Chapter 42

the still more brilliant heavens above adds to the effect. Shall we call it garish? We have learned to know the taste of Athenians too well to doubt their judgment in matters of pure beauty. And they are right. _Under an Athenian sky_ temples and statues demand a wealth of color which in a somber clime would seem intolerable. The brilliant lines of the Acropolis buildings are the just answer of the Athenian to the brilliancy of Helios.

193. The Chief Buildings on the Acropolis.—And now to ascend the Acropolis. We leave the discussion of the details of the temples and the sculpture to the architects and archæologists. The whole plateau of the Rock is covered with religious buildings, altars, and statues. We pass through the Propylæa, the worthy rival of the Parthenon behind, a magnificent portal, with six splendid Doric columns facing us; and as we go through them, to right and to left open out equally magnificent columned porticoes.[*] As we emerge from the Propylæa the whole vision of the sacred plateau bursts upon us simultaneously. We can notice only the most important of the buildings. At the southwestern point of the Acropolis on the angle of rock which juts out beyond the Propylæa is the graceful little temple of the “Wingless Victory,” built in the Ionic style. The view commanded by its bastion will become famous throughout the world. Behind this, nearer the southern side, stands the less important temple of Artemis Braurōnia. Nearer the center and directly before the entrance rises a colossal brazen statue—“monstrous,” many might call its twenty-six feet of height, save that a master among masters has cast the spell of his genius over it. This is the famous Athena Promachos,[+] wrought by Phidias out of the spoils of Marathon. The warrior goddess stands in full armor and rests upon her mighty lance. The gilded lance tip gleams so dazzlingly we may well believe the tale that sailors use it for a first landmark as they sail up the coast from Cape Sunium.

[*] That to the north was the larger and contained a kind of picture gallery.

[+] Athena Foremost in Battle.

Looking again upon the complex of buildings we single out another on the northern side: an irregularly shaped temple, or rather several temples joined together, the Erechtheum, wherein is the sanctuary of Athena Polias (the revered “City Warden”), the ancient wooden statue, grotesque, beloved, most sacred of all the holy images in Athens. And here on the southern side of this building is the famous Caryatid porch; the “Porch of the Maidens,” which will be admired as long as Athens has a name. But our eyes refuse to linger long on any of these things. Behind the statue of the Promachos, a little to the southern side of the plateau, stands the Parthenon—the queen jewel upon the crown of Athens.

194. The Parthenon.—Let others analyze its sculptures and explain the technical reasons why Ictinus and Callicrates, the architects, and Phidias, the sculptor, created here the supreme masterpiece for the artistic world. We can state only the superficialities. It is a noble building by mere size; 228 feet measure its side, 101 feet its front. Forty-six majestic Doric columns surround it; they average thirty-four feet in height, and six feet three inches at the base. All these facts, however, do not give the soul of the Parthenon. Walk around it slowly, tenderly, lovingly. Study the elaborate stories told by the pediments,—on the east front the birth of Athena, on the west the strife of Athena and Poseidon for the possession of Athens. Trace down the innumerable lesser sculptures on the “metopes” under the cornice,—showing the battles of the Giants, Centaurs, Amazons, and of the Greeks before Troy; finally follow around, on the whole inner circuit of the body of the temple, the frieze,[*] showing in bas-relief the Panathenaic procession, with the beauty, nobility, and youth of Athens marching in glad festival; comprehend that these sculptures will never be surpassed in the twenty-four succeeding centuries; that here are supreme examples for the artists of all time,—and _then_, in the face of this final creation, we can realize that the Parthenon will justify its claim to immortality.

[*] This, of course, is on the outside wall of the “cella,” but inside the surrounding colonnade.

One thing more. There are hardly any straight lines in the Parthenon. To the eye, the members and the steps of the substructure may seem perfectly level; but the measuring rod betrays marvelously subtle curves. As nature abhors right angles in her creations of beauty, so have these Greeks. Rigidity, unnaturalness, have been banished. The Parthenon stands, not merely embellished with inimitable sculptures, but perfectly adjusted to the natural world surrounding.[*]

[*] It was an inability to discover and execute these concealed curves which give certain of the modern imitations of the Parthenon their unpleasant impressions of harness and rigidity.

