Part 3

The Greeks worshipped among their deities a goddess called Demeter, which means "mother earth." It was her office to attend to the sowing and reaping and all kinds of farm work. She first taught mankind the use of the plough; she helped the men in their threshing and the women in their baking. All country folk sought her blessing in their labors. She was, in fact, a personification of nature, and perhaps it is a remnant of the old Greek belief in our speech that we still refer to "mother earth" and "mother nature."

Demeter's only child was a daughter, Persephone, and upon her she lavished all a mother's fond devotion. The story runs that one day Persephone was gathering posies in the meadow when a strange accident overtook her. A beautiful flower suddenly attracted her attention, the like of which she had never before seen. When she put forth her hand to pluck it, the entire plant came up by the roots, leaving a hole in the ground. The hole widened into a great crack, the earth shook with a mighty thundering, and out dashed a chariot drawn by coal-black steeds, bearing Pluto, the king of the lower regions. He caught up the astonished Persephone, and away they sped again into the gloomy kingdom beyond the Styx, where Persephone was installed as queen.

Demeter, missing her daughter, inquired everywhere what had become of the maiden, but none could tell her. Then she lighted a torch and began a weary search for the lost child. Nine days she wandered without finding any clew. But on the tenth day she met the old witch Hecate, who had heard Persephone scream when she was carried away. Together the two sought Apollo, who sees all the doings of gods and men, and he told them the whole story. "Then a more terrible grief took possession of Demeter, and ... she forsook the assembly of the gods and abode among men for a long time, veiling her beauty under a worn countenance so that none who looked upon her knew her." She declared that the earth should not again bring forth fruit till she had seen her daughter.

It comforted her not a little in this time of mourning to take a mother's care of a certain sickly little child she chanced upon. Disguised as a nurse, she fed the child upon ambrosia, held him in her bosom, and at night covered him in a bed of coals. Under this treatment he thrived amazingly; but the parents discovered the nurse's strange ways and became alarmed. Their anxiety was turned to dismay when they learned that this was a goddess, who would have made their son immortal but for their interference.

In the mean time the crops fell into a bad state, and it was a year of grievous famine. Demeter still kept her vow to let no green thing appear upon the earth. Then Zeus came to the rescue of perishing humanity. He sent a messenger to Pluto begging him to let Persephone return to her mother. The request was granted, the chariot was made ready, but the wily king first pressed his bride to eat with him some pomegranate seeds, designing that she should return to him again. Mother and daughter were now joyfully reunited, but not without further separation; for a portion of each year Persephone returned to her kingdom below the earth, reappearing in the spring to visit her mother. And this is why to this day the harvest is followed by winter until the spring revisits the earth.[17]

[17] The story of Demeter and Persephone is related in the Homeric _Hymn to Demeter_, of which an abridged English version is given in the chapter on the Myth of Demeter and Persephone in Pater's _Greek Studies_. The same chapter refers to various other ancient forms of the story, one of the most important being that of Ovid's Metamorphoses, translated into English blank verse by Edward King.

In all this story we see that the most striking characteristic of Demeter is her motherliness. In some respects she is like Hera, because both are matrons and are patterns of the domestic virtues. But while Hera is the model wife, Demeter is the model mother.

It is the motherliness of our statue which makes us feel sure that it must be intended to represent Demeter.[18] The goddess stands holding in her outstretched right hand a sheaf of wheat, and lifting high in the left hand the torch with which she journeyed round the world. It is as if she stood on the threshold of the opening season awaiting her daughter's return. She gazes straight before her with a look of expectancy as if she already saw her child from afar. Her face is lighted by a smile of welcome. One can fancy how tenderly those motherly arms will fold the child to her heart, and how gladly the daughter will pillow her head on that broad bosom.

[18] See in the _Historical Directory_ another subject assigned to the statue.

The figure is in striking contrast to the statue of Athena which we have studied. The virgin goddess is stately and unapproachable in her panoply of wisdom, but the great mother seems to invite our confidence. She is one to whom a frightened child might run, sure of being soothed. To her the sorrowing would turn, fearing no repulse. She would welcome, she would understand, she would comfort. There is strength and repose in every line of her majestic figure.

The statue illustrates admirably the grandeur and simplicity of the best Greek art. The long straight lines of the drapery, unbroken by any unnecessary folds, are the secret of the impression of tranquil dignity in the work.

VIII

THE FAUN OF PRAXITELES

The imagination of the Greeks peopled the woods and waters with all sorts of mythical beings, among which one of the most delightful was the faun. This was a creature half human, half animal, which frolicked in the woods in spring time. In outward appearance it looked much like a human being, except that it had pointed furry ears. In nature, however, it was closely akin to the animals, and lived a free happy life, with none of the thoughts and cares which beset the soul of man.

