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THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
E, KAR
ws. TYLER,
MILISTON PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN AXHERST OOLLBAK

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1869.
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TO
PROFESSOR EDWARDS A. PARK
IT IB FITTING
Chat these pages should be Dedicated.
Most of them were written at his suggestion, and were first printed in
that Library of Sacred Literature of which he is an editor and founder.
And while there is a manifest fitness in inscribing
THE THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
with the name of one of the brightest ornaments of American Literature
and Theology, the Author takes great pleasure in this public recognition
of a personal friendship which began when we were members of the same
College Faculty, and which years of intimacy in kindred pursuits, though
in different spheres, have been continually strengthening.
· PREFACE.
NATURAL Theology may be contemplated from two different
points of view, and so may be seen in two different aspects.
We may look at it from the standing-point of our own
observation and reason in the light of modern science and of
Christianity; or we may consider it as it has been devel-
oped in the literature and history of heathen nations, and as
it appeared to the eyes of those who were destitute of the
Christian revelation. Treated in the former way it is, or
may be, a science. Indeed, Natural Theology is the science
of sciences, the grandest and most comprehensive of them all,
embracing within its scope many departments of physical and
mental science, and from the loftiest heights in the wide
realm of philosophy looking up to the loftier heights, and
peering out into the wider realms, of faith. Observed and
studied in the latter way it is, or may be, a history. Indeed,
it is properly the consummate flower and fruit of all history,
and the widest and highest sphere of the philosophy of
history. :
This volume is intended as a humble contribution to Nat-
ural Theology in both these forms. The first chapter is a
PREFACE.
contribution to the science, or rather to the argument and illus-
tration of the science ; the other chapters furnish facts and
materials for the history.
The first chapter does not aspire to originate any new kind
of argument, but only to furnish new illustrations of the
argument which was wielded with such overwhelming power
by Bishop Butler in his day, and to carry it out to larger
and more positive results. Starting with the assumption
that God is in nature and in history, the aim is to show, by
the numerous familiar and striking analogies which pervade
them, that the same God is in the Bible and in the church.
Or starting, as the Christian will prefer to do, and may legiti-
mately do, with the persuasion that God is the author of the
Bible, and Christ the head of the church; the aim of the
chapter is to show, by the resemblance in the style of thought
and expression, that the same God is the author of nature -
to prove, by the similarity in the principles and methods of
administration, that the same Christ is also head over all
things in the material and the moral world. With what
success the argument has been conducted, the reader will
judge for himself. The conclusion admits of being carried
out to a still further result, of being carried up to a still higher
consummation. The Scripture teaches that Christ is not
only head over all things, but head over all things to the
Church, that is, for the benefit of the Church. And it was
my original plan and intention to follow the first chapter,
PREFACE :
ії.
which is entitled, “The Head of the Church Head over all
things," by a second chapter in proof of the proposition that.
he is also Head over all things for the benefit of the Church.
If God, or Christ, or, as the Christian would say, God in
Christ, does govern both the Church and the world, we should
presume that he would govern the world for the sake of the
Church — the lower for the sake of the higher; the material
for the sake of the spiritual; the temporal for the sake of the
eternal. And it was the design of this contemplated second
chapter to show, by an observation and induction of facts in
the history of nature and the history of mankind, that as the
earth was manifestly being made and prepared for man during
all the ages before he was placed upon it, and all the lower
forms of existence now minister to him, so all the ages of.
human history prior to the Christian era were preparatory
to the introduction of Christianity, and the progress of society
and the march of history since all tends to the gradual estabe
lishment and final consummation of this highest form of the
civilization of man and of the kingdom of God. But this
range of thought was soon found to be too wide to leave
room for the other contents of the volume, and too extended
also for me to hope that I should be able, with all my other
duties, to discuss it to my own satisfaction or that of my
readers. The chapter was therefore dropped out of the
plan, though hints and fragments bearing on it - raw mate.
rials for it will be found scattered through the volume.
.
- PREFACE
The other chapters of the work present Natural Theology
in its-historical aspect, and that only in quite a limited field.
And since they occupy by far the larger part of the whole,
on the principle of the ancient logicians, a potiori nomen fit,
these chapters have given its title to the volume, “ The
Theology of the Greek Poets." In this part also an addi-
tional-chapter was contemplated, viz. a chapter on The Theol-
ogy of Euripides. This would perhaps have rendered the
beyond the size desired ; and other engagements have inter-
fered with the writing of it within the time contemplated.
Moreover, we should have found in Euripides few, if any,
new doctrines, and few essentially different modes of state-
ment or illustration. He adds less to the theology of the
-Greek poets than to their rhetoric, ethics, and politics.
Indeed the theology of the Greeks, like their dramatic poetry,
degenerates in his hands. We should find in him more
philosophy but less faith, more of speculation, subtilty, and
refinement, but more; also, of scepticism in religion and
scoffing at the gods. The theology of the Greek poets culmi-
nates in Aeschylus, whose faith in the providence and gov-
ernment of the gods seems to have been strengthened or
inspired with enthusiasm by the triumphant issue of the
Persian wars, in which he was a heroic actor. With Soph-
ocles, as we have remarked in the concluding pages of the
chapter on that poet, theology is already becoming an aesthetic
PREFACE.
v
element, a beautiful idea, a harmonious song. Euripides
took no active part either in war, or politics, or the religion
of the state ; but, shunning society, sad of countenance, a
later of laughter, a hater also of women, and almost an
enemy of the gods, he breathes out scoffing and scorn in his
sentiments as freely and forcibly as he excites terror in his
plots.
Some of my readers will perhaps think that I discover in
Homer, Aeschylus, and Sophocles anticipations of Christian
truths of which they had no knowledge. But we ought to
see in these old poets more than they themselves were fully
conscious of, because we can see their life and times in the
light of subsequent history, their theology in the light of a
brighter, purer, and better religion; just as with the help of
modern glasses we can see the very same heavenly bodies
which the ancient star-gazers observed in new aspects and
relations, and even discover in the speculations of some
ancient philosophers nearer approximations than they were
aware of to the Copernican system of astronomy.
Others will perhaps objecty on the other hand, that I
assume too much for the Christian religion. To such I
have only to say, that Christianity is, at least, a fact; and
it is not to be ignored or set aside. It is the grand, sig-
nificant, culminating, dominant fact, hitherto, of the world's
history, and to assume that it does not hold that place in
the world by right were as unhistorical and unphilosophical
PREFACE.
as to ignore its existence. As scholars and philosophers,
not less than as Christians, we have a right to assume
just the contrary. And it is no part of the design of this
volume to apologize for Christianity, or even to defend
it, but only to illustrate its true place in literature and
8
history.
The chapters of this book have all appeared as Articles in
the Quarterlies, and are reprinted now at the request of many
pupils and other friends. Besides Professor Park, to whom
the work is dedicated, I cannot refrain from expressing my
especial obligations to Professor H. B. Smith, of the Union
Theological Seminary, in whose Theological Review two
of the Articles were first printed, for encouragement and
co-operation in giving them to the public in the form in
which they now appear. If, as my friends have encouraged
me to hope, this republication shall conduce to a more
enlightened view of the relations between knowledge and
religion, and so to the honor of Him who is the Author of
both, my object will have been accomplished.
CONTENTS.
I.
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH HEAD OVER ALL
THINGS.
Proved by the Analogies between Nature, Providence, and Grace:
1. Humility and Faith the Qualifications for entering each Kingdom.
2. All governed by General Laws. 8. These Laws self-executing.
4. Divine Sovereignty alike in all. 5. The same Necessity for Human
Activity. 6. The same Mixture of Good and Evil. 7. Good brought
out of Evil in each. 8. Order of Proceeding gradual and slow.
9. Progressive. 10. Earlier Stages typical and prophetic of later.
11. Preparatory. 12. Creative Power joined with Economy. 13. Dis-
regard of Distinctions of Time, Place, Rank, etc. 14. The same End
in all the Kingdoms. ............... 8-69
II.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
Statement of the Question. Sentiment of Antiquity. Of scholars in
Germany, England, and America. Argument of Wolf stated and
answered. Evidences of Alphabetic Writing in Homeric Age. Inter-
nal Evidences of one Authorship: 1. Iliad and Odyssey recognized
as the Standard of Unity by Ancient Critics. 2. High Rank of
the Poems. 8. Their acknowledged Geographical and Historical Au-
thority. 4. Treatment of the Poems by the Poets of the Epic Cycle.
5. Their Consistency conceded by Wolf and his followers. 6. Disagree-
ment of the Sceptics among themselves. 7. Network of References
between the several Books. 8. Repetition of Characteristic Lines and
Common Features. 9. The Perfection of the Plot of each Poem, and
the similarity of the two Plots. 10. The Power of delineating Char-
actor throughout both the Poems. .......... 70–187
vili
CONTENTS
ΙΙΙ.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
1. Their Number and Classification. 2. Their Relations to each other
8. Their Nature and Essence. 4. Attributes. 5. Providence and Gov.
ernment. 6. Manifestation to Men. 7. Worship. 8. Influence of the
Doctrine. 9. Its Relation to the Teaching of the Scriptures. . 133–174
IV.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN, ITS EXPIATION,
AND ITS PENALTY.
Use of the words åpaprdvelv, kty, etc. Sin is Folly and Misery. Charac-
ter of Mankind. Law. Duties to one's self, to others, and to God.
Punishment sure to follow Sin. Paying the Penalty or the Debt of
Sin. Expiation and Atonement. Futuro Punishment and the Future
Life. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175-201
v.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS,
The Greek Theatre. The Greek Pulpit. Aeschylus the Theological Poet.
Like Milton, and the Book of Job. 1. Sources of Religions Knowledge.
2. Attributes of the Gods. 3. Character and Condition of Men.
4. Providence and Government of God. 5. Sin, its Penalty and Expia-
tion. 6. A Future State of Rewards and Punishments. Two Extreme
Views. The true Middle Ground. .202–261
VI.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
The Person and History of the Poet. Sophocles emphatically the Dra-
matic Poet.. Analysis of the Dramas: 1. The Trachiniac: Character
of Hercules; Significance of the Myth. 2. Philoctetes: Ethical Con-
trast; Theological Doctrines. 3. Ajax: Suicide in the Greek Drama;
The Burial of the Dead. 4. Electra: Comparison of Aeschylus and
Sophocles; Poetical Justice; Vicarious Sacrifice. 5. Antigone: The
Higher Law; Love between the Sexes. 6. Oedipus Tyrannus : His-
tory; Plot; Moral. 7. Oedipus at Colonus: The Compensation of
Oedipus Tyrannus; Scene; Death of Oedipus compared with Martyr-
dom of Stephen and the Dying Christian. Conclusion: Defective
Ideas of Sin and Holiness as compared with the Bible. ..262–285
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH HEAD OVER
ALL THINGS.1
The Head of the church is likewise - head over all
things” — sovereign alike in the kingdom of nature, the
kingdom of providence, and the kingdom of grace. He
is “God over all ” — the God of nature, of providence,
and of grace. This is evidently a doctrine of revelation,
directly asserted in many passages, and clearly implied
in the whole tenor of Scripture.
It is my present design to show that reason teaches
the same doctrine -- that a rational and candid exami-
nation and comparison of the kingdoms of nature, pror-
idence, and grace will lead us to the conclusion that
they have the same head. My arguments will be drawn
from analogy, “ that powerful engine which," as has
been well said, " in the mind of a Newton discovered to
us the laws of all other worlds, and in that of Columbus
put us in full possession of our own”; and which, it
might have been added, in the mind of a Butler dis-
closed to us the indissoluble ties that pervade the econ-
omy of the natural and spiritual worlds. The analogies
which run through natury, providence, and grace are
such as, if not to establish the proposition, yet to create
a strong presumption, that they have the same bead,
1 Reprinted from the Biblical Repository, Vol. xii. No. 31, July 1838.
* Eph. i. 22; Rom. ix. 38.
10
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
and are in fact but different provinces of the same em-
pire, distinct departments of the same government.
The principle involved in this argument is so fully
elucidated by Butler in his " Analogy," as to be familiar
to the memory and convincing to the judgment of every
reader of that great work. He has left little for those
who come after him to do, but to gather new instances
of analogy, and thus furnish fresh illustrations of the
principle and additional confirmations of the argument.
This field of investigation, which Butler merely opened
to our view, is as boundless as the universe ; its treasures
and wonders will be exhausted only when the plan of
God's universal government is fully developed and per-
fectly understood. Into this field my readers are now
invited, with the promise that, if they discover nothing
new, they shall be conversant with themes that cannot
fail to be interesting to the admiring student of the
divine works.
1. The first analogy which I shall mention respects
the qualifications for entering into the kingdoms,
whether to explore or to enjoy them. In all three
alike, these qualifications are humility and faith.
Without a humble and teachable spirit we are unpre-
pared to investigate the question before us. On the
outermost walls and gates of each of the kingdoms
which we are about to examine and compare, on every
side, is inscribed the motto: “Let no man enter here,
save in the garb of humility.” Bacon was the first to
discover and apply this analogy. “The kingdom of
men founded in science," he says, “is like the king-
dom of heaven; no man can enter into it, except in the
character of a little child.” A child-like humility and
docility was the key by which he opened the vestibule
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
11
of nature, and in his “ Novum Organum” he committed
the same key into the hands of subsequent philosophers,
and commended it to them as alone capable of unlock-
ing every chamber and cloister in the spacious temple.
It need scarcely be remarked that the same key is neces-
sary and adequate to unlock the mysteries of providence
and of revelation.
The book of nature, the book of providence, and the
book of grace are severally dedicated to children. None
but those who have the simplicity and docility, the hum-
ble and inquiring disposition of little children are per-
mitted to read them. If others make the attempt, they
cannot understand, still less relish their contents.
Without a figure, they who would study the system
of nature, providence, or grace must come disposed and
prepared, not to determine how things should be, but to
inquire how things are ; not to dogmatize and dictate,
but to learn and obey ; not to reason a priori, but to
observe and infer. And they who would live happily
under either system must have a contented and sub-
missive spirit, and wear the apparel of humility and
modesty.
Faith in its essential elements sustains a relation to
each of the three kingdoms akin to that which humility
sustains. It is the passport for admission. Not a step
can be taken in the study of nature or the observation
of providence, any more than in the knowledge of rev-
elation, without a belief in the divine veracity, in other
words, a belief that God will fulfil his tacit promise by
inaintaining a uniformity in his laws and plans of opera-
tion. It confers the right of citizenship. No man can
be a useful or happy citizen in the kingdom of nature,
providence, or grace without combining with the intel-
12
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
lectual belief just mentioned a heartfelt confidence in the
power, wisdom, and goodness of the Supreme Ruler of
the universe.
Hence it is that true science and true religion mutu-
ally aid each other. Pure Christianity begets the con-
fiding modesty yet eager hope of the philosopher; and
sound philosophy fosters the humility and faith of the
Christian. The philosopher believes anything with
evidence, nothing without; and so does the Christian.
The Christian feels himself to be merely a humble
inquirer at the oracles of God, with no authority to
dictate, 110 power to control ; and so does the philoso-
pher. The proud and dogmatizing spirit of many of the
old Greek philosophers was not more unchristian than
it was un philosophical; accordingly their knowledge of
nature and providence was as crude as their notions of
religion. The same spirit as exhibited by the modern
schools of a priori reasoning is not more unphilosoph-
ical than it is unchristian ; accordingly while most
philosophers of the observing school have been believers
in revelation, scepticism has made sad havoc among
those of the school of reasoners a priori. The humble,
inquiring, and believing philosophy of Socrates made
him almost a Christian without a revelation. The proud,
dictating, and dogmatizing philosophy of the German
Neologist makes him an infidel in spite of revelation.
We know not whether the modesty of Newton partakes
more largely of true religion or of sound philosophy.
We know that Voltaire in his arrogance and conceit
was neither a philosopher nor a Christian. The humble
believer, --- he it is in every age that discovers the truths,
beholds the wonders, and enjoys the blessings of nature,
providence, and grace — he alone possesses the clue
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
13
that will conduct him through the labyrinth of the divine
works. To return to the figure with which this head
was introduced, humility and faith, not exactly in their
Christian forms, but in their essential elements, are the
passports for admission and the qualifications for citizen-
ship alike in the kingdom of nature, the kingdom of
providence, and the kingdom of grace. This analogy,
so interesting in itself, it was peculiarly appropriate and
important that we should notice at the commencement
of our inquiries. But we must not linger about the
walls ; let us enter the kingdoms in the spirit of humble
and believing inquirers, and we shall find secondly,
that
2. They are all governed by general laws. This is a
characteristic feature of the divine government. Human
governments multiply statutes, and strive, but strive in
vain, to enact an express law for every specific case.
Each day gives birth to an unforeseen emergency, and
calls for a new enactment. With the increase of popu-
lation and national prosperity the difficulty of legislation
increases till the uninterrupted exercise of legislative
wisdom is insufficient to provide for the ever-varying
interests and relations of the people.
Suppose now some lawgiver should arise who could
comprise every specific right and duty and interest and
relation in one simple, comprehensive law. How would
he throw into the shade the far-famed lawgivers of an.
tiquity and the boasting legislators of the present day.
But Lycurgus and Solon may rest in peace in their
glory, and our representatives in the legislative hall
need indulge no fear of being superseded in their func-
tions and prerogatives. Such a legistator never has
ärisen and nerer will appear.
14.
THH HEAD OF THE CHURCH
Yet it is by such laws that the kingdoms of nature,
providence, and grace are governed. Take for examples
the law of gravitation, the law of society, and the law
of love.
The first regulates the relations and movements of
every world and every atom in the material universe.
The falling pebble and the rising mote, the descending
rain and the ascending fog, the revolving planet, the
eccentric comet, and the central sun, are alike subject
to its sway.
The second regulates the relations and movements
of every individual in society. Not a human being but
feels the power of the social principle attracting him
towards other human beings. None are so high as to
be independent of the principle; none so low as to escape
its all pervading influence.
In like manner, the third regulates the relations and
movements of every Christian in the church. However
different their denominations and forms and ceremonies,
however diverse their rank or talent or dress or de-
portment may be, just so far as they are Christians all
their thoughts and feelings and words and actions are
controlled by one general law — the law of love. Thus
the material, the social, the spiritual universe each has
one general law, all-pervading, all-controlling, and all-
comprehensive.
And these laws bear a mutual analogy not only in
their universality, but in their nature. They are all
laws of attraction, of association, of union. There is a
bond of society and of holy brotherhood in the natural
as well as the moral world. It requires no very lively
imagination to see in the planet and its satellites the
emblem of a harmonious and happy family; in the solar
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS: -
system a larger circle of affectionate friends and neigh-
bors; in those groups of solar systems which revolve
perhaps about some common centre, so many well-reg-
ulated and well-governed nations, and in the universe
of worlds, all circling around the central throne of God,
a counterpart of what the human race would be, did
they but yield as perfect obedience to the law of their
social and moral nature as the heavenly bodies render
to the law of gravitation. What is holy love but a
principle of attraction, a law of gravitation in the spirit-
ual world, which unites individual Christians into par-
ticular churches, particular churches into the church
universal, the church on earth to the spirits of the just
made perfect in heaven, the whole general assembly and
church of the First-born, to the innumerable company
of the angels, and all holy beings fast to the throne of
the Most High.
Knit like the social stars in love,
Fair as the moon, and clear
As yonder sun enthroned above,
Christians through life appear.
And in the future life, when the repelling and disturb-
ing power of selfishness will be annihilated, how strong
will be the bond, how exquisite the harmony, how beau-
tiful and blissful the union and sympathy that pervades
the church triumphant — the holy universe. : :
3. The laws in each kingdom are self-executing.
This is another characteristic analogy which pervades
the various departments of the divine government.
In human governments it is usually quite as difficult
to execute the laws as to make them. The executive
does not always understand them, sometimes wilfully
misinterprets or fails to execute them; and even when
16
THE-HEAD::OF THE CHURCH
the agents of the government are well disposed and
efficient men, they are utterly incapable either of secur-
ing perfect obedience to the laws or of punishing every
instance of disobedience. The man who should devise
a code of laws that would execute themselves would
be an unrivalled - benefactor to his species, and would
acquire for himself an imperishable renown.
Such, now, are the laws of nature, providence, and
grace. They are in wrought into the very constitution,
stamped on the forehead, graven upon the heart, of the
subject; “I will put my law in their inward parts, and
write it upon their hearts." Such is the decree of
heaven promulgated in relation to the kingdom of grace,
and the realms of nature and providence are governed
according to the same decree. Every subject yields
obedience to the law from the necessity of his nature,
or if, in the exercise of free-agency, he disobeys, he can-
not help the self-infliction of the penalty. Every man
must obey the laws of his physical nature, or injure his
health and shorten or destroy his life. He must obey
the laws of his social nature, or torture himself while
he wrongs and provokes others. He must obey the
laws of his moral and spiritual being, or conscience con-
demns and passion rages and consumes the offender.f
Take the laws already specified, the law of gravita-
tion, the law of society, and the law of love. Obedience
to each secures order and harmony, safety and beauty.
Disobedience is immediately and inevitably followed by
disorder, confusion, and ruin. “ The wreck of matter
and the crush of worlds” which would attend a suspen-
sion of the law of attraction is but a type of the jarring
and collision of fiercer elements and the wreck and ruin
of dearer interests which are consequent upon a sus
· HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
17
pension of the social principle and the law of love, On
the other hand, the harmonious and beautiful order of
the material universe as it is, is an emblem fit of the
harmony, peace, and happiness that would pervade the
spiritual world on condition of perfect obedience to the
law of social reciprocity and universal benevolence.
6. There's not an orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion, like an angel sings
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims, –
Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
But while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.”
4. There is a striking analogy in the degree and man-
ner of sovereignty exercised in each of the kingdoms.
Does God make one creature an animalcule to float
in the minutest drop of spray, and another a great whale
to traverse the boundless ocean; one a reptile to crawl
in the dust, another a lion to roam the monarch of the
forest, and a third an eagle to soar above the clouds;
the zoöphyte scarcely to be distinguished from the sense.
less plant, and man to bear the image of his Maker and
exercise in part the sovereignty of the universal Lord
— without consulting at all the wishes of his creatures ?
In like manner, his providence has cast one man's
lot in the wilderness, a wandering savage, and another's
in the city, amid luxury and refinement; has exalted
one to sit king on a throne, and doomed another to toil
a slave in the mines; has taught one to range the uni-
verse, “ borne on thought's most rapid wing," and left
another to confine his views to his native valley and his
necessities to the supply of his bodily wants; and he has
done all this without consulting the preference of the
individuals concerned.
2*
18
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
That a similar sovereignty is exercised in the kingdom
of grace need scarcely be stated, for it forms a standing
objection to the administration of that realm. There,
too,.“ it is not of him that willeth nor of him that run-
neth, but of God that showeth mercy.” The angels sin,
and are all thrust down to the realms of darkness and
despair. Man rebels, and an atonement is provided for
his salvation. Yet only a part of mankind are destined
to obtain eternal life, while the remainder are left to
perish in their sins. Some are born to live and die
heathen, while a Christian birth-right and inheritance
fall to the lot of others.
There is no democracy, no levelling, 10 fear of dis-
tinctions, in any part of God's government; and it is
most unreasonable and inconsistent that they who have
always recognized the exercise of absolute sovereignty
in some parts of his government should be surprised to
discover the same sovereignty in other parts, and that
they who find no fault with the principle in nature and
providence should consider the same principle an iusu-
perable objection to the administration of divine grace.
There is an analogy also as to the manner in which,
or the principle on which, the sovereignty is exercised.
“ I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth,”
says Christ, “ that thou hast hid these things from the
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes;
even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight.”
In like manner Paul says, in relation to his own times :
“ Ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many
wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many
noble are called ; but God hath chosen the foolish things
of the world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen
the weak things of the world to confound the mighty,
IIEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
19
and base things of the world and things which are
despised liath he chosen, yea, and things which are not,
to bring to nought things which are.”
The great principle involved in both these passages is
that the heirs of earthly good are not usually chosen to
inherit spiritual blessings. And it is a principle, which
pervades every department of God's government, that
he seldom lavishes all his favors upon the same individ-
uals. The treasures of nature, of providence, and of
grace are all infinite, yet they are meted out with a
sparing and a discriminating hand.
How liberal has nature been in the provision of her
gifts, yet how parsimonious in the distribution of them.
The sum total is beyond calculation, the dividend is
usually small. Through the whole range of animals
how rarely are strength and agility combined, beauty
and melody blended, cunning and courage united.
The gaudy plumage of the peacock, and the sweet voice
of the nightingale never meet. The strength and feroc-
ity of the lion do not co-exist with the cunning of the
fox or the reason of man.
So Providence rarely allots learning to the king or
rank to the scholar. He takes health and peace away
from both, and makes them the portion of the obscure
and illiterate peasant. The healthy are not usually
the wealthy, nor the wealthy the wise. Solomon
stands almost alone as at once the greatest, the richest,
and the wisest man in his kingdom ; and he was in
many things only a 6 wise fool.” God has given to
tropical climes beauty and fertility, but he has also
given them the tempest and the tornado. He has
doomed the inhabitants of temperate climes and moun-
tainous regions to toil and fatigue, but he has rewarded
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
them by “health, peace, and competence.” In like
manner divine grace has made exhaustless provision
for our spiritual wants. Heaven was emptied of its
choicest treasure and brightest glory to procure gifts
for men ; yet these gifts are not lavished upon those
who have already full hands and surfeited hearts. The
gospel was committed, not to the wise at Athens, the
great at Rome, or the Rabbis at Jerusalem, but to the
fishermen of Galilee. It was preached unto the poor,
and embraced by the humble and unlearned. It is the
poor and hungry, the weeping and mourning, the
despised and persecuted, that inherit the Christian beat-
itudes. If you would find the abodes of virtue and piety,
you must go, not where
- the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
And every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile ; ”.
but to New England's rock-bound coast and Iceland's
frozen shores, the rugged mountains of Scotland, or
the inaccessible fastnesses of the High Alps.
5. There is the same necessity for active exertion in
each of the three kingdoms. Divine sovereignty and
human agency run parallel through nature, providence,
and grace. It is the law of the kingdom of grace :
“ Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling,
for it is God who worketh in you both to will and to do
of his good pleasure.” It is the law of providence :
“ God helps those that help themselves”; and the law
of nature : 4“ The sunshine and the plough cover the
valleys over with corn.'6 The blessing of the Lord,
it maketh rich," - naturally, intellectually, spiritually
rich, — but not without “ the hand of the diligent.”
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
He who would explore the mysteries of nature, prov-
idence, and grace must study hard; and he must labor
hard who would secure and enjoy their blessings. In
the sweat of his face man eats his bread. This life
gives us nothing without great labor, and strait is the
gate and narrow the way that leads to life everlasting.
We must agonize to enter the kingdoms of nature and
providence as well as the kingdom of heaven; all alike
suffer violence and the violent take them by force.
The divine agency may be more or less secret and
inscrutable, and we may not be able to discern the
connection between the means required of man and the
end to be accomplished, yet both are absolutely essen-
tial to the accomplishment of the end. We cannot
discover the manner of divine and human co-operation,
yet it is an obvious fact that without that co-operation
we can put forth no successful effort of body, mind, or
heart; transact no important business in the natural or
the spiritual world ; secure no valuable interest for
time or eternity. The Creator's efficiency and the
creature's responsibility, absolute dependence and entire
free-agency, run parallel throughout the natural and
the moral universe.
6. There is the same apparent mixture of good and
evil, order and confusion, light and darkuess, in cach of
the three kingdoms.
Look where you will in this world, you see a check-
ered scene. The eye of man never rests on a spot
of unmixed good or unmixed ill. Not a creature exists
within the whole range of our observation that does
1 Των γάρ όντων αγαθών και καλών ουδέν άνευ πόνου και επιμελείας Θεοί
Didbao lv åv Apúrois. — Xcnophon, Memorabilia, ii. 1. 28.
Nil sine magno
Vita lahore dedit mortalibus. – Horace, Sat. 9, Lib. i.
22
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
not drink a cup of mingled sweet and bitter. What
animal ever lived and died without experiencing both
pleasure and pain ? Man, does he receive good at the
hand of Providence, and does he not also receive evil ?
Nor is there a just man on earth that doeth good and
sinneth not. Natural good and natural evil, providen-
tial good and providential evil, spiritual good and spirit-
ual evil everywhere commingle. Like opposite polar-
ities, the existence of the one always indicates the
existence of the other.]
Are there “wars and fightings” in the spiritual
world ? So there are in society. So there are in the
animal kingdom. There is war everywhere on earth ;
there was war in heaven once. Natural, civil, and
ecclesiastical history are severally histories of alternate
war and peace, battles and truces, cruel oppressions
and cruel sufferings. “ The whole creation groaneth
and travaileth in pain together.”
Does slavery exist in human society ? So it does
among the lower animals. White ants, like white men,
capture their colored brethren, and doom them to invol-
untary, perpetual servitude. And slavery exists in
the spiritual world, too.3
X
KEY
i Plato in his Phaedo, speaking of pleasure and pain, says: “If any
person pursucs and receives the one, he is almost always under a necessity
of receiving the other, as if both of them depended from one summit.” —
Phaedo, iii.
2 See Natural History of Insects, Family Library, No. viii. chap. 7. “The
legionary ant is actually formed to be a slave-dealer, attacking the nests
of other species, stealing their young, rearing them, and thus by shifting
all the domestic labors of their republic on strangers, escaping from labor
themselves. This curious fact, first discovered by Huber, has been con-
firmed by Latreille, and is admitted by all naturalists. The slave is distin-
guished from his master by being of a dark ash color, so as to be entitled
to the name of negro (Formica fusca).”
3 Rom. vi. 16: “His servants (douloi, slaves) ye are, to whom ye obey."
John vii. 84; 1 Pet. v. 8; Eph. i. 2.
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
23
Are there earthquakes in nature ? There are also
moral and spiritual earthquakes --- convulsions which
shake society and the church to their foundations, and
threaten to destroy their very existence.
Some churches sometimes exhibit a most lovely spec-
tacle of order and harmony and peace. Such was the
state of the church at Jerusalem in its infancy, when
no man claimed or sought anything as his own, none
gloried in wealth, and none suffered from poverty ;
" and they continued daily with one accord in the tem-
ple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat
their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, prais-
ing God, and having favor with all the people.” But
it was not always so with the church at Jerusalem or
other apostolic churches. It was not long before Paul
was under the necessity of rebuking the church at Cor-
inth for such disorders as were not even named
among the Gentiles," and pronouncing the members
66 carnal” because of “envyings, strifes, and divisions
among them.” There was envy and jealousy, coward-
ice and treachery, in the chosen band of Christ's apostles.
And none need be told, for every eye hath seen and
every ear hath heard, how much there now is in the
church of that strife which is accompanied with “con-
fusion and every evil work."
In like manner there is here and there a regular
and cheerful family, an orderly and quiet community,
a peaceful and happy nation. But how often does
confusion succeed order in these very families and
communities and nations; or if not in the same,
man prospers and the bad only suffer ; but how often
times the good the tables are turned and the order
24
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
reversed; and oftener still 6 one event happeneth to
all.",
In like manner in the natural world there are deserts
amid tropical verdure, and oases amid deserts. There
is an Etna in fertile Sicily, and a Vesuvius threaten-
ing the rich fields and blooming villages and beautiful
bay of Naples. The tempest breaks in upon the sun-
shine, the earthquake succeeds the calm, and the blaz-
ing meteor, the streaming comet, and the appearing and
disappearing star seem to disturb the harmony of the
higher heavens. Throughout the divine economy
strange disorder and confusion are set over against
exquisite order and harmony.
It is a common complaint of deists that there is
obscurity in the Bible, and mystery in the whole scheme
of grace. But is there no obscurity in the deist's bible,
no mystery in the divine economy which the deist
acknowledges ? Had the economy of grace been all
light and brightness, it would have been too unlike the
constitution and course of nature to be referable to the
same author. Now, where in God's works is there not
obscurity and mystery ? I may find such a spot in
another world, but I never have in this. There is light
everywhere, but only enough to make the darkness
visible; and the more light there is, the more we are
sensible of the darkness; just as the larger the sphere
illumined by a lamp in the open air at midnight, the
more extensive is the concavity of darkness by which
it is enveloped. There never has been a day in this world
which did not answer in some respects to the descrip-
tion of the prophet: “It shall come to pass in that day
that the light shall not be clear nor dark -- not day nor
night.” There is light enough in nature, providence,
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
and grace, severally, to guide us in all matters of prac-
tical utility or necessity, but if you would explore
further, you enter the region of darkness. If you look
downwards, you can only penetrate the surface, only
examine a few scratches in the rind of the earth. If
you look around you, every mineral is a cabinet of
wonders, every plant a natural labyrinth, every animal
a microcosm of mysteries, and of every element it may
be said, as of the wind," thou canst not tell whence it
cometh, nor whither it goeth.” If you turn your eye
upwards, the stars twinkle very far, but you know not
how far, above your head, their dimensions and velocities
are very great, but how great in most cases none can
tell, while as to the specific purposes which they are
made to subserve you are left to mere conjecture.
And the deist's new testament, the book of provi-
dence, is there less mystery in that than in the New
Testament of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?
Then why all those murmurings and repinings of
which the mouths of worldlings and the books of infi-
dels are full ?
It is this mixture of good and evil, order and confu-
sion, light and darkness, which gives such a color of
plausibility to the most opposite views of our world.
Voltaire looks only at the dark side of the picture, and
uses the following language of complaint: “Who can
without horror consider the whole world as the empire
of destruction? It abounds with wonders; it abounds
also with victims. It is a vast field of carnage and con-
tagion. Every species is without pity pursued and
torn to pieces through the earth and air and water. ....
In man there is more wretchedness than in all the
other animals put together. He loves life, and yet he
26
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
knows that he must die. If he enjoys a transient good,
he suffers various evils, and is at last devoured by
worms. This knowledge is his fatal prerogative; all
other animals have it not. He spends the transient
moments of his existence in diffusing the miseries he
suffers, in cutting the throats of his fellow creatures for
pay, in cheating and being cheated, in robbing and
being robbed, in serving that he might command, and
in repenting of all he does. The bulk of mankind are
a crowd of wretches equally criminal and unfortunate,
and the globe contains rather carcasses than men. I
tremble on the review of this dreadful picture to find
that it contains a complaint against providence itself,
and I wish I had never been born."
Paley looks chiefly at the bright side of the picture,
and says: “ It is a happy world, after all. The air,
the earth, the water, teem with delighted existence. In
a spring noon or a summer's eve, on whichever side 1
turn my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon my
view. Swarms of new-born flies are trying their pin-
ions in the air. Their sportive motions, their wanton
mazes, their gratuitous activity, their continual change
of place without use or purpose, testify their joy and
the exultation which they feel in their newly-discovered
faculties. ..... If we look to what the waters produce,
shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rivers,
of lakes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy that
they know not what to do with themselves. ..... A child
is delighted with speaking without knowing anything
to say, and with walking without knowing where to go.
The young are happy in enjoying pleasure; the old are
happy when free from pain.” Halyburton, in the
midst of affliction and in full view of death, looks on the
1
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
same side and exclaims: “Oh, blessed be God that I
was born. I have a father and mother and ten brothers
and sisters in heaven, and I shall be the eleventh. Oh,
there is a telling in this providence, and I shall be tell-
ing it forever. If there be such a glory in his conduct
towards me now, what will it be to see the Lamb in
the midst of the throne! Blessed be God that ever I
was born."
Now, were not the present such a mixed state of
things as I have described, different views might be
taken of it, but not views diametrically opposite, yet
both apparently just and true. And God makes use of
this very mixture of good and evil to test and develop
and form character. There is such a preponderance
of good in nature as to furnish presumptive evidence
of the goodness of its author, but such a mixture of evil
as to give scope for the development of a heart of unbe-
lief and discontent. There is such a preponderance of
order and justice in the providential government of this
world as to create a presumption that God is just, but
such a mixture of disorder and injustice as to afford a
strong argument for a future state. There is such a
preponderance of light in the Bible as to satisfy a rea-
sonable mind of its truth and sacredness, but such a
mixture of darkness as to let the perverse heart wonder
and cavil and despise and perish. It would seem as
if God intended in this universal analogy to present us
everywhere with the most sensible and striking proof
that he reigns alike in the realms of nature, providence,
and grace, and that we are now living in a state of
trial, the issue of which will be a state of unmixed
good or unmixed ill in another world. But this leads
me to a seronth analogy :
ULI
28
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
7. In nature, providence, and grace alike, God brings
good out of evil, order out of confusion, light out of
darkness.
It has been already intimated that character is better
tested and developed in a mixed state. There can be
no trial of faith in a world of such effulgent light as
enforces belief; no trial of patience where there are
not ills to provoke impatience. And reason accords
with revelation in pronouncing the trial of these virtues
to be more precious than that of silver and gold.
None could avoid admiring a state of perfect order.
Voltaire, though he might have been of a discontented
spirit, would not have vented his feelings in such loud
and eloquent complaints had no disorders or evils met
his eye; and though Paley might have been benevolent
and cheerful, and Halyburton pious at heart, yet they
could have given comparatively little evidence of such
a character had they never seen anything but goodness
and happiness in the world around them. In such a
world the three men could never have seen themselves
so clearly, or exhibited so conspicuously to others the
radical difference in their characters.
But more than this is true. A mixture of good and
evil is essential to the formation of a highly excellent
or deeply depraved character by beings constituted as
we are. Our physical, intellectual, and moral powers
are all strengthened by severe trial and discipline, and
to this feature of our own constitution the structure of
the world around us is nicely adapted. It is in no
small degree a world of barrenness and thorns, a world
of obscurity and mystery, a world of temptation and
sin. We may and do perfect our natures by struggling
with, and overcoming, such obstacles. Physical strength
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
29
D
is derived, not from the easy chair in the parlor, but
from ploughing and hoeing the earth, swinging the axe,
or belaboring the anvil. Intellectual power and acu-
men are not received without effort in the nursery or
the lecture-room, but acquired by delving in the mines
and separating the gold from the ore. Moral and relig-
ious principle becomes firm and decided, not in the
select circle of virtue and piety, but in the wide world
of temptation and sin. Thus the natural and spiritual
worlds resemble, and conspire with each other in the
development and formation of character in the only
way adapted to our constitution and state of probation,
that is, by such a mixture of good and eril as shall leave
us at full liberty to choose a right or a wrong course,
and furnish us at once the means which are necessary
to aid our progress in the way of our choice, and the
obstacles, the removal of which by continued effort
is necessary to develop our powers and confirm our
habits.
In the same manner, and probably for the same end,
the sciences liave exerted alternately good and bad
influences on religious cliaracter. Like the three king-
doms of which they constitute the history and the phil-
osophy, they are partly light and partly darkness, and
they have alternately obscured and illustrated the evi-
dences of revealed religion. Now they have raised objec-
tions, and now they have removed those objections, and
furnished contrary and corroborating evidence. Such
has been the history of every science, theology not
excepted. Accordingly different men have found in the
same science, one nutriment for his faith, and another
support for luis scepticism ; one the means of perfecting
his excellences, another of deepening his depravity.
uus.
1
3*
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
Another way in which good is brought out of evil in
all the departments of the divine government, is by the
increased value which good acquires, or seems to acquire,
by contrast with evil. The fertile field never appears
so rich as when contrasted with the barren desert.
How does the hungry and thirsty, weary and wayworn
traveller through the interminable prairie or the bound-
less Sahara revel in the shades and fountains, and
fruits and flowers of the wooded island or the verdant
oasis. None but he who has suffered a long confine-
ment in the narrow streets and infected atmosphere of
a populous city knows the luxury of life in the fresli,
green country.
It is so with providential good. If you are ever
grateful for health, it is when you have visited a hospital
and had your heart wrung with sympathy for the afflicted
and distressed inmates; and if you ever enjoy the bless-
ings of health with a keen, a peculiar relish, it is when
you have yourself just risen from a bed of painful and
protracted sickness. You set the highest value upon
your knowledge when you view it in contrast with the
ignorance of others, or perhaps with your own former
ignorance. It is so with spiritual good. When the
Christian looks “ at the rock whence he was hewn, and
the hole of the pit whence he was digged," and sees
others still cleaving to the hardness of impenitence and
sinking in the mire of pollution, then it is that he sings
the loudest, most enrapturing song of praise to his God
and Redeemer. Heaven is the traveller's resting-place
and the pilgrim's home ; 'the warrior's peace and the
runner's goal; perpetual health to the diseased and
eternal life to the dying ; confirmed holiness to the sin-
ner and perfected bliss to the miserable ; and through
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
31
eternity the joys of the redeemed will be enhanced and
their notes of praise swelled immeasurably by contrast
with the sins and miseries of earth, and the deeper sin
and misery of the lost.1
But evil is also made, throughout the divine govern-
ment, the direct means of preventing a greater evil or
accomplishing a greater good. The volcano is often a
terrible scourge to its immediate vicinity, but it gives
vent to those internal fires which would otherwise shake
continents and lay waste nations. France in the last
century was a political and moral volcano. Anarchy
and infidelity broke out there in such frightful ravages
and convulsions as to put an effectual check upon the
risings and heavings of other nations, and to furnish a
safeguard to society and the church in every subsequent
age of the world. **And who can say that our world is
110t the vent of sin for the moral universe, designed to
exert a conservative influence over thousands of worlds
and myriads of intelligent beings through endless ages.2
The lightning and the tempest often ravage the earth
and destroy human life, but they also purify the atmos-
phere and prevent it from becoming fatal on a larger
scale. So the judgments of heaven reform individuals,
i The songs of the redeemed in the Revelation are chiefly songs of de-
liverance in view of the dreadful and final overthrow of the wicked. In
making such representatious, the ministers of the gospel and the sacred
writers are often charged with a fiendish delight in the miscries of others.
