nymics. The author has not himself had leisure to carry this
analysis of heroic synonymes through the action of the Iliad.
The following curious list, however, is subjoined from the text of
the Venetian scholiast i : "There are two charioteers named Eury-
medon, both Greeks ; one in the service of Agamemnon, the
other in that of Nestor. There are two heralds named Eurybates,
both Greeks ; one in the service of Agamemnon, the other in that
of Ulysses. There are three Adrasti, all Trojans ; one killed by
Diomed, another by Menelaus, a third by Patroclus. There are
two Acamantes, both Trojans, distinguished by their different
patronymics ; two 'Astynoi, both Trojans ; two Pylastte, both
Trojans ; two Pisandri, both Trojans ; two Ennomi, both Trojans."
Such coincidences might, in their sameness and their distinction,
occur naturally to the same poet, but were not likely to have
suggested themselves to a number of different poets.

APPENDIX D. (p. 265.)

SUPPLEMENT AEY REMARKS ON THE RELATION OF THE CATALOGUE
TO THE REST OF THE POEM.

It is certainly very remarkable, considering the wide opening
afforded by the peculiar character of the " Catalogue " to interpo-
lation or corruption, how slender an amount of such imputation,
if any, apart from the few verses stigmatised on more or less valid
grounds by the antients themselves, the ingenuity of the subtlest
modern commentators has been able to substantiate. The dis-
crepancies, for example, pointed out by K. O. Muller^ (who has
dwelt in special detail on this head of sceptical argument), be-
tween the Catalogue and the body of the poem, however unde-
niable according to the letter, seem not only to vanish when
1 Schol. ad II. XIII. 643. - Hist, of Gr. Lit. p. 54. sqq.

AITENDIX D. 509

judged in the spirit of tlif joint text, but even to afford CreAi evi-
dence of unity. Thus " Mcges, son of Piiyli'us," it is urged, "is
described in the Catalogue as a chieftain of Dulichiuni in Acar-
nania ; but, in the Battle of the Ships, he is found leading on the
troops of Elis, a state situated on the opposite coast of Pelopotnie-
sus." The anomaly however is ex])lained by the fact that Phyleus,
the father of INIeges, was a prince of Elis who had settled on the
Acarnanian territory. What more natural than that, in the vi-
cissitudes of an eventful conflict with an alien enemy, the colonist
should be found assisting in marshalling the troops * of the parent
state ? Equally groundless is another similar imi)utation of dis-
crepancy, in the case of Medon, a Locrian chief settled as a colonist
in Thessaly. " This hero," it has been objected, " is invested in
the Catalogue with the command of the troops of Fhiloctctes, a
Thessalian prince disabled by disease from appearing on the field.
But, during the Battle of the Ships, the same Medon is found
helping to rally and lead on the troops of another neighbouring-
Thessalian state." We can imagine nothing more natural or
probable. Such self-adjusting anomalies, if anomalies they can be
called, are even better evidence of genuine origin than any rigid
observance of historical or geographical precision. With regard
to the anachronism wliicli the same Miiller would discover in the
poet's description of the Cadmean territory as already in the
hands of the Boeotians at the epoch of the Trojan war, it seems,
\inder any circumstances, very questionable w hcther the authority
of Thucydides is to be held as better than that of Homer in so
purely legendary a matter.^ But that the anachronism, admitting
it to exist, should be chargeable on an interpolator, rather than
on the author of the original poem, is, in the face more especially
of II. v. 710., xiii. 685., XIV. 476., xv. 330., xvir. 597., an alto-
gether gratuitous assumption. Little less arbitrary and far-fetched
is the hypothesis of the same critic, that the Arcadians, as a " Pe-
lasgian " people, could not have taken part in a war waged by the
Hellenic confederacy.

The admission also objected to by Miillor, of the petty islands of

^ He does nothing more. IMliller's statement that Mcges is represented
in this passage (xiii. G92.) as "king of the Epeans dwelling in Elis"
rests on no other authority but that of Miiller himself

- The appeal to Thucydides (i. xii.) seems indeed at the best, some-
what out of place, admitting, as he does, on Homer's authority that there
were Boeotians in the Theban territory at the time of the Trojan war,
although the greater body of that people were then resident in Thessaly.