Our statue represents a sculptor's conception of this sportive being. It is famous not only because it is a celebrated work of art, but because it takes an important place in a celebrated novel. This is the "marble faun" which gives the title to Hawthorne's book. It will be remembered that in the beginning of the story, a party of friends are visiting the museum of the Capitol in Rome, where the statue stands. Suddenly they notice the resemblance which one of their number, a young Italian named Donatello, bears to the statue. They bid him take the same attitude, and the likeness is complete. The writer describes the statue in these words: "The Faun is the marble image of a young man leaning his right arm on the trunk or stump of a tree; one hand hangs carelessly by his side; in the other he holds the fragment of a pipe, or some such sylvan instrument of music. His only garment--a lion's skin,[19] with the claws upon his shoulder--falls halfway down his back, leaving the limbs and entire front of the figure nude. The form, thus displayed, is marvellously graceful, but has a fuller and more rounded outline, more flesh, and less of heroic muscle, than the old sculptors were wont to assign to their types of masculine beauty.[20] The character of the face corresponds with the figure; it is most agreeable in outline and feature, but rounded and somewhat voluptuously developed, especially about the throat and chin; the nose is almost straight, but very slightly curves inward, thereby acquiring an indescribable charm of geniality and humor. The mouth, with its full yet delicate lips, seems so nearly to smile outright that it calls forth a responsive smile. The whole statue--unlike anything else that ever was wrought in that severe material of marble--conveys the idea of an amiable and sensual creature, easy, mirthful, apt for jollity, yet not incapable of being touched by pathos. It is impossible to gaze long at this stone image without conceiving a kindly sentiment towards it, as if its substance were warm to the touch, and imbued with actual life. It comes very close to some of our pleasantest sympathies."

[19] More likely a leopard's skin.

[20] Compare, for instance, the slender figure of the Apoxyomenos.

After this description the writer goes on to analyze the nature of the Faun. "The being here represented," he says, "is endowed with no principle of virtue, and would be incapable of comprehending such; but he would be true and honest by dint of his simplicity. We should expect from him no sacrifice or effort for an abstract cause; there is not an atom of martyr's stuff in all that softened marble; but he has a capacity for strong and warm attachment, and might act devotedly through its impulse, and even die for it at need. It is possible, too, that the Faun might be educated through the medium of his emotions, so that the coarser animal portion of his nature might eventually be thrown into the background, though never utterly expelled."

The original statue, of which the marble of the Capitol is a copy, was the work of the sculptor Praxiteles. As Hawthorne says: "Only a sculptor of the finest imagination, the most delicate taste, the sweetest feeling, and the rarest artistic skill--in a word, a sculptor and a poet too--could have ... succeeded in imprisoning the sportive and frisky thing in marble." We are presently to see again in the head of Hermes that Praxiteles was indeed a remarkable sculptor. The Faun, however, is the more difficult subject of the two, for it was puzzling to think what expression would be proper to a being partly human, but without a soul.

It is said that Praxiteles himself considered the Faun one of his two best works. It had been impossible for his friends to get an expression of opinion from him in regard to his statues, until one day a trick was devised to betray him. He was told that his studio was on fire, when he exclaimed that his labor was all lost if the Faun and the Eros were destroyed.

The Faun originally stood in the street of the Tripods at Athens, but what has now become of it we do not know. The statue in our illustration is one of the most celebrated copies. Many travellers make a special pilgrimage to see it, and seeing it recall the words of Hawthorne, describing the spell it casts upon the spectator. "All the pleasantness of sylvan life, all the genial and happy characteristics of creatures that dwell in woods and fields, will seem to be mingled and kneaded into one substance, along with the kindred qualities in the human soul. Trees, grass, flowers, woodland streamlets, cattle, deer, and unsophisticated man--the essence of all these was compressed long ago, and still exists, within that discolored marble surface of the Faun of Praxiteles."

IX

SOPHOCLES

One of the greatest of Greek writers was the tragic poet Sophocles. He was born near Athens in the year 495 B. C., and was educated after the manner of the Greek youth of his time. Every advantage was given him for the study of music and poetry, and also for that gymnastic training which, as we have seen, was so important in Greek education.

Sophocles was a handsome youth, and acquitted himself well in the pal[ae]stra. When he was sixteen years of age the great battle of Salamis was fought and won by the Greeks. In the celebration of this victory at Athens, Sophocles led with dance and lyre the chorus of young men who sang the p[ae]an or hymn of victory. That such an honor should be given him shows how graceful and gifted he must have been.