But it is nothing more than that joy and gratitude which we always and
necessarily feel in contrasting our enjoyments with our descrts, our present
happiness with our former misery, or our own weal with the woo of others.
? That the influence of the fall, together with the scheme of recovery, is
not confined to our world, is clear from such passages as the following:
Luke xv. 10; Col. i. 20; 1 Cor. iv. 9; Eph. iii. 20. That it should affect all
moral beings accords with all our ideas of moral influence, and to suppose
that it does, gives new grandeur to the scheme of moral government and
to the plan of redemption.
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
n1
purify churches, correct social habits, and improve na-
tional character.
The modern Italian derives subsistence and pleasure
from the surface of the lara that entombed Herculaneum
and Pompeii ; Europe owed the revival of letters not a
little to the destruction of Constantinople; and the
Gentile world were indebted to the persecution of the
church at Jerusalem for the general propagation of the
gospel. Indeed if there is any truth in natural, politi-
cal, and ecclesiastical history, convulsions have been a
principal ineans of fertilizing and beautifying the surface
of the earth ; revolutions, of reforming and advancing
society; and persecutions, of purifying and enlarging the
church. Who is not struck with the peculiar wisdom
that originated this plan of operation, and the symmetry
that extended it to every department of the divine
government ?
Slavery, that scourge of Africa and curse and disgrace
of the nations that have sanctioned it, has it done no
good ? To say nothing of the conversion and salvation
of thousands that would otherwise have lived and died
in heathenism, what else has produced, or could have
produced, that unparalleled sympathy and excitement
in behalf of Africa which has led so many white mis-
sionaries to breathe her pestilential airs and lay their
bones on her burning sands; and what else has sent
back so many of her own sons, civilized, enlightened,
and redeemed, to build up nations on her coasts and
spread the blessings of knowledge, society, and religion
through the countless heathen tribes of the interior ?
And who can tell to what new heights of heroic and
philanthropic virtue the friends of liberty and humanity
may yet rise in the struggle to remope this curse, and
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
33
what new elements of Christian gentleness, patience,
and faith this despised race may yet infuse into the
national character and life.
And the evil one himself, has he not been the means
of doing good ? He too has occasioned a sympathy in
behalf of his wretched victims through all the heavenly
hosts, and “ there is joy in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons
that need no repentance.” When he drove on his slaves
to crucify the Son of God, he helped to execute a scheme
which the angels desire to look into, and which all holy
beings will study and contemplate with ineffable wonder,
love, and joy forever and ever.
The animal kingdom, which is sometimes represented
as a mere scene of carnage and cruelty, is a scheme of
comprehensive wisdom and goodness; and the existence
of carnivorous and venomous animals, so far from a
blemish, is the wisest and best and most wonderful part
of the scheme. Venomous animals rarely attack other
species except for purposes of defence or subsistence.
Now what more effectual means of defence against the
larger animals could be devised than their venomous
bite or sting; and what other way of destroying their
smaller prey would be so sudden, so casy, and attended
with so little pain ?
The destruction of many animals is absolutely neces-
sary to prevent such a multiplication of them as would
exhaust vegetation, and subject not only the whole
animal kingdom, but man himself, to à lingering, tor-
turing death by famine. Now, how profound, bow
superhuman, is the wisdom which makes this necessary
destruction the means of subsistence and happiness to
another class of animals that execute it in a manner far
2
i
34
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
less painful to the victims than the slow tortures of
famine, disease, or old age. But for the comforts of
society, the pleasures of intellect, and the hopes and
fears of immortality, it would be better for man to die
in the same way. As it is his reason which exempts
him from the scheme of animal destruction, so it is his
rational and immortal nature only which renders it
desirable that he should be exempted. Thus, without
any loss on the whole, but rather the reverse, to the her-
bivorous tribes, the happiness of the carnivorous species
is clear gain to the sum total of animal enjoyment.1
Now it is a doctrine of Christian theology that the
sum total of moral as of natural good is enhanced by
the existence of evil. We cannot see so clearly how
this result is effected in the moral as in the natural
world, hence there is some dispute as to the manner;
but as to the fact there can be no doubt.2 The Bible
implies it,3 and we see enough of the process to satisfy
a reasonable mind. The sins and temptations of a
wicked world give occasion for the exercise of some
virtues which could not otherwise exist, and discipline
other virtues to a degree of strength and perfection which
they could not otherwise attain. Earth, with all its bar-
renness and thorns and briars, is the very soil for faith
and patience and charity and heroism and martyrdom to
bloom in and bear their precious harvest of golden fruit.
Without the existence of evil there could not be the
luxury, to us unequalled, of contemplating our deliver-
For authority and more extended discussion on this subject, the reader
may refer to Paley's Natural Thcology, chap. 26, and Buckland's Bridge-
water Treatise, chap. 13.
2 Thicologians of all partics agree that evil is in some way, or for some
reason, incidental to the best system.
3 Rom. iii. 5–7; v. 20; xi. 11, 12, 32, 33, ctc.
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
ance and praising our deliverer. The beauties of the
Redeemer's character and the glories of redemption
could have been exhibited only in a theatre of sin and
misery. Other worlds may owe their continued alle-
giance to our apostasy, their further progress in knowl-
edge and holiness to our folly and guilt; and the holy
universe will understand the nature, perceive the beauty,
and enjoy the pleasures of holiness far more than if sin
and misery had never existed.
As in the natural world destruction and pain afford
the means of subsistence and pleasure, so in the spiritual
world sin and misery furnish nutriment to holiness and
happiness; and as the happiness of carnivorous animals
is clear gain without any loss to the herbivorous, so
without doing the wicked any wrong the Head of the
church will by their means greatly enhance the holiness
and happiness of his people, while he makes a matchless
display of his own wisdom and goodness. Thus he
causes the wrath of the elements and animals and men
and devils to praise him, and to work together for the
good of the universe ; and we only need clearer eyes,
larger minds, and better hearts to see every apparent
evil in every department of the divine government pro-
ducing real good.
"All nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance, direction which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood ;
All partial evil, universal good.”
8. The order of proceeding in nature, providence, and
grace alike is gradual. The processes are never hur-
ried, often exceedingly slow. The growth of the plant,
the animal, the man, is by almost imperceptible grada-
tions. Human character and condition are formed and
36
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
D
decided by steps equally gradual. And the same is
true of the Christian character and state.
Look at the same law of order on a larger scale.
The work of creation occupied six natural days accord-
ing to the common understanding of the sacred record.
According to the interpretation of many philologists
and the records of geology many thousand years were
occupied in preparing the earth to be a suitable habita-
tion for man. How slow is the process of civilization,
and the progress of society. All Europe was overrun
with savage tribes from its first peopling till the su-
premacy of the Roman empire, and the larger part of
it remained in a savage state till after the Reformation.
It was only within a century that government began
to be administered for the good of the people ; and,
according to the analogy of past history, many and
many a year must roll away before this will become
the end of all government.
We need not be surprised, then, at the slow progress
of revelation and spiritual renovation. The human race
lived two thousand years without any written revelation,
and two thousand years more had elapsed before the
canon of Scripture was completed. A third period of
two thousand years has almost passed away, and not one
fourth of the human race bear so much as the Christian
name. Not one fourth of these have the Bible in their
own tongue and are able to read it; and of these again,
not one fourth probably are real and spiritual Chris-
tians. Yet the process has been ever going on, and is
destined to go on till the world is converted.
There is the increasing twilight, the gradual dawn,
and the slowly advancing day alike in nature, provi-
dence, and grace. Everywhere, in everything in our
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
37
world, infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, succeed each
other by almost imperceptible stages.
9. This law of order is not only gradual but progres-
sive. There is a gradual process of improvement or
advancement alike in nature, providence, and grace:
6 First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the
ear.” ** The path of the just is as the shining light,
that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.4.
These similes rest on the analogy between the natural
and the spiritual worlds of which I am speaking; and
exbibit the order of everything which we sce under the
divine government. If " order is heaven's first law,"
progression is its second, and no less universal than the
first. Particular illustrations without number will be
suggested from the similes of the Bible, from the para-
bles of our Lord, and from every reader's own observa-
tions and reflections. We will confine our attention to
the following of a more general nature.
According to the first chapter of Genesis the order of
creation was as follows: first inorganic matter, then
successively grass, the herb yielding seed, the fruit tree
yielding fruit, reptiles, the monsters of the deep, the
fowls of the air, the beasts of the field, the cattle after
their kind, and man in the image of God. There is
obviously a constant progress from good to better, from
less perfect to more perfect forms of organization and
modes and ranks of existence. Now whether geology
presents us with a record of this same creation, as some
maintain, or, as others hold, carries us back to an earlier
series of creative acts succeeding each other at long
intervals, all agree that it exhibits the same general law
of progression from the rudest mineral up, through suc-
cessive stages, to the most perfect animal — from mere
4
38
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
chrystalization to vegetation, from improving vegetation
to dawning sensation, from advancing sensation to com-
mencing sagacity or intelligence, and from rising intel-
ligence to reason and moral sense, where the progres-
sion ceases to be transferred from one species to another,
but will go on in the same species through the countless
stages of improvement to which man is destined during
an endless existence.2
It cannot be denied that there has been a progression
1“Geology shows us that organic beings became more and more perfect
from the commencement of life on the earth to the time of man's appear-
ance." -- M. Rozet.
See also Buckland, chap. 12. Says Kirby (Bridgewater Treatise, chap. 4):
“The first plants and the first animals are scarcely more than animated
molecules and appear analogues of each other; and those above them in
each kingdom represent jointed fibrils. It is singular and worthy of notice
that the Creator after the creation of inanimate matter probably first im-
parted the living principle to bodies of the same form with the molecules
and fibrils, into which that matter is resolvable, thus uniting by common
characters things essentially distinct, and preserving unbroken that won-
derful chain which links together all created things.”
["So completely is nature imbued with this plan, — with the thought of
successive gradations — that even in those walls built up by corals in the
depths of the sea, we read the mind of the Creator, as well as in those
higher developments which characterize the structure of animals and assign
to each class its respective standing, and also in the order in which they
have been introduced upon earth from the earliest periods to the present
time.” “In the lowest fossiliferous strata we find fishes, subsequently we
find reptiles, then birds, then mammals, and lastly man. So here in the
order of succession we have a coincidence with their gradation according
to structure." - Agassiz, Graham Lectures, pp. 71, 107.)
? ["Coming to the noble form of man, we find the brain so organized that
the anterior portion covers and protects all the rest so completely that
nothing is seen outside, and the brain stands vertically poised on the sum-
mit of the backbone. Beyond this there is no further progress, showing
that man has reached the highest development of the plan upon which his
structure was laid. The brain of man occupies not merely the foremost
but the uppermost position. It is not merely forward but upward : forward
in the direction of all progress in intellectual culture; upward in the direc-
tion of all moral excellence; forward and upward towards that mind ac-
cording to whose image man is made." - Agassiz, Gralam Lectures, pp.
109, 110.)
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
in the providential development of nature's resources
to the knowledge and use of man. Look back upon
the history of our own country and you see a condensed
but faithful epitome of the world's history in this respect.
Little more than two centuries ago the sarage roamed
undisturbed over the whole continent, belield with
superstitious amazement or stupid indifference all the
pangs of want and starvation amid all the exuberance
of fertile prairies and teeming forests, mighty rivers and
grassy meadows, tropical suns and fertilizing showers.
But the forest has been gradually felled, and the
prairie subdued ; boundless fields of grain and fruit
drink in the rain and the sunshine; the produce of
every clime is borne on the mighty rivers, wafted by
the wind that whistled idly along their channels, or pro-
pelled by steam that has been elicited from their own
waters by fuel which once stood embowering them above,
or lay imbedded beneath and by their side, and where
thousands starved, millions now live in plenty and lux-
ury, and hundreds of millions might live upon the new
and vast resources which are in a process of daily de-
velopment. Throughout the world society on the whole
has been on the advance, government has been gradually
improved in theory and in practice, the arts and sciences
have multiplied and advanced, and the means of sub-
sistence and happiness have greatly increased. There
seems to be in society a capacity and a tendency to
progress unto perfection, which it is not unreasonable
to suppose it may attain in another and a better world.
Religion has also been progressive. Universal idol-
atry was followed successively by the patriarchal, the
Mosaic, and the Christian dispensations, each of which
1
40
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
was a great advance upon the era that preceded. The
true religion was confined at first to a single family, then
to a single nation. Under the last dispensation it is en-
joined as a sacred duty to propagate it among all man-
kind, and the church feels more and more every year
her obligation and ability to set up in all the earth that
Divine revelation was at first only a faint streak of
light glimmering in the East; like the natural sun it
rose gradually into view till it became full orbed ; it
has ever since been rising higher and higher above the
obscurity of the horizon, and breaking more and more
through the mists and clouds of earth; in its meridian
splendor it will enlighten every land; and it will never
decline from the zenith, but fade away in the brighter
glories of the Lord God and the Lamb in their upper
kingdom. Such then is the law of God's universal
government:
“ From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression.”
There have been exceptions to the law of progression
in religion. There were sad relapses among the Jews,
and Christianity has had its dark ages. But even here
the analogy holds. There have been exceptions to the
progress of society. Society has had its relapses and its
dark ages.
And there were exceptions to the law of progression
in the successive creative acts which geology discloses.1
1 Buckland, Chap. 12. p. 115 (London, 1886). "[It is a geological fact,
that it is fish of the higher order that appear first on the stage, and that
they are found to occupy cxactly the same level during the vast period
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
There was a general advance from lower to higher grades
of existence. But occasionally more perfect organiza-
tions, both animal and vegetable, are found to prevail
with, or even before, the less perfect. As if the Creator,
while he usually proceeds according to established rules,
intended to show, by occasionally departing from them,
that he is not necessitated to abide by those rules.
It is worthy of a passing remark here, that in the
development of nature, providence, and grace to the
view and for the benefit of man, there is usually a
progress or a relapse together. Witness the dark ages
when the three kingdoms seemed to be all shrouded in
darkness — when the light of natural science, of social
knowledge and virtue, and of spiritual wisdom seemed
at once to have been extinguished. Look again at the
Reformation when the eclipse passed off simultaneously
from nature, providence, and grace, and they all shone
out with unprecedented lustre. In our own day, it
were difficult to say whether discoveries in nature, im-
provements in society, or advances in the propagation
and application of Christianity are progressing with the
most rapid strides.
10. The types and prophecies of revelation are not
without analogy in nature and providence. That is,
there is something in the constitution and course of
nature so analogous to the typical and prophetic parts
of the Bible as to remove all a priori objections against
them, and even create a presumption in their favor, yet
not so nearly resembling them as to invalidate their
represented by five succeeding formations. There is no progression.”
Hugh Miller, Old Red Sandstone, Chap. iii. This fact, and others of a
similar nature, which are stated with great frequency in the works of Diller
and Agassiz, cffectually dispose of the Development Theory, which is a
perversion of the doctrine of gradation.]
42
THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
TTID
P
special sacredness — their peculiar claims to an im-
mediate divine origin.
As the former dispensation in religion was typical of
the latter, so in the earlier stages of nature there seems
to be something like types of the later stages. The
organs of the earlier species of animals were compara-
tively rude and imperfect, yet they were similar organs
to those of the later species, and performed similar offices
- offices as similar as their situation and circumstances
would allow. The common mind would not condeinn
it as a misnomer to call the forms and features of the
monkey types of human forms and features. The nat-
uralist finds such types 1 far down the scale, and far
back in the history of animal life. It was this corres-
pondence of parts throughout the animal kingdom
which led Lamarck to broach the theory that all animals,
including man, are but the same species, having the
same essential organs but developing them more fully
and perfectly as time advances and circumstances be-
come more favorable. Though clearly false, the theory
was founded on indubitable and interesting facts. It
is now settled2 that the animal species are radically and
incommunicably distinct; and the resemblances in gen-
1 Type is the very word which naturalists have chosen to express the
analogy between the earlier and quider organizations on the one hand, and
the later and more perfect organizations on the otber. [“ The plan of man's
organization begins with the fish, and we can trace it through the suc-
cessive geological formations...... Is it then too much to say, that when
the first vertebrate was called into existence in the shape of a fish, it was
part of the plan of that framework into which its life was moulded, that
it should end with man, the last and highest in the order of succession.”
- Agassiz, Graham Lectures, pp. 107, 138.]
? [So it was considered by naturalists generally when this was written.
There has since been a revival of Lamarck's theory in a new form, or
rather under a variety of forms, but only to meet a more triumphant refu-
tation from such men as Agassiz. See references in the next note.)
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
43
eral organization between the earlier and ruder animals
and the later and more perfect species result not from
natural propagation and favoring circumstances,1 but
from creative power exerted at successive periods and
according to such a law as to constitute the first ages,
- shadows of better things to come.”
Moreover as the rites and institutions of the former
dispensation were not less wisely adapted to the charac-
ter of the Israelites and the then state of the world than
those of the latter dispensation are to the present char-
acter and condition of mankind; so the organization of
the earlier animals was no less wisely adapted to the
then state of the earth's surface than the organization
of the later animals is to its present state. Buckland
discovers in the entombed remains of the old world as
clear and beautiful marks of design and adaptation as
Paley finds in the living world. Each religious dispen-
sation was perfect in its time; each grade of animal
organization perfect in its place.
In the developments of nature and providence to the
eye of man, the past often contains something typical
and almost prophetic of the present, and the present of
the future. « Coming events cast their shadows before,”
and seers of nature and providence are raised up, who,
though they “know not precisely what, or what manner
of time is significd," are yet enabled to discern and pre-
dict in some measure what is to come. Such seers
were Burke and Adams, who foretold the issue of the
French and American revolutions; and Newton and
Leibnitz, who had a glimpse, and threw out hints, of
See this demonstrated in Graham Lectures, Lect. iv. and v.
? The allusion is to a youthful letter of the elder Adams, which paints
the revolution and its issue with much truth and beauty.
44
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many subsequent discoveries in natural science. Seneca
foretold the discovery of a new world, and Socrates
and Plato anticipated the advent of a divine teacher,
advising to forego the usual sacrifices till such a teacher
should come, and “ representing with prophetic sagacity
and precision that he must be poor and void of all qual-
ifications but those of virtue alone, tliat a wicked world
would not hear his instructions and reproofs, and there-
fore in three or four years after he began to preach, he
would be persecuted, imprisoned, scourged, and at last
put to death.”2 It cannot be denied that great men
have occasionally been endowed with a peculiar giſt of
descrying future events and forewarning their less
gifted contemporaries of what they may hope or fear.
Why, then, should prophetic inspiration in the manner
and degree in which it is claimed by some of the sacred
writers, be thought a thing so incredible, a priori, that
no amount of evidence can entitle it to credence? The
same God who endowed Newton and Leibnitz, Adams
and Burke, Seneca, Socrates, and Plato, with sagacity
and foresight so much above the mass of their contem-
poraries, may have given, nay, has given, to Isaiah and
Jeremiah, Daniel and John, a prophetic vision so much
surpassing the ken of these gifted minds that every can-
did reader of their predictions must acknowledge them
to be divine.3
11
* Venicnt annis saecula seris,
Quibus Oceanus vincula rerum
Laxct, ct ingens pateat tellus,
Tethysquc novos detegat orbes.
Senecae Medea, 374-377.
2 Sec Harris's Great Tcaclier, p. 50, where it is suggested, that Socrates
and Plato enjoyed a degree of inspiration.
$ I am aware that this analogy has been more frequently used (and there-
fore at first view may rather appear) as an infidel objection than as a con-
HEAD OVER ALL THINGSTO
U10 UN
.
- 11. In the universal law of progression of which I
have spoken, the earlier stages are preparatory to the
later stages, and the latter reap most of the advantages
of the former, together with inany peculiar to themselves.
This is obviously true in the kingdom of grace. The
patriarchal dispensation was introductory to the Mosaic,
and the Mosaic preparatory to the Cliristian ; while the
Christian, with all the benefits of foriner dispensations,
combines many advantages peculiar to itself. The
Israelites lived not for themselves, but to be examples
unto 18; and their history was written " for our admo-
nition, on whom the ends of the world are come.” We
have the accumulated wisdom and experience of the
church in all past ages to guide us in the management
of ecclesiastical affairs and in the discharge of our relig-
ious duties.
firmative argument to inspiration. One reason for presenting it here, is &
desire to exhibit it in a different aspect and relation. It should be remem-
bered that an analogy is “an agreementor likeness between things in some
circumstances or cffccts when the things are otherwise entirely different."
(Webster). Prophetic sagacity and prophctic inspiration "agree” in so
far that God hestows pcculiar gifts of foresight upon the possessors of
· both, yet differ so much in the manifestation and measure of the gifts,
that they can be confounded only by a very stupid mind or a very corrupt
heart. They come under one very broad general principle of the divine
administration, so that the one serves to illustrate and confirm the other,
but the mode of the divine agency is so different in the two cases as not to
invalidate the peculiar claim and the sacred authority of inspiration.
It bas been the belief of every nation, in every age, that their great men
were inspired, and pagan nations have entertained views of the nature and
manner of inspiration strikingly analogous to those which the Bible au-
thorizes. Infidels bave urged this fact as a proof that there is no such
thing as real inspiration. But it proves the contrary, just as the shadow
proves the existence of the substance, and the counterfeit shows the exist-
euce and the value of the genuine. It shows that God has laid a founda-
tion for inspiration in the constitution of the human mind upon which we
should expect him to set up a corresponding superstructure. If he in-
tended to impart inspiration, it would be wise to implant in man a prepara-
tion and an expectation to receive it; and having implanted such an expec:
tation, it were strange indeed if he should never mcet it.
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
So it is in society. The progress of society is owing
in no small degree to the wisdom derived directly or
indirectly from past ages. The Grecian and Roman
republics were constituted and administered not for
themselves only, but for the instruction and benefit of
all subsequent republics. All the despotisms and lin-
ited governments of the Old World have risen or fallen,
maintained their institutions or modified their policy,
for the benefit of the New, whither light from every
quarter and every age has converged. All that have
lived before us have lived for our admonition, ou
whom the ends of the social and political world are
come.
· It is so in nature also. Ever since man was placed on
the earth its surface has been undergoing changes, all
preparatory to the present state of things, all conducive
to the support and comfort of its present increased and
increasing population. Our alluvial meadows and
extending deltas, our beds of peat and bog iron, our
collections of vegetable mould, and indeed all our
existing soils are the gradually accumulated resources
of successive generations. And if the conclusions of
geology are not to be set aside, a similar process of prep-
aration and accumulation for the benefit of man was
going on for ages previous to his existence. The whole
of the eartlı’s surface 1 is a spacious storehouse of relics
and treasures which have been collecting in all past
times to supply and enrich mankind in time of need,
just as society and the church at the present time are
built upon the ruins of other churches and societies,
1“No small part of the present surface of the earth is derived from the
remains of animals, that constituted the population of ancient seas." -
Buckland.
· HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
· 47
V
instructed by their experience, and enriched by their
remains. We draw our fuel and our food, our comforts
and our delicacies, from the remains of vegetable and
animal life 1 in former ages; and as the matter which
constitutes the bodies of the present generation once
entered into the constitution of other bodies, so the
opinions and feelings of our minds are the opinions and
feelings of other minds modified by constitutional idio-
syncrasies, improved by experience, and enlarged by
the accumulations of time and the favor of circumstances.
It seems to be a law of the natural and the moral world
that man shall grow only by living upon the relics of
his predecessors; rise only by standing upon the tombs
of his fathers; extend his vision only by looking from
the monuments of the mighty dead. Dissolution is
going on everywhere in our world, but it is ererywhere
preparatory to another and a better organization. One
race of animals is destroyed, and a more perfect race
succeeds them. One generation of men goeth, and a
a wiser and better generation cometh in their stead.
Society and the church are perpetuated and improved
by the very processes of disruption which seem to
threaten their annihilation. Death bears a most impor-
tant and wonderful part in the whole economy of vege-
table, animal, social, and spiritual life. The plant
decays in the autumn and lies down in a wintry grave,
only to revive in all the freshness and gaiety of spring.
The insect becomes its own winding-sheet, and then
unconscious awaits a resurrection to a higher order of
existence. The nation declines and falls, to rise again
1“At the sight of a spectacle so imposing, so terrible, as that of the
wreck of animal life, forming almost the entire soil on which we tread, it
is difficult to restrain the imagination from hazarding some conjectures as
to the causes by which such grent effects have been produced.” — Cuvier.
48
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
1
under a better form and happier auspices, and to attain
to a higher degree of social perfection. The human
body " is sown in corruption, to be raised in incorrup-
tion; it is sown in dishonor to be raised in glory." i
The soul, like the butterfly (which in the Greek lan-
guage -- the language alike of nature, of philosophy,
and of revelation - has the same name 2), drops its
clayey chrysalis to spread its pinions in a purer atmos-
phere, and bask in the brighter sunshine of a celestial
day. The natural world, like tbe fabled phenix, its
allegorical representative, will one day rise from its
own ashes, and wear a new drapery of beauty and glory.3
And the church, the city of the living God on earth,
will be dissolved only to be built again into the New
Jerusalem, the capital city of the new beavens and new
earthi, whose walls will be precious stones, its gates
pearls, its streets pure gold, and the Lord God and the
Lamb the temple and the light thereof.
· 12. After our Saviour had manifested his creative
power by feeding a great multitude with a few loaves
and fishes, he showed his economical wisdom by saying,
“Gather up the fragments which remain, that nothing
be lost.” The same blending of these apparently in-
congruous attributes is conspicuous in all the works of
God. Nothing can transcend his power when he sees
fit to exert it, and nothing can exceed his economy
when the exercise of power is unnecessary. He creates
1 In vicw of the analogies to the resurrection, with which nature is so
replete, no wonder that Clement, the apostolic father, exclaimed: “Con-
sider, my beloved, how the Lord shows us our future resurrection perpetu-
ally."
? Yuxń, the name at once of the soul and of the butterfly, its imaye.
32 Pet. iii. 12, 13. This doctrine of revelation is confirmed by natural
scicnce; hy the philosophy of cause and effect no less than the philosophy
of analogy.
· HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
49
nothing to be lost, provides nothing to be wasted, gives
nothing that need not be given. He might have created
fertile soils at once, and provided fuel as it was needed ;
but he chose by a natural and gradual process to collect
them when they were not wanted for immediate use,
and preserve them till they were. He might have made
a plentiful deposit of useful minerals and precious ores
on every farm; but he has chosen to scatter them in
veins or beds beneath the surface of the earth, and em-
ploy our skill and energy to discover and procure them.
He might have revealed the natural history of the pri-
meval earth to us in his word; but he chose not to
reveal what we might better discover for ourselves, and
he has left us to gather that history from the organic
remains of primitive ages.
In his providence God might have led every age and
country to make its owu inventions and discoveries
and improvements, but he has chosen the more econom-
ical course of transmitting them from one age and
country to another. And he has suffered nothing truly
valuable 1 to be lost. We often think and regret that
important knowledge has perished forever, but in process
of time it proves to have been unimportant, or it is
revived just at the time when it is most needed, and in
just such a way as to render it most curious, interesting,
and valuable.?
In like manner God might have communicated a
1 Perhaps I should have said nothing essential - nothing whose place
cannot be otherwise supplied.
? [Witness the exhuming of the Nineveh slabs in these days of philolog-
ical rescarch, when they can be deciphered, and the deciphering of the
Eyypiian and Assyrian monuments in these days of unbelief, when their
testimony to the truth of the Scriptures is needed to antidote the scepticism
of the age.]
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distinct revelation to every people of every generation.
But what it was man's power and privilege to do he has
left him to do, and made it his duty to collect the scat-
tered portions of revealed truth, promulgate them to
all nations, and transmit them to the end of the world.
He has communicated barely wliat it was needful for
man to know, and what he could not learn from reason
and experience; and of all that has been revealed there
is no evidence that anything has been lost.
Thus in all his works God does all that is necessary,
however much it may cost, and nothing that is super-
fluous, however easy it might be -- gives nothing that
is not valuable, and suffers nothing that is truly valuable
to be irrecoverably lost.
13. Another analogy which forces itself upon our
attention as pervading the divine works, is an obrious
disregard of human distinctions, that is, such distinc-
tions of time, space, rank, etc. as men are wont to deem
important.
We who are of yesterday and die to-morrow, and are
subject to incessant changes and vicissitudes from the
day of our birth to the day of our death, attach great
importance to the distinction of time. But in the sight
of him who is the same yesterday to-day and forever,
“ a thousand years are as one day, and one day as a
thousand years.” Accordingly men are hurried and
fretful in their proceedings, impatient of delay, and ever
hastening to the issue. But the divine plan of opera-
tions is calm, gradual, and deliberate; and though in
some of its stages it may appear imperfect or uwise,
it will ultimately prove to have originated and advanced
in perfect wisdom.
The divine, untaught in science, looks upon the geo-
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
151
logical theory of the earth’s existence for indefinitely
long periods before the creation of man, and exclaims :
“ How absurd! What! the earth tens of thousands of
years in a fluid state -- a state of ignition even, devoid
of living beings, or inhabited only by salamanders! And
hundreds of thousands of years more entirely or chiefly
covered with water, devoted to the formation of lime-
stone and coral beds, and inhabited only by polypes and
lizards and alligators, et id omne genus. For ages
without any inhabitants, and for myriads of ages in-
habited only by irrational and hateful animals without
any intelligent lord.. Who can believe that the Creator
was guilty of such weakness and folly ! 1”.
On the other hand, the infidel geologist looks upon
the theological doctrine of the slowly successive periods
U
of redemption with like incredulity and amazement.
6 What!” he exclaims, “ hundreds of generations of
immortal beings suffered to live and die in ignorance
of God and a future state, and that God revealed to
them for the first time in flaming fire, and that future
state disclosed only to their agonized sensibilities, and
their hopeless, endless despair! The only possible
scheme of human salvation delayed in its execution for
four thousand years, and for two thousand years longer
promulgated only to a small minority of the human
family! Who dare utter or believe such a libel ou the
wisdom and goodness of God?”
Now both these objections spring from ignorance and
1 Is it any less difficult to believe that tbe universe was a blank for eternal
ages before a single creature existed? Yet so it must bave been, unless
creatures have existed from eternity. Capt. Symmes argued that the earth
is hollow, hecause it was absurd to suppose God would occupy so much
space with merc inert matter
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
narrow views. The divine untaught in science, and the
geologist ignorant of revelation, both see that in some
of his works God disregards those distinctions of time
to which we attach so much importance, while they
both deny that he acts on the same principle in his other
works. But the principle is universal. Revelation
lays it down as a general principle, that in his sight
“one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years
as one day"; and reason would lead us to expect that
the infinite and eternal God would not view time as it
appears to us.)
· So also the distinctions of space and rank are disre-
garded by him who pervadeth alike the atom and the
universe, and to whom the loftiest and the lowest of his
creatures are alike less than nothing and vanity. The
sceptical philosopher declares it to be unreasonable and
incredible that the God who makes and sustains and
governs an infinitude of worlds should so concern him-
self with our little world as to give his Son to die for its
redeinption; and still more improbable that he would
condescend to such a concern for obscure individuals as
is implied in the doctrines of a particular providence,
personal election, and the indwelling of the Spirit. :.
The illiterate Christian, on the other hand, cannot
believe that there are many hundreds of shells, once en-
shrining living animals, in a grain of limestone, and
C
1 The man who is neither a divine nor a naturalist (shall I and neither a
Christian nor a scholar) is the only man who can consistently urge either
of the objections specificd in the text. He must give up all claim to con-
sistency who professes to be either, and yet does not admit that the same
objection which he urges against his antagonist is equally valid against
himself.
2“ Soldani collected from less than an ounce and a half of stone found
in the hills of Casciana, in Tuscany, ten thousand four hundred and ffy-
four microscopic chambered shells. Of one species of these shells he cal-
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
..53
S
myriads of animalcules in a single drop of water. And
. many an educated Christian thinks it beneath the
Almighty to people a world with polypes, and muscles,
and snails, and lizards, etc.
But he has given up two thirds of the earth's surface
to the fishes and monsters of the deep, and peopled a
large portion of the land with lizards and serpents and
vermin ; and may he not have left the whole earth for
a time without an intelligent lord, to be overrun with
inferior animals— animals, which we in our reasoning,
yet erring pride, are prone to despise ? He has created
infinitely more animalcules than larger animals, and
may not he who creates them, redeem man? He does
form and feed sumptuously every day the snail and
lizard and serpent, so loatlısome and odious to us,
though not to him; and may he not elect and dwell
with and provide for the humble Christian, number
the very hairs of his lead, and cause all things to work
together for his good ?
These things are all true, and all spring from the
same general principle in the divine government-such
a disregard for the distinctions of space and rank as
leads him to lavish his bounty and his grace on places
and creatures which seem too minute to deserve the
attention of the great Sovereign of the universe. “If
there be one thing” says an eminent naturalist, “ more
surprising than another in the investigation of natural
phenomena, it is perhaps the infinite extent and vast
importance of things apparently little and insignifi-
culates that a thousand individuals would scarcely weigh one grain.” -
Buckland, p. 117.
1“Hundreds of thousands (of the infusoria] may be seen in a single drop
of water." - Kirby's Bridgewater Treatise.
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cant.” 1 What intelligent reader of the Bible and of
the history of the church can avoid seeing that the
same characteristic feature pervades the spiritual world,
from the fall of man in Eden to his complete restoration
and final confirmation in the celestial Paradise !
14. The same end is souglit in each of the three
kingdoms, viz. the highest happiness of the creature and
the glory of the Creator.
The God of the Bible appeals to his chosen people of
old to say what more he could have done for them than
he had done ; and in the gift of his Son lie makes the
same appeal to Christians in the melting eloquence of
that love which language cannot express..
The God of nature manifests a like intention, an effort,
so to speak, to secure the utmost amount of happiness.
Every element teems with animal life; every spot is
replete with happy existence. The desert air swarms
with insects; the wilderness and the solitary place are
full of inhabitants suited to the locality.
“ So is this great and wide sea wherein are things
creeping innumerable, both great and small beasts."
The sea is as amply furnished with vegetables 2 and
the larger animals as the land; while the drops of the
former, like the particles of the latter, are densely peopled
with animalcules. To multiply happy existence still
? So also Pliny: In his tam parvis, atque tamn vullis, quae ratio, quanta
vis, quam inextricabilis perfectio.
2 Marine, like land, animals depend upon the vegetable kingdom for
subsistence; and Brongniart has shown that the existing submarine vege-
tation seeins to admit of those great divisions which characterize to a
(crtain degree the plants of the frigid, temperate, and torrid zones. — Seo
L'uckland, p. 451.
3 The powers of reproduction in the infusoria are such, that from one
individual a million wero produced in ten days; on the eleventh day four
millions, and on the twelfth sixteen milions. — Buckland, on the authority
of Ehrenberg.
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS55
TIINA
UUD.
.
more, thousands of animals, beyond the number which
the vegetable world is capable of sustaining, subsist by
preying upon others; and the very carcasses of animals
that die a natural death furnish food for a numerous
army of scavengers, which, in providing a suitable diet
for themselves, remove what would otherwise prove
a source of annoyance and disease to other animals.1
And the modes and forms of animal existence are not
more multiplied and varied than are the contrivances
to render life happy. Natural history is little else than
an enumeration of manifest proofs that the character
of the Deity is wisdom and goodness, and the end at
which he aims is the happiness of his creatures.
And the history of God's dealings with man teaches,
as a whole, the same lesson. Every organ of his frame,
every element in his constitution, every event in his
life, is designed and adapted to promote his happiness.
If he abused no part of his original constitution and
perverted no bounty of providence or gift of grace le
1“No sooner is the signal given, on the death of any large animal, than
multitudes of every class hasten to the spot, eager to partake of the repast
which nature has prepared. If the carcass he not rapidly devoured by
rapacious birds or carnivorous quadrupeds, it never fails to be soon attacked
by swarms of insects, which speedily consume its softer textures, leaving
only the bones. So strongly was Linnaeus impressed with the immensity
of the scale on which these works of demolition by insects are carried on
in nature, that be used to maintain that the carcass of a dead horse would
not be devoured with the same celerity by a lion as it would hy these flesh
flies (Musca vonitoria) and their immcdiate progeny; for it is known that
ono female will give birth to at least twenty thousand young larvae, cach
of wbich will, ir tie course of one day, devour so much food and grow so
rapidly as to require an increase of two hundred times its weight; and a
few days are sufficient to the production of a third generation. The very
bones are the favorite food of the liyena, whose powerful jaws are peculiarly
forined for grinding them into powder, and wliosc stomach can extract
froin them an abundant portion of nutriment. No less spcedy is the work
of demolition among the inhabitants of the waters, etc.” - See Roriget's
Bridgewater Treatiso, Vol. ii. p. 19.
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THE HEAD OF THE CHURCH
would be entirely happy; and the miseries he suffers
are intended to secure his ultimate highest happiness,
by reclaiming him from past and deterring him from
future abuses and perversions. Moral beings can be
happy only by being virtuous and holy, and all the pro-
visions of providence and of grace are directed towards
the great object of making them happy in that way.
For this object God inflicts natural and providential
evils. For this object he subjected his beloved Son to
untold agonies. For this object, in part at least, he
will punish forever the incorrigible sinner. And I
know not how a being of infinite benevolence could
exhibit more convincing and affecting proofs of his
regard for the highest happiness of the universe, than
in the very pains which he iuflicts so unwillingly upon
the children of men, and the agonies which he laid upon
his beloved Son, for the sake of securing a higher degree
of happiness on a larger scale.
The highest possible amount of happiness is also the
aim and tendency of that universal law of progression
which we have already considered. • An infinite progres-
sion of goodness and happiness will produce a greater
*sum total than any changeless state, however exalted; ..
just as the sum of any progressive infinite series in
mathematics, however small the first term, is greater
than the sum of any unchanging infinite series, however
large the fixed term may be. Hi How delightful it is to
the enlarged and benevolent mind to contemplate the
onward and upward progress of a holy and happy
universe through infinity. Who can sum up that
progression ? Who can grasp, even in imagination,
such an aggregate of excellence and bliss ? Oh, they
know little of God, who deny his benevolence, little
· HEAD OVER ALL TEINGS.
of his universe, who think it not made to be a happy
universe.
With the happiness of the creature the glory of the
Creator is associated as the end of all his works. That
glory consists in the display of his glorious attributes,
and the exhibition of those attributes is manifestly a
chief end of nature, providence, and grace.
Is the natural creation a display of his power? So
is the new spiritual creation. Does the system of
nature illustrate his wisdom? The plan of redemption
illustrates it more.? Is the goodness of God conspicuous
in his works of creation ? It is not less conspicuous in
his works of providence and grace. Is his terrible and
resistless justice set forth in his providential dispensa-
tions ? These exhibitions of his displeasure at sin are
premonitions of that great day revealed in the Scriptures,
when he will judge the world in righteousness. Is the
uniformity of nature's laws and operations a standing
monument of his truth and fidelity to his promises ?
The prophecies fulfilled and fulfilling, the promises and
threatenings of his word executed, likewise show his
veracity. He is at once the author, the subject, and
the object or end of the book of nature, the book of
providence, and the book of grace. All his works are
with propriety have been dedicated ? They treat of
himself, the greatest and best subject. They speak of
him consistently and harmoniously. One book may
speak more of his natural, and another more of his
moral attributes. One may treat of some particular
? Eph. iii. 10.
3 This analogy is often adverted to in the Scrip!ures. Ps. cxix. 8, 90;
Matt. v. 18.
1 Eph. i. 19; Ps. cx. 8.
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TIY
topics wliich are omitted in another, or may discourse
of the same topics more clearly and fully ; but God is
the sum and substance of them all, his character their
subject, and his glory their end : “ All his works praise
him, and all his saints bless him.” In nature, the
heavens declare his glory, and the firmament showeth
his handi-work. In providence, day unto day uttereth
speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge of
him. And the great end for which the church is estab-
lished, is to show forth the praises of him who called its
members out of darkness into his marvellous light.