We have seen only the exterior of the Parthenon. We must wait now ere visiting the interior, for Phormion is beginning his sacrifice.

195. A Sacrifice on the Acropolis.—Across the sacred plateau advances the little party. As it goes under the Propylæa a couple of idle temple watchers[*] give its members a friendly nod. The Acropolis rock itself seems deserted, save for a few worshippers and a party of admiring Achæan visitors who are being shown the glories of the Parthenon.[+] There seems to be a perfect labyrinth of statues of gods, heroes, and departed worthies, and almost as many altars, great and small, placed in every direction. Phormion leads his friends onward till they come near to the wide stone platform somewhat in the rear of the Parthenon. Here is the “great altar” of Athena, whereon the “hecatombs” will be sacrificed, even a hundred oxen or more,[&] at some of the major public festivals; and close beside it stands also a small and simple altar sacred to Athena Parthenos, Athena the Virgin. Suitable attendants have been in readiness since dawn waiting for worshippers. One of Phormion’s party leads behind him a bleating white lamb “without blemish.”[$] It is a short matter now to bring the firewood and the other necessaries. The sacrifice takes place without delay.

[*] The most important function of these watchers seems to have been to prevent dogs from entering the Acropolis. Probably they were inefficient old men favored with sinecure offices.

[+] The Acropolis seems to have become a great “show place” for visitors to Athens soon after the completion of the famous temples.

[&] We know by an inscription of 169 oxen being needed for a single Athenian festival.

[$] This was a very proper creature to sacrifice to a great Olympian deity like Athena. Goats were not suitable for her, although desirable for most of the other gods. It was unlawful to sacrifice swine to Aphrodite. When propitiating the gods of the underworld,—Hades, Persephone, etc.,—a _black_ victim was in order. Poor people could sacrifice doves, cocks, and other birds.

First a busy “temple sweeper” goes over the ground around the altar with a broom; then the regular priest, a dignified gray-headed man with a long ungirt purple chiton, and a heavy olive garland, comes forward bearing a basin of holy water. This basin is duly passed to the whole company as it stands in a ring, and each in turn dips his hand and sprinkles his face and clothes with the lustral water. Meantime the attendant has placed another wreath around the head of the lamb. The priest raises his hand.

“Let there be silence,” he commands (lest any unlucky word be spoken); and in a stillness broken only by the auspicious twittering of the sparrows amid the Parthenon gables, he takes barley corns from a basket, an sprinkles them on the altar and over the lamb. With his sacred knife he cuts a lock of hair from the victims head and casts it on the fire. Promptly now the helper comes forward to complete the sacrifice. Phormion and his friends are a little anxious. Will the lamb take fright, hang back, and have to be dragged to its unwilling death? The clever attendant has cared for that. A sweet truss of dried clover is lying just under the altar. The lamb starts forward, bleating joyously. As it bows its head[*] as if consenting to its fate the priest stabs it dexterously in the neck with his keen blade. The helper claps a bowl under the neck to catch the spurting blood. A flute player in readiness, but hitherto silent, suddenly strikes up a keen blast to drown the dying moans of the animal. Hardly has the lamb ceased to struggle before the priest and the helper have begun to cut it up then and there. Certain bits of the fat and small pieces from each limb are laid upon the altar, and promptly consumed. These are the goddess’s peculiar portion, and the credulous at least believe that she, though unseen, is present to eat thereof; certainly the sniff of the burning meat is grateful to her divine nostrils. The priest and the helpers are busy taking off the hide and securing the best joint—these are their “fees” for professional services. All the rest will be duly gathered up by Phormion’s body servant and borne home,—for Phormion will give a fine feast on “sacred mutton” that night.[+]

[*] If a larger animal—an ox—failed to bow its head auspiciously, the omen could be rectified by suddenly splashing a little water in the ears.

[+] As already suggested (section 159) a sacrifice (public, or, if on a large scale, private) was about the only occasion on which Athenians tasted beef, pork, or mutton.

Meantime, while the goddess’s portion burns, Phormion approaches the altar, bearing a shallow cup of unmixed wine, and flings it upon the flame.