10 APPENDIX E.

Cos, Syme, Nisyrus, and others to a place in the list, on cither the
Greek or the Trojan side, may seem strange, no doubt, in itself.
But the anomaly certainly supplies a better argument of eccentricity
in a single original poet, or of some peculiarity in the legend which
he followed, than of later rhapsodical interpolation. For what more
impi'obable than that Ionian or Attic compilers should iiave been
at pains to confer the high privilege of a place in the Catalogue
on these insignificant islets ; while Chios, Samos, and other
illustrious seats of Ionian power and splendour in the immediate
neighbourhood, are passed over with contempt. . Among other
more trivial arguments of Miiller, that founded on the case of the
augur Ennomus (II. il. 860., conf. xxi.), if good for anything,
must at least be extended, not only to the case of Antiphus in the
Odyssey (ii. 19., ix. 288. sqq.), but to that of Leucaspis in the
^neid (vi. 334., conf. i. 113. sqq.). The passages of the Iliad and
Odyssey, it may be added, here mutually illustrate each other and
the usage of the poet in such cases.

APPENDIX E. (p. 405.)

ON THE PH^ACIANS OF THE ODYSSEY : THEIR RACE AND COUNTRY.

The probability th:it Homer had some particular people in view
in his Phaeacian episode has already been suggested by Welckeri,
in an ingenious essay on the subject in the Rheinische Museum.
He supposes the poet's Ionian fellow-countrymen to be the race
whose habits are here portrayed. The author of this work has
been led to a different opinion by certain coincidences between
the characters and descriptive epithets of the Phagacian heroes
and those of the Phoenician navigators, who figure so largely in
parts of the Odyssey ; also by similar coincidences between the
names of Phaeacian localities and parallel phrases occurring in the
early geographical vocabulary of tlie Plicenician colonies. These
analogies are of so very striking and peculiar a nature, as to have
impressed on his mind, not otherwise much disposed to indulge in
such speculations, a strong conviction that it is a colony of these
Oriental adventurers in some part of the Western Mediterranean
which here forms the butt of Homer's playful satire. Both Phaea-
cians and PhcEnicians are represented by him as enthusiastically

• 1821, p. 219. sqq. and in KI. Schrift. vol. ii. p. 1.

APPENDIX E. 511

(lovoted to navigation ; both are cliaractcrist'd by an cpitlict de-
noting " magniHcence " or "ostentation," the special characteri^-ties
of the Phaiacians. The parallel passages are here subjoined : —

0(1. A'li. 30. ~oy C apa 'l'(iit]Ker i- av a t t:\vTOi oiit; trox/rrni'.

XV. 41. 'ii'da ce •I>ot')'i(C£ c ravcri h:\v7()i jjXvOor iit'^ptQ.

VIII. 191. '^ait]Kes d()\iX'ip£~IJOi »a ucrt k\ uroi liicpec.
conf. 97.

XIII. 272. avTcip tyijjy tin I'Tja kioji' 'PoiyiKcic ayaiioi/c

tWiffaj^itji'. . . .

XIII. 120. £^" ?f i^riifKiT (Utpay a o'l <I'a('?/k'ec nyavol

tUTTCKTUy.^

The point of the parallel would here obviously be sharpened by
the punning connexion, in the true spirit of Homeric humour,
between the names *^ah]KeQ and 4»o<i'i«e. Add to this that the
name of the poet's seafaring islanders finds its appropriate ety-
mology in the Oriental word Phaik, " magnificent," of which their
favourite epithet d-yavoi is a Greek translation. The name of
their city and port, Scheria, deducting the Greek ending, finds
an equally apt interpretation in the Phoenician word Scher, "em-
porium," " busy port." 2 The Pheeacians are further described by
the poet as formerly settleil at Ilyperca, in the neighbourhood of
the " Cyclopes," 3 and as having been expelled from that region
by their overbearing neighbours. Admitting, with Fazelli and
Stolberg, that the Lilybaean promontory of Sicily is the locality
figured by the poet as the land of the Cyclopes, a view to whicli
the author's own study of the poet's text in those regions led him
readily to subscribe, the Phaeacians might thus be supposed to
figure one of the numerous Phoenician colonies originally settled
on that line of coast, which had been driven by the barbarous
indigenes to seek a new country in some distant part of the Me-
diterranean. Whether that country was Corcyra, or some other
region, may be a question. Here, again, we have a remarkable
coincidence between the name Ilyperea of the Odyssey, and Hip-
paris, the title of a district and river of the same Sicilian co.ist
originally possessed by Phoenicians, afterwards called Camarina
when occupied by the Greeks. Hyperea is obviously a mere
Greek poetical variation of Ilipparis.'* That Homer was suffi-

' Conf. VI. 55., VIII. 418., xiii. 71.

* Conf. Bochart. Geogr. sacr. p. 463. sq. ' Od. vi. 4. sqq.