Everything, animate and inanimate, voluntarily and
involuntarily, responds to the call of the “sweet singer
of Israel”: “praise ye the Lord”; and the student of
nature and the observer of providence may unite withı
the Apocalyptic seer, and say: “Every creature which
is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth,
and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them,
heard I saying, Blessing and honor and glory and
power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and
unto the Lamb, forever and ever.”
I might specify other analogies. I might adduce the
intimate analogy between the doctrine of social liabilities
in this life, with which nobody thinks of finding any
fault, and the proper doctrine of the imputation of
Adam's sin and of Christ's righteousness, of which
multitudes complain ; in other words, the analogy be-
tween what we actually suffer and enjoy in consequence
of our involuntary connection with others in this life,
and what we are alleged in the Scriptures to suffer and
enjoy in consequence of the constituted connection
between us and the first and second Adam. I might
speak of that uniformity amid variety which forms so
1
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59
characteristic and interesting a feature both in the con-
stitution and course of nature, and in the compositiou
and operation of the Bible - which pervades the vege-
table, animal, and spiritual kingdoms, the forms and
features of inankind, their languages and social institu-
tions, and their moral and religious characters. I might
advert to that happy blending of beauty with utility,
which constitutes a striking analogy between the divine
works and the divine word ; in the former of which
natural religion joins hands with the music and poetry
of nature, while, in the latter, revealed religion is
6 wedded to immortal verse." I might mention that
simplicity of means which exalts the divine wisdom so
far above all human skill, and which is so well expressed
in those oft-cited lines :
" In human works, though labored on with pain,
A thousand movements scarce one object gain;
In God's, one single can its end produce,
Yet seems to second, too, some other use."
But why should I specify. The whole natural world,
in its constitution and laws, its particular and aggregate,
is a counterpart of the spiritual world.1 Every object
in the former is a kind of image or type of something
in the latter. Nature is a preliminary dispensation, like
the Mosaic, true and loly so far as it goes, insufficient
by itself, imperfectly understood without a further rev-
elation, but, when thus understood, illustrating and
confirming the Christian dispensation. The temple of
nature, like Solomon's temple, is full of types and
The writer does not mean to countenance the mysticism of the Hutch-
insonians, or the subtile speculations of the Platonists, but simply to present
the cxternal world in that intimate relation to the spiritual world which it
sustained in the mind of the sacred writers, who certainly saw cverywhere
marks of the divine presencc and emblems of heavenly things.
60
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shadows of heavenly things, though the 6 candlestick"
of Christianity must be lighted up in it before they
become distinctly visible. Have not the flowers a lan-
guage, and the brutes a voice, to teach us the domestic,
the social, the Christian virtues ?1 Read Pollok's de-
scription of nature's preaching:
“ The seasons came and went, and went and came,
To teach men gratitude, and, as they passed,
Gave warning of the lapse of time, that else
Had stolen unheeded by. The gentle flowers
Retired, and stooping o'er the wilderness,
Talked of humility and peace and love.
The dews came down unseen at eventide,
And silently their bounty shed, to teach
Mankind unostentatious charity.”
Read this, and much more of the like nature in the
context, and say whether it is all poetry, or whether the
objects of nature and the events of providence do in
truth teach us lessons of spiritual wisdum. Follow,
above all, in the train of our Saviour, and as he utters
his parables and delivers his sermons, see all nature a
picture-gallery filled with likenesses and sketches of
heavenly things. Indeed it is a striking characteristic
of all the sacred writers, that they find memorials and
types of God and heaven in every natural object and
event; and the allegories, the similes, all the figurative
language of the Bible, is a standing illustration of the
analogies that pervade the realms of nature, providence,
and grace.
Now I need not spend time in establishing the infer-
ence from these numerous and striking analogies, that
the realms in which they prevail have the same head.
S
2 Matt. vi. 26–30; Prov. vi. 6-8; xxx. 24-28; Isa. i. 8.
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61
When we see similar laws administered in a similar
manner in different provinces, and the same character-
istic features prevailing, with only those differences
which diverse circumstances require, we infer that they
are under the same government. The same striking
and characteristic peculiarities of sentiment, style, and
imagery, prove the books in which they are found to
have the same author. Wheu I apply these principles
to the present subject of discussion, I am constrained
to believe that nature, providence, and grace are prov-
inces governed by the same head, books written by the
same great author. . I would as soon believe that man
administers the providential goverument of the world
as that he devised and established the church; and
when I come to the conclusion that man made the
heavens and the earth, then I may be ready to believe
that unaided man was the author of the Bible.
A few remarks which are suggested by the foregoing
argument, but could not conveniently find a place in
it, will close this discussion.
1. Analogy affords us tue best means of answering
objections both against science and religion. The sci-
entific man has few objections to urge against religion
which do not lie with equal force against nature and
providence; and the religious man has few objections
to urge against science which, if valid at all, would not
be equally valid against religion. Press home upon
both the analogy, and if you do not convince, you
will silence. Does the man of science or the business
man object to the theological doctrine of divine sover-
cignty? Show him that the same doctrine is written
ou cvery page of nature and providence. Docs the
theologian charge with absurdity the prolonged pro-
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cesses and protracted periods of geology ? Point him
to the fact that his own science and his owu sacred books
disclose similar processes and periods. Does the sceptic
scout the idea that eternal life is suspended on so pusil-
lanimous a trait as humility, and so involuntary a prin-
ciple as faith? Show him that the requirement of these
virtues, so far from being arbitrary, accords with the
nature of things, and that the knowledge and happiness
of this life are suspended on the exercise of the same
virtues. Does the Christian doubt whether God would
condescend to create myriads of infusoria in a drop of
water, or people a world with successive generations of
irrational creatures ? Remind him that God has con-
descended to provide for, and redeem a world of sinners,
whose 6 foundation is in the dust," who are " crushed
before the moth," and who are “accounted to him as
less than nothing and vanity.” Does the fatalist pretend
that his exertions for salvation are rendered fruitless by
the immutable purposes and laws of God? Tell him
that he would not for a moment stake any temporal
good on the principle of that objection, though all tem-
poral good is equally dependent on immutable laws and
purposes. In like manner we may answer almost every
objection of the scholar against the Christian, of the
Christian against the scholar, and of the man that shows
any common sense about anything against both the
scholar and the Christian. If ministers would employ
analogical reasoning more, and abstract reasoning less,
they would be more successful in combatting practical
and hurtful error. On the other hand, why need they
forget that analogy is not more truly a “powerful en-
gine” than an impartial one, which if not applied by
themselves to the correction of their own errors, will be
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63
wielded against them by others to their no small dis-
credit, if not their utter discomfiture.
2. It is very important that the teacher of religion,
and quite desirable that the private Christian, should
be a student of nature and an observer of providence.
Besides silencing objectors and confirming his own faith,
he would thus find fresh light and beauty slied upon
the truths of religion. Nature and revelation are par-
allel columns in God's universal harmony, and provi-
dence is a divine commentary upon them both. Should
they not be studied together?
Coleridge somewhere remarks1 that he admired Shake-
speare's wisdom and power on a first perusal in his
youth, and on reading him a second time, after years
of study and improvement, Shakespeare's wisdom and
power appeared to have increased quite as much as his
own. This remark is far more applicable to God's
works than to those of any mortal. The more -wisdom
and power we bring to the study of them, the more we
discover in them. Each increase of the magnifying
power of the telescope is attended with a corresponding
accession to the extent, beauty, and grandeur of the
visible universe. Every improvement of the microscope
discloses new beings, new wonders, new and more del-
icate strokes of a divine artist. The observer's mental
vision too is improved, not to reach the full height, nor
penetrate the whole depth, nor range all the compass
of nature's mysteries, but while he solves one of these
mysteries to discover more than one which he leaves
wisolved. So that the philosopher who now looks out
upon the divine works from the highest vantage ground,
with the most acute and profound mind and the most
? I give only the substance of the remark from memory..
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perfect helps to his ocular and mental vision, may well
feel, as did the immortal Newton, tliat he has scarcely
glanced along the shore and discovered a few beautiful
shells, while before him spreads the unexplored and
illimitable ocean of truth.
The Bible is also boundless in the compass of its
truths, exhaustless in its treasures and beauties. Its
contents seem to enlarge in extent, and magnify in
importance, and increase in variety and interest in
precise proportion to the progress of society and the
improvement of the individual reader. So that the
Christian who knows the most, not only sees the most
to admire in what he has read, but expects to find the
most that is new and admirable in his future study of
the sacred volume; and so far from ever feeling that
he has comprehended its whole scope, or exhausted all
its riches, he will be ready to exclaim, “it is high as
heaven, what canst thou do; it is deeper than hell,
what canst thou know: the measure thereof is longer
than the earth and broader than the sea.”
Now if knowledge of every sort is a help to the ac-
quisition of further knowledge (and it is, for every truth
stands more or less related to every other truth), a
portion of the knowledge of one class of God's works
will help us to acquire a knowledge of another class.
Familiarity with one of Shakespeare's dramas leads to
a better understanding and a higher appreciation of an-
other. The student who has mastered one production
of a classic author will master another production of
the same author more easily and more perfectly. Why
should not this principle apply to the different produc-
tions of the divine mind ? Has it not been so in the
past study of the divine works? It was the knowledge
S
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65
and influence of the Bible that gave the first impulse
and the first clue to discoveries in natural science ;
and fresh discoveries in natural science are ever impel-
ling and guiding in the study of the Bible, explaining
many particular passages, and correcting in general
wrong modes of inquiry.
: What new grandeur and glory pervade the universe
when viewed in the light of the Bible, as created, per-
vaded, and controlled by one omnipotent, omniscient,
almighty, and all-wise Spirit. The classics contain ex-
quisite poetry, but the Bible surpasses them in exquisite
poetry, I had almost said as much as in pure morality
and sound philosophy. Nature is grand and beautiful
and instinct with life, as portrayed on the classic page.
But the universe, as seen in the light of revelation,
is more beautiful and grand, animated by a purer and
loftier spirit, and lighted up with a brighter, diviner
radiance.
On the other hand, how has science shed light upon
the Bible? With what new interest have modern dis-
coveries invested such passages of Scripture as the first
chapter of Genesis, the fortieth of Isaiah, and the eighith
Psalm. The modern astronomer, any enlightened
Christian of these days, sees a beauty and sublimity
beyond the conceptions, may I not say, of David and
Isaiah themselves in such descriptions as these: “When
I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the
moon and the stars which thou hast ordained ; what is
man that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man,
that thou visitest him.” “Who hath measured the
waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven
with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth
in a measure. All nations before him are as nothing,
6*
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and are counted to bim less than nothing and vanity."
All such descriptions, all the illustrations of the divine
wisdom and goodness in the Bible, will be enhanced in
beauty and sublimity and impressiveness, in exact
proportion to our increasing knowledge of the divine
works. A perfect system of mental science, should such
a system ever be discovered, would probably add to the
clearness with which we understand and the power
with which we realize divine truths, no less than the
discoveries in natural science have already done. So
far, then, from being alarmed at the progressive influence
of science upon religion, it is with emotions of delight
too big for utterance that I look down the tract of time,
and see, with the eye of faith, science and religion pour-
ing a flood of light upon each other; seal after seal
broken, and page after page of surpassing beauty and
glory opened to view simultaneously in nature and
revelation; doubts removed, and mysteries explained;
the elements conquered, and the passions subdued ;
man reclaimed, and God honored ; and the world at
length irradiated with the blended beams of a sanctified
literature and an enlightened Cliristianity. To the
men of that happy day, “ heaven above will indeed be
but a reward for heaven enjoyed below.” To behold
the dawning of that day, and pray and labor for its ap-
proaching consummation, is a privilege which prophets
and kings of former times never enjoyed.
3. It is the duty and the interest of every man to fall
in with the analogies -- the harmonious arrangements —
of nature, providence, and grace. Take an illustration
of my meaning. It has been already observed that
nature, providence, and grace in their development to
man usually advance together, and that all are making
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
.67
simultaneous and gigantic strides in our own day. It
becomes us, then, to notice the point towards which they
converge, the end to which they are advancing. Do I
mistake in saying it is the conversion of the world ?
See in heathen lands walls of prejudice and caste and
despotic power, high as heaven and hard as adamant,
prostrated to make way for the gospel ; see at the same
time in Christian lands resources accumulated in the
hands of benevolent men, associations formed on the
broad scale and in the enlarged spirit of universal Chris-
tian philanthropy, means of conveyance improved, lan-
guages mastered, rags converted into Bibles, sailors
into missionaries, and the elements into winged messen-
gers --- all united to convey the gospel to the ends of
the earth ; and even if you did not see the churclı
awakened to an unprecedented interest in this specific
object, could you doubt that the era for the world's
conversion is approaching? And is it safe for you to
oppose, is it wise for you to neglect, are you willing to
stand aloof from an enterprise which nature, providence,
and grace are co-operating to achieve ?
The same questions, or similar questions, may be
asked respecting most of the analogies and divine
arrangements which we have been considering.
· Humility and faith sustain the same important rela-
tion to the kingdom of nature, the kingdom of provi-
dence, and the kingdom of grace — they are necessary
and profitable for all things, having the promise of the
life that now is, and also of that which is to come. Is
it then consistent with your duty and interest to do-
nounce the one as a mark of meanness, and the other
as an arbitrary requirement ?
To co-operate with God is the liighest honor to which
S
i
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man can aspire; to resemble God, the highest perfection
to which he can attain. Instead of finding fault, theil,
with that arrangement which requires a union of divine
and human agency in every important concern, we
should humbly and gratefully acknowledge the coude-
scension and love of God in permitting us to co-operate
with him in his benevolent designs, and be equally ready
to avail ourselves of his gracious aid, and render to
him our poor but faithful and devoted service.
While we fall in with the divine plan, we should
endeavor to act ever on general principles, to be guided
complete obedience as if they were self-executing. ..
come, we may strive to resemble God, and rejoice that
we live in a world where we can resemble him, and co-
operate with him in bringing good out of evil, order out
of confusion, and light out of darkness. .
So long as we do our duty we should not allow o’r
faith to be shaken or our feelings to be greatly disturbed
by the slow process of human amelioration on the one
hand, or the sudden and violent revolutions that may
occur on the other, but should be a steadfast, immova-
ble, always abounding in the work of the Lord,” follow-
ing the leadings of providence, promoting in God's wise
manner God's holy and benevolent end — the progress of
ourselves and others in knowledge and virtue, the high-
est happiness of the creature, and the greatest glory of
the Creator.
To return from these particular illustrations to the
general principle of this head. The laws of nature,
providence, and grace, are all laws of God, all alike
obligatory, and all clothed with the same sacred author-
HEAD OVER ALL THINGS.
69
ity. “He that offendeth in one point is guilty of all.”
He that wittingly violates one of the codes, arrays them
.
that they conspire most happily to aid each other and
to bestow a great reward. It is not enough to obey
only the natural, or the providential, or the moral laws.
Duty is fulfilled, happiness is secured, by universal and
perfect obedience. He only is an educated man who
has been trained to the utmost of his ability to “ dis-
cover, apply, and obey all the laws by which God gov-
erus the universe.” He who has been thus trained in
the school of nature, the school of providence, and the
school of grace, he is an educated man; educated for
time and for eternity, educated for earth and educated
for heaven. Whether he is engaged in temporal or
spiritual concerns, whether he undertakes to reform,
men in this world, or prepare them for the next, he will
not go against wind, tide, and current, but he will do
it in the way of divine appointment, in accordance with
all the divine laws, and with the harmonious co-opera-
tion of all the divine attributes.
II.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.1
The books whose titles we have placed below2 mark a
new era in classical scholarship; an era signalized by
the union of German learning with English common
sense and practical wisdom. Germany is the land of
scholars, but it is also the land of sceptics, theorizers,
and dreamers. If German learning has passed into a
proverb, German want of faith and ignorance of affairs
have become a byword. German scholars are the world's
teachers in philology; but they need, themselves, to be
taught the first principles of theology and anthropolgy.
Prodigies in the knowledge of books, they are no less
prodigies in that ignorance of themselves and of things
around them which necessarily involves a practical
misunderstanding of past ages, and in that unbelief
which is often connected with the excess of credulity.
They have almost revived the dead languages. They
have almost reproduced the private life of the old Greeks
and Romans. But they cannot understand the civil and
political institutions of antiquity, because they have
little or nothing to do with the government of their
* (Reprinted from the Bibliotheca Sacra, Vol. xiv. No. 57, Oct. 1857).
? History of Greece. By George Grote, Esq. Vol. ji. London: Jolin
Dlurray, Albemarle Street. 1846. Part i. Legendary Greece.
A Critical History of the Language and Literature of Ancient Greece.
By William Murc, of Caldwell. Second edition. Vol. i. London :
Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans. 1854.
".... THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
71
own country. And they have spread the mists and fogs
of the dream-land in which they live over the ancient
world, superseding its myths by more incredible fables
own impossible fictions, turning history into poetry, and
reducing poets to nonentities, and thus virtually anni-
hilating both.
English scholars, on the other hand, have eschewed
the wild speculations of their German cousins, but have
been equally innocent of their comprehensive and pro-
found scholarship. They have either confined their
studies to mere words and metres, or, if they have
launched out into the real life of antiquity, they have
set out with too little capital to bring back a very valu-
able return cargo—too often have gone out and returned
with those strong social and political prejudices, which
could not but mislead their explorations and blind
their eyes to the true character of the people and their
institutions.
But German scholarship is at length beginning to
pervade the English mind - the minds of English mer-
chants, gentlemen, and statesmen, as well as clergymen
and scholars by profession. And the legitimate offspring
of a union so auspicious is seen in such works as those
of Bishop Thirlwall, Dr. Arnold, Mr. Grote, and Colo-
nel Mure.
Grote's History of Greece, though not entirely free
from paradoxes, and perhaps prejudices, of its own, has
tations of Mitford; and rescuing the constitution and
history of the Athenian Commonwealth at once from
the darkness of ignorance and the grosser darkness of
prejudice, has brought it out into the twofold light of
72
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the philology of the Teutonic and the commerce and
freedom of the. Anglo-Saxon race. The English tory
and the German recluse are alike incapable of under-
standing Athens; it was reserved for an Englishı mer-
chant and gentleman, saturated with the learning of
Germany, to write her history. Not the politics only,
but the literature of Greece, has been cast into the cru-
cible of the English merchant-scholar; and the result,
though we are sorry to say it is not wholly purified of
the dross of German scepticism, is rich with the gold of
true learning, and transparent as the crystal of good
common sense. Recently completed, in twelve large
octavo volumes, and reprinted in a compact and neat
American edition, the History of Greece will gradually
permeate the American mind with its juster ideas of the
Athenian polity, and with its invaluable lessons of Gre-
cian culture.
Mure's Critical History of the Language and Liter-
ature of Greece is a more recent work, still unfinished,
and comparatively little known in this country ; though
we trust, when it is completed, it will be republished and
as extensively read as the History of Mr Grote. Pos-
sessing the same familiar acquaintance with the results
of German philology and the same sterling good sense
which distinguish the great historian, and confining his
attention to the language and literature of the Greeks,
he has given us a more thorough and exhausting anal-
ysis of that literature ; while, with a sturdy faith, which
it is refreshing to see comubined with such entire candor,
such profound research, and so perfect a mastery of the
subject, he resists and puts to rout the whole army of
? [The hopes of scholars were disappointed by the too early death of the
anthor.)
THE HOMERIC QUESTION...:
73
German literary sceptics, from Wolf to Nitzsch. The
first four volumes, which have already appeared, bring
the history down only so far as to include Herodotus.
The first two volumes are taken up with the criticism
of the language and the epic poetry of the Greeks ;
the third, with lyric poetry and the early history of
writing; and the fourth, with Herodotus and the ear-
lier Greek prose compositions.
We do not propose to review both, or either, of these
works; but rather to avail ourselves of them as an
occasion, and also as helps, to review a subject which
they have discussed at much length, namely, the Ho-
meric Question.
The present seems to be a fit time for such a review.
Literary scepticism, in one of its forms at least, seems to
have run its round even in Germany, and the cycle is
coming to an end. The Wolfs and Heynes, that con-
tended for the equivocal honor of having originated it,
have passed away, and there is no one to take up their
mantle. The Hermanns and Lachmanns, who would
recognize no man as a scholar who had not laid ruthless
hands on some part of the poems of Homer, or dissected
some other sacred relic of antiquity — just as, among
our American Indians, he is not counted a man, who
other; and the land is no longer vexed with their un-
scrupulous and sacrilegious warfare. Nitzsch," the last
of the Mohicans," formerly the most strenuous advocate
of the Separatist theory, is now no less zealous in main-
taining the one-authorship of the Iliad and the Odyssey.
So in sacred literature. Aforetime, in Germany, “a
man was famous according as he had lifted up axes upon
74
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
11
Moses and Isaiah, like Homer and Hesiod, were robbed
of their “lively oracles,” and of all but a dim, shadowy,
and pitiable existence. But not a few of these famous
robbers repented of their sacrilege in their more ad-
vanced years; and a generation is now rising up which
scarcely knows them. At the present moment, perhaps,
the German mind is swinging from the extreme of
scepticism towards the extreme of submission to au-
thority.
There is a certain period in the life, as of an individual
so of a nation, when there is a tendency to scepticism.
Childhood believes implicitly. Youth doubts, disbe-
lieves, mis-believes, runs into all sorts of wild vagaries.
Mature manhood, in well constituted minds, tends to that
faith which is grounded partly in a believing disposition,
and partly in knowledge and experience. The age of
infidelity--of infidel writers and scholars—in England,
came and passed away with the eighteenth century. It
was not till the present century that the same spirit,
though in another form, reappeared in Germany; and
there are not wanting indications that she may be ex-
orcised of the evil spirit, in no small measure, before
the nineteenth century comes to a close. Such a period
forms, if not an attractive, yet an instructive, chapter in
the history of the human mind; and though our atten-
tion will be directed to a single phase of it, and that a
literary one, still it is inseparably connected with a
corresponding theological tendency, and therefore is
doubly worthy of a candid and careful investigation.
In few words, the Homeric Question is simply this:
Were the Iliad and Odyssey, in substantially their present
form, the production of a single author ? The question
resolves itself into two parts: Was each of the poems,
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
75
separately considered, the work of a single poet? And,
allowing this to be the fact, were both the work of one
and the same poet ?
To the first question antiquity returned but one an-
swer. Without a dissenting voice, all who spoke the
Greek, and all who spoke the Latin tongue, recognized
unity of design and unity of authorship in each of these
great poems. Homer wrote the Iliad, the whole Iliad,
and the Iliad as a whole. Homer, the same Homer or
another, wrote the Odyssey also, as a single, connected
poem. On this point, no Greek or Roman ever whis-
pered a doubt.
At the earliest period in Grecian history, of which
we have any record, both these poems, together with
several others which have not come down to us, but
which we know from contemporary notices related to
the same subject, and were often rehearsed in connection
with them, passed unquestioned under the common
name of Homeric poems. In the golden age of prose
composition, however (and the fact is worthy of notice
as showing that Herodotus and Thucydides, Plato and
Aristotle, were not so utterly devoid of critical discern-
ment as they are sometimes represented), the inferiority
of these secondary poems to the great primaries about
which they revolved was so clearly seen, that they felt
under the necessity of referring them to different au-
thors, while they appropriated to the Iliad and Odyssey
alone the illustrious name of Homer. It was not till
the time of the Alexandrian grammarians that the
first doubt was ever raised, so far as we know, whether
the Iliad and Odyssey both proceeded from the same
mind. Only two names (Xenon and Hellanicus) are
mentioned as advocates of the new heresy, and those
76
THEOLOGY OF. THE GREEK POETS
two rescued from oblivion only by the answers to their
two men and their few and unknown followers (called
the Chorizontes, or Separatists); the whole succession of
the Alexandrian grammarians, with Zenodotus, Aris-
tophanes, and Aristarchus at their head, to whom we
are indebted for tlie standard ancient edition of Homer,
agreed with the unanimous voice of the long line of
poets, historians, orators, and philosophers, . that the
single author; but both the production of one and the
same great poet.
; This unanimous sentiment of Grecian antiquity was
ás unanimously received by Roman authors, by Byzan-
fine grammarians, by scholars in the Middle Ages and
after the revival of letters ; until, towards the close of
the seventeenth century, “ certain novelties of opinion
began to transpire," and several writers in several coun-
tries, Perrault and Hedelin in France, Bentley in
England, and Vico in Italy, expressed, at different
times and in different degrees, their doubts as to the
truth of the received doctrine. Perrault (Parallele des
Anciennes et des Moderns: 1688) suggested that the
poems of Homer are but a collection of many little
poems of different authors. Hedelin (Dissertation sur
1'Iliad: 1715) went so far as to deny the personal exis-
tence of Homer. Bentley (Reply to Collins's Discourse
on Free Thinking: 1713) says: “Homer wrote a sequel
of songs and rhapsodies. These loose songs were not
collected together, into the form of an epic poem, until
five hundred years later." Vico (Principii di Una Sci-
enza Nuova : 1725) says: “ Homer left none of his
compositions in writing, as we are told by Flavius Jo-
I
THE HOMERIC QUESTION..
:77
sephus, in his Tract against Apion; but the rhapsodists
went about singing the works separately, someone,
some another, at the feasts and public, solemnities of
the Greek cities. The Pisistratidae first divided and
arranged, or caused to be so arranged, the poems of
Homer into the Iliad and Odyssey, whence we may
judge what a confused collection of materials they must
previously have been." In 1770, Robert Wood, in that
.“ Essay on the Original Genius of Homer," which set
the example of studying the Iliad itself on the ground
where the scene was laid in order to a determination of
the vexed questions touching the time and place of the
poet's birth, argued more at length the position that he
could not have committed his poems to writing, because
the art of writing was of subsequent invention. But
and contemporaries; and the current of opinion flowed
on, undisturbed, in its old channel. .
· They were destined, however, to find a more fortunate,
favorable to the propagation of novel opinions. That
country was Germany.; that age was the close of the
eighteenth century; and that advocate was F. A. Wolf.
Combining the suggestions of Bentley, Vico, and Wood,
and expanding them into an elaborate argument, he
brought out, in 1795, his famous Prolegomena ad Ho-
merum, which, borne on the wings of the controversy
between himself and Heyne, who disputed not the truth
of the theory, but the honor of having originated it, soon
wafted it to every corner of Germany. . Self-consistent
only in always denying the proper unity of the poems,
Wolf usually maintains the theory of separate and
independent lays, first compiled into one epopee by
C
78
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Pisistratus, who was also the first to commit them to
writing; but he sometimes seems to admit the existence
grew at length, in the days of the same Pisistratus, into
the form and size of the present Iliad and Odyssey; and
sometimes he argues the question whether the two
poems are by the same Homer or by different Homers;
thus apparently conceding a real existence and a real
author to each. In like manner, his followers, agreeing
only in the negative part of his theory, have held the
most opposite opinions as to the actual constitution and
history of the poems; nearly all, however, witholding
their assent to the extravagant part which he assigned
S
tendency of his earlier followers being towards the dis-
integration, and that of the later towards the reintegra-
tion, of the poems; in other words, the former generally
tending to depart more widely from the received doc-
trine, and the latter inclining more towards a return to
the established faith. The extreme of the former ten-
dency is reached by Lachmann (Betrachtungen über die
Ilias), who has resolved the Iliad into fifteen originally
distinct and, as he thinks, clearly defined lays. Heyne,
Hermann, Thiersch, W. Müller, and F. Schlegel lean
in the same direction. The opposite tendency is seen,
in different degrees in K. 0. Müller, Ulrici, Welcker,
Lange, and Nitzsch. The same individual who was at
first:swept away by the tide of innovation, has, in some
instances, come back on the returning wave. The
change of Göthe's opinions, in this direction, is recorded
in one of his latest works (Homer noch einmal) ; 1 and
Nitzsch has battled against “the extreme left” of the
See Groto's History of Grecce, Part i. chap. xxl.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
.
followers of Wolf, till, from being the zealous advocate
of the Separatist theory, he has become the no less
strenuous and able champion of the one-authorship of
the Iliad and Odyssey, though he still maintains that
there have been large interpolations and additions to
the primitive poems.
Out of Germany the hypothesis of separate and inde-
pendent lays has met with little favor. English scholars,
with scarcely an exception, hold to the unity of the
Odyssey substantially in its present form. They main-
tain, also, the unity of the Iliad, though some of them
do it with less confidence, and only with important
modifications. Grote thinks the latter poem an Achil-
leid, subsequently enlarged into an Iliad by additions,
amounting in all to nearly half of the entire poem.
The Odyssey he holds to be a later production and by
another author; in which view he was preceded by
Richard Payne Knight (Prolegomena ad Homerum)
and Henry Nelson Coleridge (Study of the Greek Clas-
sics). Clinton (Fasti Hellenici, Vol. i.) and Mure de-
fend strenuously the old doctrine of the one-authorship
of both the poems, though the latter was originally,
6 like most young scholars, a zealous disciple of the
Wolfian school, till he was led, by a twenty years' dili-
gent scrutiny of its doctrines, to a thorough conviction
of their fallacy.”
The historical evidence which Wolf adduces in sup
port of his hypothesis of a chaotic Iliad and Odyssey,
reduced to order and committed to writing, for the
first time, under the Pisistratidae, so far from sustaining
it, implies a pre-existing unity, which was only restored
and enforced by Pisistratus and his successors; and
? Soe Grote's History of Greece, Part i. chap. xxi.
80
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
this hypothesis is so improbable in itself, as well as so
contradictory to the best authorities, that, in its primary
Wolfian form, it now numbers few if any supporters.
66 Xenophanes of Colophon and Theagenes of Rhegium,
both cotemporary with Pisistratus, wrote commentaries
on Homer. But a written commentary on a work itself
unwritten, is surely a thing unheard of.”1 If authorities
are to be consulted, there is none better than Aristotle ;
and he represents Lycurgus, the Spartan lawgiver, as
“having, in the course of his travels, received the poems
as written documents from Creophilus of Samos, and
brought them to Lacedaemon, centuries prior to the time
of Pisistratus." 2
The followers of Wolf, while they, for the most part,
abandon the Pisistratian part of his hypothesis, and
refer to an earlier period and to a succession of bards,
the reduction, or rather the gradual growth, of the
Homeric poems into their present form, still avail them-
selves of his arguments, together with others of their
own, against the original unity and the proper Homeric
authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey. These arguments
have a wide bearing on sacred as well as classical litera-
ture and antiquities; and, in this point of view, as well
as because they belong to the history of the Homeric
Question, they must here be briefly stated and can-
vassed.
The grand historical argument on which they rely is,
first, the alleged fact that the Iliad and Odyssey were
not originally committed to writing, since writing was
not in.common use at so early a period; and then the
inference that they were not originally composed in
their present form and compass, since poems so long
çould not be composed without the aid of writing.
Mure, Vol. i. p. 207.
' Ibid.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
81
In proof of the alleged fact, the evidence brought for-
ward is, concisely, as follows:
1. No inscription is known to exist of a date prior to
the fortieth Olympiad, B.C. 620.
2. Papyrus, the only suitable material which the
Greeks had for writing long poems upon, was not easily
accessible to them till the reign of Psammetichus, king
of Egypt, B.C. 650, and not plenty, as some maintain,
till a century later, in the reign of Amasis.
3. Prose composition was not practised in Greece till
the time of the Seven Sages, B.C. 600.
4. The Homeric poems themselves make but a single
allusion to writing, even in its rudest form ; and that
single passage is of doubtful import.
5. The flexibility and freedom of the Homeric lan-
guage, its license of metrical usage, particularly in
contracting and resolving vowels, proves that it was as
yet unwritten.
6. The Aeolic digamma existed as a consonant sound
at the time of the composition of the poems, but does
not appear in the written copies, and therefore must
have vanished from the language in the interval between
their composition and their reduction to a written form.
7. The authors of epic verse, in the Homeric age,
are not called writers, or even poets, but singers (ào.doí).
They invoke the aid of the Muses,“ daughters of mem-
ory"; and blindness, so far from being a disqualification
for the functions of a bard, seems rather to have been
commonly associated with the popular idea of the office.
This sevenfold array of arguments wears a somewhat
i The fifth and sixth arguments have been insisted on chiefly by critics
later than Wolf, especially by Richard Paync Knight. The first four were
brought forward by Wolf himself. The seventh is urged with considerable
force by Grote
C
82
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
formidable appearance. Some concede the point that
the Homeric poems were not originally written, who
still maintain their original unity. Grote comes to the
conclusion that they were probably not committed to
writing till about the middle of the seventh century B.C.
(660–630).
Before proceeding to examine the validity of these
arguments, it should be distinctly understood what is
the point in dispute. We freely admit, and fully be-
lieve, that the Homeric poems were usually recited, and
not read, for some time after their original composition ;
and whenever they were for the first time committed
to writing, it was probably not so much for the sake of
finding readers as for the convenience of reciters.
Thus much is now generally conceded by intelligent
advocates of the one-authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey.
We even confess to a spontaneous conviction, a sort of
instinctive feeling, whenever we read the poems, that
they were not only composed for hearers, instead of
readers, but that they were originally composed in the
mind of the poet without the constraint and hinderance
of writing as he composed. But that they were not
committed to writing, and could not have been, by the
author, or any one else in his age — this we are far
from admitting. It is essential to the validity of these
arguments against the received doctrine, that they not
only show the improbability, but the impossibility, of a
written Iliad and Odyssey in the Homeric age. This is
the real issue now before us; and this the arguments
above enumerated are by no means sufficient to demon-
strate.
1. Inscriptions. Not one in a thousand of the in-
scriptions which existed in historical times have come
UU
THE HOMERIC QUESTION. .
83
down to us through the wreck of conquests and the
wear of ages that have passed over Greece. Is it then
incredible that there may have been hundreds in ante-
historical times, and yet not one of them be now ex-
tant? That inscriptions were common in the age of
Solon (B.C. 600) we know from his law prohibiting the
erasure of them. And we have the best authority that
can be found among Greek authors -- the authority of
Herodotus, Aristotle, Plutarch, and Pausanias, for in-
scriptions reaching back as far as the first Olympiad
(B.C. 776), and even as early as the age of Iphitus and
Lycurgus (B.C. 850–825).1 But were this claim admit
ted in its fullest extent, it would by no means follow
that there were not written books at an earlier date.
6 Niebuhr has shown that written books existed in
Rome under the Tarquins; but the date of the oldest
extant Latin inscription is later by several centuries
than the expulsion of the kings ;" 2 and the oldest
extant specimens of Hebrew epigraphy are later, by five
hundred years, than the Psalms of David, and nearly a
thousand years later than the books of Moses.
2. Writing materials. The commercial factories of
the Greeks established at the mouth of the Nile, in the
reign of Psammetichus, introduced into Greece a more
copious supply of papyrus; but it was known, though
“scarce,” 3 at a still earlier period; and, prior to the
introduction of papyrus, parchiment was in so common
A full citation of authorities in an argument so comprehensive and so
condensed as this, would occupy almost as much space us the argument
itself, and would be of little interest to our readers. Sec, on this subject of
carly alphabetic writing, Huz, Erfindung der Buchstabenschrift, Kreuser,
Vorfragen über Homcros, and especially Mure, Vol. iii. pp. 397 sqq.
3 Rom. Geschich., Vol. i. p. 526. Sec Mure, Vol. iii. p. 441.
* Herod. iv. 58,
84
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
7
use for vritten books, that books were still called parch-
ments (oup dépai) by the Ionians 1 two centuries after
parchment had been superseded by the cheaper and
more convenient Egyptian material. Moreover, the
Hebrews, Phoenicians, and other Aramaean nations,
from whom the Greeks derived the use of parchment,
together with alphabetic writing itself, had written books
— had quite a body of poetical and even historical lit-
erature, while they had no better supply of writing
materials than the Greeks.
3. Prose composition. The preference of poetical or
prose composition depends on the taste of the people,
not on the extent to which writing and writing ma-
terials prevail ; as is shown by the comparison just
adverted to between the Greeks, whose early literary
productions were all epic poems, and the Hebrews and
other neighboring nations in the East, whose early lite-
rature, though they were no better provided with writ-
ing materials, was for the most part historical prose.
At the same time there can be no reasonable doubt
that “ epistolary or diplomatic correspondence, oracular
edicts, public records, codes of laws, and other strictly
useful documents in Greece were written in prose, from
a very remote period" - long prior to that of the Seven
Wise Men.
4. Homeric allusions to writing. Suppose there were
not a single allusion to writing in the entire poems
(a question which we waive for the present), would this
suffice to disprove its existence? The argument from
i Herod. Ibid. So the Latin libri proves the existence of books written
on bark, before the Bibros of the Egyptians and the Greeks was introduced
among the Romans.
* Plut. Pyth. 0: 20. See Mure, Vol. iii. p. 458; and below, p. 91.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
85
silence, if it proves anything, proves the poet's entire
ignorance of any such thing as writing. But who can
credit such entire ignorance of a bard who had wan-
dered over all the shores and islands of the Aegean,
and “ seen the cities and manners of many men,” in an
age when the arts were so far advanced, when the
kindred arts of casting, carving, tapestry-weaving, and
embroidery, were so well understood! The argument
from silence would prove the entire abstinence of
Homer's heroes, at their common meals and at their
festivals, from those universal articles of good cheer,
boiled flesh, fish, game, poultry, and not a few other
things, to which he happens to make no allusion, but
which are common in every age. The argument from
silence would prove the poet's ignorance of painting,
and its entire absence in that age, even from the pal-
aces of kings — an art of far more poetical interest than
writing, more likely to attract the attention and excite
the interest of the personages, especially of the Odys-
sey, and less likely to be passed over in silence by the
the poet. “If Helen, in spite of the poet's silence as to
painting, could embroider on a large piece of tapestry
the adventures of the Trojan war, Homer, in spite of
his silence as to writing, might record them on a few
large slieets of diplıthera.” 1
5. Homeric license. « The text of Chaucer, between
whom and Homer there are various other features of
analogy, presents a mass of poetical and grammatical
licenses, rivalling, or even surpassing, those of the Iliad
and Odyssey.” 2 Does this prove an unwritten “ Can-
terbury Tales ?”
6. The Aeolic digamma. “ The digamma never, at
4See More, Vol. iii. p. 481. Mure, Appendix, Vol. iii. p. 519.
86
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
any period, either in Ionia, Boeotia, or Aeolia, in the
epic poetry of Homer or Hesiod, or in the lyric odes of
Alcaeus or Sappho, formed a necessary ingredient of
manuscript orthography. The reason, also, is apparent.
Being not a proper consonant, but a mere liquid ele-
ment, the powers of which could be sustained, or dis-
pensed with, at the discretion of the poet, it seemed
more elegant as well as convenient to omit it constantly
than to insert it constantly, where its effects were so
inconstant."? Such is the conclusion at which Mure
arrives, at the end of a very elaborate discussion of the
subject, in his Appendix; and though we have been
accustomed to concede not a little weight to this argu-
ment of Payne, Knight, and others, we do not see how
Mure's arguments and conclusions can well be in-
validated.
7. Blind bards, and Memory, the mother of the Muses.
It is not denied that the early epic poets were singers
nor that they sung their poems from memory, and
therefore invoked the aid of Mnemosyne and the Muses.
But this would not of itself demonstrate, even in regard
to the earliest, that they never committed their pro-
ductions to writing. Still less would the same usage,
when adopted by their successors, authorize any such
inference. It became a fixed usage of epic and lyric
verse to invoke the aid of the Muses; a practice which
lasted not only through all periods of Greek and Roman
literature, but has been perpetuated in modern poetry,
and has not become obsolete even in these days of
printing by steam. Why does no one argue an unwrit-
ten Aeneid from the “ Arma virumque cano" of Virgil ;
or an unwritten Paradise Lost, from the blindness of
Milton and his repeated invocations of the Muses? The
THE HOMERIC: QUESTION.
87
History of Herodotus was rehearsed at the Olympic
games, and his nine books have come down to us
bearing the names of the nine Muses. At the same
time we know they were also written. As for those
who can believe that Homer himself was always blind,
we can only say, with Paterculus, that they must them-
selves be blind in all their senses.
In opposition to these arguments, thus susceptible of
explanation, and in proof of the actual existence of
writing in the Homeric age, we have the following facts
and authorities :
1. The unquestionable existence and common prac-
tice of writing at a still earlier period among the
Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Hebrews, and the Phoeni-
cians, as is proved by the extant literature, or by the
ancient monuments of those nations; and the acknowl-
edged existence of written books among the Romans
in the earliest periods of their history, under the gov-
ernment of the kings. It is quite incredible that the
quick-witted and early cultivated Greeks were behind
the warlike and barbarous Romans, were behind all
their neighbors in the West and in the East, in the
use of letters; so far behind those with whom they were
connected, commercially and politically (to say nothing
of a common origin and common alphabet), that they
were ignorant of all literary use, if not of the very
1
ULUI
had them in constant use in literary composition and
in the transaction of business.
2. The tradition that alphabetic writing was intro-
duced into Greece from Phoenicia several centuries
prior to the Trojan war, which is confirmed ; which, in
Cf. p. 83.