The beginning of his literary career came when he was in his twenty-fifth year. At that time a solemn festival was held in Athens in memory of the ancient King Theseus, whose bones had been brought thither from the island of Scyros. Now all religious festivals in Greece were celebrated with contests, some athletic, others artistic and literary. On this occasion there was a contest of dramatic poets. [AE]schylus was at that time the greatest of living tragedians, and as he was among the contestants, it might have been supposed that no other candidate could have succeeded. Sophocles now came forward with his first tragedy, and so remarkable was it found to be that the judges pronounced him victor.

From this time forth Sophocles continually grew in dramatic and literary power. Twenty times he obtained the first prize in other contests, and many times also the second prize. The amount of his work was prodigious. Most of his dramas are lost, but we still have a half dozen or more to show us the noble quality of his work. The finest are perhaps those called [OE]dipus Tyrannus, [OE]dipus Coloneus, and Antigone, all dealing with the tragic fate of an ancient royal family.

Athens was justly proud of her great poet and bestowed various honors upon him. He was even made a general, and served in the war against Samos; but nature had made him a poet, and it is as a poet that we must always think of him. Full of years and honors, he died in Athens at the age of ninety. Of him the Greek poet Phrynicus wrote,--

"Thrice happy Sophocles! in good old age Blessed as a man, and as a craftsman blessed, He died: his many tragedies were fair, And fair his end, nor knew he any sorrow."

Our portrait shows admirably what manner of man he was, handsome and dignified, in the prime of life.

The scanty folds of his toga reveal the fine lines of his graceful figure. The pose shows the bodily vigor which his early athletic training gave him. He holds his head erect in a manner suggestive of his military life. The face is that of an idealist and a poet, a man who sees splendid visions. Yet it is not altogether dreamy in the ordinary sense; it has the alert, energetic aspect of one who would turn from vision to action. It is not hard to believe the tale of his one hundred and twenty-three dramas: such a man would fill his life with activity. The face has, too, the expression of genial kindliness which made the great poet so beloved of his fellow men. His must have been that calm, equable temperament not easily ruffled, which goes with the self-respecting nature. A receptacle at his side is filled with the scrolls of his tragedies. He stands in the attitude of a poet reciting his lines to an assembled audience.

The statue shows how sane was the Greek ideal of intellectual greatness. In those days genius did not mean eccentricity, but the rule of life was a sound mind in a sound body. It is a mistaken notion of our own times that bodily health must be sacrificed to the training of the brain. It is even supposed by some that oddities of dress and manner are signs of greatness.

The Greeks had no such delusions. Here is Sophocles, the greatest dramatic poet of antiquity, a magnificent specimen of symmetrically developed manhood. He is a man who has made the most of life's opportunities as he understood them. He enjoys perfect bodily vigor; he is as well a man of the world, at ease among men. There is evidently nothing of the recluse in his character. He wears his beard carefully trimmed as one who looks well to his personal appearance. Yet intellectual greatness is stamped on face and bearing: the noble countenance marks him as a poet.

There was a period in Greek history when it was a custom to adorn public buildings with statues of famous men, living or dead. Libraries were appropriately decorated with statues of poets, and we fancy that our statue of Sophocles was made for such a purpose. The original is supposed to have been set up by a certain Athenian statesman named Lycurgus in the fourth century B. C.

X

ARES SEATED

Old soldiers tell us that sometimes in the thick of a battle men fight as though possessed by a spirit of fury. The excitement of the conflict seems to arouse an impulse of bloodthirstiness in them, and for the moment they seem to exult in the carnage. In the ancient methods of warfare, when a battle was literally a hand-to-hand conflict, this spirit of brutality was of course even more marked. In the wars among the early Greeks men fell upon one another with the violence of wild animals.

The Greeks with their ready gift for personification conceived of this spirit of warfare as a supernatural being acting on human lives. He was called Ares, the god whose special delight was to incite the fierce passions of men.

It was natural that the Greeks should refer his influence chiefly to their enemies. On their own part they preferred to think that their armies were inspired by the prudent spirit of self-defense embodied in Athena. This explains why in the Iliad Ares was on the side of the Trojans, while Athena aided the Greeks. Thus Ares and Athena were brought into direct rivalry, the spirit of violence against the spirit of strategy.

An instance is related when Athena makes an appeal to her enemy, the translation running in these words, the Roman name Mars being used for Ares.

"Mars, Mars, thou slayer of men, thou steeped in blood, Destroyer of walled cities! should we not Leave both the Greeks and Trojans to contend, And Jove to crown with glory whom he will, While we retire, lest we provoke his wrath?"[21]

[21] Iliad, Book v., lines 33-37.

As a matter of fact, however, both deities continued to aid their favorites. Mars was forced to yield before the skill and prudence of Athena. Guided by the goddess the Greek hero Diomed wounds and drives him from the battle.[22]

[22] Iliad, Book v., lines 1068-1075.