“Be propitious, O Lady,” he cries, “and receive this my drink offering.”[*]

[*] The original intention of this libation at the sacrifice was very clearly to provide the gods with wine to “wash down” their meat.

The sacrifice is now completed. The priest assures Phormion that the entrails of the victim foretokened every possible favor in future athletic contests—and this, and his insinuating smile, win him a silver drachma to supplement his share of the lamb. Phormion readjusts the chaplet upon his own head, and turns towards the Parthenon. After the sacrifice will come the prayer.

196. The Interior of the Parthenon and the Great Image of Athena.—The whole Acropolis is the home of Athena. The other gods harbored thereon are only her inferior guests. Upon the Acropolis the dread goddess displays her many aspects. In the Erechtheum we worship her as Athena Polias, the ancient guardian of the hearths and homes of the city. In the giant Promachus, we see her the leader in war,—the awful queen who went with her fosterlings to the deadly grappling at Marathon and at Salamis; in the little temple of “Wingless Victory”[*] we see her as Athena the Victorious, triumphant over Barbarian and Hellenic foe; but in the Parthenon we adore in her purest conception—the virgin queen, now chaste and clam, her battles over, the pure, high incarnations of all “the beautiful and the good” that may possess spirit and mind,—the sovran intellect, in short, purged of all carnal, earthy passion. It is meet that such a goddess should inhabit such a dwelling as the Parthenon.[+]

[*] The term “Wingless Victory” (_Nikē Apteros_) has reference to a special type and aspect of Athena, not to the goddess _Nikē_ (Victory) pure and simple.

[+] There was still another aspect in which Athena was worshipped on the Acropolis. She had a sacred place (_temenos_), though without a temple, sacred to her as _Athena Erganē_—Athena Protectress of the Arts.

Phormion passes under the eastern porch, and does not forget (despite the purification before the sacrifice) to dip the whisk broom, lying by the door, in the brazen laver of holy water and again to sprinkle himself. He passes out of the dazzling sunlight into a chamber that seems at first to be lost in a vast, impenetrable gloom. He pauses and gazes upward; above him, as little by little his eyes get their adjustment, a faint pearly light seems streaming downward. It is coming through the translucent marble slabs of the roof of the great temple.[*] Then out of the gloom gleam shapes, objects,—a face. He catches the glitter of great jewels and of massy gold, as parts of the rich garments and armor of some vast image. He distinguishes at length a statue,—the form of a woman, nearly forty feet in height. Her left wrist rests upon a mighty shield; her right hand holds a winged “Victory,” itself of nigh human size. Upon her breast is the awful ægis, the especial breastplate of the high gods. Around the foot of her shield coils a serpent. Upon her head is a mighty helmet. And all the time that these things are becoming manifest, evermore clearly one beholds the majestic face,—sweetness without weakness, intellectuality without coldness, strength mingled justly with compassion. This is the Athena Parthenos, the handiwork of Phidias.[+]

[*] This seems to be the most reasonable way to assume that the “cella” of the Parthenon was lighted, in view of the danger, in case of open skylights, of damage to the holy image by wind and rain.

[+] Of this statue no doubt there could be said what Dion Chrysostomos said of the equally famous “Zeus” erected by Phidias at Olympia. “The man most depressed with woes, forgot his ills whilst gazing on this statue, so much light and beauty had Phidias infused within it.” Besides the descriptions in the ancient writers we get a clear idea of the general type of the Athena Parthenos from recently discovered statuettes, especially the “Varvakeion” model (40½ inches high). This last is cold and lifeless as a work of art, but fairly accurate as to details.

We will not heap up description. What boots it to tell that the arms and vesture of this “chryselephantine” statue are of pure gold; that the flesh portions are of gleaming ivory; that Phidias has wrought the whole so nobly together that this material, too sumptuous for common artists, becomes under his assembling the perfect substance for the manifestation of deity?

…Awestruck by the vision, though often he has seen it, Phormion stands long in reverent silence. Then at length, casting a pinch of incense upon the brazier, constantly smoking before the statue, he utters his simple prayer.