88
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
.
all but the definite fixing of the time, is demonstrated
to be a fact by the manifest identity in name and form
of most of the letters of the Greek alphabet with the
Phoenician and the Hebrew. And, though the time of
the introduction of letters from the East 1 is indefinite,
there can be no doubt that it was at a very early period;
since, in the earliest period at which we find any men-
tion of alphabetic writing (in the seventh century before
Christ), its introduction was referred back to a remote
and immemorial antiquity. Moreover, the universal
opinion in Greece — whatever difference there might be
in regard to names and dates — the unanimous opinion
ascribed the invention or the introduction of letters to
the ante-Homeric age.
· 3. The letter or letters of Bellerophon (Iliad, vi. 168
seq.). The facts in this much-disputed matter are
simply these : Bellerophon was falsely accused by Antea,
wife of Proetus, king of Argos, precisely as Joseph was
accused by Potiphar's wife - one of those innumerable
incidents and illustrations of a primitive state of society
by which the reader of the poems of Homer is perpet-
ually reminded of the books of Moses. The king,
wishing to dispose of him, and yet scrupling, himself,
to lay violent hands on him, sends Bellerophon to his
ally Iobates, king of Lycia, with a letter, directing that
the bearer sliould be put to death. Was this a real
letter, written in alphabetic characters, or were tlie
characters mere cypher, hieroglyphics, or picture-writ-
ing? This is the point in dispute. In either case, it
1 Mure interprets Cadmus as etymologically equivalent to Fast-Man, and
so in itself expressive of the Eastern origin of those Cadmean colonies and
influences of which st many Greek writers have so much to say. Cf.
Herod. iv. 147; Pausan iii. 1,7; Diod. v. 58.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
89
clearly answered all the purposes of a letter. On either
supposition, it was a communication by signs, written
or scratched 1 on a tablet, and sent to a person at a
distance; and even if the signs were hieroglyphics or
cypher, a people like the Greeks, who had advanced so
far in the art, would not be long without alphabetic
writing.
But the presumption is, that it was a real letter. It
answered, as we have said, every purpose of a letter.
The whole process of transmission and delivery is
described just as if it were a letter. The Greek word
by which it is designated (onua), though ambiguous in
itself, yet being employed by the poet both in the sin-
gular and the plural (the singular, onua, to denote the-
whole, and the plural, onuara, to denote the parts
which make up the whole), precisely as ypájpa and
ypájiuata were employed in the later Greek, litera and
this fact, especially when taken in connection with the
evidence already given that alphabetic writing was
already known in Greece, creates a strong presumption
that it was a real letter. ..
And this presumption is strengthened into an almost
certainty by two things, which are placed beyond dis-
pute by the nature of the case, or by the express decla-
ration of the poet: 1. It was a sealed despatch, whose
purport was concealed from the bearer, and that not by
unintelligible signs, but by the folding of the material,
(év Tivakı TTUKTÔ, in a folded tablet). This certainly
looks more like ordinary letter writing than cipher or
hieroglyphics. 2. The contents of the despatch were
1 The original word (ypdyas) will bear either of these meanings, and in
the connection must mean one or the other.
8*
:.90
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK" POETS.
various, copious, and intended to provoke Iobates to the
execution of the order. The writer is expressly said to
hare “written in the folded tablet many soul-harass-
ing things” (Ovuo bópa morá) ; 1 that is, doubtless, a
detailed account of the alleged crimes of Bellerophon,
and the reasons why he should be put to death. How
utterly inconsistent such copious detail is with the
supposition of hieroglyphics or any form of picture-writ-
ing need not be remarked. We have then, as we can
scarcely doubt, an actual instance of alphabetic writing
in the Iliad itself. For other less conspicuous allusions
to written documents in the Homeric poems we must
refer the reader to Mure.
" 4. The law and practice of ostracism at Athens,
implies the ability of the citizens generally to read and
write, whenever it was introduced. At the latest, this
cannot have been later than the revision of the Athe-
nian Constitution by Clisthenes: (B.C. 510). According
to the more commonly received opinion, it was a provi-
sion in the laws of Solon. And this general ability to
write, thus implied as existing or expected to exist, in
the age of Solon, or at the latest in that of Clisthenes,
could not have sprung up at once, like. a mushroom
from the earth. It must have been the growth of sev-
eral generations, not to say several centuries.
The scytale (okvtán), or parchment staff, by which
This rendering of druopoópa, though different from that often given, is
demanded by the etymology of the word, and by habitual Homeric usage.
See Liddell and Scott, and places there cited. The plural form of rould
implies variety as well as copiousness.
* See Vol. iii. p. 487 sqq.
3 See Grote's History.
4 So called from okūtos, a skin. It was a staff, about which a long nar-
row strip of parchment was rolled spirally, and then the despatch was writ-
ten on its surface; so that when inrolled, it would of course, be illegible.
.::
:91
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
the Spartan magistrates sent despatches to the public
servants abroad, implies the same ability on the part
of those who were eligible to the Spartan ephorship,
that is, of all the citizens of that most illiterate of the
Grecian States. And this is alluded to as well known
(so well known that okután had become another name
for message) by Archilochus, at the close of the eighth
or the beginning of the seventh century before Christ.
If such was the state of education in Sparta in the time
of Archilochus, we may well believe they might have
had a written Homer in Athens and in Asiatic Greece
in the age of Lycurgus and of the poet himself.
The same state of general education is implied by the
written and posted laws of Solon, Draco, Lycurgus, and
perhaps earlier lawgivers ; by written oracles, treaties,
records, and registers in the temples and public arch-
ives, for which we have the testimony of the best Grecian
authors; 8 by legal provisions for public education, and
incidental allusions to schools 4 and public libraries; by
the advanced state of the arts and sciences as far back
even as Homer himself; by the tacit understanding as
well as the explicit declarations of the whole succession
of poets, historians, and philosophers, from Pindar and
Hesiod 5 (not to say Homer) downwards. Add to all
Commanders and other public agents abroad had & precisely similar staff,
about which they rolled the parchment, and thus the despatch became leg-
ible again.
i The Spartans did eschew literary culture, but were most carefully edu-
cated in all that was needful to qualify them for the duties of war and the
state.
? Quoted by the Scholiast on Pindar Ol. vi. 154.
8 See p. 693, and Mure, Vol. iii. p. 416 sqq.
4 Herod. vi. 26; Aelian, Var. Hist. vii. 15; Athen. i. 4; Aul. Gell. vi. 17;
Herod. v. 90.
6 In Hesiod's Maxims of Chiron, a work of acknowledged high antiquity,
and quoted and paraphrased by Pindar, it was enjoined that children
O
92
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
this the direct authority of Aristotle, for a written
Homer brought from Samos by Lycurgus, and the
universal belief in a written Homer by Greek authors;
and, though the authority and the belief might, of them-
selves, be insufficient to convince us, yet, when sup-
ported by such a variety and force of circumstantial
evidence, does it not command our assent? Can we,
at least, deny the possibility of a written Iliad and
Odyssey ?
5. The Homeric poems themselves, so far forth as
they bear evidence of an original unity and extent too
great to be secured, either in their composition or in
their preservation, without the aid of writing; so far
forth these poems themselves go to prove the existence
of writing in the Homeric age. This argument will
have more or less weight with different individuals.
Iu the estimation of some, it amounts almost to demon-
stration. Thus Hug, in his excellent treatise on Alpha-
betic Writing, reverses the reasoning of Wolf, and
instead of disproving the integrity of the Iliad by deny-
ing the existence of writing, he infers the necessary
existence of writing from the palpable unity of the Iliad.
“ Aristotle,” he says, “has not erred, when he praised
the perfect unity of the Iliad. It is incredible that a
poem at once so unique and so complete, so admirable
in its construction, so perfect in its minutest details,
should have been produced without any aid from writ-
ing. It would be a miracle. To this art, then, is
Homer indebted for his superiority over all his prede-
cessors.” And if we had to choose between the reason-
should not be instructed in letters until seven years old. See Mure, Vol.
iii. p. 451.
* Seu p. 80 above.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION1
93
.
ing of Hug and that of Wolf, we should, by all means,
adopt the former alternative. But we cannot think,
that the unity of the Iliad is so indissolubly connected
with alphabetic writing that they must of necessity
stand or fall together. Our reasons for this opinion
we will give presently. We only say here, that so far
a poetical literature wliosc unity or whose aggregate
amount forbids thic supposition of thicir being composed
or transmitted without the aid of writing, so far and so
carly we have a demonstration of the existence of writ-
ing. And when we take into consideration, not only
poems, and not only the Homeric poems, but the lialf a
dozen other poems, of nearly equal length, which we
know very early clustered around them, and also the
rival school of Hesiodic poetry, all belonging to the
same general and mythical age, we have an aggregate
amount of literary productions, aside from the length
and unity of each particular poem, whose preservation,
to say nothing of their original composition, without the
aid of writing, would, in our estimation, be little short
of a miracle.
In view of all these considerations, we cannot doubt
the possibility, indeed we cannot but maintain the
probability, of a written Iliad and Odyssey in the Ho-
meric age; if not written by the poet himself in the pro-
cess of composition, yet committed to writing by his
contemporaries for the sake of a more perfect preserva-
tion of the poems.
1 For a full account of these poems, the Thebais, Epigoni, Cypria, Little
Iliad, Dii Persis, Nosti, ctc., etc., see Murc, Vol. ii. p. 248 sqq. He makes
out ten or twelve cyclic poems.
94
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
But were we obliged to admit the improbability, or
even the impossibility, of a written Iliad and Odyssey,
we should not feel constrained to concede the impossi-
bility of the composition of one or both of them by one
author. Were tlic alleged fact of Wolf proved beyond
a doubt, the inference which he drew from it would by
no means follow.
Even in these days of devices to aid, and thus to im-
pair, the memory, there are not wanting instances of a
power to remember little, if at all, inferior to that as-
cribed to Homer. It is said of the late queen of Spain,
that she had only to read or hear hundreds of verses of
a poem she never heard of before, and she could repeat
them word for word immediately, or weeks and monthis
afterwards. And what is is to our purpose quite," Sca-
liger committed Homer entire to memory in twelve
days, and all the Greek poets in three months. But
not to instance persons of extraordinary capacity, cler-
gymen who are in the labit of preaching from memory,
with or without writing, require little or no direct effort
beyond that of composition to commit their discourses
to memory; and by frequent delivery a large number
of discourses become so fixed in the memory, so incor-
porated, as it were, with their mental and physical coll-
stitution, that they know them, as the saying now is, by
heart; or, as the Greeks say, åtò otóuatos. The pro-
digious number of songs which the rhapsodists of Modern
Greece treasure up in their memories, and sing to the
lyre, at the paneghyris in the country villages, is an
illustration still more in point. And it is an interest-
ing analogy between Modern and Ancient Greece, that
there are still two classes of rhapsodists — those who sing
their own productions, and those who sing the verses of
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
9.5
others; and that not a few of those who follow this pro-
fession are blind. Of two hundred and fifty specimens
in the collection named below, one is supposed to date
back as far as the middle of the sixteenth century, since
which time it has been preserved in writing. The rest
are unwritten, and the most ancient is said to be a cen-
tury and a lialf old.
Instead of being neglected and despised, as it is by
too many young men of genius in our day, the memory
was honored and cultivated by the great men of Greece
and Rome as the foundation of their greatness. Great
commanders, like Cyrus, Themistocles, and Lucullus,
knew every soldier in their armies. Great civil as well
as military officers, like Scipio and Adrian, knew all the
people of Rome. Great orators, like Carneades, could
rehearse the contents of almost any book to be found in
the libraries, as if they were reading. Great philoso-
phers, like Seneca, by the mere force of unaided mem-
ory, were able to repeat two thousand words upon once
hearing them, each in its order, though they had no
natural connection with each other. It was no strange
thing for educated men at Athens to know the Iliad
and Odyssey by heart. And this in an age of books,
written records, and all sorts of substitutes for the
memory, and by practical men, with whom the cultiva-
tion of the memory was a secondary thing.
Who, then, can set bounds to this faculty in an age
when the memory of the bard is not only the library,
but the archives of the nation; when recitation is a
profession, and memory the chief study; when Mnem-
osyne is honored by rehearsers and hearers as the
1 Fauriel's Introduction to his Chants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne.
2 Xen. Symp. iii. 5.
96
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
mother of the Muses; and the singer of his own verses,
or those of others, is the pride of the people, the favorite
of kings and princes, the ornament and glory of the fes-
tivals of the gods? If Scaliger could learn the poems
of Homer by heart in twelve days, could not Homer
himself compose and preserve them in his own memory ?
Composition is not a hinderance, but a help to remem-
brance. To compose, with many preachers and public
speakers, is to remember; and their memory is the
storehouse of all their oft-repeated productions. How
much more may this be true; how much more must it ,
have been true of the composer and public relearser of
verse in a primitive age? Of course we are not to sup-
pose that Homer threw off the Iliad at a single heat,
perhaps not in a single year. It grew as he rehearsed
it, and he rehearsed it as it grew, till it became, as it
were, a part of himself; and he could no more forget it
than his right hand could forget her cunning. At the
same time, if we could suppose he needed any help in
remembering the successive parts as he composed, or
the entire poem when it was finished, a whole tribe of
rhapsodists -- the Phemii and the Demodoci of the age-
stood ready to aid him. Indeed, willing or unwilling,
they could not be restrained from catching his inspired
utterances as they fell from his lips, and rehearsing
them for the entertainment of the circles in which they
respectively moved.
There is, then, no impossibility, or violent improba-
bility, in either of the alternatives, which Wolf so stoutly
denies. The Homeric poems might have been commit-
ted to writing in the Homeric age, and they might have
been composed without the aid of writing. We have
dwelt on these points at considerable length, partly be-
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
97
S
cause of the great importance which has been attached
to them as the main arguments against the integrity of
the Iliad and Odyssey; but partly, also, because they
are in themselves questions of great interest, whose in-
fuence, according as they are seen in a true or a false
light, must extend over the entire field of ancient lite-
rature, and affect the authority of the Hebrew scriptures
not less than the credit of Greek poetry.
The way is now clear for us to interrogate the poems
themselves, and examine impartially the internal evi-
dence of unity or diversity of authorship which they
present in their own structure. And here several facts
require to be noted as preliminary to this inquiry, or
rather as indirect testimony.
1. The Iliad and Odyssey have been recognized, ever
since the days of Aristotle, as not only each the pro-
duction of a single author, but as the standard of epic
unity for all time. That this is a fact, none will deny.
It seems to us also to be a fact of some significance,
entitled to some consideration even in this age of pro-
found critical erudition, and more profound critical
self-complacency. The prince of Greek philosophers
had some acquaintance with the language and literature
of the Greeks. The father of ancient and modern
science, the classifier and systematizer of all knowledge,
the most analytic and comprehensive mind of ancient
times, not to say of all ages, had some idea of epic unity.
The masters of the Alexandrian school had some critical
acumen. The sacramental host of Greek authors and
scholars knew something of the contents and spirit of
the Greek Bible. Athens, Alexandria, Rome, Constan-
tinople, Modern Europe, were not entirely blind to the
1 See Aris. Poetic, passim.
1
AT
98
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
1
true character of the Homeric poems before the dawn
of the eighteenth century. The superiority of our age
in critical acumen and philological learning is not
denied. But it may be doubted whether the minute
critics of the day are 110t as blind to the soul of ancient
poetry as the minute philosophers are to the spirit of
true religion. The eye may be so trained to the dis-
cernment of microscopic objects as to become incapable
of wide views, to say nothing of telescopic vision. The
ear may be so filled with gross earthly sounds as to be
deaf to the music of the spheres.
2. The rank which literary men, in all ages, have
agreed in assigning to the Homeric poems is irrecon-
cilable with the theory of several authors. The age or
the country has usually been deemed singularly fortu-
nate which has produced one Homer. That any one
country or any one age should have produced twenty
Homers, or twenty poets (call them by what name you
will) of the very same, and that the very highest, order
of poetical excellence is utterly incredible. That all
these poets, of the very first order of original genius,
should have confined their lays to one war, and to a
very small portion of that war, is still more incredible.
And that Pisistratus, or some nameless bard or scribe
of his day, could have brought twenty different lays of
twenty different Homers into an epic, to which all men
of taste and learning for twenty-five centuries should
ascribe the palm of genius and poetical excellence, is
most incredible of all. As well might the Parthenon
have been constructed from materials planned by twenty
different architects for twenty different edifices. We
cannot conceive of a perfect work of art being pro-
duced in any such manner. It were too much like
by RA
AY

THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
17.99
VEL
supposing the world we live in to have been put to
gether by a creature, from twenty little worlds made by
twenty different creators. The creature who could do
such a work were more wonderful than all the original
creators. And if we believed that Pisistratus, or any
man of his day, rendered such a service as some sup-
pose to the Iliad and Odyssey, we should think him the
most remarkable man that ever lived. We should
lionor him as our Homer. Nay, we should worship
him as the “ Magnus Apollo" of the literary pantheon.
No more can we conceive of a masterpiece of poetical
genius and art growing, as the Iliad and Odyssey are
represented in the more recent and more popular form
of that theory to have grown out of some greater or
smaller lay, under the hand of successive bards, through
successive generations. As well might we conceive
the Parthenon as having grown by successive addi-
tions or enlargements of the primitive plan, under the
direction of successive architects, till what was a small
temple or a rude hut in the days of Solon stood forth
in the age of Pericles, as it has stood ever since, the
admiration and study of the world.
The two ideas - such a work and such workmen,
such a production and such a process — are incompat-
ible. Accordingly we find, as might be expected, that
just in proportion to the amount of patchiwork which
each man's particular form of the theory presupposes
in the Iliad and Odyssey, in just the same proportion
the advocates of the new theory are disposed to depre-
ciate the perfection of the poems.
3. The authority which has always been conceded to
the Homeric poems, as correct representations, if not of
the geography and history, yet of the manners and
100
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
customs, of Greece in the heroic age, is inconsistent withi
the hypothesis of diverse and successive authors. As
early as the time of Solon a line of Homer was sufficient
to settle a disputed territory or a contested succession.
Solon himself is charged with liaving interpolated a
verse" for the sake of gaining a disputed point against
the Megarians, who, on their side, set forth another
version.” i The Greek historians habitually refer to
Homer as the standard authority in Grecian antiq-
uities ; 2 and Strabo, the father of Greek geography,
reposes more confidence in Homer than in Herodotus,
Ctesias, and Hellanicus. Modern critics, Wolf and his
followers not excepted, not only see in the Homeric
poems a faithful mirror of life and manners in the
heroic age, but appeal to his speech or his silence as the
standard authority in reference to the dialects, races,
names, and migrations of the ancient Greeks. How
this accords with the idea that they are the mere patch-
work of a dozen or twenty different authors, belonging
to as many different times and places, or that they were
the growth of successive ages, down to that of Solon or
Pisistratus, it is difficult to see.
such matters is relied on, so far forth their substantial
unity is, ipso facto, acknowledged. For example: the
absence from either poem of the names Hellas for
sus for its southern peninsula, proves the non-application
of those names then, and then only, when the poems were
written ; in other words, proves the usage in question
? Plutarch’s Solon. See Grote, Part i. chap. 21. Interpolated into what
according to the Wolfian hypothesis ?
. ? E.g. Thucyd. i. 8.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
101
just as far, and no farther, than it proves the substan-
tial integrity of the poems.
In proportion as the testimony of the poems is one,
the presumption is that they proceeded from the same
age and the same author; and in proportion to the
intrinsic improbability of the facts in which the poems
agree throughout, the improbability increases that they
could have proceeded from different authors in different
ages. The omission, whether owing to ignorance or to
whatever cause, of all reference to the use of cavalry in
war; and the exclusion of boiled meat, game, and other
articles of good cheer from the table of the heroes ;
these, and the like negative peculiarities, in the poet's
account of manners and institutions, singular enough
in one Homer, become quite inexplicable and incredible
when extended to a combination of a dozen or a score
of authors, and those scattered along through several
successive generations.1
-
-
-
treated by the poets of the epic cycle, proves their
existence in substantially their present form in the time
of those poets; that is, as early as the First Olympiad.
“Those poems, unfortunately, no longer exist in their
integrity. Several of them, however, as may be col-
lected from their remains, or the notices concerning
them, contained in the choice of their subject and mode
of treatment proofs of a systematic imitation of the
Iliad and Odyssey, and, by consequence, of a famili-
arity with their text, as already extant in the form in
which we now possess it. While a veneration for the
great master induced the disciples or imitators to select
subjects connected with those on which he had shed
1 See these and other similar points well presented in Mure, Vol. i. p. 224.
9*
· 102
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
lustre, a similar feeling, or the fear of entering into
competition with him, also led them to avoid encroach-
ing on the ground he had occupied. Arctinus, the next
most celebrated poet of the school, took up, in his
Aethiopis, the series of adventures before Troy, pre-
cisely 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. 1 The author
of The Cypria treated the previous subject from the
birth of Helen, and brought it down to the exact cpoch
at which the Iliad commences. The Nosti filled up the
interval between the Iliad and the Odyssey. Each of these
works, while vastly inferior, both in design and execution,
to their two prototypes, emulated at least the compre-
hensive scope of their action, borrowing also much of
their own epic machinery, such as catalogues of war-
riors, quarrels among the chiefs, funeral games, and
other similar details.”' 2
5. Those who deny the one-authorship of the Iliad
and Odyssey, do not allege that there is any marked
discrepancy of matter or manner, of style or spirit,
between the two poems, still less between the different
parts of the same poem. On the contrary, they acknowl-
edge a remarkable uniformity and consistency in the
pictures of society, in the portraiture of character, in
the very genius and spirit, as well as the style and sen-
Ilii Persis. The Lesser or Little Iliad was probably by Lesches of
Lesbos. These inferior poets were very l'ar from treating each other with
the same deference with which they all treated the Iliad and Odyssey.
They did not scruple to handle the same suject which had already been
handled by their bretbren.
Mure, Vol. i. p. 212.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
103
timent, of the poems; while, at the same time, they
recognize a broad line of separation in these respects,
between the Homeric poems and the other Greek poets.
“Immo,” says Wolf, in his Prolegomena, “congruunt
in iis omnia ferme in idem ingenium, in eosdem mores,
in eandem formam sentiendi et loquendi." I
Now who would ever think of imputing such similar-
ity, nay such identity, to the productions of Shakespeare
and those of the other dramatic writers of his day; to
the writings of Milton and those of liis contemporaries;
to the works of any great poetical genius of modern
times, and those of any, even the best, authors of the
same age? We have not been accustomed to think so
lightly of the difference between genius and mediocrity,
or between the highest poetical excellence and the
nearest approaches to it. It is not so easy a thing to
rival Shakespeare in delineation of character, Milton in
sublimity of thought and language, or even Pope in
sweetness of versification ; still less to vie with Homer
in the combination of all these excellences. As well
might fowls of every feather flock around the bird of
Jove, and soar with him to the sun! Let the oppo-
nents of the integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey undertake
to manufacture, out of the whole compass of English or
German poetry, two epics of fifteen thousand lines, that
should wear throughout the air of consistency and
uniformity which they themselves concede to these
poems, “idem ingenium, eosdem mores, eandem for-
mam sentiendi et loquendi!”
Sudet multum frustraque laboret,
Ausus idem.
And the argument for the integrity of each poem is
1 To the same purport is the language of Hermann, Opusc. Vol. vi. p. 72.
1
104
THEOLOGY OF THF GREEK POETS.
strengthened rather than weakened by the distinction
which these critics sometimes labor to establish between
the two poems. This twofold separation of the Homeric
poems, first from all other Greek poetry, and secondly
from each other, must rest, if it has any basis, on a two-
fold unity: the one of a more general nature, and the
other of a more specific kind; and what can these be,
but the former identity of authorship, and the latter
identity of plan ?
Genius may be unequal to, and even inconsistent
with, itself; but mediocrity never can be cqual to
genius. Hence, as Mure well argues, similarity of
genius, style, and spirit affords much stronger proof of
identity of authorship than dissiinilarity does of diver-
sity. The discrepancies which are so much insisted
on in the Iliad and Odyssey, are cliefly those petty
anachronisms and self-contradictions, and those slight
diversities of style or sentiment, which are incident to
human imperfection on the one hand, or which, on the
other, genius overlooks, and even exults in as the very
element of freedom, and the proof of superiority to those
minute accuracies which shackle ordinary mortals.
For example, the Teicho-scopia in the Third Book of
the Iliad, represents Helen on the wall, pointing out the
Grecian heroes to Priam and his counsellors, as if they
had hitherto been strangers to each other, and were now
brought face to face for the first time. Yet we learn
from the complaints of the desponding commander-in-
chief of the Grecian army, in the Second Book, that they
had already been encamped before Troy for nine long
years. And this accords with the plan of the poem, the
turniny-point in which is the slaying of Hector as the
immediate consequence of the reconciliation of the chiefs,
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
105
and thus (in the fall of its chief defender) a preparation
for the speedy downfall of the city. The inconsistency
is not perhaps so great in reality, as at first view it ap-
pears to be, since we know that after the first conflicts
in the open field, finding themselves unable to cope with
their adversaries in pitched battle, the Trojans retired
within the walls, and the most enterprising of the Greeks,
with Achilles at their head, gave themselves up to the
conquest and sacking of the neighboring towns that were
less strongly fortified. It is not therefore impossible or
improbable, that in the tenth year of the war, the forms
and features of the Grecian chiefs should be far from
familiar to the king and counsellors of Troy. Still we
do not believe that Homer felt the necessity of any such
justification of the Teicho-scopia ; and we do not regard
this as the true explanation of the apparent inconsis-
tency. It was fitting that at an early stage in the poem,
and especially on the eve of a single combat between the
rival claimants to the hand of Helen, Helen herself, the
object of the strife, should be introduced. A bird's-eye
view of the scene of conflict, and the principal actors in
it, was also appropriate to the same stage of the grand
cpic. The poet, with characteristic skill, seizes on the
period of inaction, while Hector is sending to Troy and
making arrangements for the single combat between
Paris and Menelaus, and introduces the scene on the
wall, at the west gate, to fill up the interval. In short,
the Teicho-scopia fills its place in the book and in the
poem as perfectly as the grand gateway formed the en-
trance to the cella of the Parthenon. And this was all
the poet thought of or cared for. It was poetically true,
proper, and probable; and he never raised the question
. Iliad, ix. 352 sqq.; 328 sqq. ct passim.
106
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
whether it was historically accurate. At the same time,
he does not entirely forget himself. That the Teicho-
scopia belongs to the same advanced stage of the war
with the rest of the poem is implied in the πολύν χρόνον
(v. 157) during which the Greeks and Trojans had been
struggling for the possession of such a prize, and in the
changes and deaths which had taken place since Helen
left her native land (v. 243). And that it belongs, like
all the other books between the first and the eighteenth,
to the period of Achilles's non-participation in the strife,
appears from the fact that he, the son of a goddess, and
the universally acknowledged champion of the Greeks,
is not seen among the heroes on the plain.
The same remarks apply to the detailed and admirable
story of old Nestor as he is seen by Agamemnon, mar-
shalling and haranguing his troops, as if it were the
first time he had ever drawn them out in order of battle
on the plain of Troy; a story, historically speaking, out
of place in the tenth year of the war, and yet poetically
true to the character of the Pylian sage and perfectly
appropriate to its place in the plan of the poem.
The chronological discrepancies between the different
parts of the Odyssey — such for instance, as the want
of synchronism between the voyage of Telemachus and
the return of Ulysses—may, with strong probability, be
referred to mere inadvertence. It is at least doubtful
whether the poet was conscious of any discrepancy.
No simple reader and admirer of the poem would be
likely to notice it. And none but a critic who looked
an anatomical student, who has dissected the poem, in-
stead of gazing on its living form and features, would
deem it any blot on the fair proportions of the Odyssey.
Ilia:1, iv. 292 sqq.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
107
.
1
As to the differences in style, manners, and mythol-
ogy between the Iliad and the Odyssey, they have been
partly exaggerated, and in part they admit of a ready
explanation. It has been said, for instance, that the
language of the Odyssey is more cultivated and refined
than that of the Iliad; the state of society more ad-
vanced; the morals and religion more elevated; the
gods more human and less divinc, less grossly corpo-
real and more spiritual and invisible in their presence
and agency. These topics are too nuinerous and too
extensive to be discussed at length in this Article. The
reader who wishes to examine the subject in detail, will
find the facts well summed up in Mure's chapter on the
Doctrine of the Separatists.1 And if he will look at all
the facts in the case, we are sure that he will come to
the conclusion that the gods of both poems are essen-
tially the same ungodlike medley of virtues and vices, .
of grandeur and weakness, visible to mortal eyes in dif-
ferent forms and degrees, according to the ends to be
answered by their appearance;2 that as in the character
and conduct of the leading heroes, so of the principal
gods of the two poems, there is a striking analogy and
consistency in so many particulars as to preclude the
supposition of different authors; 3 that the tables may
i Vol.ii. p. 119.
? See the striking similarity of language as well as sentiment in two pas-
sages cited by Mure, Iliad, xx. 131: xanenol 8è Deol palveolal evapyeîs; and
Odyssey, xvi. 161: Oh Yen Tu TaeT60 Ở geol paivotTai #vapYeis.
3 For instance, in the absence of Jupiter in the Iliad, and of Poseidon in the
Odyssey, at a festival of the Ethiopians, while important cvents are trans-
piring; in Jupiter's yielding to the entreaties of Thetis in the one, and giv-
ing place to the resentment of Poseidon in the other, on which so much of
the action of the two pocms turns; in the deception, by a yod appearing in
a dream, of Agamemnon in the one, and of Telemachus in the other; and
even in the alleged discrepancy between the two poems as to the wife of
Hephaestus, since the Odyssey indirectly explains why it is that Aphrodite
108
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
be turned, and it may be shown that in many respects
the morals and religion of the Iliad are of a higher tone
than those of the Odyssey, the arts and sciences more
advanced, 1 society and language more refined; and that
all these differences are not only explained but demanded
by the different subjects and scenes of the two poems,
together with a probable change in the poet's situation
and period of life. Let it be granted that the Iliad was
the work of his earlier life and the Odyssey of his inoro
advanced years (a supposition not only suggested by
tradition, but almost necessitated by the mutual relation
of the two poems); that the same bard, equally familiar
in his wanderings, with Asiatic Greece and the islands
of the Aegean, on the one hand, and with European
Greece and the Ionian isles on the other (as each poem
proves its author to have been), might have chosen to
make each familiar scene the centre of a separate poem;
and that he chose, as the versatility of his genius not
less than the fitness of things would naturally lead him
to choose, subjects as different as the scenes — the one
a warrior, youthful and brilliant, the very beau-ideal
of heroism in the heroic age, and the other a wander-
ing adventurer, experienced and versed in all arts, the
pattern of wisdom and fortitude - let these postulates
be granted, and every other difference follows from these
as necessarily, almost, as a corollary from its proposi-
tion ; let these germinant ideas be cast into a mind
original and versatile as Homer's, and the Iliad and
Odyssey, with all their manifest differences but more
marked resemblances, spring up as naturally as different
has been divorced (namely for her amours with Ares), and thus opened the
way for Charis, who appears as his wife in the Iliad.
11.ç. embroidery, Iliad, iji. 125 seq. ; and the working of metals, as in
the shield of Achilles, Iliad, xviii. 428 seq.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
109
0
trees spring from different seeds in the same soil. Thus
(to illustrate by a difference between the two poems,
which attracted theattention of ancient as well as mod-
ern critics), the brilliant Iris is the befitting messenger
of the gods in the splendid scenes of the Iliad, while the
busy and dusty Hermes is equally appropriate to the
humbler services which he performs in the Odyssey; and,
as if to demonstrate that this is the true explanation of
the difference, in the Iliad, when a similar service is to
be performed — in conducting Priam to the presence
of Achilles - Hermes is employed, and is brought upon
the stage with the same seven verses of description
(identical, word for word) with which he is introduced
in the Odyssey. 1 A battle of the gods in the Odyssey
were as clearly out of place as the prodigies of the far-
off isles of the Mediterranean in the Iliad. We do not
expect to find the wit of Falstaff in Hamlet; nor the
soliloquies of Hamlet in the Merry Wives of Windsor.
We should like to see Shakespeare or Milton subjected
to the dissecting process according to the rules and
methods by which Homer has been cut to pieces. We
venture to affirm that, in proportion to their length,
there are fewer self-contradictions, and far more marked
resemblances in plan, style, and sentiment, between the
Iliad and Odyssey than there are between Hamlet and
the Merry Wives of Windsor, or between the Paradise
Lost and Comus. If freedom from self-contradiction,
direct or implied, be the test of integrity, the Aeneid,
the Inferno, Don Quixote, must all be resolved into sepa-
rate lays, and their authors reduced to myths and non-
entities. No great poem, that was ever written under
1 Cf. Iliad, xxiv. 339 ; Odyssey, v. 43.
? See this point well illustrated in Mure's Appendixes to Vol. i. and ii.
10
110
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the most auspicious circumstances, will bear the test of
such criticism as has been unhesitatingly applied to
these productions of an antiquity so remote and so rude
as, in the opinion of these critics, to be destitute of the
art of writing!
6. This suggests the further remark, that the utter
disagreement of these critics among themselves deprives
their criticism of all its force. They have only to be
brought together, and, like acids and alkalies, they neu-
tralize each other. Were the Iliad and Odyssey to be
so divided as to meet the views of all (waiving the im-
possibility of the same part being in half a dozen differ-
ent places at the same time), not only would they be
dismembered limb from limb, but dissevered muscle
from muscle, nay, disintegrated particle from particle ;
and not only the two great epics, but the half a dozen
or dozen, half a score or score, of separate lays would
be annihilated in the process. Let every lay be removed
and every line be blotted which has at any time been
pronounced an interpolation or an addition, and, like
the picture which was hung in the market-place and
every spectator invited to try his hand at amendment,
not a feature would be left visible in the great epic
painting of Greece in the Heroic Age. Add to this the
fact that Wolf and his followers so contradict them-
selves, as well as each other, that according to their
own rules, scarcely any one of their own critiques can
be the production of a single author, and the rest of
the world may certainly be excused from attempting to
follow them in such tortuous and diverging paths. And
what does all tliis discordance of opinion indicate ? Not
their want of learning and acuteness, but the slippery
1 See p. 77 above.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
111
S
ground on which they stand; the shadowy nature of
those differences of style and coloring on which they
build their arguments. The ancients doubtless went to
the extreme of faith and veneration in their famous
challenge, which declared it alike impossible « to wrest
the thunderbolt from Jove, the club from Hercules, or
a line from the Iliad.” But the moderns have gone to
the extreme of absurdity and impiety in the utter dis-
memberment and annihilation of this divine poem. If
the shade of Homer were asked which of all the lays
and lines expunged from his works by the critics were
spurious, he might not perhaps answer as Lucian makes
him, — none; but it is quite certain he would not an-
swer— all; since in that case the poor bard would
have nothing left.
7. All the principal parts of the Iliad, even those that
have been most suspected, and still more all the princi-
pal parts of the Odyssey are bound to all the other parts
by a network of mutual reference and connection, which,
like the nerves and veins of the human body, must be
cut and tied before a limb can be amputated. Mure
has done excellent service in illustrating this point; and
the reader who will take the pains to examine in detail
his copious summary of the contents of either poem, and
to trace out the references backward and forward in the
foot-notes, however familiar he may have been with the
outlines of the story, will be surprised to see how nu-
merous are the links, or rather how complete is the net-
work which connects every book indissolubly to the
books that precede and follow it; and however he may
have been previously inclined to believe in the integrity
of the Homeric poems, he can hardly fail to be estab-
lished in a more steadfast as well as a more intelligent
112
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
conviction of that integrity. Then, with the summary
or the poems themselves in hand, let him take some
leading topic - the absence of Achilles, for instance,
after the first book until the eighteenth; or the con-
struction of the rampart, rendered necessary in the
eighth book, by the disasters consequent on the acces-
sion of Achilles, and accordingly never mentioned in
the battles previous to that book, but constituting a
prominent feature in those of the following books; the
promise of Jove to Thetis in secret at the commence-
ment, and the gradual disclosure and execution of his
plan to honor her son, yet through him to slay Hector,
and thus prepare the way for the overthrow of Troy ;
Jove's interdict in the beginning of the eighth book,
prohibiting the gods to participate in the strife, and the
actual absence of the gods (with attempted exceptions,
which only strengthen the argument) from that time
till the interdict is withdrawn in the twentieth book —
let him take any one of these topics, and following it
through, see how often it is alluded to, and how con-
sistently with it the whole course of the dialogue and
the action proceeds, and he will find that any one of
these series of allusions, with the corresponding course
of action, is of itself sufficient to link the successive
books together as with a chain of adamant. Let him
especially apply these tests to the most suspected por-
tions of the Iliad — the Catalogue, for instance, in the
second book; the prowess of Diomed in the fifth and
sixth ; the embassy to Achilles in the ninth ; the Dolo-
nea in the tenth ; the shield of Achilles in the eigh-
teenth; or the burial rites in the twenty-third and
twenty-fourth.
Perhaps there is no part of the Iliad which wears so
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
113
No
much the appearance of a disconnected episode, and
which might be detached from the poem with so little
violence to the counection as the Dolonea or night-
watch. Yet on close examination this book is found to
be connected with the foregoing and following books,
not only by a chain of references, but as an essential
link in the progress of the action. « 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 Tro-
jans on the plain, to the construction of the rampart
and the posting of the guard, with his 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 guarantee the previous existence of
the first nine books of the poem 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 want-
ing sufficiently plain, though not quite so specific allu-
sions to a sequel.” i Besides, “ in the first nine books
of the poem there is no allusion to any special military
connection or comradeship 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, those two heroes are
found still, conjointly and in partnership, stemming the
tide of war.” And what is perhaps still more remark-
able, the brilliant and cheering exploits of the tenth
book are necessary to account for the change of
1 Mure, Vol. i. p. 265.
10*
114
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
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.” 1
8. Besides this network of mutual reference, there is
another chain running through the mechanical struc-
ture of the Iliad and Odyssey, which is still more dis-
tinctively Homeric — which forms such a connection
between the several parts of each poem, and also be-
tween the two poems, as pervades no other poetical
compositions of the same extent. We refer to those
often repeated verses which mark the transitions in the
dialogue; the familiar but not hackneyed lines by which
each speaker is introduced and dismissed from the stage;
the technical descriptions and illustrations of a feast or
a battle which occur as often as a feast or a battle is
described ; the repetition of orders, messages, and pro-
posals, at full length, perhaps two or three times, in the
very same words; and all the other epic common-places
as they are sometimes called, which not only impress
the reader with a spontaneous conviction of the integrity
of each poem, but assure him when he passes from one
to the other that he is still travelling with the same
guide, and that too a guide so intelligent as to see
everything just as it is, and so faithful as to tell every-
thing just as he sees or hears it. There are some two
thousand verses of these several sorts, which are the
same, word for word, in the Odyssey as in the Iliad.
The naked fact, thus stated, is certainly 10 small evi-
dence of identity of authorship. No other two poems,
ancient or modern, bear this evidence so ample and pal-
pable on their surface.
Mure's Preface to his second edition of Vol. i., where, in a foot-note, he
gives credit to Rev. Mr. Blake of Stobo for these last suggestions.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
115
S
UI.
But this connection is not merely superficial. It en-
ters into the substantial merits and the characteristic
excellences of the Homeric poems. Common-place as
(to the superficial reader) these repetitions appear to be,
they exhibit the same master-strokes, the same marvel-
lous power of individualizing men and things, and por-
traying them to the life, which, as manifested in the
whole of his works, signalize Homcr as the greatest of all
painters from nature and from real life. Thus Diomed
seldom speaks in council. Directly the opposite of
what Agamemnon lastily accuses him of being, and
partly perhaps in intentional refutation of that ground-
less charge, he is more valiant in deeds than in words.1
But when all the other chiefs in the absence of Achilles
are reduced to the silence of despair, then in repeated
instances he comes forward with a brief harangue, full
of hope and courage; in every instance it .meets the
instantaneous approval of all, restores their confidence,
and rouses them to vigorous action. This distinctive
trait in the character of Diomed, and in the style of his
eloquence, together with its unfailing influence on the
other leaders and the Grecian host is set forth again
and again in successive books (among the rest, in the
much suspected and greatly wronged tenth book) in
those apparently common-place, but really most charac-
teristic and significant repetitions :
ώς έφαθ' · οι δ' άρα πάντες ακήν εγένοντο σιωπή:
δήν δ' ανέω ήσαν τετιηότες υλες Αχαιών :
óvè dé on METÉELTTE Bony ủyabòs ? Aloundns
Ampetồn, goi TpaTa Laxmcolas CºpaỒéovrt, ....
1 Iliad, iv. 400.
? The reader scarcely need he reminded how appropriate this epithet,
“good at the rescue” is to the trait of character we are illustrating.