In spite of his violent nature Mars was a handsome god, "stately, swift, unwearied, puissant." Though war was his chief delight he was quite susceptible to the tender passion. Venus was the object of his devotion, and the goddess of love returned the war god's admiration. It was she who soothed his wounded vanity when Athena mocked him in the presence of the gods and struck him to earth with a stone.[23]

[23] Iliad, Book xxi., lines 500 _et seq._

The statue reproduced in our illustration shows the god in his mildest aspect. He is seated in a meditative attitude, clasping his hands over his upraised knee. His splendidly developed body is relaxed in a posture of repose, the shield is laid aside for a moment, and he rests from his labors. In the best period of Greek sculpture it was entirely contrary to the laws of taste to represent Ares in any warlike action. The gods must always be portrayed in a dignified repose befitting their superiority to mankind. Not then in his attitude or expression do we find any sign of the character of the god. There is no suggestion of unrest in his quiet posture.

The shape of his head perhaps gives some hint of his combative nature. The cast of countenance, too, shows an impulsive temper, weak in intellectual qualities, and quick to anger. Yet he is undeniably attractive, with his well-chiseled features and clustering curls. The small ear is as delicately cut as a woman's. The fine athletic figure is such as any warrior might covet; muscular and supple, it is full of power even in repose. The attitude of easy grace displays its best points to advantage.

Sitting on the ground in front of the god is the figure of a mischievous baby boy. This is the little god Eros, who in Greek mythology was supposed to be the inspirer of love. The artist meant to suggest that the subject of Ares' meditations might be some affair of the heart. Certainly his mild smile would carry out that interpretation. Some critics have thought, however, that the statue did not originally include the child.

As we study the modelling of the figure, the free sweep of the long lines delights the eye. We shall come to understand from repeated examples that the best Greek sculptors thoroughly mastered the secret of fine lines. Our illustration is somewhat unusual because the figure is seated. Even in this position, however, the sculptor gives us a sense of the perfect grace and lightness of the pose. There is nothing heavy or immovable in the attitude. We can easily imagine how the god, rising lightly to his feet, would stand erect and beautiful, ready for action.

XI

HEAD OF THE OLYMPIAN HERMES

To do his errands and carry his messages through the universe the supreme god Zeus had a herald, Hermes, the god of the wind. As the wind blows out of the great sky, so Hermes descended from Olympus to earth to do the sky god's bidding. Equipped as a herald he wore a winged cap and winged sandals, which carried him about with great speed. He had also a short sword bent like a scythe, given him by Zeus with the cap and sandals. He possessed the strange power of making himself invisible, and of assuming different forms. As he had besides a ready wit and an eloquent tongue, he could make himself very useful. It was one of his common tasks to carry sleep to mortals, and his most solemn office was to conduct the souls of the dying to the other world.

This is the way the Odyssey describes Hermes setting forth on one of the errands of Zeus:--

"The herald Argicide obeyed, And hastily beneath his feet he bound The fair ambrosial golden sandals, worn To bear him over ocean like the wind, And o'er the boundless land. His wand he took, Wherewith he softly seals the eyes of men, And opens them at will from sleep."[24]

[24] Book v., lines 55-61 in Bryant's translation.

One of the most famous adventures of Hermes was the slaying of the many-eyed monster Argus, from whom he rescued the unhappy Io. This is why the old Greek poet, whom we have quoted, calls the god the Argicide. Another of his well known missions was the care of the motherless infant Bacchus, whom he conveyed to the nymphs of Nysa to be reared. An adventurer himself, Hermes was ever ready to aid heroes in their exploits. It was with his sword that Perseus cut off the Gorgon's head: we may read the story in Hawthorne's "Wonder-Book" and Kingsley's "Greek Heroes."

Nor was Hermes above a bit of mischief now and then. An old Homeric hymn tells of a sly prank he played upon Apollo, when he was a mere baby, stealing the herds of Admetus which Apollo was keeping. He was an ingenious fellow too, and this is how he invented the lyre. Taking from the beach a tortoise, he cleaned out the shell, pierced it with holes, and stretched from hole to hole, at regular intervals, cords of sheep gut.

"When he had wrought the lovely instrument He tried the chords, and made division meet, Preluding with the plectrum, and there went Up from beneath his hand a tumult sweet Of mighty sounds."[25]

[25] From the Homeric _Hymn to Mercury_ in Shelley's translation, Stanza ix.

With this instrument Apollo was so delighted that Hermes straightway presented it to him, to make some amends, as it were, for the injury done him. In return Apollo bestowed the _caduceus_, or wand, upon Hermes, and the two gods vowed eternal friendship.