"' Eustath. ct Schol. Buttm. ad Od. loc. cit. ; conf. Bochart. op. cit.
p. 548. sq.

512 APPENDIX F.

ciently conversant with the language of the Phoenician navigators
to admit of his turning his knowledge to account in the humorous
element of the Odyssey may safely be assumed, as well from his
apparent familiarity with their habits, as from their almost entire
occupation of the Mediterranean commerce at this period, and the
consequent probability, or even necessity, of his having acquired
his stock of more distant geographical knowledge, mythical or
real, in voyages performed in their company. Various other
evidences of Homer's knowledge of the Phoenician tongue might
be derived from his own text ; but the train of inquiry which
their full consideration would involve would be out of place on
the present occasion. ^

An objection to the above view of the spirit of the Phosacian
episode might perhaps be discovered in the lively fantastic genius
of the imaginary race of Scheria, so different from the gravity, or
even gloom, which we are in the habit of associating with the
character of the natives of Palestine. There are, however, excep-
tions to every rule ; and, in the case of a Phoenician community
which happened to be really distinguished by frivolous or flighty
habits, the contrast between those habits and the usual charac-
teristics of the race might even add zest to the satire.

APPENDIX F. (p. 439.)

ON THE "self-contradictions" OF VIKGIL, MILTON, CERVANTES,
WALTER SCOTT, AND OTHER POPULAR AUTHORS, AS COMPARED
WITH THOSE OF HOMER.

The self-contradictions of the j^neid have been collected and
illustrated by the author of this work in an article of the British
and Foreign Review for October, 1839 (No. ix.); which essay he
has been gratified to find has not been witliout influence on tlie
judgement of the British public.^ The list here subjoined has

^ A single somewhat curious illustration is subjoined. The first
syllable of the name Siren is the Semitic root Sir, Song, or sweet music.
The full Greek term would be represented by the Semitic dual Sirein.
Homer's Sirens accordingly were but two ; as appears from his use of
the dual form 'S,eipr}voiiy.

■■' See Westm. Review, vol. xlvi. p. 405. ; Classical Mus. No. u. art. 16.
in fine.

ArrENDix F. 513

been limited to a selection of certain cases of a more concise and
palpable nature. For others still more important, but involving
a more extended line of textual analysis, tlie readir is referred to
the essay itself.

I. At V. 567. sq. of book ir., Helen is represented, during the
sack of Troy, as hiding herself in the Temple of Vesta ; as
shunning alike the presence of victor and vanquished, from each
of whom she e(jually feared the retributive vengeance due to the
author of tiieir common disasters ; and as apprehensive, above all,
of the wrath of her husband Menelaus. In book vi. oil. sqq., the
same Helen is described as having been the accomplice of tiie
Greeks in their stratagem, as having herself given the signal for
their issue from their ambush, and as having with her own hand
opened the gates of the Trojan palace to INIenelaus.

H. At v. 16. of book ii. the AVooden horse is said to ha^'e been
made of fir ; at v, 112. it is made of maple wood; and at v. 186. it
is made of oak.

HI. In book ii. 781., the shade of Creusa solemnly announces to
i^neas that he is to seek his future destination and seat of empire
" in Ilesperia and on the banks of the Tiber." But at the opening
of book III. we find the hero altogether unconscious of any such
prediction, and wandering

Incertus quo fata ferant, ubi sistere delur.

Soon after, as practical evidence of his ignorance, he lands,
and (juietly commences the foundation of his new city on the
opposite coast of Thrace, a few miles from the Troad ; and when,
in the sequel, Apollo himself (1.54. sqq., conf. 172.) again an-
nounces his appointed rcstingplace to be " Hesperia and the banks
of the Tiber," he is quite bewildered and astonished at the news.

IV. The winds employed by i^olus to scatter the Trojan fleet
in book i. 85. sqq. are Eurus, Notus, Africus, and Aquilo ; yet
Orontes, the noblest victim of that disaster (i. 113.), is introduced
(vi. 334-.) in the infernal regions as having fallen a sacrifice to the
fury of Auster, a wind which, by reference to the previous text,
was altogether guiltless of his death ; while the other hero, Leu-
caspis, here described as drowned on the same occasion, is never
mentioned at all in the description of the storm.

V. By reference to 52. sq. 193. 309. sqq. of book iv., ^"Eneas
left Dido in midwinter. On his disembarcation, however, in
Sicily a few days afterwards, the descrijUion of tlie green grass
and serene sky, of the crowns of leafy poplars, and of the gar-

VOL. I. L L

514 APPENDIX F.

lands of rosy flowers (book v. passim), plainly indicate that in that
island it was already summer or advanced spring.