116
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS,
üs épaß. oi 8° ăpa Trávtes éríazov vies ’Agarwv,
μυθον αγασσάμενοι Διομήδεος ιπποδάμοιο!
In like manner, Achilles has his own characteristic com-
mon-place: årlà tà MÈD TT POTETúxhai táoojev ... never
used by any other speaker but repeatedly by him, fall-
ing in with the abruptness and sententiousness which
distinguish all his speeches, and even that of the shade
of Achilles in the Odyssey, and picturing to the life his
impetuous and impatient spirit. Old Nestor brings out
in the repetitions which mark his eloquence, not only
the general characteristics of old age, but some of the
most distinctive features of his individual karacter ;
not only wishing that he were young again, as when he
slev Ereuthalion 4 but showing his lively sense of shame
at the degeneracy of the times, and his peculiar sensi-
tiveness to the good opinion of men. How character-
istic of the self-condemned and conscience-stricken Paris
is his repeated
“Έκτορ' επεί με κατ' αίσαν ενείκεσας, ουδ' υπέρ αίσαν.
These parallel passages, which have ever been regarded
as among the best proofs of identity of authorship, some-
times take the form of kindred ideas and images with
more or less of similarity, but not exact identity, of
language; as in the wish of the two leading female
1 Iliad, ix. 29 sqq. ; cf. ix. 693 ; x. 218 ; vii. 398 ; xiv. 103 sqq.
? Iliad, xvi. 60 ; xviii. 112 ; xix. 65 ; xxiv. 523, 524. ITPOTETúxoal occurs
only in tbc Iliad, and in the Iliad proceeds only from the mouth of Achilles.
Mure was the first to call attention to this characteristic of Achilles's speeches
so appropriate to his character. The frequent recurrence of the transitional
and adversative particles åráp, aútáp, aná, ám ãye, årrá... eppétw,
etc., is highly characteristic of the speeches of Achilles.
3 Odyssey, xi. 492 ; cf. Iliad, XX. 351.
4 Iliad, iv. 319 ; vii. 149 sqq., etc.
6 Iliad, i. 254 ; vii. 124 ; xv. 691, etc.
Iliad, iii. 59; vi. 333.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
117
characters of the two poems: Helen (Iliad, vi. 345) that
she had been, and Penelope (Odyssey, xx. 63) that she
might be, swept away by the tempest or engulfed in the
waves; the care taken in regard to the hero of each
poem 1 that he may not suffer present evil, coupled with
the declaration that hereafter he will suffer - what the
Fates had spun for him at his birth”; the hatred of do-
ception expressed by Achilles in the Iliad (ix. 312) and
by Eumaeus in the Odyssey (xiv. 156), and enforced by
the same strong comparison, “ hateful as the gates of
Hades" ---an image of hatefulness which the poet applies
only to this hateful vice. In these and many similar
passages the parallelism lies .not in the exact form of
words, but in the general cast of conception and expres-
sion, thus indicating not a repetition from the memory
of the bard, but a like action of the same original and
creative powers of mind under similar circumstances,
and showing the same marvellous faculty to individu-
alize and characterize things in these passages, as in the
others above cited he has shown to distinguish and por-
tray persons. More commonly, however, where Homer
has occasion to repeat the same ideas he does it in the
same words, and with good reason ; for those words are
so exactly the living image of the ideas, that to vary
them were to mar the image.
The same principles — the same power of discrimina-
tion on the part of the author, and the same inference
that the author is one and the same -- are involved in
those descriptive and distinctive epithets which Homer
applies to persons and things with the uniformity of
In regard to Achilles by the goddess Hcra (Iliad, xx. 126 sqq.) and in
regard to Ulysses by the god-like Alcinous, king of the Phacacians (Odys-
sey, vii. 195 sqq).
118
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
common-place, but with the discrimination of a master
in painting. These epithets are in fact pictures in min-
iature of the persons and things to which they are
applied. It is as if the poct wlien lie was about to
introduce an actor on the stage, first held up before the
audience a picture of the man, so drawn to the life, that
you not only recognize the actor at once whenever he
appears, though amid a multitude of other actors, but
you know beforehand, more or less perfectly, how le
will speak and act. Thus the epithets by which the
two protagonists are distinguished from other men
and those by which they are distinguished from each
other, exhibit these two heroes not only in their most
characteristic features, as unitedly “ the destroyers of
cities," and as severally “the lion-hearted,” and “ the
versatile," " the crusher of heroes,” and “ the man of
many expedients," I but also in a variety of other proper
and interesting attitudes ; while those by which the
inferior heroes and even the contending nations are
characterized, constitute a whole gallery of portraits
and groups, in which individual and national character
stands out almost visibly before the eye. And not only
the science of human nature, but the profoundest phi-
losophy of the material and spiritual universe is not
unfrequently shadowed forth in Homeric epithets, as
" the cope of heaven is imaged in a dewdrop.”
The dramatic structure of the Homeric poems is one
of their most characteristic features. The mere extent
to which dialogue prevails over direct narration were
? It is worthy of notice how the many-sidedness of Ulysses is set forth in
his cpithets, most of which contain toxu in their composition. Mure has
gone into particulars on this subject of Homeric epithets (Vol. ii. p. 75
sqq.) and given numerically their application to different persons, and their
distribution between the Iliad and the Odyssey.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
119
C
sufficient of itself to distinguish these from any other
epic poems in existence. But when we further observe
with what masterly skill and power the dialogue is made
to develop character and history, it becomes distinctive
not only as an outward form, but as a spiritual clement;
it becomes, like the cpithets and the common-place, and
pre-eminently above even them, a proof of that insight
into human nature, of that creative or rather represent-
ative faculty, in a word, of that original genius, whiclı
never was, and probably never will be, found in such
perfection in more than one man of the same age.
9. The perfection of the plot affords a strong argu-
ment for the integrity of each poem; and this, together
with the striking similarity of the plot in the two poems,
affords evidence scarcely less convincing that they both
proceeded from one and the same author.
The plan of the Iliad and the Odyssey has been the
admiration of men of taste in all ages. Aristotle held
them up as the ideal of the epic, and for two thou-
sand years they remained the undisputed standard.
Horace 1 praises the simplicity and modesty of Homer's
introductions; his skill in the choice of his subject, and
the selection of his materials; the rapidity with which
he ushers his hearers into the midst of the matter, and
hurries them on to the issue; the consistency of the
parts and the completeness of the whole; in a word,
the faultless excellence of the plan : - qui nil molitur
inepte," while at the same time he grieves that he some
times falls below himself in the execution : “quandoque
bonus dormitat Homerus." How diametrically opposite
all this is to the notions of the Wolfian school need not be
remarked. Nor is it difficult to show that Horace is
* Ars Poetica, 136 sqq.
120
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the more correct in his judgment; that he has, in fact,
set forth in these few lines of his Epistle to the Pisos
the characteristic merits of the Homeric poems.
The general object of the Iliad was, as its name im-
ports, to illustrate the war of Troy. But the author
does not, like a tasteless and common-place poet, begin
with the birth of Helen, the cause of the war,“ nec
gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo," and trace the
whole series of events in historical order. He seizes
upon the crisis of the war, nay, the hinge of that crisis,
and groups all persons and things, agencies and events,
about that central point. The crisis of the war was in
the tenth year just before its close, when an unforeseen
and most unlikely concurrence of circumstances brought
about a sudden change in the course of erents, and
resulted in the death of Hector, the sole bulwark of the
Trojan city. The hinge of that crisis was the quarrel
between Agamemnon and Achilles, the commander-in-
chief and the foremost warrior of the Grecian army,
and the withdrawal of the latter - in anger at the com-
mander's insult, and in disgust at the acquiescence of
the troops — from the Grecian cause.
Since the first encounters on the plain of Troy, the
Trojans, worsted in the conflict, had retired within the
walls of the city; and the Greeks, despairing of a siege,
or direct assault, had occupied themselves mainly with
capturing the neighboring towns and ravaging the
country,? in the hope of thus compelling an ultimate
surrender. But no sooner were the Trojans apprised
of the quarrel of the chiefs, and the consequent with-
drawal of Achilles, 2 than they took courage, sallied
from the gates, and with the aid of Jove, who had
1 Iliud, vi. 415 ; i. 163 ; ix. 328, etc. ? Iliud, ix. 352 sqq., ct. passim.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
121
promised to avenge Achilles, so triumphed over their
adversaries, that at length they encamped over night
on the plain, and threatened ere long to burn the Gre-
cian ships and drive the Greeks themselves into the sea.
Under these circumstances, Achilles is so wrought upon
by the entreaties of his friend Patroclus, as to consent
that he shall go forth, clad in Achilles's armor, and turn
back the tide of war. Patroclus goes forth, repels the
Trojans, but in the end is slain by Hector. Achilles
now renounces his resentment against Agamemnon,
concentrates all his wrath on Hector, slays him, and
thus ensures the speedy downfall of Troy. That down-
fall is not narrated ; but it has been foreshadowed from
the beginning, and now it is clearly seen to be near at
hand. But Troy was destined to fall by meaner hands
than those of Achilles, 1 and by more ignoble means
than this last great battle in the open field, in which
the champion of the Greeks slays the champion of the
Trojans. No subsequent event could compare in poet-
ical interest, nor even in real importance, with this
battle. No other moment in the whole war so brings
out the heroes on both sides, so enlists the sympathies
of men and gods, is so pregnant with the final issue.
This, then, is the crisis ; and it all turns palpably, from
first to last, on the anger of Achilles. The poet accord-
ingly seizes upon this turning-point, and announces the
wrath of Achilles, in connection with that plan and
purpose of Jove of which it was the instrument, as the
subject of the Iliad. And there is not a little truth in
OY
? Iliad, xx. 30 ; Odyssey, viii. 502.
2 Iliad, i. 5: Aids & ÅTERELEto Bounń. See Granville Penn's Primary
Argument of the Iliad for a masterly analysis of the poem in this theolog-
ical point of view.
10
122
THEOLOGY OF THF GREEK POETS.
the strong language of Hug: “ The very proposition of
the poet is a head of Medusa, which turns to stone every
audacious hand that would rob him of a single book.” 1
At least, we cannot but subscribe to the more sober con-
clusion of Mure, that“ the anger of Achilles, with its
consequences, really includes all that the Iliad relates,
and excludes all that it omits.”
His subject thus announced, the poet begins, with
many incidents but few ornaments, as if he were not
finishing a lay, but laying the foundations of an epopee.
The first book contains not a single simile, but shifts
the scene and consumes more time than all the subse-
quent books together. The earlier books are all clearly
introductory, being designed to set before the reader,
in successive pictures, the principal actors in the grand
drama; the causes, authors, and leaders of the strife ;
the forces on both sides; and the state of feeling in the
Grecian army and at the homes of Troy. It is only in
the eighth book that Jove enters in earnest upon his
purpose to avenge Achilles, and sends such disasters on
the Greeks that they are fain to entreat and purchase,
at any price, his return to the Grecian ranks. But he
is implacable, inexorable. The tide of Trojan success
rolls on, though not without an occasional ebb. Aga-
memnon, Menelaus, Ulysses, Diomed, Ajax, Antilochus,
all perform prodigies of valor ; but all are insufficient
to stem the advancing flood. Patroclus comes forth in
Achilles's armor; and while he is mistaken for that hero
himself, drives the Trojans before him. But they dis-
cover their mistake, rally, slay Patroclus, and the flying
Greeks with difficulty bear off his dead body. The
flood swells higher, goes over the ramparts which the
1 Erfind. der Buclistah.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
123
Greeks have lately built around their ships, reaches the
ships themselves, and threatens to sweep the soil clear
of its invaders. Nothing checks its progress till Achilles
himself, unarmed, but clothed by Athena with more
than his wonted grandeur of form and voice, shows
himself on the rampart, and by his terrible shout sends
every Trojan warrior flying to the gates of Troy. A lull
succeeds, in which the liero vents liis grief over the body
of his friend, and Thetis brings a new suit of armor,
forged by Hephaestus, for her son. Then the storm
of Achillean wrath bursts upon the Trojan host. He
slaughters or drives before him every living thing on the
plain of Troy. The gods enter the field with him, and
somewhat equalize the strife, else he had entered the
city with the fugitives, and, contrary to fate, levelled it
with the dust.”] He encounters Hector, slays him,
and drags his lifeless body, trailing in the dust, behind
his chariot to his own tent. The funeral rites are then
performed over the body, first of Patroclus, and, at
length, of Hector; and the poem dies away on the ear
as naturally, as sweetly, as it began; ending in the
simple, touching words: “ Such burial the illustrious
Hector found.”
We have neither time nor patience to discuss the
tasteless, soulless objections that have been urged against
these concluding books, as not coming within the scope
of the subject. They are essential to the development
of Achilles's character - as intense in his love as he is
in his hatred, and as superior to all other heroes in
knightly courtesy and generosity as he is in military
prowess. Moreover, the poem could not have ended till
the rites of burial were first performed over the body of
Iliad, xx. 23 sqq.
D
124
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Patroclus and the mangled corse of Hector; because,
according to Aristotle's definition of an end, there would
still have been indispensable duties which, as the Greeks
viewed it, must needs have succeeded, and in reference
to which, in this case, the previous conduct of Achilles
could not but have excited painful anxiety. Two, at
least, of the tragedies of Sophocles, that perfect master
of tragic unity, are prolonged to considerable length
beyond the catastrophe, for the same reason as the
Iliad — to put the mind of the Greeks (who had a relig-
ious horror of remaining unburied, of which we can
scarcely conceive) at rest as to the due burial of the
heroes of the tale.
We hasten to show, in few words, how very similar,
and yet not tamely like, is the plan of the Odyssey.
The Odyssey is intended as a sort of sequel to the Iliad,
to acquaint us with the subsequent fortunes of those
who were engaged in the war of Troy. Achilles, Ajax,
Agamemnon, Menelaus, Nestor, Ulysses, Paris, Helen;
what became of them afterwards ? Did they ever reach
home? In what state did they find things after their
long absence; and what reception did they meet with
from their wives and children and people? With a
view to satisfy this natural curiosity the poet selects
the hero who was the last to reach home, seizes on the
last and that the tenth year of his wanderings, and the
last month of that year, when his long frustrated desire
was at length to be accomplished, and groups all other
persons and events about that most eventful epoch of
that most adventurous bero's life. He announces his
subject, in few words, at the outset; and that, as in the
Iliad, in the form of an invocation to the Muse. The
1 Ajux and Antigone.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
125
earlier books are introductory, and more than usually
simple. They show us the principal scene of action in
Ithaca, the homes of Nestor and Menelaus, and the
island-prison of Ulysses ; and we hear from the lips of
those heroes, in succession, the wondrous story of their
adventures, involving also more or less of the fortunes
of their compeers and the fate of Troy, but never
encroaching on the field of the Iliad; and giving pecu-
liar prominence to that master-piece of story-telling and
half-epic, half-romantic song—the adventures of Ulysses.
As in the Iliad, so in the Odyssey, through more than
half of the entire poem the principal hero is absent from
the principal scene of action, though we never for a
moment lose sight of him in the background, as the
real centre of every movement, whether of gods or men.
Meanwhile, the young sprigs of nobility from Ithaca
and the neighboring islands sue for the hand of the
faithful Penelope, insult his youthful son, and prey upon
his dilapitated estate as if it were their own. Things
was worse and worse, the suitors and servants grow
more and more reckless of duty and fearless of punish-
ment; they even threaten to take the life of the young
prince, and to lay violent hands on his mother; till the
molúuntis 'Odvoceús appears on the stage. And when
he comes to the palace, and his affectionate old dog dies
for joy at his return, and his faithful nurse recognizes
him in the bath, but all other eyes are blinded, and
most hearts are hardened against the master of the
louse, who enters it in the guise of a beggar; when the
suitors, in the face of portentous signs, load him withi
insults, such as in those good old times it was deemed
impious to heap on the meanest stranger ; when Penel-
ope listens with a strange fascination to the unknown
11*
126
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
2
beggar's feigned history of himself, and is visited with
unaccountable dreams of the return of her lord; when
that despised beggar draws the bow which no suitor
could bend, and sends the arrow whizzing through the
mark, of which the prize was the hand of Penelope; in a
word, when the plan of the inventful Ulysses is ripe for
execution, and, with the aid of Athena, he throws off his
disguise, stands forth in more than the force and fire of
his early youth, and rains his deadly shafts among the
guilty and trembling crew who had so long triumphed
in the vain assurance of his death, — the plot is brought
to a conclusion of such moral grandeur as no other poet
has reached. It finds its parallel in the EPITTÉTELA of
the Iliad, and nowhere else.
This sublime crisis is followed by more tranquil
scenes; scenes of touching interest and tender pathos,
like, and yet not like, those which we have characterized
as a lull after the first outburst of Achilles in the Iliad
- the recognition of Ulysses by Penelope, the interview
between the long-absent son and his aged father, the
conducting of the souls of the suitors down to Hades.
Another battle ensues in which Athena gives her favor-
ite liero an easy victory over the rebellious portion of
his subjects; and then the poem ends more abruptly,
but not less simply, than the Iliad. In short, the two
plots are exceedingly alike in principle and general
impression, and yet not a little unlike in details; too
much alike to have proceeded from different authors,
yet too unlike to be chargeable with sameness or repe-
tition ; just as similar and just as dissimilar as an origi-
i This parallel is suggested in the Quarterly Review, No. 89, and has
always siruck us as an argument of great force.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
127
nal genius like Homer would naturally plan an Odyssey
and an Iliad.
Is it possible that a plot so perfect as either of these
was the production of an ordinary mind; nay, of an
indefinite number of such minds, living and working at
unknown intervals of time and place? Is it possible
that the perfection and the similarity of the plots should
both be the result of mere accident?
10. The power of delineating character wliich is
shown in both poems, and the consistency which is pre-
served in the greater and the minor characters, demon-
strate the same master-hand throughout the Iliad and
Odyssey.
It will not be necessary to dwell on this argument.
The power of reproducing real characters, or creating
ideal ones, with perfect truth and consistency, is confess-
edly one of the rarest endowments which God has be-
stowed on the most gifted of the sons of earth. It is
the prerogative of genius only to see just how all sorts
of men will act in all circumstances, for the very obvi-
ous reason that genius only combines in itself, and in
large measure too, all those various talents and suscep-
tibilities proper to humanity which exist singly or in
smaller measures in ordinary mortals. In the Homeric
poems the difficulty is greatly enhanced by the infinite
variety of characters of different grades and orders of
being, real or imaginary, - gods and demigods, heroes
and common men, sirens and sorceresses, monsters and
prodigies, horses and dogs, that appear upon the stage ;
by the equal diversity of scene and clement in which
they act their respective parts -- on Mount Olympus, at
the bottom of the sea, in Hades, at the summit of Ida, on
the plains of Troy, in the city, in the cainp, in the homes
.
128.
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
of Troy, Ithaca, Pylus, and Sparta, in the islands of the
then far-off and fabulous Mediterranean, in Europe,
Asia, and Africa, on the land, on the water, in the
water, in the air; and by the dramatic structure of the
poems in which character is not drawn out in narrative
and description, but developed in dialogue and action
before the eyes of the spectators. And yet it is univer-
sally acknowledged that with the exception of Shakes-
peare no poet has ever exhibited this rare power, beset
in his case with these peculiar difficulties, with such
unconscious case and in such faultless perfection, as the
author of the Iliad and Odyssey. He has turned these
very difficulties into more splendid successes and tri-
umphed in fields which other men have not dared to
enter.
Follow the Homeric gods, as a class or as individuals,
through all the scenes of love and hate, joy and sorrow,
doing and suffering, feasting and fighting; from the
councils round the throne of Jupiter to the series of single
combats on the plains of Troy; from Jove sitting apart
on Mount Ida, and balancing the destinies of nations, to
Ares sprawling over seven acres at the feet of Athena in
the Iliad, or fast bound in the toils of Hephaestus in the
Odyssey -- scenes so strangely mingling the tragic with
the comic, and so constantly in both poems passing by
a single step from the sublime to the ridiculous, that
you know not whether to laugh or weep over them—
follow the Homeric gods through all these various yet
analogous scenes, and, whatever you may think of the
gods, you can scarcely fail to be impressed with the one-
ness and the exalted genius of the poet. The Calypso
and Circe, the Oyclops and Sirens, and other monsters
of the Odyssey, are unlike in kind to anything in the
11
THE HOMERIC QUESTION..
129
Iliad, else they would not be in keeping with the
strange and fabulous regions into which Ulysses wan-
ders; but they gather about the man of many wiles as
naturally as the pantheon of the Iliad hovers around
the son of Thetis; and they excite pretty much the
same mingled emotions of laughter and compassion, of
fear and disgust; they are manifestly the offspring of
the same fruitful yet unerring imagination; just as
Shakespeare's fairies, hobgoblins, and witches show the
same fertile and self-consistent genius which appears in
his divinest creations.
We will not delay on the wonderful variety and dis-
tinctness of the principal human personages in the Iliad,
nor on the equally wonderful consistency with which
each speaker acts his part, the speeches beautifully har-
monizing with each other and with the actions, and the
actions perfectly according with each other and with
the speeches; a uniformity amid variety, like that of
nature herself; for no one has had the hardihood to
deny it. We hasten to seek out the same persons in
the Odyssey, and we recognize them at once as old
acquaintances, with the same familiar forms and fea-
tures, the same peculiar manner of speaking, and the
same characteristic modes of action. The Ulysses of
the Odyssey is the Ulysses of the Iliad placed in differ-
ent circumstances, but displaying the same essential
traits of character--artful, inventful, deeming discretion
the better part of valor, and stratagem the noblest art
in war; patient, self-possessed, self-relying, all-endur-
ing, never at a loss for a word or an expedient, always
equal to himself and to every emergency. Calling him-
self the father of Telemaclius in the Iliad ; the Odyssey
is the history of his superhuman trials and struggles to
130
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
see again his beloved Telemachus, Penelope, and Ithaca.
Nestor is still the orator and the sage of Pylus, only
more than ever garrulous of himself and the good old
times, rejoicing in the admiration of others, rich in the
treasures of experience, and yet richer in the flow of
his honeyed eloquence. Menelaus is still in nature, as
also in name," the sandy-haired,” ardent, affectionate,
self-sacrificing. He mourns his brother dead as he loved
the honors and advantages of the war if Agamennon
might be restored to his fraternal embrace. Helen is
still the fair penitent, and though restored to the favor
of her rightful husband, still calls herself the shameless
dog, in remembrance of her unfaithfuluess.
The very shades of departed heroes show “the ruling
passion strong after death.” Agamemnon is a great
weeper in Hades, even as on earth his tears flowed like
the streaming of a “ dark-watered fountain from the
goat-left rock," 1 and woman is still the root of all his
troubles. At sight of his successful rival for the armor
of Achilles the ghost of Ajax stalks away in gloomy
silence, the perfect picture of Ajax himself on the plain
of Troy, as he strode from the battle-field, lialf-indignant,
half contemptuous, with his shield slung over his lusty
shoulders, stuck full with Trojan spears. The shade
of Achilles, with all the intensity of his fiery and impas-
sioned nature, mourus over his short-lived though bril-
liant destiny, and declares that he would rather be the
meanest slave on earth than rule over the spirits of all
the mighty dead.3 And Patroclus is still his silent and
deferential companion.
· Iliad, xi. 556 sqq. ; cf. Ollyssey, xi. 543.
3 Odyssey, xi. 459.
THE HOMERIC QUESTION.
131
The minor personages, the suitors and servants, the
heralds and squires, the bards and goatherds, Thersites
the buffoon, the archer Pandarus, the beggar Irus, the
nurse Euryclea, and last, not least, the old hunting-dog
Argus, all have their own characters and parts, which
are as distinct from each other as their faces, and as
well sustained as the jesters and grave-diggers, sentinels
and executioners, Pistols and Quicklys, of Shakespeare's
fancy.
National character is generalized and distinguished.
The Trojans are generally false and fair, greater in
speech than in action, godlike in form, but deficient in
moral principle. The Phaeacians are the celestials of
the heroic age, vain and boastful of their fancied supe-
riority, looking with pity or contempt on outside barba-
rians, but listening with wonder to the shipwrecked
mariner's strange adventures, and beholding with as-
tonishment his manifest superiority to themselves in all
manly exercises.
Now this matchless power of conceiving and repre-
senting human nature in all its various phases, so rare
in any poem, so universal in these ; this were, of itself,
sufficient to demonstrate the absurdity of the hypothesis
which refers the Iliad and Odyssey to a number of
different authors. But when we further observe the
consistency with which each character is sustained, from
the beginning of the Iliad to the end of the Odyssey, we
see the most convincing demonstration that both poems
must have proceeded from one and the same author.
That consistent and complete idea of Ulysses, for in-
stance, could not hare been the offspring of more than
1 Aencas, Iliad, xx. 199 sqq. and Hector, passim. Hence the English use
of the word “lector."
132
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
one mind. As well might Ulysses himself have been
the son of more than one father. That portrait of
Helen begun in the Iliad and finished in the Odyssey
is no patchwork of several authors. As well might
Guido's Magdalen have been painted by half a dozen
different masters. Each one of the characters, of either
or both of the poems, is as palpably and necessarily thic
work of one hand as the Venus de Medici or the Apollo
Belvidere.
III.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.1
NAEGELSBACH’s Homeric Theology 2 has been a stand-
ard work ever since it was given to the public in 1840,
and it still remains the most systematic and complete
treatise on that subject with which we are acquainted.
It is only necessary to look over his copious index of
seven sections, divided and subdivided, classified and
arranged, with the help of all the letters of the Greek
and Latin alphabet, as well as the Arabic numerals, to
see the exhaustive German fulness and methodicalness
with which he has treated the Homeric Olympus. And
when we pass from the index to the work itself, we are
pleased to find that this large promise is amply fulfilled;
that while the classification of topics exhausts the subject,
the copious illustrations constitute a complete resumé
of passages pertaining to the religion of the Greeks in
the heroic age.
Mr. Gladstone's Studies on Homer and the Homeric
Age is a more voluminous work, more suggestive, and
? [Reprinted from the American Theological Review. Vol. iii. No. xii.
Oct. 1861.]
? Dic Homerische Theologie in ibren Zusammenhange dargestellt von
Carl Friedrich Naegelsbach, Professor am K. B. Gymnasium zu Nurn-
berg. Nurnberg 1810.
Studies on IIomer and the Homeric Age. By the Right Honorable W.
E. Gladstone, D.C.L., M.P. for the University of Oxford. In three vol-
umes. Oxford: at the University Press. 1858. Vol. ü. Olympus: or, the
Religion of the Homeric Age.
12
134
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
1.
more practical, but less scientific and complete. Bor-
rowing freely from the German scholar, and readily
acknowledging his obligations, the English statesman
adds little to the materials, and omits many of the facts
with their illustrations, but inquires with more eager
curiosity into the origin of the religious ideas and
usages of the early Greeks, and with the faith and
reverence, as well as the practical wisdom, befitting a
leader of the government in the leading state of Prot-
estant Christendom, looks at every topic in its relations
to Christianity and the Bible. Of course the minute
accuracy of the German professor is not to be expected
in the Chancellor of the English Exchequer. Still the
work of Mr. Gladstone adds another to the many endur-
ing monuments which perpetuate the fame of that
country whose greatest statesmen have always been, at
the same time, her best classical scholars.
Passing from these authors to the subject of which
they treat, it is our purpose to confine our remarks, at
present, to the Homeric Doctrine of the Gods.
When we speak of the Homeric theology, or the
Homeric doctrine of the gods, we do not mean to imply
that Homer had any such doctrine or theology clearly
defined and systematically arranged in his own mind,
still less that his poems were intended to be a catechism
or a creed for the instruction of coming generations.
Homer never preaches or delivers lectures. As his life
and character can only be gathered from his works, so
his religious sentiments are nowhere stated in form or
didactically inculcated, but are everywhere presupposed
in the plot, implied in the incidents, uttered and acted
by his heroes and minor personages. Indeed it is not
liis own theology or his own opinions on any subject
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
135
that he has given us; but, wholly objective, living only
in his characters, he has perpetuated the living image
of their religious ideas and usages. And these ideas
and usages he has re-presented to us under all the
varieties of individual opinion and experience, with all
the self-contradictions that belong to false systems of
religion, and with all the contrast between theory and
practice, creed and conduct, which imperfect men always
exhibit in real life, sometimes further exaggerated by a
palpable but not readily measurable difference between
the imagination of the poet and the people, and the
traditions which they have received from a purer and
more primitive age.
To discriminate between these differences, and to rec-
oncile these contradictions, is sometimes not a little
difficult. Still, beneath them all there is an underlying
system of religious doctrine, which characterizes, and
more or less controls, the men of the Homeric age; and
Homer, with all his contradictions, was the Bible of the
Greeks for many generations. An eye-witness to events
contemporaneous with the earliest prophets and kings of
Israel, a faithful voucher 1 for manners and customs and
a state of society strikingly similar to those which existed
among the Hebrew patriarchs, the primeval, and in
their estimation inspired, bard, teacher, and historian
of a people second only to the Jews in their influence
on the education and development of mankind, Homer,
and especially the theology of Homer, cannot but be a
study of deep interest to the Christian who, with no
narrow or one-sided view, sees one and the same hand,
1 Such F. Schlegel takes to be the meaning of the word "Oumpos, a voucher
for heroic life and times; though with the inborn scepticism of a German,
he still doubts whether any such man as Homer ever lived.
136
the hand of God, in the history of the whole human
race.
1. NUMBER AND CLASSIFICATION OF THE GODS.
The reader of the Iliad and the Odyssey will discover
at once that the doctrine of the Divine unity, which,
according to the Scriptures, and according to the most
reliable history and soundest philosophy also, was once
universal, has already disappeared from thei Homeric
world, and given place to the polytheistic conception
of “ gods many and lords many." Instead of one
omnipresent and infinite spirit, alike present and alike
powerful in all places and all ages, which is toʻus essen-
tial to the very idea of God, the divine essence, as
conceived by these early Greeks, is already divided into
as many classes of so-called divine beings — all, of
course, more or less limited and degraded, as there are
departments of divine agency, and some of these classes
comprehend an indefinite number of individuals answer-
ing to the number and variety of existences in the
department. At the same time there are not wanting
evident vestiges of a primitive monotheism in the su-
premacy of Jupiter, the father of gods and men, whose
will is accomplished in all the changeful and apparently
conflicting course of events (Il. i. 5), who sits enthroned
batants, while the inferior deities all engage in the strife
of battle (Il. xx. 21 sqq.; xxii. 209 sqq.); and who,
though gods and men should combine against him,
with perfect ease could lift them all and the earth itself
up to heaven, or hurl them down to Tartarus at his
sovereign pleasure (Il. viii. 5–27). There is also a kind
of trinity, or triad, in the manifest and vast superiority
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
137
of Zeus, Athena, and Apollo— the all-father, the wis-
dom that is born of him, and the son who is his voice
or word. These three are seldom (never long) at direct
variance with each other. In the Odyssey, Athena and
Apollo are entirely at one with Zeus. In the Iliad, there
is a temporary and partial alienation between Zeus and
Athena, while he is avenging the wrongs of Achilles on
the Grecians. With this exception, the son and daugh-
ter both act not only in liarmony with their father, but
in joyful subordination to his will. And the three are
addressed together by mortals, as of one mind — almost
as if they were one being in that oft-repeated prayer,
“Would that father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo, etc.,”!
which the heroes of the Trojan war offer whenever they
would fain see some work accomplished which is nearly
or quite too great or too good to be hoped for (Il. ii.
371; iv. 288; vii. 132; Od. vii. 311; xxiv. 376, et al.).
From the marked peculiarity, as well as the manifest
superiority, of these gods, and from the anomalies in the
functions ascribed to them — which are inexplicable on
any theory of natural and homogeneous developement-
Mr. Gladstone argues at great length and with much
force, that they are not strictly mythological, but tra-
ditional divinities, derived in the main features of their
character and office, from some earlier and purer re-
ligion, and ultimately from a direct revelation, though
these primitive features are obscured and disfigured by
the superstitions of the vulgar and the inventions of
the poet.
Besides these first three, there are six other divinities of
unquestionably Olympian rank and residence, for whom
Hephaestus has built palaces on Mount Olympus (Il. i.
- ? Vol. ii. sec. 2. The Traditive Element of the Homeric Theo-Mythology.
12*
138
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
607), and who convene in the court of Zeus, as occasion
requires, for a council or a feast. These are, Hera,
sister and wife of Zeus, Ares, Hephaestus, and Hermes,
his sons; and Artemis and Aphrodite, his daughters. .
Poseidon and Hades, brothers of Zeus, also clearly
belong to the same rank, though, from the necessity of
their office and province, the one has his ordinary dwell-
ing in the sea (Il. xiii. 21 ; xx. 13), and the fixed abode
of the other is in the invisible world under the earth
(Il. xx. 61 sqq.). Hades comes to Olympus when he is
wounded by Hercules (II. v. 398). His wife, Persephone,
is never seen there; but her rank, in her own right as
well as in that of her husband, would entitle her to no
inferior place among the Olympic deities. Dione and
Latona, though inferior wives of Zeus, are of course
among those who “occupy Olympian abodes” (Il. v.
383 ; xxi. 499). Dionysus (Bacchus) and Demeter (Ce-
res) are deities of high rank and power; but they seem
· to have their dwelling, not so much in heaven as on
earth, among the sons of men. By adding to these
sixteen principal deities three or four others of doubtful
Olympian residence, or of a manifestly inferior grade,
Mr. Gladstone contrives to make up twenty, answering
to the number of tripods which Hephaestus was forging
to stand around the wall in the well-built hall, where
the gods were wont to assemble (Il. xviii. 373). But
this is rather too trivial and incidental a circumstance
to support the inference that Homer reckoned just twen-
ty members of the Olympic council. Still less can any
authority be found in Homer for the twelve greater gods
as distinguished from the less — the Dii Majores as dis-
tinguished from the Dii Minores of the Romans.
About these principal deities cluster several who may
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
139
be called serving divinities, whose office it is to attend
on their superiors. Thus Zeus, as the guardian of civil
and political justice, is assisted by Themis, who convenes
assemblies, whether of gods or men, and keeps order in
them (Il. xx. 4; Od. ii. 68); Hera, as goddess of mar-
riage by the Eileithyiae, her daughters (Il. xi. 271. );
Apollo, by the Muses (Il. i. 603); Aphrodite, by the
Graces. The Hours are the gate-keepers of heaven (II.
v. 749; viii. 393); Hebe is the cup-bearer of the gods
(Il. iv. 2), and Asclepius and Paieon are their physicians.
Iris, though originally an impersonation of the rainbow,
as the name imports (Il. si. 27), appears in Homer only
as the messenger of the Olympian gods, particularly of
Zeus (Il. xv. 144, et passim).
A second class of quasi-divinities are the allegorical
deities, or impersonations of ideas, which are not mere
poetical personifications on the one hand, nor on the
other wholly mythological beings, but fill up at various
intervals all the space between personality and allegory,
though none of them possess such an established divine
personality as to have their fixed times and places of
worship. These are, for the most part, either military
or moral. Among the impersonations of military ideas
are Discord ("Epis), Din ('Evvá), Uproar (Kudowuós),
Rout (Poßos), Terror (4eîuos), Panic (Dúča), Rumor
("Oooa), etc., of which the first two have quite a fixed
personality, while the others. approach nearer to allegory,
or hover between them. They are all, except Rumor,
kindred or companions of Ares (cf. Il. iv. 440 ; v. 592;
xiii. 299; xv. 119; ix. 2). Among the impersonations
of moral ideas, or moral powers, are Destiny (Aloa,
Moipa) and the Fates (Kñpes, Karakales, cf. Il. xx.
127 ; xix. 410; Od. vii. 197); Death, and his brother,
140
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Sleep (Oávatos, "ITVOS, Il. xiv. 231); the Dream-god
also ("Ovelpos, Il. ii. 6); the goddess of moral blindness
("Atn) daughter of Zeus, yet cast out from heaven,
and the source of universal mischief on earth (Il. xix.
91, 126); the entreating and reconciling goddesses
(Actai) who follow after Ate and repair the mischief
she has done (Il. ix. 502); and the Furies ('Epivúes),
who avenge all violations of natural and moral order
(Il. xv. 204; xix. 260, 418; Od. ii. 135). These di-
vinities are the subordinate agents of the superior
gods, the military being mainly satellites of Ares, and
the moral serving as the executioners of Zeus and of
Hades (Il. xix. 87; iii. 279, compared with xix. 260).
A third class of subordinate divinities, allied to these
last, but having their sphere in the material instead of
the moral world, are the impersonations of the elements
and powers of nature. Such are the wind-gods, the
river-gods, the gods of the sea, and the nymphs of the
fountains, the groves, and the meadows (Il. xx. 7; xxi.
135 sqq. ; xxiii. 195–200). Occasionally a nymph is
specified by name as the mother of some hero (II. vi. 22,
etc.) ; but generally they are spoken of as an indefinite
and undistinguishable number (Il. xx. 7). Of the wind-
gods, Boreas and Zephyrus are especially prominent.
The nymphs of the sea, among whom Thetis, mother of
Achilles, is prominent, are daughters of the old sea-gods,
Nereus and Phorkys (Il. xviii. 141 ; Od. i. 72); Amphi-
trite is goddess of the waves and monsters of the deep
(Od. iii. 91; xii. 97); and Poseidon presides over the
whole realm of the sea, as his brothers Zeus and Hades
do over the air and under the earth. There is also a
sun-god (Helius) and an earth-goddess (Gaea) who are
honored by sacrifices, especialiy as witnesses to contracts
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
141
(Il. iii. 103, 276). Eos (East), the goddess of the morn-
ing, has a distinct divine personality (Od. v. 1), but no
worship. The river-gods are invested by Homer with
great powers and prerogatives (Il. xxi. 194; xxiii. 142);
and as Oceanus is the source of all the rivers and foun-
tains, so is he the origin or genesis of all the gods (II.
xxi. 195; xiv. 244).1 He, however, comes not to the
councils on Olympus (Il. xx. 7), and seems to belong to
the gods of olden time. With him is associated Tethys,
the all-mother, as he is the all-father (Il. xiv. 201). Kro-
nus and Rhea are still more emphatically gods of the
olden time. Kronus is not only dethroned, but, with his
Titan children, is imprisoned in Tartarus (Il. xiv. 274
279), whither they were sent down by Zeus, when he
took possession of the government (Ibid. 204). Kronus,
as the name imports, must have been originally a kind
of impersonation of time. Oceanus, the all-surrounding,
suggests in like manner the idea of all-encompassing
space, while his epithets (the deep-flowing, swift-flowing,
etc., Il. xxi. 194), and his name perhaps, denote the
ceaseless flow of existence in and around that broad and
deep channel. But while the conception of this whole
class of divinities doubtless arose from the elemental
ideas and powers of nature as represented in the Ho-
meric poems, they are no longer identified with those
powers and ideas, nor absolutely confined to an agency
within their appropriate spheres. As a general fact, they
preside over those elements, rather than are identical
with them or personifications of them. They convene
i Compare the speculations of the Ionian philosophers, so many of whom
make water the first principle. According to the genesis of the Scriptures,
the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters in the beginning, when
God created the heavens and the earth. The analogy is interesting; but
the contrast is also striking,
142
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
with the other gods in the full assembly of Olympus, and
exercise, with more or less freedom, the prerogatives
characteristic of Homeric deities. The gods of the
early Greeks are far from being mere deifications of
the powers of nature. Even the class that approach
most nearly to such a system are more or less free and
independent of the elements over which they preside;
and these same elements are also, at the same time,
controlled by the superior gods, especially by the above-
mentioned trinity, or triad (Od. ix. 67; ii. 420; Il. i.
479 ; xii. 17–25).
Our enumeration of the Homeric divinities would not
be complete without an allusion to Proteus, Atlas, Circe,
Calypso, the Sirens, the Cyclopses, and the other prodi-
gies with whom Ulysses meets in his wanderings over
the remote parts of the Mediterranean, and in whose
names, relations, and functions, Nägelsbach and Glad-
stone agree in finding traces of an Egyptian and Phe-
nician origin. Gladstone finds evidences of Phenician
(and so perhaps Eastern) origin and ideas in Poseidon,
Hermes, Demeter, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Diony-
sus. The only Olympic deities whose names are common
to the Greek and Latin languages are Jupiter, Apollo,
Vesta, Latona, Proserpina, and Mars. These gods, so
far as they take part in the war, espouse the side of the
Trojans; and Gladstone regards them as peculiarly
Pelasgian deities. The others he supposes to have
come into Greece later, with the Hellenic, or Hellic,
element of the population. He classifies four, namely,
Athena, Apollo, Latona, and Iris, as deities having their
basis and the general outline of their attributes and
character from tradition; five, namely, Jupiter, Neptune,
1 Vol. ii. sec. 3.
2 Vol. i. sec. 7.
TIIE IIOMERIC DOCTRINE OF TIIE GODS.