197. Greek Prayers.—Greek prayers are usually very pragmatic. “Who,” asks Cicero, who can speak for both Greeks and Romans in this particular, “ever thanked the gods that he was a good man? Men are thankful for riches, honor, safety…. We beg of the sovran God [only] what makes us safe, sound, rich and prosperous.”[*] Phormion is simply a very average, healthy, handsome young Athenian. While he prays he stretches his hands on high, as is fitting to a deity of Olympus.[+] His petition runs much as follows:—

“Athena, Queen of the Ægis, by whatever name thou lovest best,[&] give ear.

[*] Cicero, _De Nat. Deor_, ii. 36.

[+] In praying to a deity of the lower world the hands would be held down. A Greek almost _never_ knelt, even in prayer. He would have counted it degrading.

[&] This formula would be put in, lest some favorite epithet of the divinity be omitted.

“Inasmuch as thou dids’t heed my vow, and grant me fair glory at Mantinea, bear witness I have been not ungrateful. I have offered to thee a white sheep, spotless and undefiled. And now I have it in my mind to attempt the pentathlon at the next Isthmia at Corinth. Grant me victory even in that; and not one sheep but five, all as good as this to-day, shall smoke upon thine altar. Grant also unto me, my kinsmen and all my friends, health, riches and fair renown.”

A pagan prayer surely; and there is a still more pagan epilogue. Phormion has an enemy, who is not forgotten.

“And oh! gracious, sovran Athena, blast my enemy Xenon, who strove to trip me foully in the foot race. May his wife be childless or bear him only monsters; may his whole house perish; may all his wealth take flight; may his friends forsake him; may war soon cut him off, or may he die amid impoverished, dishonored old age. If this my sacrifice has found favor in thy sight, may all these evils come upon him unceasingly. And so will I adore thee and sacrifice unto thee all my life.”[*]

[*] Often a curse would become a real substitute for a prayer; _e.g._ at Athens, against a rascally and traitorous general, a solemn public curse would be pronounced at evening by all the priests and priestesses of the city, each shaking in the air a red cloth in token of the bloody death to which the offender was devoted.

The curse then is a most proper part of a Greek prayer! Phormion is not conscious of blasphemy. He merely follows invariable custom.

It is useless to expect “Christian sentiments” in the fourth century B.C., yet perhaps an age should be judged not by its average, but by its best. Athenians can utter nobler prayers than those of the type of Phormion. Xenophon makes his model young householder Ishomenus pray nobly “that I may enjoy health and strength of body, the respect of my fellow citizens, honorable safety in times of war, and wealth honestly increased.”[*]

[*] Xenophon, _The Economist_, xi, p. 8.

There is a simple little prayer also which seems to be a favorite with the farmers. Its honest directness carries its own message.

“Rain, rain, dear Zeus, upon the fields of the Athenians and the plains.”[*]

[*] It was quoted later to us by the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who adds, “In truth, we ought not to pray at all, or we ought to pray in this simple and noble fashion.”

Higher still ascends the prayer of Socrates, when he begs for “the good” merely, leaving it to the wise gods to determine what “the good” for him may be; and in one prayer, which Plato puts in Socrates’s mouth, almost all the best of Greek ideals and morality seems uttered. It is spoken not on the Acropolis, but beside the Ilissus at the close of the delightful walk and chat related in the _Phædrus_.

“Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this place, give me the beauty of the inward soul, and may the outward and the inward man be joined in perfect harmony. May I reckon the wise to be wealthy, and may I have such a quantity of gold as none but the temperate can carry. Anything more?—That prayer, I think, is enough for me.”

Phormion and his party are descending to the city to spend the evening in honest mirth and feasting, but we are fain to linger, watching the slow course of the shadows as they stretch across the Attic hills. Sea, sky, plain, mountains, and city are all before us, but we will not spend words upon them now. Only for the buildings, wrought by Pericles and his mighty peers, we will speak out our admiration. We will gladly confirm the words Plutarch shall some day say of them, “Unimpaired by time, their appearance retains the fragrance of freshness, as though they had been inspired by an eternally blooming life and a never aging soul.”[*]

[*] Plutarch wrote this probably after 100 A.D., when the Parthenon had stood for about five and half centuries.