VI. In book IV. 310., ^Eneas is described as sailing from Africa
■with the wind Aquilo ; somewhat strangely, as the south, not the
north, wind was required for his voyage to Europe. The blunder
is corrected by the poet (or compiler of the poem) at the expense
of another broad self-contradiction in iv. 562., where we are told
it was Zephyrus. This statement is again contradicted in book v.
2., and it is now reasserted to have been Aquilo.

VII. In book V. 659., the Trojan women, wearied by their long
voyage, attempt to burn the fleet, in order to secure a permanent
settlement in Sicily. iEneas, in consequence, decides to leave
them behind in that island (715.). They now implore to be al-
lowed to accompany their male relatives, but iEneas is obdurate
and sails without them (765. sqq.). Yet in the opening of the
seventh book, we find the hero's nurse Cajeta dying on the voyage
toLatium. Soon after (ix. 216. 284.) the mother of Euryalus also
reappears on the scene; and the poet (217.) informs us that "this
matron alone, of all the Trojan females, had preferred sharing
the fortunes of the fleet to abiding by the flesh-pots of Acestes
in Sicily ; " a flat contradiction both of his previous notice of
Cajeta, and of the statement in book v. 765., that the whole of the
Trojan women were anxious to proceed, but had been refused a
passage by ^Eneas.

VIII. In book X. 496. sqq., Turnus, after killing Pallas, appro-
priates the young hero's belt as the sole trophy of his victory,
generously delivering up the body, otherwise unspoiled, to the com-
rades of the slain chief, who bear it off on his shield. In book xi.
91. this account is falsified, and the funei-al pile of Pallas is said to
be decorated with his spear and helmet alone, " as the rest of his
arms," consequently shield, cuirass, and greaves, "had remained
in the possession of Turnus."

IX. The close of the tenth book leaves the reader in the middle
of a great battle, and the concluding lines describe the death of
a distinguished Latin warrior by the hand of ^Eneas :

Undantique animam difFundit in arma cruore.

The eleventh book resumes the interrupted tale in the following
manner :

Oceanum interea surgens Aurora rellquit.

The consistency of the poet (or compiler) can here only be saved

ArPENDlX F. 515

by assuming this battle to have been fought during the night, and
to liave been interrupted by tlie rising sun.

It is to be regretted that Professors Hermann and Laehmann
should not have extended to Virgil also their ingenious researches
into the theory of " Homeric " self-contradiction. Had they done
so, they would have infallibly proved the JlLiie'id, by the same con-
clusive arguments employed in the case of the Iliad, to be a mere
cento of popular Roman ballads clumsily strung together by the
book-maker of the Augustan age who vulgarly passes as the
poet of the entire iEneid.

The few examples here- subjoined from other works are merely
such as have incidentally presented themselves in the course of
the author's reading ; a closer analysis of the text of some of these
compositions might perhaps supply as heavy a catalogue as that
derived from the text of Virgil.

Milton informs us, that, when the Messiah came down from
heaven to judge our guilty first parents after the Fall, Satan,
shunning His presence, returned to hell by night (x. Sl-L). On his
way he meets Sin and Death on their road to Paradise in the
morning (x. 329.). After Sin and Death had arrived in Paradise,
Adam is represented as lamenting aloud to himself " through the
still night" (x. 8t6.). The ensuing day (assuming day to have
now at length really dawned) is afterwards described by the same
Adam in one place as the day of the Fall (x. 962.) ; in another
place it is described as a day several days subsequent to that of
the Fall (x. 1050.).

" The creation of man is represented by Milton as a consequence
of the vacuity left in heaven by the expulsion of the rebel angels;
yet Satan himself mentions it as a report rife in heaven before his
own rebellion." Elsewhere " the angel speaks of ' timorous deer '
before deer were yet timorous, or at least before Adam could un-
derstand the comparison." ^

In Lucian's Timon -, Jupiter declares that for a long time past
he had paid no attention whatever to the affairs of Athens ; that
he had not so much as turned his eyes in tliat direction ; and the
reason he assigns is, that the orators and sophists had filled the
city with such an incessant clamour that he could no longer hear
the prayers of his worshippers. In the immediate sequel, however 3,

' Johnson, Life of Milton, ed. Aikin, 1605, vol. i. p. 14o. sq. Of
Pindar and Dante, see Appendix A. to Vul. II.