143
Pluto, Diana, and Persephone as deities of traditional
basis, but with development principally mythological
or inventive; and the remaining Olympians as deities
of invention or mythology proper.
2. RELATIONS OF THE GODS TO EACH OTHER.
The Olympus of Hoiner is not conceived, in the
main, according to any system of plıysical or metaphys-
ical ideas, but is modelled according to the analogies
of human life. These analogies are partly domestic
and partly political; partly those of the family, and
partly those of the state.
The principal dwellers on Olympus are the family of
Jupiter, consisting of himself, his three wives, his four
sons, and his three daughters, who are settled down
around him, some married and some in single blessed-
ness; some virtuous and pure, others, like himself,
unfaithful to their wedded companions and indulging
in unrestrained illicit intercourse with the children of
men. The reader is constantly reminded of the Orien-
tal monarch and his harem, of the royal family with
their loose morals and manners, and the court with its
intrigues and strifes, jealousies, and festivities. There is
but little difference between the court and royal family
of Priam in Troy and those of Jupiter in heaven, and
that difference is decidedly in favor of the earthly sov-
ereign. “ It may be laid down as a general rule, that the
divine life of Olympus, wherever it reproduces the
and indulgence, when carried from earth to heaven, lose
that limit of honorable relation to labor which alone
makes them respectable.” 1
1 Gladstone, Vol. ii. p. 384.
144
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
T
But a life of ease and sensual pleasure must some-
times give place to the cares of government, even in the
court of Jupiter. And then the court becomes a coun-
cil, and the royal family the councillors. Still, however,
they sit with their golden goblets in their hands, and
the beautiful Hebe serves them with the delicious nectar,
while they look down upon the Trojau city and delib-
erate on the destinies of the combatants (Il. iv. 1).
This ordinary and comparatively informal sitting is
called a session (Ockos, Od. v. 3) or council (Bourn, Hes.
Theog. 802), and bears a close analogy to the councils
of the chieftains in the Grecian camp. But on special
occasions Jupiter convenes in due form an assembly
of all the gods (Il. viii. 1; XX. 4), which is called by
the same name (àyopá), and answers in every respect
to the agora of the assembled Greeks, when Agamemnon
summons them to consider some question of unusual
moment (Il. ii. 51). Tliemis convenes and dismisses
alike the assembly of men and of gods (Od. ii. 69 ; Il. XX.
4), and by implication keeps order in the meeting. In
both alike, a few of the aristocracy alone take part in
the debate, as Agamemnon, Nestor, Achilles, Ulysses,
Diomed, in the Grecian assembly, so Zeus, Hera, Posei-
don, Athena, and Apollo, in the assembly of the gods
(Il. viii. 1 sqq.; XX. 1 sqq.; xxiv. 32). And as Agamem-
non on earth, so Zeus in heaven, not only presides over
the boule and the agora, but holds the result at his
sovereign disposal, and sometimes decides and acts in
direct opposition to the wishes of his advisers (Il. xi. 78),
but sometimes yields his own preferences to theirs, and
generally executes and represents, not his own will
merely, but the will of the body over whom he presides.
Here again, however, the advantage is in favor of the
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
145
earthly, rather than the heavenly convocation. Zeus
swaggers and threatens in a style that would disgrace
an Oriental despot (Il. viii. 5-27); the celestials fret and
chafe under his tryanny (II. iv. 20–30); and perchance
they settle the difficulty somewhat as the triumvirate at
Rome did, by mutually giving over to destruction their
most devoted and faithful worshippers (Il. iv. 51 sq.).
It would almost seem as if the assemblies and the battles
of the gods were intended for a burlesque on those of
mortals, so uniformly comical and ludicrous is the
representation. Even the so-called Homeric hymns
wear very much of this aspect of burlesque, so incon-
sistent are they with all our ideas of worship or even
of veneration.
3. NATURE AND ESSENCE OF THE GODS.
Human analogy does not cease with the mutual
relations of the gods. It is the basis of all the Homeric
representations of their nature and form. Neither his
heroes nor the poet himself seems to have any other
conception of the gods than that they are essentially
like men. The difference is not in kind, but only in
measure and degree. And this anthropomorphous, or
rather anthropophuous representation is not, as it man-
ifestly is in the sacred scriptures, the language of
figure and of accommodation to human weakness.
Nor is it merely the offspring of the imagination, the
invention of the poet. It seems rather to be the prevail-
ing, popular, fundamental idea of the divine nature.
Not only do the gods assume at pleasure the precise
form of men and the likeness of particular men, but
they converse face to face, in their own proper form,
with their favorite heroes, and enable them to distin-
13
146
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
guish gods from men (Il. v. 124 ; xv. 243; xx. 130);
they appear, in their own proper form (évaprycis, Od. vii.
201, cf. xvi. 161), and sit at the feasts of the Phaeacians
(Od. vii. 203) and thic Etliiopians (Od. i. 26; Il. i.
424); and in their intercourse with each other, whether
in war or in peace, whether on earth or in heaven; they
are always conceived of as having the form and all the
organs of the human body. Thetis takes hold of the
bearded chin of Jupiter on Mount Olympus (Il. i. 501);
Athena smites Ares on the neck, and overthrows him, in
the battle of the gods, on the field of Troy (xxi. 406);
Hera seizes Artemis by the wrists, takes the bow and
arrows from her back, and raps her smartly about the
ears (xxi. 489). We have a full-length description of
Hera at her toilet in heaven (xiv. 170), and of Hephaes-
tus at his forge on Olympus (xviii. 411). The gods are
of superhuman size, weight, and beauty. Ares prostrate
on the field of battle covers seven acres (Il. xxi. 407);
the axle groans beneath the weight of Athena, when she
mounts the chariot by the side of Diomed (Il. v. 838);
and, to say nothing of the epithets applied to the god-
desses, and even to such a scapegrace as Ares (Od. viii.
310), Calypso, not exactly an impartial witness it is true,
claims that mortals of her own sex cannot compare with
immortals in beauty of person (Od. v. 212). But all
this so far from disproring, only proves, or rather pre-
supposes a human form. Their blood is called by
another name (Il. v. 340); but it flows from their
wounded bodies just like the blood of mortals (Il. v.
416). They do not eat bread nor drink wine (II. 5.
341), but they are just as dependent on their ambrosia
and nectar for nourishment as men are on their daily
food and drink (Od. v. 93, 196–199). The gods are
11
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
147
characterized in words as blessed (uúkapes, Il. i. 339),
living a life of ease and pleasure (pela Góovtes, Il. vi. 138),
free from care and sorrow (åandées, Il. xxiv. 526). Yet
they are subject to fatigue and exhaustion (Il. ir. 26;
5. 886); they need rest and sleep, Zeus himself not
excepted (II. i. 609); and wounds and bruises and mis-
eries of every kind are so general among them, that
when Aphrodite is wounded, and flees to the bosom of
lier mother for relief, the mother comforts her heart,
on the principle that“ misery lores company,” with a
whole chapter of the woes that other and more power-
ful deities have suffered at the hands of mortals (Il. v.
380 sqq.). The three principal gods are ordinarily
exempt from such casualties. Yet even Apollo is con-
demned to serve the king of Troy a year for wages, and
when he would fain touch his heart, Poseidon reminds
him of the evils which they two suffered in this long and
ignominious service (Il. xxi. 441). And Zeus himself,
assaulted by the other Olympians, is protected by the
interposition of the hundred-handed Briareus (Il. i.
399). Immortality is the only characteristic distinction
which is, with uniform and undeviating consistency,
ascribed to the Homeric gods; and when we consider
the perpetual sorrows, sufferings, and vexations to which
they are subject, we cannot but agree with Longinus,
that such an immortality is a doubtful blessing; that it
is in fact but immortal misery. So far as we can gather
from the Homeric poems, there is no evidence that the
Grecks of that age ever conceived the idea taught by
our Saviour to the woman of Samaria, as a first lesson
in religious truth, and learned by our children in answer
to the first question in the catechism, that God is a
spirit infinite, self-existent, and unchangeable in his
W
0
148
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
being and perfection. Practically, at any rate, their
god was altogether such an one as themselves. And
no better definition could be given of the divine nature,
as it is habitually represented in the Iliad and Odyssey,
than that it is human nature somewhat exalted and
exempt from death. The Homeric god is essentially a
celestial and immortal man. Accordingly, Immortals
is their most frequent and characteristic designation.
4. THE ATTRIBUTES OF THE GODS.
The immortality which Homer imputes to his divini-
ties is a very different attribute from the eternity which
we ascribe to God. It is only existence without end.1
Existence without beginning is an idea which the early
Greeks and Trojans never express, and would seem
never to have conceived of any of their gods. They
trace them back through a series of generations -
through Zeus and Kronus (or Old Time) to Oceanus
and Tethys, whom they style the all-father and all-
mother of the gods; and there they leave the chain un-
supported, the mystery of existence as unexplained as
if they had stopped with Zeus himself. Perhaps, in
common with the earliest Ionian philosophers, the poet
conceived of an eternally existing, ever-flowing chaos
(which they call water and he calls Oceanus), as the
source of all existence, celestial as well as terrestrial,
divine as well as human.
In theory, the gods know all things (Trávta ſoaoiv, Od.
iv. 379), and can do all things (Trávra dúvavtai Od. x.
306). They know the future as well as the past and
the present (Od. xx. 75; xii. 189), and they can act
not only near at hand, but they can also help and save
l'Aeryevétai, like alè ¿bytes, is simply equivalent to ådávato..
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
149
with perfect ease even at a distance (Od. iii. 231). At
the same time, even Zeus is practically ignorant of much
that is going on, not only in his kingdom among men,
but among the gods in his own court (Il. xviii. 185: oủa?
οίδε Κρονίδης υψίζυγος ουδέ τις άλλος αθανάτων). The
grossest deception is practised upon him by his ungov-
erned and unscrupulous consort; and while he is fast
locked in sleep in her embrace, oi Mount Olympus, his
rebellious brother interferes with the execution of his
plans and purposes on the field of battle (Il. xiv. 153–
400). While he is absent at a feast among the Ethio-
pians he is no more capable of attending to the progress
of the Trojan war or to the petitions of the inferior de-
ities than an earthly sovereign can receive the petitions
of his courtiers or regulate the affairs of his kingdom
while he is travelling in a far country (Il. i. 423). The
mockery which Elijah addresses to the worshippers of
Baal, is applicable in every particular to the Homeric
worshippers of Zeus: 6 Cry aloud, for he is a god: either
he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey,
or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked”
(1 Kings xviii. 27). Zeus leaves Olympus and takes his
station on Mount Ida, when he would watch the battle
closely and guide its issues. The inferior gods can see
farther and move more rapidly than mortals; but their
powers differ only in degree, not in kind; it is not omni-
presence or omniscience which they possess, but only
liuman vision and locomotion magnified. They still see
with their eyes, and move with their feet, and influence
the battle only by their personal, bodily presence (Il. xiii.
10 sqq.).
The moral character of the gods is even more defect-
ive than their natural attributes. “In general, the chief
1
S
11
S
13*
150
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
note of deity with Homer is emancipation from the re-
straints of the moral law. Though the Homeric gods
have not yet ceased to be the vindicators of morality
upon earth, they have personally ceased to observe its
rules either for or among themselves. As compared
with men in conduct, they are generally characterized
by superior force and intellect, but by inferior morality.”
Such is the language of Mr Gladstone. And the instan-
ces which he proceeds to adduce, fully justify this severe
verdict. They manifest little love for one another. In
his domestic relations Zeus is now a fond and doting
husband and father (Il. xiv. 314; v. 879), now a tyran-
nical one (Il. xv. 17; v. 890; viii. 360, 373). His chil-
dren envy, hate, and torment each other in heaven (Il.
v. pass.), and encounter each other in fierce conflict in
the battles of men (Ibid. et Il. xx. pass.). “Force and
terror on the one hand, and fraud and wheedling on the
other,” are the instruments of his family government,
if that can be called family government in which the
children govern the parents about as much as the par-
ents govern the children (II. i. 568,500; xiv. 300). In
all these respects however, it must be confessed, Mr.
Gladstone to the contrary notwithstanding, that royal
families on earth have not generally improved very
much on the example of their illustrious predecessors.
The gods do not love mankind as a race. They envy
human prosperity and glory as an encroachment on
their own prerogatives (Il. vii. 460; xvii. 450; Od. v.
119), and they cherish almost implacable personal resent-
ments against poor mortals who, whether intentionally
or by accident, may fail to render to them due honor
(Il. ix. 537).
i In ito or three instances, Apollo and Athena (and they only) are ad-
dressed by Zeus with the cpithet dine, dear. Sec Gladstone, Vol. ii. p. 70.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE VI
151
OF THE GODS.
On the other hand, they have their earthly favorites,
towards whom they cherish a blind attachment. Immor-
tals are sometimes wedded to mortals (Il. ii. 820; xi. 1);
and Zeus runs through a long catalogue of his mistresses
on earth, that he may set forth his superior love, or
rather his present passion, for Hera. Athena, Apollo,
and Artemis are exceptions; 1 but, as a general fact,
chastity is no virtue of Homer's celestials (Od. v. 119).
Holiness, which is the characteristic attribute of the
God of the Bible, and which Aeschylus so often ascribes
to Jupiter in his epithets (though the conduct of his
Jupiter hardly answers to the ascription), is never even
predicated of the Homeric gods, and there is nothing in
their character or acts to deserve the name. The best
of them manifest none of that stainless purity which
turns away with unutterable loathing from all sin, and
looks with impartial favor and unspeakable delight
upon rectitude wherever it is found. Impartial love or
hatred is a thing quite unknown in the Olympic circle ;
if it exists anywhere in the poems of Homer, it is in the
hero of the Iliad, who hates falsehood as the gates of
Hades (Il. ix. 310), and resents robbery and wrong in
the commander of the host as keenly as in the lowest of
the people (Il. i. 230, 231). For the sake of peace and
quietness in his own family Zeus yields to Hera's in-
satiable anger against the Trojans, and sends Athena to
move them to an unprovoked violation of the treaty of
peace; moved by Athena, Pandarus lets fly a treacher-
ous arrow, and wounds Menelaus ; and then not only
C
1 "The chastity of the traditive dcities, Minerva, Diana, Latona, and
probably Apollo, I take for onc of the noblest and most significant proofs
of the bigh origin of the materials which they respectively embody.”
Gladstone. ii. p. 356.
152
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS..
Pandarus, but the whole city and people of the Trojans
must pay the penalty for the crimes of which, by their
own acknowledgment as well as in the view of men,
- the gods were the authors (Il. iv. 64, etc.). Athena by
deception lures on the patriotic and devoted Hector to
destruction (Il. xxii. 223 sqq.). Thetis will not trust
the word of Zeus, but insists on the confirmation of his
irrevocable nod (Il. i. 514). So the sleep-god requires
an oath of Hera (Il. xiv. 271); and when Hera finds
herself in imminent peril of Jove's vengeance, she calls
heaven, earth, and hell, and everything sacred, to wit-
ness to an equivocation, if not a downright falsehood
(Il. xv. 36). The gods of the Iliad and Odyssey are
anything but the unchanging standard of truth and ·
rectitude on earth; in heaven they seem more like the
impersonations of self-will and unrestrained license. In
character, as well as in mutual relations, the Homeric
Olympus is a depraved copy of high life in the Grecian
camp and the court of Troy.
5. THE PROVIDENCE AND GOVERNMENT OF THE GODS. .
According to Homeric representation, nature recog-
nizes the gods not as creator, but as lord and master.1
The inhabitants of the deep know their king, and pay
him homage, gamboling about the chariot of Poseidon
as he rides over the rejoicing sea (Il. xiii. 27). High
Olympus trembles when Zeus gives his nod of confirma-
tion (Il. i. 530). And when the gods enter the battle
on the plains of Troy, the mountains shake, the earth
quakes, and thunders reverberate through the skies
(Il. xx. 54). Hera and Athena can not only command
the thunder, but they can lasten or retard the rising and
? Cf. Nägelsbach, i. 8.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
153
setting of the sun (Il. xviii. 239; Od. xxiii. 347). And
all the gods seem to have the power to clothe themselves
or to conceal other persons and things beneath a covering
of cloud (Il. v. 23, 344; xx. 150; Od. xiii. 109, etc.).
A preternatural darkness and a rain of blood signalize
the fall of Jove's son (Il. xvi. 459, 567), while on the
other hand, flowers of every kind spring up on the
instant from the ground, and prepare a bed for Zeus
and Hera on Mount Ida (Il. xiv. 347). "In short
the supernatural becomes the natural, ” as Nägelsbach
happily remarks, " when it is wrought by a god.” It
is, however, just these marvellous phenomena, signaliz-
ing special occasions, that are instanced by the poet, and
that because they suit the poetic imagination, while we
find few, if any allusions to the constant exercise of a
wise and benignant divine providence over the elements
and powers of nature. Poseidon in his unrelenting
resentment for the blinding of the Cyclops, persecutes
Ulysses with winds and waves and storms and tem-
pests, despite the pity of all the other deities (Od. i. 20);
and sometimes even the wind-gods dash in pieces a
vessel against the will of their superiors (Od. xii. 290).
Nearly related to power over nature is the power
which the gods possess to change and shape at will the
human body. This power is exercised with especial
frequency by Athena. When Achilles is to reappear
for the first time on the battle-field, she invests the hero
with superhuman grandeur and glory, which, with the
accompanying voice of the goddess, drives all the Tro-
jans, panic-stricken, from the field. And throughout
the Odyssey the same goddess is continually fashioning
the person of her favorite hero to suit the ever-shifting
circumstances of his eventful life, now transformning
CD
OTT
154
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
him to the old and shrivelled beggar who, as his name .
(Irus) imports, was the messenger and representative
of the god of the poor and the stranger, and now clotlı-
ing him with a divine beauty, which his son intuitively
refers to some god who, “coming upon him, easily
makes him young or old as he chooses” (Od. xvi. 197);
and the father hiinself explains the marvellous trans-
forination by saying: “This is the work of Athena, who
makes me just what she pleases (for she has the power),
at one time like the poor beggar, at another like a young
man in beautiful apparel ; for it is easy for the gods who
inhabit the spacious heaven either to glorify (beautify)
a mortal man, or to harm (disfigure) him” (Ibid. 211).
The gods direct and control the minds of men also,
at their sovereign pleasure. They are continually put-
ting thoughts and plans into the minds of their favorite
heroes (étri opeoi Inke Il. i. 55; Od. xviii. 158 et passim),
courage and strength into their hearts (év obévos #poev
kapdin, Il. ii. 451; Mévos év opeoJeiw, Od. i. 89, et
passim), wisdom and eloquence into their mouths (Od. i.
384 ; xxiv. 260 et al.). In these cases the divine and
the human agency are clearly distinguished from each
other, and sometimes they are represented as co-ordinate,
and the result is ascribed partly to the one and partly
to the other (as in Od. iii. 26, Athena encourages Tele-
machus with the assurance that some-thoughts will
occur to his own mind, and the god will suggest others);
though more frequently the human agency is conceived
as subordinate to the divine, and produced, penetrated,
pervaded by it (Il. ix. 703; Od. xix. 478, 485; xxiii.
260). Physical constitution, personal accomplishments,
native talents and dispositions, intellectual attainments
and moral virtues, all tļie qualities that distinguish or
155
adorn the individual, are the gift of the gods. Prophecy
is the gift of Apollo (Il. i. 72), hunting of Artemis
(v. 51), skill in the arts of Athena (v. 61) and Hephaes-
tus (Od. vi. 234), horsemanship of Zeus and Poseidon
(Il. xxiii. 307), and Zeus allots all gifts to all men as
he pleases (Il. xiii. 730). The gods gave manly beauty
to Bellerophon (Il. vi. 156), seductive charms to Paris
(Il. iii. 54), prodigious size and strength to Ajax (Il. vii.
288), to Ulysses wisdom and power of endurance (Od.
xiv. 216), and to Achilles courage and irresistible might
(11. i. 178; ix. 254); but they have not given him self-
tlle sceptre, but not valor, which is the greatest power
(Il. ix. 39). And they not only give or withhold at
pleasure, but they also take away at will what they
have already given (II. vi. 234.; Od. xviii. 180, 251).
Especially is wisdom and council the gift of the gods
(Od. vi. 10), a peerless gift to a favored few for the safety
of many (Il. xiii. 732); and it is the prerogative of the
gods to take away the wisdom of the wisest as well as to
impart wisdom to those who are destitute of it (Od. xxiii.
11.cf. Il. vi. 234).1
The gods have the absolute disposal of the destinies
of men, order their circumstances, and allot to every
individual good or evil as they will (ŐTTWS Onnow, Od.
vi. 188). It is in the exercise of this prerogative espe-
cially that all power is ascribed to them: “Zeus gives
good and evil, now to one, now to another; for he can
do all things” (Od. iv. 236; xiv. 444). This distribu-
tive providence is set forth under the image or symbol
of two casks, which stand on Jove's threshold, the one
containing evil and the other good, and from which he
* Cf. Prov. ii. 6; iv. 7; Eccl. ix. 15–18; 1 Cor. i. 19.
156
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
distributes to miserable mortals usually a chequered lot,
to some unalloyed happiness, and to some nothing but
sorrow and calamity.
• A noble wife is from the gods (Od. xv. 26).1 Chil-
. dren are their gift (Od. iv. 12 ; xvi. 117; Il. ix. 493).2
Riches, honor, power, sovereignty, are suspended on
their will (Od. i. 400; xi. 340; Il. ii. 670). The gods
mete out all the dangers, difficulties, deliverances,
changes of whatever kind in the changeful life of Ulys-
ses (Od. i. 195; iii. 379; xxiv. 401, et passim). The
will of Jove is accomplished in all the alternations of
victory and defeat, as well as in all the final issues of
the Trojan war (Il. i. 5). He spreads his protecting
hand over individuals (Od. xiv. 184; Il. xxiv. 374);
and he weighs in the balance the fate of contending
armies and nations (Il. viii. 71.) Evil as well as good
proceeds from the gods, as its original source (Il. vi.
282, 349, 357; Od. iii. 152, 160). Men carry the im-
putation to such an extreme as to transfer to them the
responsibility of their own follies and crimes (Il. iii. 164,
et al.). But Zeus repels the charge, and insists that they
bring sorrow on themselves, beyond what is allotted to
them, by their own folly and madness (Od. i. 33). Long
life is by divine appointment (Od. xxiii. 286), and death
comes to every individual just when and where Zeus
and the other immortal gods bring it upon him (Il. xxii.
365). In short, the divine purpose and agency are as
universal and all-controlling in the Iliad and Odyssey
as they are in the Bible. Nothing can be more alien
1 Cf. Prov. xix. 14. The sentiment in the text is uttered by Athena; and
yet the wife is the main thing there, while in Proverbs it is the prudent wito
and the virtuous woman.
? Ps. cxxvii. 8.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
157
to the spirit of both than that atheistic philosophy which
excludes God from any immediate concern with the gov-
ernment of this lower world. At the same time there
is no trace in Homer of that all-wise paternal providence
so universal in the Scriptures, which always watches
over the good man, and makes all things infallibly work
together for his good.
Life and death, good and evil, are represented by
Homer as also the allotment of destiny (Il. xx. 127 ;
xxiv. 19, 209; Od. xx. 76); but this destiny is so often,
nay, so generally, spoken of as the destiny or allotment
of the gods (uoipa De@v, Od. iii. 269) and the very words
(aioa, jolpa) so naturally suggest the idea of a portion,
lot, or allotment, that the presumption certainly is, that
they mean the will or appointment of the gods, not with-
out reference, however, it may be, to an eternal law of
order and rectitude, which they can indeed transcend
(útépuopa, Il. ii. 155; iv. 29; xvi. 441-443) and which
men are sometimes represented as violating (Od. i. 35),
but which the gods do not in fact contravene. There
are passages which seem to conflict with this interpre-
tation, yet it accords better than any other with the
prevailing language and spirit of the Homeric poems.
6. MANIFESTATION OF THE GODS TO MEN.
In the early ages of the world, some generations pre-
vious to the war of Troy, the gods had frequent and
familiar intercourse with men. Minos, king of Cnossus
(four generations before the war), was the bosom com-
panion and counsellor of great Jove (Od. xix. 179), and
Peleus (only one generation previous to the war) was so
dear to the heart of the immortals, that Hera gave him
to wife the goddess Thetis, and the wedding-feast as
11
14
158
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
11
graced by the presence of all the gods, and by the music
of Apollo and his lyre (Il. xxiv. 60). In like manner,
Tros and Laomedon, founders of the royal line of Troy,
transacted business with the gods (Il. xxi. 441) ; Gany-
medes, the son of the former, and Tithonus, the son of
the latter, were taken up to heaven to dwell with the
immortals (Il. xx. 234; si. 1); and Anchises, the father
of Aeneas, was (or ought to have been) the husband of
the goddess Aphrodite (II. ii. 820). Many sons of the
immortals fought around the city of Troy, the offspring
of frequent intercourse between the gods and the daugh-
ters of men in the preceding generation. But at the
time of the war mortals are honored or dishonored by
no such familiar intercourse. Only favored races and
nations, themselves scarcely human, like the Ethiopians
and the Phaeacians (the celestials of the heroic age),
and a few heroes of rare excellence and special favorites
of heaven (and these last only on special occasions), now
see the gods face to face (Il. i. 423; Od. iii. 221; vii.
201–206; xvi. 161). And at the time of the poet this
has already ceased, and mortals now know nothing of
these high themes except what poets teach them under
the inspiration of the all-knowing muses (Il. ii. 484.)?
Direct personal intervention in the affairs of men is
confined to the inferior deities. Zeus sits on high,
overseeing and presiding over all (Il. xx. 21); and if
he would issue mandates to gods or men, Athena and
Apollo are his representatives, and Iris and Hermes are
his messengers.
Besides these personal appearances, which take place
under a great variety of forms, the gods (chiefly Zeus,
Hera, Athena, and Apollo) manifest their presence or
1 Cf. Nägelsbach, scc. iv. ? Cf. Nägelsbach, sec. iv.
1
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
159
their will by signs (onuata), wonders (Tépara) auguries
(oiwvoi) and prophetic voices (onuar); sometimes pre-
ternatural, like the bloody rain at the death of Jove's
son (Il. xvi. 459), or the frightful appearances that fore-
boded the slaying of the suitors (Od. xx. 345), but more
frequently they are ordinary phenomena, extraordinary
only in the time and manner of their occurrence; some-
times of natural and obvious self-significance; sometimes
requiring interpretation by the mouth of a prophet
(Il. ii. 322), and sometimes ambiguous and intended to
mislead (Il. xv. 377-379; xii. 200 sqq.). Omens are of
frequent occurrence in Homer, and are generally trusted
and highly prized; yet their practical value is not a
little impaired by the possibility of deception, which
always attends them; hence Hector thinks the one best
omen is to fight for his country (Il. xii. 243); and he
cares not which way the birds fly, right or left, east or
Trest, so long as he acts in obedience to the direct com-
mand of Zeus, conveyed to him by the messenger Iris
(Il. xii. 239, cf. xi. 186).
Dreams and visions are from Zeus (Il. ii. 63); yet
they are sometimes merely natural or accidental, and
sometimes deceptive (Il. ii. passim; xix. 547, 560; Od.
xxiv. 12). Presentiments often foreshadow a coming
reality, as, for instance, Hector's heart is saddened by
prophetic forebodings of the approaching ruin of his
country and his family (Il. vi. 447), and the head of
Amphinomus is bowed down under gloomy anticipations
of destruction to himself and the other suitors (Od. xviii.
153). Ideas and rumors of some great event sometimes
so mysteriously pervade the minds of a whole people in
advance of the reality, or, at least, of the intelligence,
that they were referred to Ossa, as the voice or messen-
160
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
ger of Jove (II. ii. 93 ; Od. xxiv. 413). In the hour of
death men often have a prophetic foresight of the future.
Thus the dying Patroclus predicts the death of Hector
by the hand of Achilles (Il. xvi. 851); and the dying
Hector forecasts in detail the doom of Achilles at the
hand of Paris and Apollo (Il. xxii. 358).1 Prophets
hear the voice of the gods, know their will (Il. vii. 45,
53), and thus are acquainted with the past, the present,
and the future (Il. i. 70). Guided themselves by Zeus
and Apollo (Il. i. 72; Od. xv. 244), they are competent
to guide the affairs of men (Il. i. 71; vi. 438). The
oracles at Dodona and Delphi already exist in the Ho-
meric age (Od. vi. 327; xix. 296; Il. viii. 79; ix. 405),
and individuals and nations go to them to learn the will
of the gods. In short, the idea of revelation or mani-
festation of the gods to men, like the idea of providence,
is a universal and all-pervading idea with the men and
women of the heroic age. :
7. WORSHIP OF THE GODS.
The worship of the gods is as universal among men
as the feeling of dependence from which it springs.
This philosophy of worship is expressly stated, though
in a practical and incidental way, by the prudent and
pious Pisistratus, son of the wise and aged Nestor (Od.
iii. 46).
The gods claim, as their especial honor and preroga-
tive, offerings at the hands of men, the food-offering and
drink-offering, incense and the smoke of burnt sacrifices
(Il. iv. 49). This is, as it were, a feast of fat things on
their altar (ibid. 48). For this they hunger and thirst;
i Cf. Plat. Apol. Soc. cap. XXX. Compare also the prophetic blessings of
the dying patriarchs (Gen. xlix. 1 ; 1. 24 ; Deut. xxxiii. 1).
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
161
C
for this they have a keen appetite and a high relish (Il.
XX. 405). Those cities and those individuals are most
honored and beloved by the several deities, who offer to
them, in particular, the most abundant gifts and sacri-
fices; if any person or place is saved from destruction,
this is the motive for sparing it; if any one is reluc-
tantly given up, this is specified as the ground of reluc-
tance (II. iv. 44; xx. 297; xxii. 170; xxiv. 69). If
angry, their anger is to be turned away by offerings and
sacrifices (Il. ix. 499). But wo to the individual who,
intentionally or unintentionally, omits to offer the sacri-
fice which some god esteems to be his due; some dire
calamity will soon befall him (Il. ix. 533).
As this interested, not to say selfish, view is often
taken of the gods' delight in sacrifices, so from motives
of self-interest, for the express purpose of propitiating
the favor of the gods, public and private sacrifices are
assiduously offered on every suitable occasion by the
heroes of Homer's verse. Besides numerous temples,
altars, and sacred groves, where offerings are continually
made by the priests and priestesses (Il. ii. 549; vi. 88;
ix. 405; viii. 48; Od. viii. 363, et passim), who seem
to be designated as individuals to this office, and not set
apart as a sacred caste (Il. vi. 300), the commander-in-
chief offers sacrifices at the head of liis army (Il. ii. 411;
iii. 271), the king in the assembly of his people (Od.
iii. 5), and the father on the altar of the hearth-protect-
ing Jove in his private house (Od. xxii. 335). Offerings
and sacrifices are accompanied with prayers (Il. iii. 296,
et passim). Hence the priest is called a prayer (åpntúp
II. i. 11) as well as an offerer of sacrifices. Prayers and
sacrifices precede all battles, treaties, embassies, jour-
neys, and all important public or private enterprises (II.
14*
102
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
ii. 402, 411; iii. 271, 275; ix. 174, 182; Od. ii. 431).
Not only public festivals but private entertainments be-
gin with libations and offerings of the choicest parts to
the gods (Il. ix. 219). The hero must not even drink
wine to refresh his thirst and weariness till he has first
poured out a libation (Il. vi. 259; cf. Od. viii. 151).
Indeed so universal was the custom of hallowing every
employment and enjoyment with a previous libation,
that beginning with the cup came to be a technical ex-
pression for this initiatory religious service (11. i. 471).
It was customary to begin and end the day itself, as
well as every important enterprise of the day, with a
religious service, usually a libation (Od. iii. 1-5, 334 ;
Il. ix. 712).
As the sacrifices seem to be offered with a single eye,
not to the glory of the gods, but to the attainment of
some personal end, so the prayers, as Nägelsbach has
remarked, consist for the most part of petitions for
some specific object, with comparatively infrequent ex-
pressions of thanksgiving and praise, without any such
thing as confession of ill-desert, but rather with claims
to higher favor, and not unfrequently complaints of
unmerited suffering or neglect (II. i. 503-516; iii. 351,
365; viii. 236). Vows of future sacrifices, as well as
catalogues of past services, are urged by the petitioners
as motives for granting their requests (Il. i. 39; vi. 308).
Obedience to the will of the gods is specified by Achilles
as a condition of acceptable prayer, or rather (for even
this hero looks at the prayer as a means to a personal
object rather than as a duty or privilege) he openly pro-
claims the fact that the gods hear the prayers of those
who obey them as his motive to obedience (II. i. 216).
Formulae of prayer, beginning with a reference to the
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
163
attributes of the god, and continuing with an enumera-
tion of the claims of the petitioner (et ToTE, K. T.X). are
common (Il. i. 37; v. 115); and public prayers are
repeated by the whole assembly (Il. iii. 297, 319).
Prayer is offered in a standing posture, with uplifted
hands (Il. iii. 275, 318), the hands having previously
been washed, and the heralds liaving commanded a
sacred silence (Il. iii. 270; ix. 171). The hero, stained
with blood and gore, is especially forbidden to worship.
When all these preliminaries have been religiously ob-
served, still there is no certainty that the prayer will
be heard ; the god grants or refuses the request at lis
sovereign pleasure (Il. ii. 420; iii. 302).
8. INFLUENCE OF THE DOCTRINE OF THE GODS ON HUMAN
CONDUCT.
(
It is the standing reproach of Christians, frankly and
humbly confessed by themselves, as well as imputed to
them by their enemies, that their life falls far. below the
standard of Christian doctrine. This, however, reflects
no dishonor on Christianity, but rather sheds lustre on
.it, by showing how lofty that standard is which towers
at such an unattainable height above the highest attain-
ments of the best men that have ever lived. But the
conduct of Homer's heroes is better than their creed-
better, certainly, than we should have expected to result
from such a creed. If, when we read the Christian
Scriptures, we wonder that such a religion slould not
carry with it, wherever it goes, a liigher individual and
national life, the only wonder of the readers of Homer
is, how any genuine religious faith and practice: could
survive the influence of such a doctrine and such an
example of the gods. We should presume that such
164
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
0
gods could inspire neither respect, confidence, nor affec-
tion. Themselves guilty of every vice and crime, it
would be strange indeed if their worshippers were pat-
terns of virtue and piety. And it is true that Homer's
heroes do not manifest that sacred and awful reverence
for their anthropophuous gods which Christians feel to-
wards the infinite and holy One, whom they dare not
think of as altogether such an one as themselves. It is
true that they do not love their gods generally (even
as we have seen the gods do not love mankind in gen-
eral); they do not love them impartially, still less
supremely, as Christians are required to love the Lord
their God, with all their heart. Their love is not that
reverential, complacential, admiring, and adoring affec-
tion which all intelligent creatures owe to their all-
powerful and all-perfect Creator; but it is more likethe
personal, partial, mutual, and not altogether unselfish,
attachment which one human being feels towards another
who is greater, but not perhaps better, and not of an
essentially higher order of beings than himself. It is
not αγάπη, but φιλία ; it is not so much religious love
and devotion, as it is personal friendship or loyalty
towards an earthly superior.
This is especially true of the inferior deities, who
have their clients and favorites among men, to whom
they stand in a relation resembling not a little that
of patrons and guardians. Towards these gods, in this
relation, their favorite heroes manifest a loving, trusting,
obedient spirit. There is much that is beautiful in the
language and conduct of such heroes as Achilles,
Diomed, and Ulysses towards Athena, among the Greeks,
and such as Hector and Aeneas towards Apollo, among
the Trojans (Il. i. 215; V. 815; XX. 86; Od. passim).
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE D
165
OF THE GODS.
But it is the beauty of loyalty and chivalry, rather than
that of piety and holiness.
The men and women of the Iliad and Odyssey are
habitually religious. The language of religion is often
on their tongues, as it is ever on the lips of everybody
in the East at this day. The thought of the gods, and
of their providence and government over the world, is
a familiar thought. They seem to have an abiding con-
viction of their dependence on the gods. The result
of all human action depends on the will of the gods;
it lies on their knees (9€wv èv yoúvao u keitat, Od. i. 267
et passim), is the often repeated and significant expres-
sion of this feeling of dependence. Submission to their
will is a duty, or rather an expediency growing out of
necessity, because their power is supreme (ÉTTELN Toù
Déptepoi ciou, Od. xxii. 287 et passim). It is, accord-
ingly, often confessed to be a submission against the
will, and not a resignation of the human will itself to
the divine (Od. vi. 190; xviii. 135). Hence the Gre-
cian chiefs — Agamemnon, Ulysses, and others, usually
devout men who fear the gods-do not hesitate to utter
frequent complaints of the will and government of Zeus
when he frustrates their plans and disappoints their
expectations (II. ii. 116; Od. xvii. 424).
The games at the funeral pyre of Patroclus, in the
twenty-third book of the Iliad, are from beginning to
end an illustration of a prevailing practical belief in
the reality of providence and the efficacy of prayer. In
the chariot race, Antilochus, though driving the slowest
horses, enters the race relying on the favor of the gods,
together with his skill in horsemanship and the wise
counsels of his father, Nestor, and he wins the second
prize; the first is borne off by Diomed, the favorite
166
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
of Athena, through her direct interposition, while Eu-
melus, whose horses are by far the fleetest, breaks the
pole of his chariot, and comes in last. In the foot-race,
Ulysses is outstripped by Ajax the swiſt, till, as they
draw near the goal, he lifts a silent prayer (“ in his.
mind,” Ôv katà Ovuov, 769) to Athena, when Ajax slips
and falls, and Ulysses, with his old limbs all made supple
as youth by the goddess, wins the prize. And in the
concluding contest with the bow and arrows, the famous
archer, Teucer, in his proud self-reliance, without a vow
or a prayer, lets fly an arrow and only severs the string
that ties the bird, but Meriones waits to vow a hecatomb
of first-born lambs to the far-shooting Apollo, though
the bird the while is flying away at full speed, and he
brings her down from an almost sightless elevation
among the clouds (859–880). And all the people gazed
and wondered, virtually saying, Amen. So in the race
and conflict of life, they do not prosper who contend
with the gods of heaven (Il. vi. 129; v. 406), while that
man is a match for many who is dear to the heart of
Jove (II. ix. 116). Accordingly, the pious Nestor,
Menelaus, and Ulysses triumph over all obstacles, and
sooner or later reach home in safety, while the truce-
breaker, Pandarus, falls in the battle which follows the
breaking of the truce; the profane braggart Ajax, son
of Oileus, perishes by shipwreck on the way home, the
proud and sullen Ajax, son of Telamon, goes down to
Hades from the plains of Troy; the selfish and reckless
Agamemnon is treacherously slain by his own wife and
her paramour immediately on his return to his palace,
and his murderer, Aegisthus, in turn, meets the just
consequences of his crimes (Od. i. 42). As a general
law, the characters of the Iliad and Odyssey prosper or
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
167
suffer adversity according to their deserts. As in his-
tory, however, so in the Homeric poems, there are ex-
ceptions to this rule. Paris, the ravisher of the Grecian
Helen and the cause of all his country's woes, has the
honor of slaying Achilles and survives the war, while the
upright, pious, and patriotic Hector falls beneath a cruel
and irresistible destiny; and Achilles, reverential and
obedient to the gods as he is, is envied by them for his
brilliant career, like the faultless Bellerophon (Il. vi.
200, cf. 155), and goes down to an early grave on a
foreign shore, leaving the enterprise in which he had
embarked still unaccomplished. It is, however, a sig-
nificant fact, that the protagonists of the two poems, on
whom the genius of Homer has shed its brightest glories,
are both the special favorites of the goddess of wisdom
and of the all-wise, all-powerful Zeus; and this alone is
enough to make any man a host (Il. ix. 116).
We find in Homer no trace of that divorcement of
morality from piety which usually distinguishes false
systems of religion. The gods are, indeed, peculiarly
quick to resent an insult or neglect in the worship of
themselves; but they punish also violations of the moral
law. They punish poor mortals for crimes of which they
themselves are guilty, and reward virtues in men which
they themselves do not practise. They punish with
especial severity social and political crimes, such as
perjury (Il. iii. 279), oppression of the poor (Od. xvii.
475), and unjust judgment in courts of justice (Il. xvi.
386). And, with all the imperfections of society, gov-
ernment, and religion, the poems present us, on the
whole, a remarkable picture of primitive simplicity,
chastity, justice, and practical piety, under the three-
fold influence of right moral feeling, mutual respect,
168
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
and fear of the divine displeasure; such at least are
the motives to which Telemachus makes his distinct
appeal when he endeavors to rouse the assembled people
of Ithaca to the performance of their duty (0d. ii. 64).
9. THE RELATION OF THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS
TO THE TEACHING OF THE SCRIPTURES.
111
According to the received chronology, the Trojan war
synchronizes with the scriptural epoch of the Judges.