'^ IX. ^ x.

I. I. -2

516 APPENDIX F.

lie describes how, a day or two before, he had broken two of his
best thundeibolts in a bad shot at Anaxagoras, teaching impiety
in his school in that city.

The same Lucian in his " True History " i of Hades, gives an
account of a lawsuit between Theseus and Menelaus before the
tribunal of Rhadamanthus, each litigant claiming Helen as his lawfid
wife. Soon after, however, the historian - tells us that women
were common property in Hades, and that nobody troubled himself
with jealousies about such matters. This again is contradicted in
the sequel 3, where Menelaus is described as prosecuting Helen
before the same tribunal for her adulteries with Narcissus ; and
summary punishment is inflicted on both her and her paramour.

Walter Scott, in Rob Roy *, first describes the adventure in the
College church of Glasgow as on the week day devoted, according
to Presbyterian custom, to the sacramental fast ; but in the sequel
the same transaction is made to take place on a Sunday.

In the Antiquary of the same author the scene is laid on the
east coast of Scotland ; yet, in the adventure of the storm on the
beach, the sun is seen setting in the sea. Either, therefore (upon
Wolfian principles), the sun, in Sir Walter's astronomy, must have
set in the East, or this chapter is by a different hand.

The self-contradictions of Cervantes in his Don Quixote equal,
or probably exceed in number, the whole collective mass of those
in the Iliad, Odyssey, and JEne\d united. Of the seventy chapters
comprised in the second part of the work, there are few but
contain statements totally irreconcilable with others occurring
jn previous or subsequent portions of the narrative. To analyse
these discordances in detail would require a dissertation apart, A
summary of them will be found in the "Chronological Plan" of the
work prefixed to vol. i. of Jarvis's translation, ed. 1801,

The reader may judge for himself from these examples, the
number of which might probably be augmented adnauseam, of the
value of Hermann's dogma, so formally and authoritatively laid down
as the fundamental principle of his own school of Homeric criticism,
" that no two passages of the same work contradictory to, or irre-
concilable with, each other can be by one and the same author."^

1 11. vlii. 2 xlx. ^ XXV. sq.

* 3rd ed. 1818, vol. n. vi. p. 122., viii. p. 162.

* " Dass was sich wiederspricbt oder nicht vereiubar ist, niclit von
einem und demselben Dichter fjcyii konne." — Opusc. vol. vi. p. 147.

APPENDIX G. 517

. APPENDIX (i. (p. t,-)i).)

SUPPLEMENTARY REMAUK ON THE CllKuNOLOGY OK THE ILIAD.

Of the casuistry by which any argument in favour of the poet's own
unity, which may be derived from the unity of his chronology, has
been set aside, or rather perverted, there is u curious exanii)le in
Heyne's elaborate analysis of the chronology of the Iliad.' He ad-
mits that no such discordance can be detected as to aftbrd clear evi-
dence of a previous independence of parts. The inference then, it
may be presumed, is favourable to a single genuine Homer. Far
from it : " Such subtlety is inconsistent with the free genius of the
primitive bard, and betrays the artifice of the grammarian." In
the sequel- however he observes, that although the general reckon-
ing is correct, yet more events are here and there accumulated within
a given time than could well have been accomplished. Here then
surely is a redeeming point on the side of primitive artles-^ness.
Not a whit : " The granmiarian has but hampered himself by
over-sedulity in the redaction of his stock of materials I " This is
a species of two-edged logic which nothing can resist, and places
the original genius of the poet as much at the mercy of those who
wield it with such dexterity, as the lamb at the fountain was at
the mercy of the wolf in the fable. Do what he will he must be
in the wrong. If the waters are muddled, it is his fault that they
are not pure ; if they are pure, it is no merit of his that they are
not muddled. The disingenuous partiality of this commentary
appears the more glaring, if it be contrasted with the facility witii
which the same Heyne, in his parallel commentary on the i^isieid
of Virgil'', overlooks or excuses the really flagrant chronological
discrepancies of that poem. The fact that, while scarcely any two
commentators have been able to agree as to the duration of the
action of the Iliad, their speculations fluctuating between forty and
fifty-three days^, no palpable discrepancy has ever been detected
in the poet's reckoning, is in itself, on Heyne's own principle, a
powerful argument in favour of spontaneous simplicity against
studied artifice of arrangement.

' Exc. I. ad II. XVIII. - Loc. cit. p. 578.

^ Exc. ad .fEu. xii. ■• W. ]\Iullor, I loin. Vorseh. ed. 183(>, p. 120.

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