And whatever may have been the precise era of Homer's
life, it is admitted on all hands that he was a faithful
voucher, or (to put the statement in a form less objec-
tionable to the advocates of the sceptical theory) the
Homeric poems, if not a substantially true history, are
at least a faithful representation of the manners, ideas,
and traditions of the heroic age- the age of the war.
Moreover, according to their own traditions and all
ethnological evidence, the original inhabitants both of
Greece and Troy came from those same mountainous
regions of Western Asia from which the Hebrews took
their origin. It would be strange, then, if we did not
find in the Iliad and Odyssey some vestiges at least of
the same patriarchal and primitive facts, doctrines, and
usages of which we have an inspired record in the Pen-
tateuch and the books of Joshua and Judges. Homer,
like Joshua and the book of Judges, makes frequent
mention of Sidon, the mother city of the Phenicians
(Il. vi. 290; Od. xiii. 285: Josh. xix. 28; Judg. i. 31);
also of Thebes, the ancient capital of the Egyptians (Il.
ix. 381), whose “strength” (“ and it was infinite”) had
already been brought low in the days of the prophet Na-
hum (iii. 8-10), that is, as early as the eighth century
before the Christian era. The domestic and social
a
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
169
manners of the Pentateuch are reproduced almost
unchanged in the Homeric poems. In like manner,
not a few of the religious ideas and practices of the
Old Testament reappear in the Iliad and Odyssey.
Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took
him (Gen. v. 24). So the Homeric gods, particularly
Zeus, translate and immortalize their favorites ; though
beauty of person, and not excellence of character, seems
to have been the attraction, and sensuous (not to say
sensual) delight, rather than spiritual complacency, was
the bond of union (Il. xx. 233; xi. 1). God appears
on earth in human form, and converses with the Hebrew
patriarchs, face to face (Gen. xviii. 17 ; xxxii. 30), and
he was on terms of still more frequent and familiar
intercourse with our first parents in the garden of pri-
meval innocence. So the gods manifest themselves to
the heroes in the war of Troy; and they even inter-
married with men and women of former generations.
The Israelites are a chosen people, to whom God reveals
himself in a peculiar way; the Phaeacians and the Ethi-
opians are the favorite nations with the Homeric gods,
who visit them in their own proper form and person,
especially at their feasts. The Lord goes down to the
cities of Sodom and Gomorrah in person, or in the person
of his angels, to see whether they have done according
to the cry that has come up to him, and when he finds
them sunk in moral corruption, destroys them from off
the earth ; so the gods, in the likeness of strangers from
foreign lands, often visit cities (TrlotPwowou zónas) to
see the character and conduct of their inhabitants, and
reward or punish accordingly (Od. xrii. 485). The su-
preme god of the Iliad and the Odyssey, as well as the
1 Cf. Coleridge's Introduction to the Study of the Greek Poets.
15
170
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
God of the Bible, is the god of the stranger and of the
poor (Od. vi. 208). Homer, as well as Moses, recognizes
the principle, that hurricanes and floods may be, and
are, heaven's vengeance sent upon the earth when the
wickedness and ungodliness of nations and their rulers
are very great (Il. xvi. 384). The titans and giants of
Homer are a reproduction of the rebel builders of Babel,
and of those antediluvian giants who were the offspring
of the sons of God and the daughters of men. Ate, cast
out from heaven as a deceiver, and now ever intent upon
destroying the children of men, answers in very many
particulars to Satan, the great adversary of God and
man; while, on the other hand, the Litae, Jove's daugh-
ters, who with slow and toilful step, follow the adversary,
to repair the mischief and intercede both with their
Father and with the erring sons of men (Il. ix. 502),
are a beautiful illustration of the principle, and to some
extent also of the plan, of reconciliation through a
Mediator; and even the rainbow, the appointed symbol
of mercy and peace to the world after the flood, reap-
pears in Iris, the rainbow goddess and messenger of
heaven.
We have already adverted to the traces of a prim-
itive monotheism in the vast supremacy of Jove over all
the other gods, and also to a kind of trinity of per-
sons, manifestations, and agencies in Zeus, Athena, and
Apollo, who are so often addressed together in prayer in
the triune invocation :
Αϊ γαρ, Ζεύ τε πάτερ και Αθηναίη και "Απολλων:
These three are worshipped, alike by Greeks and barba-
rians, in every part of the world. These three surpass
all the gods in moral character, as much as they do in
1 On this point, and the whole subject of the Homeric trinity or triad,
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
171
1
their providential power and care over the universe.
And these three sustain such intimate and endearing
relations to each other that they may be said, in gene-
ral, to “ agree in one.”
The father of gods and men in Homer is, of course,
the Universal Father of the Scriptures, though sadly
defaced and degraded from the infinite Creator and the
thrice holy Moral Governor of the universe as he is re-
vealed in the Scriptures. Apollo, the son of Jupiter and
Latona (who is scarcely known except as the mother of
Apollo), is the seed of the woman, the bruiser of the
serpent's head, the source of oracles, and inspirer of
prophets, the Logos or Word of God (1očías), the bright
and shining light (Poißos). He is, as his name has been
differently explained, both the άπέλλων and the απολ-
aúwv, at once the healing or averting and the destroy-
ing deity, the god of medicine and the god of the bow;
but even as god of the bow, what is most characteristic
of him is, that he inflicts death in such a manner as to
take away its sting, by his loving and gentle arrows (ols
ảyavois Berbeool, Od. xv. 411). In the Greek tragedies
he enjoys, in common with Zeus, the title of saviour
(Ewrp, Aesch. Ag. 512). Athena is, at least she re-
sembles and suggests, the personal and divine wisdom
with whom and by whom God founded the earth and
prepared the heavens — the Spirit of God that brooded
upon the face of the original chaos, and breathed into it
order and beauty; “ rejoicing always before him, and
rejoicing also in the habitable parts of the earth.” Her
especial “ delight is with the sons of men,” and her
providential care is over them. She is the guide and
Gladstone is very full, and in the main satisfactory. See the second section
172
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
(
teacher of wise and good men. In short, she is the ex-
ecutive on earth of all the most spiritual functions of
the providence and government of the Most High.
The attributes ascribed to Apollo and Athena cannot
be explained as the spontaneous development of nature-
worship or hero-worship in the mind of the Greeks, still
less as the offspring of pure invention.
“ They are such as to bring about cross-divisions and
cross-purposes, which the Greek force of imagination and
the Greek love of symmetry would liave alike eschewed.
How could invention have set up Pallas as the goddess
at once of peace and its industries, of wisdom, and of
war? How, again, could it have combined in Apollo the
offices of destruction, music, poetry, prophecy, archery,
and medicine? Again, if he is the god of medicine,
why have we Paieon ? if of poetry, why have we the
Muses? If Minerva be (as she is) goddess of war, why
have we Mars; if of the work of the artificer, why have
we also Vulcan ; if of prudence and equity, and even
craft, why Mercury ?
" It seems to be the distinctive character of Minerva
in the Homeric theo-mythology, that though she is not
the sole deity, yet the very flower of the whole office
and work of deity is everywhere reserved for her. .....
The whole conception is therefore fundamentally at va-
riance with the measured and finite organization of an
invented system of religion, and, by its own incongrui-
ties with that system, it proves itself to be an exotic
element.
“Apollo, too, las much of that inwardness and univer-
sality of function which belongs to Minerva, as well as
a diversity of offices peculiarly his own. ..... The tan-
gled thread runs out without knot or break, when we
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF THE GODS.
173
unravel it by primitive Messianic tradition, because it
was fundamental to that tradition, that the person who
was the subject of it should exhibit this many-sided
union of character and function.” 1
The strange incongruity between the attributes theo-
retically ascribed to the gods and their character and
conduct as it appears in actual life — an incongruity of
which we have already spoken, and which strikes every
reader of the Iliad and Odyssey -- is perhaps to be ex-
plained on the same principle. The omniscience, the
omnipotence, the universal providence, and the absolute
sovereignty which, in theory, belong to the gods, seem
like an inheritance of truth transmitted from a wiser
and better age, and preserved, like heirlooms, in the
memory; while the character and conduct which imply
such ungodlike limitations of knowledge and power, and
such gross derelictions, not only from divine, but even
from human standards of moral excellence, are the in-
ventions of the poet, and therefore in harmony, or cer-
tainly not at variance, with the taste and imagination
of his contemporaries. Or shall we say that the pure
theology is the intuitive and almost unconscious testi-
mony of the reason and conscience of man (wherever
it is not wholly smothered by sin) to the truth of God,
while the corrupt mythology is the voluntary and con-
scious invention of an imagination and a heart that does
not like to retain the knowledge of the true God, and
therefore changes him into the image and likeness of
his creatures. Whatever may be the explanation, the
contradiction between the theoretical doctrine and the
practical representation of the Homeric gods is palpable,
and stands out in marked contrast with the harmony
1 Gladstone, Vol. ii. sec. ü.
15*
174
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
and consistency of the divine character even in the Old
Testament, how much more with the purity, beauty, and
glory of that character as it appears in the New.
In conclusion, then, we say, the poems of Homer
illustrate and honor the Bible both by contrast and by
resemblance. They bear witness, as it were, in spite of
themselves (and it is the testimony not of an individual
but of an early cultivated people in a primitive age), to
the unity, trinity, omnipotence, omniscience, universal
providence, and absolute sovereignty of God, and to his
frequent special interpositions in human affairs, and his
various methods of revealing himself to the knowledge
of men. At the same time, they show how little tra-
dition can be trusted to transmit the knowledge of God
and the true religion among the most enlightened peo-
ple; they burlesque sacred themes, and not only reduce
the gods to a level with men, but even make them ob-
jects of pity and of derision to their worshippers. The
more we study the theology of Homer, the less easily
can we believe that the theology of the Bible is the
offspring either of tradition or of human invention.
IV.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN,
ITS EXPIATION, AND ITS PENALTY.?
HOMER has no word answering in comprehensiveness
or depth of meaning to the word sin, as it is used in the
Bible; and that for the obvious reason that the con-
sciousness of sin was awakened, the idea of sin was
developed, under the peculiar discipline of the Jewish
and the Christian dispensations as they never were
among the Greeks or any other people of ancient times.
The noun àpapria, which is appropriated to express this
idea in the Greek of the New Testament, does not occur
in the Homeric poems. The verb duaptávelv is used
often in the sense of missing a mark (II. v. 287) or
failing of an object (Od. xxi. 155), but rarely of a sin
against the gods, as in Il. ix. 501. The same verse is
also the only instance in which úmrepBaivelv, the etymo-
logical equivalent of our transgress, is used in the
sense of transgression or trespass: ότε κέν τις υπερβήη
kaì åpáptn, whenever any one may chance to have
transgressed and sinned, etc., against the gods. The
corresponding noun irrepBagia, transgression, occurs in-
frequently, but always in a moral sense, of the violation
of some law of God or man, as, for instance, the crimes
of the suitors (Od. iii. 206; xxii. 168), the violation of
an oath, which is an offence especially against Jupiter
1 [Reprinted from the American Theological Review. Vol. iv. No. 2.
April, 1862.]
176
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
.
(Il. iii. 107; uńtis ÚTrepßaoin Alos ópkia Snańontai), and
the sins and follies of youth in general (Il. xxii. 589).
But the word which is most frequently employed to
express wrong-doing of every kind, is årn, with its cor-
responding verb. As this word shows most clearly the
light in which sin was viewed by the early Greeks, it
demands a somewhat careful examination. The radical
signification of the word would seem to be a befooling,
a depriving one of his senses and his reason, as by un-
seasonable sleep (Od. x. 68; xii. 372) and excess of
wine (Od. xxi. 295), joined with the influence of evil
companions (Od. x. 68) and the power of destiny or the
deity (Od. xi. 61, cf. xii. 372). The idea of some super-
natural power or influence seems always to be associated
with this befooling, and its ultimate source is always
conceived to be the gods or the fates. Hence the Greek
imagination, which animated and impersonated every
great power, very naturally conceived of "Aty as a person,
a sort of omnipresent and universal cause of folly and
sin, of mischief and misery, who, though the daughter
of Jupiter, yet once fooled or misled Jupiter himself,
and thenceforth, cast down from heaven to earth, walks
with light feet over the heads of men, and makes all at
times go wrong (Il. xix. 91 cf. ix. 505). Hence, too,
when men come to their senses, and see what folly and
wrong they have perpetrated, they cast the blame on
Arn, and so ultimately on Jupiter and the gods (Il. xix.
86–90); for the same folly and wrong which in the
latter part of this remarkable passage Agamemnon
ascribes to the agency of "Atm, at the beginning lie
refers to Ζεύς and Moίρα aud 'Ερινύς.
1/ here follow very nearly in the footsteps of Nävelsbach, to whose
section on this subject (in his Homeric Tbeology) I am indebted for val-
uable thoughts, and still more for illustrative passages.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
177
t
.
The passage is thus imperfectly rendered by Pope :
“ Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate;
Know, angry Jove and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erinys, urged my wrath * that day,
When from Achilles' arms I forced the prey.
What then could I against the will of heaven ?
Not by myself but vengeful Até driven ;
She, Jove's daughter, fated to infest
The race of mortals, entered in my breast.? "
In like manner Priam, blinded by his fondness for
the beauteous Helen, and for her paramour, his false
and faithless son, relieves her of all responsibility for the
war, by laying the blame on the gods (II. iii. 164–165):
“No crime of thine our present sufferings draws ;
Not thou, but heaven's disposing will, the cause."
Yet Helen, in her reply, condemns and despises her-
self, and makes no attempt to cast the responsibility on
tlie gods (Il. iii. 180 cf. 241 ; vi. 344). And Agamem-
non elsewhere confesses his folly and wrong, repeating
the confession (ảao áunv, ix. 116 and 119) and making
no attempt to shift the blame on a higher power; and
the very same act of injustice to Achilles which in one
place is imputed to an irresistible overruling power,
is expressly referred in another to the monarch's own
pride and self-will (Il. i. 133, 185, et passim). So the
riotous suitors and the inconsiderate comrades of Ulysses
went under a kind of judicial blindness -- nay, under
an immediate divine impulse -- to their doom (Od. xviii.
346); and yet they went yielding to their violent and
? Literally, folly, wrong, arnv.
? Thc Greck is very expressive: 'Atn Ý Távtas àûtal. The agent, the
action, and the cffect are all expressed by the same root. Folly which fools
ull, infused wild folly (šyplov "Amnv) into my bosom. And this Folly is
only the executioner of Jove and Fute, and another name for Erinys.
178
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
wanton passions, following their own strong inclinations
(Od. xvii. 431 ; Üßpel cicavtes, &TT LOTTÓLevou jévei obộ).
And the two ideas are sometimes brought into immediate
juxtaposition, in striking resemblance to the Scriptures.
The suitors, says Homer, were destroyed by the appoint-
ment of the gods and by wicked deeds. Even so the
betrayer of the Lord Jesus went as it was written of
him, and yet went under the impulse of his own blind
passious, to his own place; and though the Redeemer
was delivered up according to the determinate counsel
and foreknowledge of God, yet it was with wicked hands
that his murderers crucified him and put him to death.
In Homer then, as in the Bible, sin is folly, blindness,
madness, so strange that it seems explicable only on the
supposition of some external, supernatural, blinding and
bewildering agency, and yet so fully and so consciously
in accordance with the sinner's own inclinations, and in
obedience to his own impulses, that he cannot shake off
the responsibility. The wicked suitors have no knowl-
edge; they are as unwise as they are unjust (Od. ii. 282):
αφραδέων επεί ούτι νοήμονες ουδε δίκαιοι.
they have wrought folly in Ithaca, as great sinners:
wrought folly in Israel (Josh. vii. 15; Gen. xxxiv. 7),
and the whole people will reap the consequences (Od.
ii. 239) unless they purge themselves of the iniquity.
And this suggests another point of resemblance. In
Homer, as in the Bible, sin is misery, calamity of the
most dreadful kind; in other words, sin and its punish-
ment are so inseparable, nay, so identical, that they are
expressed by the same word. Readers of the Hebrew and
Greek Scriptures are familiar with this so-called Hebrais-
tic usage. But it is even more striking in the Iliad and
Odyssey. "Atn is both sin and suffering, both folly and
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
179
calamity, sometimes the one idea and sometimes the
other being more prominent, but neither at any time
wholly excluded. If the chief idea in any passage is
that of folly, yet it is folly leading to calamity, perchance
to utter ruin. If, on the other hand, calamity seems in
any passage to be the principal idea, it is still only that
calamity which results from folly and moral blindness.
The whole history of the suitors is a standing illustra-
tion of the great fact in the government of God, that
moral blindness leads to deeper blindness, and sin is
punished by more aggravated wickedness, till at length
persuasions and entreaties are useless — such is the very
language of the poet (Od. xvi. 278)—for their appointed
day of vengeance has already come. “And even as they
did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave
them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which
are not convenient” (Rom. i. 28).
Man is a frail, feeble, erring, and sinful creature;
weakest and most to be pitied of all the animals that
live and move upon the earth ; easily elated by pros-
perity, and as easily depressed by adversity; impatient
under the latter, proud, self-righteous, and self-confident
under the former, and too often rebellious under both
(Od. xviii. 130-140).2 As his tempter ("Atn) goes about
all over the world (Tâo av êtr' aiav, Il. ix. 506), harming
men (Brátovo' åv pátrovs), and tempts all and leads
them astray (Távras àâtai Il. xix. 91), so sin and misery
are universal in the world. In speaking of the race,
however, or of themselves, or of their neighbors and
i Hence the mistake of Buttmann in making calamity the original and
principal meaning of the word (cf. Butt. Lcx. sub. V.). That it is a mis-
take, is sufficiently clear from the usage of the word as illustrated in the
text.
2 This striking passage is quoted below, p. 192.
180
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
acquaintance generally, Homer's heroes are much more
ready to deplore the misery than to condemn the sin.
They never say such evil and bitter things of themselves
as David, Isaiah, and Job; and nowhere in the Iliad and
Odyssey do we read such pictures of human depravity
as we read everywhere in the Law and the Prophets
and the Psalms, and not less in the Gospels and the
Epistles. “By the law is the knowledge of sin,” even
as by the gospel is its remedy.
But the Gentiles are not without law. Even in the
bible of the ancient Greeks, sin is the transgression of
law (úmepBaola). Law is that which is laid down (O'émis
from De- root of ríonut, as law from lay), settled, estab-
lished, as the course of nature, the custom of society,
the usages of mankind, the rights of individuals, fami-
lies, communities, and nations; in short, the whole
natural, social, and moral order of the universe. All
this is included in the oft-repeated phrase Oépcs ļotiv,
or » Déues éotiv, which in different connections means,
as it is right, as the custom is, as is proper between man
and man, as is due to the host or the guest, as is befit-
ting the king and commander, or the subject and the
soldier. These various laws of nature and custom, of
right and fitness, are all laws of Jupiter (Alòs peryároio
OÉULTTES, Od. xvi. 403), and counsels or purposes of the
gods (Dev Boúras, ibid. 402), which the wise and good
man, like Ulysses, will carefully consult before he pro-
ceeds to action, and then scrupulously obey (ibid.) while
the foolish and wicked, like the unreasonable and unjust
suitors (ούτι νοήμονες ουδε δίκαιοι) or the madcap Ares
himself, know no law (oŰtiva oide Déulota, II. v. 761, cf.
Od. ii. 281). Jupiter, with the co-operation of the other
gods, is the author and executioner of these laws — their
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
181
VILU
guardian and avenger. Moreover, human laws and
governments proceed from him as their original source.
He gives the sceptre to whom he will (Il. ii. 205, 206);
and by him kings reign and princes decree justice; lit-
erally before him (Tpòs Auós, Il. i. 239) they guard and
execute the laws. So that all laws, human as well as
divine, are clothed with something of divine authority,
and all violations of them are sins in the sight of the
gods.
The duties that spring from this natural order and
divine constitution fall naturally under the threefold
division common to all ethical systems, and distinctly
recognized by Homer (Od. ii. 64–67), of duties to self,
duties to fellow-men, and duties to God.
Among the duties which the Homeric hero owes to
himself, or the laws which he feels bound to obey, espe-
cial prominence is given to the law of self-respect, the
sense of personal worth, the pride of ancestral dignity,
the desire to excel in bravery, the love of glory, the law
of honor, the law of conscience, and the duty of self-
control. “Be men, be mindful of yourselves” (Il. xv.
487); “ be men, respect yourselves ” (ibid. 561); “ be
indignant at the wrong yourselves, while you also regard
the good opinion of others ” (Od. ii. 64); or as Pope
has the two former passages :
“Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame,
And spread your glory with the navy's flame."
“O Greeks, respect your fame,
Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame."
Such are some of the most frequent and stirring
appeals which the leaders address to their troops on
either side. ..
the leaders madres to their trops on
16
182
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
“ To stand the first in worth, as in command,
To add new honors to my native land;
Before my eyes my mighty sires to place,
And emulate the glories of our race."
Such is the education which the Lycian Glaucus
boasts to have received from his royal father (Il. vi.
206); and the Trojan Hector declares in the same book
(442 sqq.) that he cannot withdraw from the deadly
fight even to please his wife, for le not only dreads the
reproach of his countrymen and countrywomen, but his
own soul scorns the ignoble deed, since he was taught
to be always brave, and fight among the foremost ranks
for his own glory and the glory of his royal father.
“ Juno, my son, and Pallas, if they please,
Can make thee valiant; but thy own big heart
Thyself restrain. Sweet manners win respect."
These are the last words of counsel which the aged
Peleus addressed to the youthful Achilles when he set
out for the war --words which that impetuous hero did
not heed, and so want of self-government blighted all
the happiness of his brilliant but brief career. It is just
this relinquishing of the helm to the control of the pas-
sions instead of the supremacy of reason and conscience,
which gives Ate the opportunity to bewilder and blind
the soul still more, and thus work its ruin. And if the
man, blinded and maddened by passion, refuses to listen
to entreaty, the very ministers of mercy and mediation
between heaven and earth at length turn against him,
and plead for vengeance (Il. ix. 510). So that even
the sins and follies which the man perpetrates under
her blinding influence are voluntary and responsible
in their origin, and the calamities which he suffers, and
which, like the sins, are called Atac, are self-caused,
1
1
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
being the result of the voluntary abdication of the
throne by reason and conscience to unrestrained pas-
sion, uncontrolled self-will, or, it may be, excessive
pride and self-glorification.
Among the relative duties none is more earnestly in-
culcated or more beautifully exemplified than duty to
parents. See the filial love and respect with which the
the manly and heroic Hector, the bulwark at once of
his family and of his country, still treats his honored
chus, bound up in the fortunes of his long absent father,
performing long journeys by sea and land, to glean
tidings of his fate, weeping on his neck at the lodge of
Eumaeus, defending him, under the guise of a beggar,
from the insults of the suitors in the palace, affectionate,
confiding, watchful, and obedient to his every word, look,
and action, till at length he receives the welcome sign :
“ Slings his keen falchion, grasps his spear, and stands,
Armed bright for battle, at his father's side.”
And in living demonstration of the maxim of one of the
Seven Sages, that parents may expect from their chil-
dren that obedience which they themselves paid to their
parents, look at that scene near the conclusion of the
Odyssey, than which there is scarcely anything more
touching in the whole range of history or fiction, where
Ulysses, now victorious over all his enemies, re-estab-
lished on his throne, and restored to the embrace of his
beloved Penelope, cannot rest till he has sought out the
aged Laertes, finds him in his garden, clad in rags and
toiling at menial employments, weeps in concealment
over the sad spectacle, plies his faded memory with facts
in their early history to convince him that it is indeed
184
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
no other than his own long lost Ulysses, and holds him
clasped to his bosom, till the old man recovers from the
swoon which so unexpected and joyful an event has
brought over his bewildered faculties. The boy Tele-
machus hardly treats his mother with as much respect
and deference as the man Hector (for there is scarcely
any age at which one submits to maternal authority with
so little grace as when he is passing out of his teens); yet
he refuses compliance with the demand of the suitors to
send her back against her will to her own father's house,
and paints in glowing colors the scorn of men (véueous
εξ ανθρώπων) and vengeance of the gods (στυγεράς
'Epivôs) which Providence (Sainwr) will visit on an un-
dutiful son:
" While thus he speaks, Telemachus replies :
Even nature starts, and what ye ask denies.
Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares,
Who gave me life, and nursed my infant years?
How from my father should I vengeance dread!
How would my mother curse my hated head !
And while in wrath to vengeful fiends she cries,
How from their bell would vengeful fiends arise !
Abhored by all, accursed my name would grow,
The carth's disgrace, and human kind my foe !"
In Homer, then, as well as in the Scriptures, “Honor
thy father and mother” is “the first commandment
with promise”; and the primal curse rests on filial in-
gratitude and rebellion.
Nearly allied to filial duty is that reverence which is
due to age, and which in Homer, as in the Pentateuch,
1 Literally it is not possible to banish her from the house. Compare the
similar but still more lofty answer of the youthful Joseph when solicited
to sin (Gen. xxxix. 9): How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against
God.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
185
is rendered in the most touching and graceful forms.
Priam relies on the united power of both these motives
to move the heart of the slayer of his son, and urges the
plea with a pathos which even the implacable Achilles
cannot resist (Il. xxiv. 486 sqq.):
“ Ah, think, thou favored of the powers divine,
Think of thy father's age, and pity mine!
In me that father's reverend image trace,
Those silver hairs, that venerable face ;
His trembling limbs, his helpless person see!
In all my equal, but in misery!
These words soft pity in the chief inspire.
Touched with the remembrance of his sire,
The reverend monarch by the hand he raised,
On his white beard and form majestic gazed,
Not unrelenting; then, serene, began,
With words to soothe the miserable man."
The Iliad and the Odyssey have each its own match-
less picture of conjugal affection and fidelity, the one a
Trojan, the other a Grecian pair; the former doomed to
a sad parting in the very beginning of their married life,
soon after Providence had blessed them with a pledge
of their mutual love; the latter destined, after long
separation and sorrow, to meet, and, in a serene old age,
to enjoy the reward of their mutual faithfulness, but
both, though dead, yet speaking to the hearts of millions
of the honor and blessedness of pure, unchanging wed-
ded love. Hector and Andromache, Ulysses and Penel-
ope, when will those names ever be forgotten ? And who
that remembers them can ever forget the lessons which
they teach? Over against them in the Homeric gallery
stand another pair, blackened and scathed by the indig-
nation of gods and men, standing monuments of the
1 Οικτείρων πολιόν τε κάρη πολιόν τε γένειον.
16*
186
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
guilt and ruin of conjugal infidelity - Aegisthus and
Clytemuestra; a foul adulterer and a faithless friend,
who with murderous hand stabbed their lord and king
at the friendly feast, and whom, even in Hades, whither
they have been sent by the avenging hand of Orestes,
the injured and murdered husband still follows with his
curses (Od. xi. 409 sqq.):
“O wife, thy deeds disgrace
The perjured sex, and blacken all the race;
And should posterity one virtuous find,
While in Homer, as in the Bible, there is thus a
peculiar sacredness about the domestic relations, the
violation of which brings down the special vengeance
of the gods and the Erinyes, the stranger, also, is under
the especial protection of Jupiter, who rejoices in the title
of Zeus Eévios, the god of the stranger and the guardian
of the rights of hospitality (Il. xiii. 624; Od. xiv. 389),
and who will surely avenge any wrong done to the stran-
ger beneath the roof (Od. ix. 266-271; cf. Deut. x. 18),
as well as to the host, who affords him hospitable enter-
tainment, (II. iii. 351-354). The fate of Troy and the
catastrophe of the Iliad turn on the violation by Paris
of the rights at once of the husband and the host, for
which double crime the Trojan king and people have
rendered themselves responsible by refusing or neglect-
ing to make reparation (Il. xiii. 625 sqq.), and must
therefore suffer a dreadful overthrow.
and the suppliant are often associated as under the
special guardianship of Jupiter (Od. ix. 266-271):
“ Low at thy knee, thy succor we implore,
Respect us, human, and relieve us, poor.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
187
At least some hospitable gift bestow,
'Tis what the happy to th' unhappy owe;
'Tis what the gods require -- those gods revere;
The poor and stranger are their constant care :
To Jove their cause and their revenge belongs,
He wanders with them, and he feels their wrongs.”
It is a violation of established law (où Dénes Zoti) to
dishonor the stranger; for all strangers and beggars
are under the protection of Zeus (apòs Aiós elow), a
sentiment often repeated in the Odyssey (vi. 207; xiv.
57); and the gods and Erinyes are their avengers
(xvii. 475).1
An implacable, unmerciful, unforgiving spirit is often
censured as unlike the gods, and unbecoming helpless,
dependent mortals. The suitors are as unmerciful as
they are unjust; and the gods do not love cruel and
oppressive deeds (Od. xiv. 82). The aged friend of Achil-
les warns him to be merciful as he would obtain mercy,
and not to scorn the entreaties of men, lest the gods
spurn his prayers (II. ix. 496).
“ Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage resigned ;
A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind:
The gods, the only great, the only wise,
Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice.
Prayers are Jove's daughters,” etc.
“When man rejects the humble suit they make,
The sire revenges for the daughters' sake.”
The argument is of the same kind as in the sermon on
the mount: Be merciful, for God is merciful ; and for-
give, that you may be forgiven.
Human laws are not only called by the same name
as divine laws (DéuLOTES), but are administered under
i The like sentiment is repeated with emphasis in the Old Testament
(Exod xxii. 21; Lev. xix. 33; Deut. x. 18; Mal. iii. 5).
188
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the same divine sanction. Kings and judges execute
law and justice as in the presence and with the author-
ity of Jove (Trpòs diós, Il. i. 239). The sceptre and the
laws are his gift (II. ii. 205). Heralds are the messen-
gers of Jove as well as of men (Il. i. 334). The oaths
by which treaties are ratified and justice administered
are witnessed by Zeus (II. iii. 276), and are even called
his oaths (Alòs opkla, Il. iii. 107); and though he may
fail immediately to punish the violation of them, he will
sooner or later accomplish the vengeance to which he
is pledged (Il. iv. 161), and Pluto, Proserpina (Il. iii.
278), and the Erinyes (Il. xix. 260) will be his unfailing
executioners:
“Not thus our vows, confirmed with wine and gore,
Those hands we plighted and those oaths we swore,
Shall all be vain; when heaven's revenge is slow,
Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow.
The day shall come, the great avenging day,
Which Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay.
I see th’ Eternal all his fury shed
And shake his aegis o’er their guilty head.
Such mighty woes on perjured princes wait.” .
Those who, like the suitors, disregard the rights of men,
are also charged, as in the form of indictment for murder
in the English law, with having no fear of God before
their eyes:
“ Laws, or divine or human, failed to move,
Or shame of men or dread of gods above."
Such is the indictment of Ulysses against the suitors,
who had long promised themselves impunity, but who
now at length, are overtaken with sudden vengeance
(od. xxii. 39).
The chief duties to the gods are respect for their
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
189
persons, worship at their altars, obedience to their com-
mands, and submission to their will.
The penalty of a direct insult to any divine personage,
though it be an infant god or a god disguised in human
form, is death. At least those who dare offer such a
personal affront to deity never prosper, and never live
long upon the earth (Il. v. 406–409; vi. 136 sqq.):
“Know thou, whoc'er with heavenly powers contends,
Short is his date, and soon his glory ends;
From fields of death when late he shall retire,
No infant on his knees shall call him sire.”
“Not long Lycurgus viewed the golden light,
That daring man who mixed with gods in fight,
Nor failed the crime th' immortals' wrath to move,
Th’immortals blessed with endless ease above;
Deprived of sight by their avenging doom,
Cheerless he moved and wandered in the gloom;
Then sunk, unpitied, to the dim abodes,
A wretch accursed and hated by the gods."
A sentiment not unlike the woe which the Scriptures
denounce on him who striveth with his Maker; but how
inferior in moral dignity and sublimity! .
Men may expect to enjoy the favor of the gods in
proportion to the frequency, abundance, and richness of
the vows and prayers, sacrifices and offerings, which
they bring to their altars. Throughout the Iliad and
Odyssey the gods are represented as moved by such of-
ferings at their respective temples very much as earthly
sovereigns are won by presents and obeisances offered
in their courts, insomuch that Poseidon rescues Aeneas
on the score of his constant and acceptable offerings
(Il. xx. 298), and Zeus is almost tempted to contravene
the decrees of destiny in favor of Hector because he
190
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
has burned so many fat bullocks on his altar (Il. xxii.
170, cf. 179). When we read of Nestor sacrificing to
Poseidon at nine altars, and nine bullocks on each altar
(Od. iii. 7), we are reminded of the thousands of vic-
tims which Solomon sacrificed in the middle of the
court, as well as on the brazen altar, at the dedication
of the temple, though the latter far exceeds the former
in the costliness of his sacrifices, as well as in the gran-
deur and sacredness of the occasion. The neglect to
honor any god or goddess with sacrifices which they re-
gard as their due, especially the slight implied in his
or her omission while other divinities receive their due
honors, is an unpardonable offence. Thus the far-famed
Calydonian boar was sent upon the Aetolians in ven-
geance for neglected sacrifice, because, while the other
gods were rejoicing in their hecatombs, to Artemis alone
Oeneus, king of the Aetolians, had brought none of the
first-fruits of his fields and vineyards; whether the
slight was intentional or not, it was a great mistake and
a great sin (đáoato dè pérya Duuộ, Il. ix. 537); and the
fields and vineyards of Oeneus must pay the penalty,
and the whole nation must be involved in a calamitous
war to expiate the offence (Il. ix. 535 sqq.).
An affront offered to a priest or other representative
of a god, like an offence against his person or his altar,
provokes the divine vengeance. It was Agamemnon's
insult to the priest of Apollo and refusal to restore his
daughter that brought the pestilence on the Grecian host,
and gave occasion to the wrath of Achilles, which was
more fatal than the pestilence itself to the Grecian cause;
for in this case, as in the somewhat similar case of David,
the sin of the monarch was visited primarily on the
people, and the king was punished, and punished sorely,
A
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
191
through the calamities that fell on them (II. i. passim,
cf. 2 Sam. xxiv).
Robbed of his own captive prize in revenge for pro-
posing the return of Agamemnon's, Achilles is ready
to draw his sword and slay the monarch in the very
midst of his assembled army. But Athena, sent by the
queen of the gods, presents herself before him and bids
him restrain his anger, “command his passions, and the
gods obey.” Achilles instantly obeys, and assigns this
good reason for obedience :
"Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress;
Those who revere the gods, the gods will bless.”
There is no conviction more deeply inwrought into
the minds of all the leading men of both sides in the
Trojan war, than this: not so much the right of the gods
to command as their power to bless or curse; not so
much the duty of obeying the gods, but the sure reward
of obedience and the certain punishment of disobedience;
and there is scarcely a book in the Iliad or the Odyssey
that does not furnish a practical commentary both on
the belief and its realization.
From this same superiority of power on the part of
the immortal gods over short-lived and changeful mor-
tals, results the wisdom and necessity as well as the
duty of fear, of reverence (aideio Deoús, Od. ix. 269;
Il. xxiv. 503), of silent and unquestioning submission
to their will: Do not by any means, yielding to folly
and rashness, talk large (uérya einelv), but leave the
matter to the gods,1 since they are far more powerful
(Od. xxii. 287). Such is the sage counsel of the dis-
guised Ulysses to oue of the haughty suitors, while
in giving the like advice to another, he indulges still
1 Deoło uv põdov én it pétal, cf. Ps. xxxvii. 5: Commit thy way unto the Lord.
192
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
more his natural vein of reflection and argument (Od.
xviii. 130 sqq.) :
“ Of all that breathes or grovelling creeps on earth,
Most vain is man! calamitous by birth :
To-day with power elate, in strength he blooms;
The haughty creature on that power presumes :
Anon from heaven a sad reverse he feels;
Untaught to bear, 'gainst heaven the wretch rebels.
For man is changeful as his bliss or woe;
Too high when prosperous, when distressed too low.
Then let not man be proud ; but, firm of mind,
Bear the best humbly and the worst resigned;
Be dumb when heaven afflicts, unlike yon train
Of haughty spoilers insolently vain."
But his warnings are unavailing. Spoiled by pros.
perity and self-gratification, they all perish, guilty at
once of robbery towards man and rebellion against the
gods. And not a few of the Grecian heroes triumph
over the Trojans in the war only to fall victims to their
own pride, folly, and self will on their return to their
native land, thus lending the sanction of the greatest of
Greek poets to the proverb of the wisest of Hebrew
kings: “ The prosperity of fools shall destroy them.”
Ajax, the son of Oileus, is the most conspicuous warn-
ing, who, though wrecked and cast upon a lock, sinned
greatly (uéry' åúoon,? Od. iv. 503) by declaring that he
would escape in spite of the gods, and so Poseidon smote
the rock with his trident, and soon sunk the rebel in
the depths of the sea. And Agamemnon and Achilles,
though neither of them directly rebels or opposes the
will of heaven, yet both of them encroach too nearly,
Foryn; literally, let him keep in silence the gifts of the gods, whatever
from time to time thcy may give (appoint).
? This expressive phrase is repeated half a dozen times on the same
subject, and occurs often in Homer.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
193
though in very different ways, on the prerogatives of
the gods; and the brilliant, self-willed, and passionate
career of the latter comes to a speedy conclusion before
the fall of Troy, while the former triumplis, over his
enemies only to perish ingloriously in the embrace of
his friends.
The paramount fundamental principle, then, which
Homer inculcates in regard to sin is, that it is sure to
meet with deserved punishment. For this both parties
habitually pray (Il. iii. 320 ; iii. 351):
" Who’er involved us in this dire debate,
Oh give that author of the war to fate.”
“Give me, just Jove, to punish lawless lust,
And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust;
Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause;
Let this example future times reclaim,
And guard from wrong fair friendship’s holy name."
of falsehood and perjury (Il. iv. 235). Solemn treaties
and sacred oaths cannot be violated with impunity (Il.
iv. 158):
“When heaven's revenge is slow,
Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow.
The day shall come, the great avenging day,
Which Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay,
'Tis not for us, but guilty Troy to dread,
Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head."
And these prayers are heard, these expectations are
realized; in the progress of the war and in the final
issue, justice usually prevails, and crime generally meets
with its deserved punishment.
Thiese passages illustrate also the object or end of
17:
194
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
punishment. It is partly to satisfy divine justice or
hatred of sin, and partly to deter others from transgres-
sion. Zeus is angry with fraud and wrong, and there-
fore shakes his dreadful aegis over the wicked (Il. iv.
167), and others will fear to repeat the crime, even in
future generations (Il. iii. 353).
Punishment is the penalty due to sin ; or, to use a
favorite expression of Homer, not unusual in the Scrip-
tures also, it is the payment of the debt incurred by sin.
When he is punished, the criminal is said to pay off, or
pay back (útrotívelv) his crimes ; in other words, to ex-
piate or atone for them (II. iv. 161, 162):
σύν τα μεγάλων απέτισαν,
σύν σφησιν κεφαλήσι, γυναιξί τε και τεκέεσσιν.
that is, they shall pay off, pay back, atone, etc., for their
treachery, with a great price, with their lives, and their
wives and children. Or rather, to show the certainty of
this atonement, the past tense is used, and they are rep-
resented as having already made the atonement. The
same verb is used of the suitors, with an accusative of
the crime to be expiated or atoned for (Od. xiii. 193) :
πριν πάσαν μνηστήρας υπερβασίην αποτίσαι.
“ Till the suitors shall have atoned for all their transgression."
The middle voice of the same verb is employed in the
sense to get payment for an offence, to take satisfaction
for a crime, in other words, to take vengeance on the
offender and punish the criminal (Od. iii. 206, 216).
The prevailing sentiment of the Iliad and Odyssey is,
*Cf. Rom. viii. 30: ous dè Olkalwoev, ToúTOUS kal 886Q0 E: “Whom he
justified, them he also glorified,” though the glorification was not yet ac-
complished, but it was the certain result of the justification.
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
195
that punishment is the proper, and only proper, expia-
tion of sin.
At the same time the doctrine is expressly taught
that the gods may, and sometimes do, remit the penalty,
when duly propitiated by prayers and sacrifices accom-
panied by suitable reparation (Il. ix. 497 sqq.) :
· The gods, the only great and only wise,
Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice;
Offending man their high compassion wins,
And daily prayers atone for daily sins.
Prayers are Jove's daughters, of celestial race,
Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face;
With huinble mien and with dejected eyes,
Constant they follow where Injustice flies ;
Injustice swift, erect, and unconfined,
Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind,
While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind.
Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove,
For him they mediate to the throne above :
When man rejects the humble suit they make,
The sire revenges for the daughters' sake.
From Jove commissioned, fierce Injustice then
Descends to punish unrelenting men.”
There are many points of great interest in this
remarkable passage. In the first place, Sin ("Arn, ren-
dered Injustice by Pope) is here made to be the punish-
ment of sin unrepented and unforgiven. In the second
place, it is expressly taught that the gods are sometimes
propitiated, and turned from their purpose (Traparpa
Itão') to punish sin, by prayers, vows, and sacrifices
offered by the sinner. In the third place, prayers are
impersonated, and represented as mediators between
heaven and earth, daughters of Jove and divine, yet
meek and lowly, feeble and marred, who, when accepted
by the sinner, intercede in his behalf with the king of
AY
196
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
gods and men, but, if rejected, plead for double ven-
geance on his head.1
We have a practical illustration of this doctrine in
the first book of the Iliad, where Apollo averts the pes-
tilence from the army, when the daughter of his priest
is returned without ransom, and a sacrifice (ékatóußn,
vs. 447) is sent to the altar of the god at sacred Chrysa.
Here, too, there is an intercessor, whose prayers accom-
pany the offerings, and make sure their acceptance with
the god, and that no other than the injured priest whose
wrongs bad first brought the pestilence upon the Gre-
cian host. Apollo hearkens to the intercession of his
priest, accepts the sacred hecatoinb, is delighted with
the accompanying songs and libations, and sends back
the embassy with a favoring brecze and a favorable
answer to the army, who meanwhile have been purify-
ing themselves (återvuaivovto, vs. 314) and offering un-
blemished hecatombs of bulls and goats on the shore
of the sea which washes the place of their encampment.
The question has been raised whether in this and the
like cases in the Iliad and Odyssey we have a proper
sin-offering, which is supposed to have a truly atoning
and piacular efficacy, or wliether it is only in the nature
of a gift accompanying the prayers, like presents to an
earthly sovereign, and intended to add efficiency to the
reconciling power of the petitions. It is not easy to
meet this question with a decisive answer. The manner
in which the gods speak of these sacrifices as their pre-
rogative and portion (tó yàp ráxojev yépas queis, Il. iv.
49 et passim) and the personal, not to say animal,
Hence these Prayers ('Apal) become Curses in other passages in the
Iliad (xii. 334), and in the Attic tragedies, another name for the Erinyes
(Soph. Eum. 417).
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
197
(
rather than moral, satisfaction with which they receive
and enjoy the saltós écons Noußñas te kvío ons te (ibid. 48),
favor the latter supposition. At the same time, the
accompanying rites and ceremonies, the forms of ex-
pression and sometimes the expressed object of the
sacrifice bear a striking resemblance to those of the
Israelites in the Old Testament, and suggest a similar
original intention, though they have already lost not a
little of their high and sacred moral significance. The
object of the propitiatory embassy to Apollo in the first
book, for example, is thus stated by Ulysses : Agamem-
non, king of men, has sent me to bring thy daughter,
Chryses, and to offer a sacred hecatomb for (úrrép) the
Greeks, that we may propitiate (imacóueoba) the king
who now sends woes and many groans upon the Argives
(442 sqq.); and the language certainly approximates at
several points very closely to that of the Pentateuch,
and of the Epistles to the Romans, and the Hebrews.
Again, the sacrificial lambs and cups of wine, which
were offered in ratification of a solemn treaty, repre-
sented the parties to the treaty, and symbolically bore
the curse of its violation ; hence they could not be eaten
and drunk, but the wine was poured out on the ground
as an offering to the gods, with the accompanying
imprecation : so let their brains be poured upon the
ground who first break the treaty; and the lambs, if sac-
rificed by the people of the country, were buried in the
ground; if by strangers, were thrown into a sea or river
(Il. iii. 210 sqq.; xix. 267).
As to the punishment of sin in another world, Homer
is explicit only in regard to great criminals, such as
1 Cf. Owen's Iliad, iii. 310, and Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities, under
"Oath."
17*
198
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
perjured persons and those guilty of unnatural crimes
towards men or rebellion against the gods. Pluto, Pro-
serpina, and the Erinyes are habitually invoked as the
powers that, under the earth, punish departed souls who
have sworn falsely (Il. iii. 278; xix. 259). And Ulys-
ses, in his visit to Hades, sees Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus,
and the like monsters of iniquity, suffering perpetual
tortures corresponding to their crimes (Od. xi. 576, sqq.).
“ There Tityus, large and long, in fetters bound,
O’erspreads nine acres of infernal ground;
Two ravenous vultures, furious for their food,
Scream o'er the fiend and raven in his blood,
Incessant gore the liver in his breast,
The immortal liver grows, and gives th' immortal feast.
• There Tantalus, along the Stygian bounds,
Pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds);
Even in the circling floods refreshment craves,
And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves ;
When to the water he his lip applies,
Back from his lip the treacherous water flies.”
Next he beholds Sisyphus:
“ With many a weary step, and many a groan,
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone;
The huge round stone resulting with a bound,
Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
Again the restless orb his toil renews,
Dust mounts in clouds and sweat descends in dews.”
In general, the lower world as represented by Homer
in his famous Nekyia, is not so much a state of retribu-
tion, as an image and shadow of the present life, where
mortals all live again, or rather live on, and live forever,
retaining the same character and habits, and following
the same or similar pursuits, as they followed and pos-
sessed in the upper world — an idea of future existence
which seems to have prevailed among simple people,
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
199
0
and in barbarous tribes, in all ages, from the earliest
inhabitants of the East to the aboriginal tribes of our
western wilderness, as is evidenced by the articles which
they bury with their dead and the offerings which they
bring to the graves of departed friends. Thus Orion is
a giant hunter still, and still drives the savage beasts
before him with his ponderous club, while Minos still
bears a golden sceptre, and administers justice to the
dead, and Agamemnon, Ajax, and Achilles, each pre-
serves unchanged and unchangeable the essential chiar-
acter which he had when he trod the earth and breathed
the upper air. Positive punishment seems to be inflict-
only on heinous offenders. Others reap the natural
consequences of their conduct in this life ; only their
character is there as unalterable as their state, and their
ruling passions are intensified at the same time that they
are removed beyond the reach of those objects which on
earth afforded them gratification. It is at best a gloomy
picture which the poet draws of the other world. It is
situated on the extreme border of the ocean at the re-
motest south. Near it dwell the Cimmerians, enveloped
in perpetual mist and cloud, never visited by one ray of
the rising or the setting sun (Od. xi. 13 sqq). It is de-
scribed by Ulysses and by those who dwell there as a joy-
less land (åteptréa xôpov, 94), far from the light of the
sun, beneath misty darkness and thick gloom (155). The
inhabitants of that world are usually spoken of as souls
(Hugai, x. 530; xi. passim), repeatedly as powerless heads
(åpevnvà kápnua, x. 536; xi. 29); they are also called
images (eldwła, 83, 476) and are compared with a shadow
or a dream (207). They cannot embrace the living,
because they no longer liave filesh and bones, which were
consumed by the funereal fire (219); yet they have
200
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
muscles or sinews (ives, ibid.), and the sweat rolls down
the members (uenewv) of Sisyphus as he rolls the huge
round stone, just as if he were still in the body. More-
over, a kind of animal appetite draws them in crowds,
whole tribes and nations (f Ovea vekpôv, 34), to drink the
offerings of honey, wine, and water, and especially of
sacrificial blood, and it is only by drinking the blood
that they are enabled to recognize Ulysses and converse
with him. They all weep over their wretched state, and
sigh for departed and lost objects of affection. When
Ulysses congratulates the shade of Achilles on ruling
with powerful sway among the dead, as he had ruled on
earth among the living, he replies that he would rather
live (489 sqq.),
"A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread,
Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead.”
He speaks disparagingly of the mental faculties as well
as of the physical powers of the departed, calling them the
witless dead (vekpoi ảopadées), mere images of departed
mortals (Bpotñv eldara kauóvtwv, 476). Yet the very
purpose for which the hero of the Odyssey goes to Hades,
is to learn facts about liis family and his own future,
which not even the goddess Calypso could unvail to him;
and most of those with wliom he converses know more
than he does of the present state of their mutual friends
on earth ; indeed they derive their poor pleasures chiefly
from their knowledge of the upper world, even as their
many woes flow chiefly from its remembrances, resent-
ments, and regrets. Thic lighest pleasure, not to say
the only pleasure, of which the son of a goddess and the
greatest hero of the heroic age seems to be capable, is
the exultation which he feels when Ulysses extols the
bravery of his son; and poor Ajax is still tortured withi
THE HOMERIC DOCTRINE OF SIN.
201
the same resentment which, in a fit of madness, sent him
down to Hades, and, still implacable, refuses to speak to
his successful competitor, while that competitor, though
still in the body and subject to all the passions of earth,
softened by the sad spectacle, wishes he had never won
the prize. Thus full of errors and contradictions is the
poet's picture of a future state. Still Homer bears une-
quivocal testimony to the great doctrine of retribution,
and the soul of man everywhere intuitively believes not
only in its own immortality, but in that fundamental
doctrine of revelation as an eternal and immutable law
of its being : 6 Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he
also reap."
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.I
THERE could be no greater misapprehension of the
ancient Greek drama, than to judge of it by the modern
theatre. They have little in common but the naine.
The points of contrast are more numerous and more
striking than the points of resemblance. The modern
draina is exhibited within doors, in the night, and by gas-
light or candle-light. The ancient was by day, in the
open air, and beneath the broad, pure light of heaven.
The modern theatre is a common building; and though
of extraordinary size and splendor, yet enclosed by walls
and roof, and capable at most of containing only two
or three thousand people. The Greek theatre was
hewn out of the solid rock in the side of the Acropolis,
or built up with quarried stone on a scale of similar
magnificence; and it counted its audience by tens of
thousands. The spectators in a Parisian theatre can
see nothing but the theatre, with its temporary and in-
significant adornings. The Acropolis, the Agora, the
porticoes, the temples and altars of the gods, all the
architectural splendors of Athens, clustered around those
who gathered in the theatre of Dionysus; all the natural
and historical glories of Attica were spread before them.
As they had no covering but the blue sky, and no light
but the bright sun -- the singularly deep, liquid, blue
* [Reprinted from the Bibliotheca Sacra, Vol. xvi. No. 62, April 1859.)
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
203
sky, and the wonderfully bright sun of Greece -- so the
horizon was the only limit to their field of vision.
The modern theatre is a private speculation, patron-
ized it may be by royalty, and sometimes attended by
the aristocracy, where monarchy and aristocracy exist,
but for the most filled and supported by the lowest and
the worst of the population. At Athens, the theatre
was a public institution, the expenses were paid, directly
or indirectly, out of the public treasury; the govern-
ment was the proprietor and manager, and the audience
of Athens, together with the élite from all the principal
cities of Greece. The theatre, as it now exists in the
cities of Europe and America, is generally, if not uni-
versally, a school of vice and crime, in which bad men
and women teach other men and women, not quite so
bad as themselves, to gratify their appetites and passions,
and to become the pests of society. The theatre, as it
was in its palmy days in the Grecian cities, was a school
best men of their times; for such were the tragic poets
in the age of the immortal triumvirate of Greek tragedy;
and the poets themselves were not only the authors but
the actors, or at least the trainers of the actors, of their
own dramas; and as tragedy was the consummate
flower of Greek poetry, - the epic and the lyric, the
objective and the subjective, united in one perfect blos-
som,—so was it also the opening bud of ethical philosophy
and theology. As it was taught in the school of Homer
and Pindar, so was it the teacher of Socrates and Plato,
and of the great Athenian orator, in whom the ethics as
well as the eloquence, the practical philosophy as well
as the elegant literature, of Greece culminated. Such is
204
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the rank which Milton assigns the tragedians in his
splendid description of Athens in the Paradise Lost:
“ What the lofty, grave tragedians taught
In chorus or iambic, teachers best
Of moral prudence, with delight received,
In high sententious maxims, while they treat
Of fate and chance, and change in human life,
High actions and high passions best describing."
The modern drama aspires only to amuse the theatre-
going multitude. The ancient was designed not more
for entertainment than for instruction. Modern theat
rical entertainments, if not in open hostility to religion,
are habitually irreligious. Greek tragedy grew up in
connection with religious worship, and constituted not
only a popular but a sacred element in the festivals of
the gods.1 • The theatre was invented,” says an old
Roman writer," for the worship of the gods, and for
the delight of men.”2
In short, strange as it may sound in modern ears, the
Greek stage was, more nearly than anything else, the
Greek pulpit.3 With a priesthood that sacrificed but
did not preach, with few books of any kind and no Bible,
the people were, in a great measure, dependent on oral
instruction for knowledge; and as they learned their
rights and duties as citizens from their orators, so they
hung on the lips of the “ lofty, grave tragedians" for
instruction touching their origin, duty, and destiny as.
moral and immortal beings. As the Pnyx was their
1 In may be said, that the modern drama had a siinilar origin in the
Mediaeval “Mysteries.” But it has quite forgotten its original.
3 Theatra excogitata cultus dcorum et hominum delectationis causa.
Valerius Maximus, as quoted by Blackie, who places the passage on the
title-page of his translation of Aeschylus into English verse.
3 [The word pulpit is derived from the Latin pulpitum, stage.]
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
205
legislative hall, and the Bema the source of their delib-
erative eloquence, so their demonstrative eloquence, the
eloquence of the pulpit, proceeded from the stage and
resounded through the theatre. Greek tragedy is essen-
tially didactic, ethical, mythological, religious. It was
the express office of the chorus, which held the most
prominent place in the ancient drama, to interpret the
mysteries of Providence, to justify the ways of God to
men, to plead the cause of truth, virtue, and piety.
Hence, it was composed usually of aged men, whose vis-
dom was fitted to instruct in the true and the right, or
of young women, whose virgin purity would instinct-
ively shrink from falsehood and wrong. The chief end
of tragedy, according to Aristotle, is to purify the heart
and regulate the passions; to which end, the rhythm
of the choral dance, the harmony of the music, and the
metre of the verse conspired with the moral lessons
more directly taught by the characters, the chorus, and
the plot. Tragedy, in its very nature, as conceived by
the Greeks, transported the hearer out of himself and
away from the present. It carried him back towards
the origin of our race, up nearer to the providence and
presence of the gods, and on toward the retributions of
another world. With few exceptions, the subjects are
mythological. The characters are heroes and demigods,
monsters, it may be, in crime, but their punishment is
equally prodigious: sin and suffering always go together.
They illustrate, by their lips and in their lives, the proy-
idence and the retributive justice of God. The plot
turns on some great principle of the divine government,
which is further explained and enforced in the sublime
strains of the chorus. The myth, out of Homer or
Hesiod - no myth, but a sacred reality, to the audi-
18
206
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
ence — is the text; the corypheus is the preacher; and
the choir repeat the doctrine, investing it with all the
sanctity and majesty of their sacred lyrics. Nor is
prayer wanting in these ancient liturgies (Rectovpylaı),
since the choruses consist, in no small part, of direct
addresses to the deity.
While this is more or less true of all the great masters
of Greek tragedy, Aeschylus is pre-eminently the theo-
logical poet of Greece. The gods themselves, the infe-
rior gods, are not unfrequently the actors as well as the
subjects of his dramas; and they handle the grand
themes of theology very much as they are handled by
the good and evil angels in the Paradise Lost. His
human characters, even though stained with blood,
breathe sentiments of piety; or if they dare utter proud
or rebellious words, it is but a prelude to their certain
and dreadful overthrow. The great problems which lie
at the foundation of religious faith and practice - the
same problems which are discussed by Job and his three
friends — are the main staple of nearly all his tragedies.
With him, these were not idle speculations. They were
practical questions, with which his own mind had mani-
festly struggled, on which his own destiny was suspended,
and into the solution of which he enters with not a little
of the earnestness of a personal religious experience.
The earlier poets -- Homer, Hesiod, the sacred poets,
and the authors of the so-called Homeric hymns-had
looked at them in their more purely poetical aspects, had
believed the myths, perhaps, with a more literal and im-
plicit faith. The subsequent philosophers -- Plato,
Aristotle, Plutarch-developed them more fully in a
system of doctrines. Aeschylus stands on the dividing
line between them, no less poetical than the former,
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
207
scarcely less philosophical than the latter, but more in-
tensely practical, personal, and theological than either.
The poet who most resembles him in modern times, is
the Puritan poet of Old England. A believer in metem-
psychosis might well maintain that the same soul dwelt
in them both. To say nothing of the obvious resem-
blance between the Prometheus of the former and the
Satan of the latter — which was in part, doubtless, the
result of intentional imitation - and not to speak of a
similar liceuse in coining, or rather forging, ponderous
poetical epithets, both were characterized by the same
matchless sublimity, both possessed by the same strong
political and patriotic sympathies, and both fired with
the same intense earnestness of religious feeling. Dante
was another kindred spirit. The Inferno, the Paradise
Lost, and the Prometheus Bound, should be read and
studied together. The Agamemnon is often and justly
compared with Macbeth. But the English tragedy il-
lustrates more the workings of the human soul, while
the Greek leads us to think almost entirely of the provi-
dence of God. In this respect, perhaps, the tragedies
of Aeschylus find their nearest counterpart in the Book
of Job. On the whole, there is no other book of which
the reader of Aeschylus will be more frequently remind-
ed: the form of both is dramatic; the scene in both is
primitive; the characters are the patriarchs and princes
of an early age; the interlocutors discuss the same sub-
jects; the same sublime and awful mystery casts its dark
shadow over them; they grapple with themes too vast
for their comprehension ; they wrestle with beings too
mighty to be resisted; they are overwhelmed with the
contrast between the littleness and vileness of man, and
the majesty and glory of God; and they cry out: “ What
208
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
is man, that he should be pure? How shall man be just
with his Maker ? Who, by searching, can find out God ?
Lo, these are parts of his ways; but the thunder of his
power who can understand ?” It is 110t, then, a mis-
nomer, to speak of the theology of Aeschylus; nor can
it fail to be a question of deep interest: What were the,
theological opinions of such a mind, so far removed from
the light of revelation ?
1. SOURCES OF RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
One of the first questions which naturally arise in con-
sidering such a subject, is the source or sources from
which the thoughtful and devout who lived before the
dawn of revelation derived their religious faith, and
what the authority on which it rested.
The most fruitful of all these sources is tradition ;
tradition, however, having its origin, according to the
common opinion, in a primeval revelation or direct com-
munication from God. They received their religious
opinions and observances — the religion of the family
and the religion of the state -- as an inheritance from
their fathers, who, in like manner, had received the same
bequest from theirs; and thus it had come down, like
the heir-looms in their families, like the blood in their
veins, from their earliest progenitors. Nor did they
deem this mere blind credulity, trusting in a long line of
ancestors, each as ignorant as themselves, and therefore
the entire chain hanging without any support. They
claimed not to rest on human authority as their ultimate
reliance. The higher and better classes, the aristocracy
of wisdom and goodness as well as of birth, traced their
religion, as they did their race, back ultimately to the
gods, or to men who walked with the gods and talked
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
209
with them face to face, like our first parents and the
patriarchs of the Old Testament. The universality of
this persuasion would, of itself, entitle it to no small
credit as an instinctive belief, if it were not expressly
sanctioned by revelation; and corrupt and erroneous as
many of the superstitions (that is, surviving relics of the
earliest times) are, which the different heathen nations
thus hold in common, yet there is enough of general
resemblance, both in the form and substance of these
traditions, to justify the belief that they did originally
proceed from the same source, and that a primeral reve-
lation or direct communication from heaven :
“ Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise,
Through many a dreary age,
Upbore whate’er of good or wise
Yet lived in bard or sage." I
On the subject of future punishment especially, the
Greek poets and philosophers are in the habit of appeal-
ing to tradition. Thus Plato habitually throws his de-
scriptions of a future state into the form of a myth, as
he sometimes calls them, though at others he is careful
to declare, that they are not uūdo but nóryou (cf. Gorgias,
523), whose truth he does not indeed know, but he be-
lieves them to be true, and insists that they are entitled
to universal belief. In reference to the gods, also, he
says (Timaeus, 40, D.), that “the subject is too great
for us, but we must believe those who have spoken of
it aforetime, who, being, as they said, the offspring of
i Keble's Groans of Naturc.
2 Compare the Seventh Epistle, where it is said: “We ought always to
believe those ancient and sacred words, which declare the soul to be im-
mortal,” πείθεσθαι δε ούτως αιεί χρή τους παλαιούς τε και ιεροίς λόγοις, οι δη
μηνύουσιν ημίν αθάνατον ψυχήν είναι.
18*
210
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the gods, doubtless knew their own sires, and must not
bc disbelieved when they tell us, as it were, things per-
taining to their own household.” And so Aeschylus,
when he speaks of a great truth in reference to the un-
seen world, or a great law of the divine providence and
existence, very often refers to it as a royos (Suppliants,
230; Eumenides, 4, etc.), or a uūdos (Choephoroe, 312,
etc.), and often applies to it an epithet, such as yépwv,
Tplyépwv, mahaipatos (Ibid. ; Agamem. 750), expressive
of its antiquity and sacredness.
Nearly allied to these sacred traditions are those
world-old and world-wide maxims of wisdom, virtue, and
piety, which being the voice of mankind, are also the
voice of God: vox populi, vox Dei; which Aeschylus
delights to honor, like the old English poet,2
“ The people's voice the voice of God we call,
And what are proverbs but the people's voice,
Coined first, and current made by public choice ?
Then sure they must have weight, and truth withal.”
Oracles are another source of religious knowledge,
and especially of guidance in religious duty, to which
Aeschylus often alludes, and generally in terms of pro-
found respect. Thus Inachus, father of Io, sends fre-
quent messengers to Pytho (Delphi), and to Dodona,
to learn what he must do or say to please the gods,
and receives in return “ambiguous answers, obscurely
worded and hard to be understood” (Prometheus Vinc-
tus, 660 sq.). But at last there came a clear and
distinct response, commanding the father to banish his
daughter from home and country, and let her wander
The citations are made according to the Leipsic edition of Tauchnitz.
The arrangement differs much in different editions.
? Cited by Trench in his Lessons on Proverbs.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
211
an exile to distant lands, under penalties so frightful as
to enforce an instant though reluctant obedience. Jupi-
ter is the original source of oracles. They are communi-
cated, however, for the most part, through Apollo,
Jupiter's son and prophet (Eumenides, 18), who derives
his surname Loxias from his prophetic office, being as
it were the lóyos, word of Jove, and who, from his
prophetic seat, never gives forth a response which his
father, and the father of the Olympian gods, has not
commanded him to give (Eumen. 616).2 Apollo, of
course, ordinarily speaks through the lips of his inspired
priestess, who is his voice, as he is Jove's; though in
the Eumenides, Apollo is represented as appearing in
his own person as one of the characters of the drama,
· and pleading with his own lips the cause of Orestes.
Aeschylus never intimates a doubt of the inspiration of
the priestess. He is manifestly a sincere believer in
the divine authority of oracles. So were all the wise
and good in the wisest and best ages of Grecian history.
And ambiguous as they often were, perverted as they
sometimes were to partizan and selfish purposes, their
influence was, on the whole, on the side of truth and
justice. Greece, and the ancient world, were the better
• for their existence. What forbids us to suppose that
they were in some sense directed and overruled by Prov-
idence, and instead of being under the control of evil
spirits, which was the prevailing theory among the
Christian Fathers, were intended to be the forerunners
among the heathen, as the prophets were among the
Jews, of the Christian revelation ? With this suppo-
1 According to another interpretation, this surname denotes the ambiguity
of the oracles. See Liddell and Scott, sub voce.
3 Cf. John vii. 16; viii. 28.
212
TAEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
sition accords the fact, observed and explained by
Plutarch as best he could, that the heathen oracles
died away as that revelation was dawning upon the
world.1
Lots (Septem contra Thebas, 55); auguries (oracular
birds with unerring art, Ibid. 26), and other omens;
dreams and visions (Prom. 646 ; Persae, 176 et al.) :
“For the mind's eye looks clearly out from sleep;
But mortals have no foresight in the day”;
(Eumen. 104); these are all so many different means
by which the gods reveal the future, or make known
their will to men.
There are also prophets - Calchas (Agamem. 248),
Cassandra (Ibid. 1073), Ampliaraus (Theb. 568), wliom
Apollo inspires directly, without the intervention of
omens, oracles, or sacrifices, breathing into them his
own prophetic spirit, which, like a tempest, tosses their
agitated minds, or burns like a fire in their bones
(Agamem. 1256, 1215):
“Ah, what a sudden flame comes rushing on me!
I burn, I burn! Apollo, oh Apollo !”
“Woe, woe is me! Again the furious power
Swells in my laboring breast; again commands
My bursting voice, and what I speak is fate.”
Such are the cries of Cassandra, as she comes again
and again under the frenzy of inspiration, and sees, as
if they were before her eyes, all the past and future
calamities and crimes of the house of Atreus.
1
1 See Plutarch, De Defectu Oraculorum; and also De Sera Numinis
Vindicta (ed. Hackett and Tyler), p. 150.
? I have used the metrical versions of Potter, Blackie, and Chapman (in
Blackwood's) at pleasure, as they seemed most faithfully to represent the
original.
· THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
213
2. EXISTENCE. NATURE, AND ATTRIBUTES OF THE GODS.
Aeschylus is not always consistent with himself in his
representations of the gods, especially of the supreme
divinity. In his Prometheus Bound he seems to fall in
with those anthropomorphous conceptions of the deity,
which so disfigure the poems of Homer and Hesiod.
The Jupiter of this tragedy is an arbitrary despot, who
has usurped the throne of his father, and is destined in
turn to be dethroned by one of his descendants, who is
ignorant of the future, which is known only to Prome-
theus, oppresses the inferior deities, and is intent on the
destruction of miserable mortals,- lustful, tyrannical,
unjust, and cruel alike to the victims of his appetite and
the objects of his displeasure, and lording it over the
universe with the morals and the manners of a lawless
usurper. But it is not quite fair or safe to take these
as the sentiments of the poet himself. We do not
gather the theology of Milton from the rebellious rav-
ings of Satan in the Paradise Lost, nor the doctrines of
the Bible from the mouth of the adversary in the Pen-
tateuch and the book of Job.1
The character of the supreme deity, as it is generally
represented in the other tragedies, and as it appears
especially in the epithets by which he is addressed by
the chorus, corresponds much more nearly with our
ideas of the true God. He is the universal father-
father of gods and men; the universal cause (Travaltios,
Agamem. 1485); the all-seer and all-doer (TravTÓTTS,
Yo
1 This one-sided view was doubtless balanced and corrected in the con-
cluding piece of the trilogy, the Prometheus Unbound, which was exhibited
at the same time with the Prometheus Bound, and served to complete it,
bat which is now lost.
:: 214
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Travepyétos, Ibid. and Sup. 139); the all-wise and all-
controlling (ayxpatńs, Sup. 813.); the just and the
incapable of falsehood (Prom. 1031)
Ψευδηγορείν γαρ ουκ επίσταται στόμα
το διον, αλλά πάν έπος τελεί «1
· holy (ayvós, Sup. 650), merciful (Trpevuévs, Ibid. 139);
the god especially of the suppliant and the stranger
(Supplices, passim); the most high and perfect one
(TÉNELOV Úhlotov, Eumen. 28); “ king of kings, of the
happy most happy, of the perfect most perfect power,
blessed Zeus” (Sup. 522):
άναξ ανάκτων, μακάρων
μακάρτατε, και τελείων
TEMELÓTatov kpáros, örBie Zeû.
Such are some of the titles by which Jupiter is most
frequently addressed ; such the attributes which are
most commonly ascribed to him. How unlike the acts
of lust and violence which are imputed to the same
divinity by the Greek mythology, and which are alluded .
to by Aeschylus, and that not merely in the Prome-
theus, but in the very same chorus which commences
with the above sublime invocation! Does not this pal-
pable inconsistency lend confirmation to the idea of a
primitive revelation ? Must not these truly divine epi-
thets have proceeded originally from a higher and purer
source than the corrupt and corrupting fables which
have attached themselves, like barnacles, to the wrecks
of primitive truth that have floated to our shores across
the sea of ages ?
The general resemblance, suggested by these attri-
*Cf. Tit. i. 2: “Which God, that cannot lie, promised." :.
215
butes, between the supreme god of the Greek tragedies
and of the Hebrew Scriptures, derives additional force
from the frequency with which, as we shall see, he is
spoken of as a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the
fathers upon the children; one who will by no means
clear the guilty; whose mysterious providence is an un-
fathomable abyss, and before whose irresistible. power
the heavens and the earth are shaken, and gods and
men are as nothing.
As Moses inquires the name of the Being who com-
missions him to deliver Israel, so the chorus of Argive
senators in the Agamemnon (160) hesitates by what
name to invoke the supreme deity :
Ζευς, όστις ποτ' εστίν, οι τόδ' αύ-
τω φίλον κεκλημένω
τούτό νιν προσεννέπω
And in accordance with these early tendencies of the
Hebrew and the Greek, or, if you please, the Shemitic
and Japhetic mind, Paul finds at Athens an altar in-
scribed " To an unknown God," and substantially justi-
fies our mode of interpreting these resemblances by
saying to the Athenians: “ Whom therefore ye worship
'ünknowing, him declare I unto you” (Acts xvii. 23).
* We are, however, effectually prevented from placing.
the notions and traditions of Aeschylus on the same
level with revelation, by the low and unworthy, the
degrading and demoralizing conceptions of the Deity,
which intermingle, cven in the best tragedies, with
these just ascriptions of truly divine honor and majesty ;
such for instance as his dethronement of his father
(Eumen. 641), his quarrels with his own wife, and
amours with the wives and daughters of men (Sup.
162-174 et al.), and the fraud and treachery with which
216
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK : POETS.
dorojijo
he flatters poor mortals, and lures them on to their own
destruction (Pers. 93):
δολόμητιν δ' απάταν θεού. " .
τις ανήρ θνατός άλύξει και κ. τ.λ.
“ But when the gods deceive,
Wiles which immortals weave,
Who shall beware ?
Who, when their nets surround,
Breaks with a nimble bound
Out of the snare ?
First they approach with smiles, . : ..:
: . Wreathing their hidden wiles: . ...
Then with surprise
Seize they their prey; and lol ..... .:
Writhing in toils of woe,
Tangled he lies.
Jupiter is the invisible deity of the Aeschylean pan-
theon. The other gods — Apollo, Athena, Hermes,
Hephaestus, etc. — appear as personages of the drama,
and take part in the dialogue ; Jupiter, never. In
accordance with the popular ideas of the good old times
in which the scene is laid, they walk the earth in human
form, and participate directly in the affairs of men ; he
sits on his throne and rules over all; or if he comes
down to earth it is in a more disguised form, as in some
myth which we hear from the lips of the actors, or in
the display of his mighty power, as we see it in the
storm and the earthquake with which he overwhelms
Prometheus. Indeed, as Müller has well remarked in
his learned and profound dissertations on the Eumen-
ides : 1 “ With Aeschylus, as with all men of profound
feeling among the Greeks, from the earliest times, Jupi-
ter is the only real god, in the higher sense of the word.
Cambridge edition, 1835, p. 228...... ..
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
217
11
S
Although he is, in the spirit of ancient theology, a gine-
rated god, arisen out of an imperfect state of things,
and not produced till the third 1 stage of the develop
ment of nature, still he is, at the time we are speaking
of, the spirit that pervades and governs the universe."
As in the epithets applied to him we seem to see the
relics of a primeval revelation, so in his immense supe-
riority to the other gods we see the primitive monothe-
ism often breaking through the clouds of polytheistic
error and superstition.
Besides the most high and universal father, the
Greek mythology recognizes an indefinite number of
inferior deities subordinate to his supreme authority,
the messengers of his will, and the agents of his uni-
versal providence. These appear in the tragedies of
Aeschylus in the most real and practical light, now as
direct actors in the drama, now as objects of fear or
trust, supplication or deprecation to mortals, and now
as the acting deities of this lower world; and we seem
to see the process still going on before our eyes, by
which they came into so real an existence.
The analogy of human life is the fruitful source from
which many of them sprang. They wear the hunian
form. They exhibit human appetites, desires, and pas-
sions, at the same time that they are invested with more
or less of the attributes of divinity. They stand in the
ordinary relations of human life to each other and to
the supreme god. It is not good for man or god to be
alone ; so Jupiter must have his wife and children, --
daughters as well as sons, --- who, of course, partake of
liis nature; and they, in turn, have their children, who
2 The reigus of Uranus and Cronus have precedor; Jupiter's is the third.
Of. Agamem. 168 sqq.
218
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
are-at a still greater remove from the perfection of their
first father. :: He is a sovereign, and must have his court
his messengers, and his ministers, though this is repre.
sented much less pro more humano, in Aeschylus than:
in Homer. Among the “scraps from the banquet of
Homer,"' to which the father of Greek tragedy modestly
Likens his plays, he gives us none of those tragi-comic;
those almost burlesque scenes on Mount Olympus, at
which the readers of the Iliad and Odyssey scarcely
know whether to laugh or weep. When the gods are
chiefly as the direct agents and visible representatives
of the invisible government of Zeus. As his realm is
vast, he must not be burdened with the immediate
administration. His brothers may preside over the sea
and the under-world, and his children and children's
children may have each their particular province among
men; while he exercises a general superintendence from
his throne on high. The characters of the several sub-
ordinate deities, must of course, correspond with their
offices, and so be as various as the departments of the
divine government. There must be gods of the sea and
gods of the land; gods of the forest and gods of the field;
gods of war and gods of the several peaceful occupa-
tions. There must be a god of commerce, a goddess of
agriculture, a goddess of science and the arts, a god of
music, poetry, and prophetic inspiration. There must
especially be a god of war, a god of wine, a goddess of
love, and gods or goddesses of the sensual, selfish, and
malign passions; since to refer these directly to the
supreme were scarcely compatible with his goodness,
and yet to exempt them from all control by him, or
connection with him were inconsistent with his univer-
UU
TIIE T'REOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
219
11,
sal sovereignty. By a still more natural and obvious
process, those human virtues and all those moral ele-
ments in the soul of man, which are but the offspring
and image of the divine attributes, assume a concrete
form, and put on a more than human authority and
power. Dike, Themis, Nemesis, the Eumenides, and
the Moerae (Justice, Law, Retribution, the Furies, and
the Fates) are not mere abstractions, not mere personi-
fications, but truly divine beings and dread realities to
the ancestors and the contemporaries of Aeschylus.
upon the stage in the Prometheus, and are seen in the
process of deification; and this process, passing so viși-
bly, as it were, before our eyes, helps us to understand
how the fertile imagination of the Greeks, which not
only clothed and adorned, but animated, whatever it
touched, gradually peopled heaven, earth, and hell, with
12
UT
These last are preeminently the divinities of Greek
tragedy. With the exception of the sea-nymphs, who
constitute the chorus in the Prometheus, we see nothing
in the extant pieces of Aeschylus, of the gods of the
uuter, material world. But these gods of the moral
universe, whose seat is by the throne of Jupiter or in
- 1 Petronius says, it was easier to find a god at Athens, than a man.
ΙΙente clie κατείδωλον and the δεισιδαιμονεστέρους of Paul in his address to
the Athenians on Dlars' Hill (Aets xvii). The Greeks regarded different
countries as having diffcrent gods; and as Pharaoli refuses to olicy Jcho.
val, because he is the God of the Hebrews and not of the Egyptians,
saying: “Who is Jchovah, that I should oboy his voice? I know not
Jehovah"; so the herald of the sons of Acgyptus docs not fear the gods
of Argos (Sup. 890, 919), though he reverences the gods of the Nile. Cf.
Exod. v. 2; also 1 Kinys xx. 23, where the servants of the king of Syria
say to him: “ Their gods are gods of the hills, therefore they were stronger
ihan we,” etc.
19*
220
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the world of spirits, whose sceptre is the conscience, and
whose province is the soul of man,-- these are the ruling
powers in the realm of tragedy. Themis (Law), daugh-
ter of heaven and earth, and goddess of law and order
in both worlds, companion of Jupiter and sharer in his
counsels, primeval prophetess and voice of God to man,
gives right counsels, protects the needy and the defence-
less, and maintains the harmony of the moral universe
(cf. Prom. 18, 509; Eum. 2; Sup. 358, et al.).1 Dike
(Justice), the renowned and triumphant (verndópos)
daughter of Jupiter and Themis, stands on a lofty and
immovable foundation, holding in one hand a balance,
wherein she weighs impartially the character and con-
duct of men, and in the other a sword, wherewith,
sooner or later, she strikes through the heart of the
wicked; while Fate (Aloa, Molpa) and Wrath or Ven-
geance ('Eprvús) stand on either side of her, the former
to forge and whet her sword, and the latter to insure
the infliction of deserved punishment (cf. Choeph. 59;
146; 644-650; Agamem. 1535). Nemesis, kindred in
name and nature to Nópos, is the goddess of retribution,
or more literally of distributive justice, who visits upon
mankind their just deserts, and since there is no escape
from the penalties which she visits upon the guilty, she
bears the name of ’Adpúotela (the Inevitable, the Unes-
capable); they therefore are wise who do her reverence
(Prom. 935). The Furies and the Fates (Eprvúes,
Moipai) are sisters (Eum. 962), and joint rulers (guber-
natores, oiakootpódot, Prom. 515) of the moral universe.
They are daughters of Night (Eum. 416), and have their
i Compare Hooker's magnificent and oft-cited personification of luw,
“her voice the voice of God, her seat the throne of the universc,” etc.
* Nóuos distributes, or allots to men their duties; Néueois, their dues.
.: THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
221
:-abode in the dark world below (katà zoóvos Deaí, Eum.
9115, et al.); yet have they great power in heaveu and on
earth, as well as under the earth (Ibid. 950). They are
represented as old, black -- like Gorgons and Harpies
(though without wings) — hags, hateful to gods and
men.(Eum. passim). Yet, like their mother Niglit (NjE
piría, Agamem. 355), they have their bright and cheer-
ful side towards the good and those who propitiate their
favor; hence the name Eumenides, and the epithets
σεμναί and εύφρονες, by which the Furies were known,
especially at Athens (Eum. 373; 992 et. al.), as not
only euphemistically, but when appeased, truly the kind
and gracious as well as the venerable and awful deities.
By a conception as just as it is profound, the Fates and
the Furies are habitually associated with Justice as her
companions, ministers, and executioners.) The. Fates
are dalfoves opdovómol (Eum. 963), justice-dispensing
deities; they personify and preside over the unchange-
able moral laws and necessities of the universe, and
unite with the Furies and with Justice herself in secur-
ing the certain inevitable punislıment of transgressors.
There is, however, this difference, that while Dike
weighs character and discriminates motives, the Fates
and the Furies are blind powers, capable of discerning
only overt acts, and demanding the punishment of the
perpetrators, without regard to justifying motives or pal-
liating circumstances. The Fates are triform, though
Aeschylus does not, like Hesiod, distinguish them by
their several names. The Furies are indefinite in
number. Each distinct relation, if not each individual
person who is wronged, has his separate Erinys; there
iyin
NO
See passages c'ted in reference to Dike above, and very many others....
222
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
of the son and of the daughter, the Erinys of the fellow-
citizen and of the stranger, who pursues the wrong-doer
to the death and into the eternal world; the Alastor,
who drives the guilty person like Cain, a fugitive and a
vagabond on the face of the earth, and even follows him
into the dark realm of Hades (cf. Agamem. 1433, 1501 ;
Theb. 70, 720 et passim). In their subterranean
abode, the Erinyes are called Arae (Eum. 417), since
just indignation at sin often vents itself in imprecations,
and the curse of an injured father, mother, or other
friend, is often the bitterest ingredient in the punish-
ment of the injurer.
Ate, in the tragedies, is essentially another uame for
Ara and Erinys. This name, however, denotes espe-
cially the bewitching and bewildering power of sin, and
that judicial blindness, that almost supernatural frenzy,
which sometimes impels individuals, and sometimes
whole families, generation after generation, as if by an
irresistible and fatal necessity, to the perpetration of
enormous crimes, and thus involves them in irretriev-
able and overwhelming calamities. In this point of
view, the blinding and avenging deity is often conceived
of as an evil demon (άλάστωρ ή κακός δαίμων,2 Ρers.
354), hateful and powerful, falling upon guilty individ-
uals, families, and nations, taking possession of them,
depriving them of their senses, and preying upon them,
like a blood-thirsty tiger upon his victim, or an odious
raven upon a carcass, till there is nothing left to prey
upon (Pers. 472 et passim ; Agamem. 1468, etc.), till
T'Ardotwp (from ardoval, to wander). The avenging deity, that causes
tc wander, and the wretched Cain-like wanderer hiinself, are both called
by the same name. Cf. Agamem. 1501, and Eum. 286.
3 Cf. also otvYvé daquoy 472; dvorovnte daluov, 515; borías árny, Aga
mem. 1628, etc.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
223
the ill-starred, or rather evil-demoned (kakodainwr), fam-
ily or race is extinct. It was by the association of such
ideas as these with the word daiuwy, which was orig-
inally almost synonymous with Deós, that the way was
gradually prepared for its appropriation by the sacred
writers in the New Testament, to express those demons
whicla possessed the bodies as well as the minds of men
at the opening of the new dispensation, and for its use
by Christians generally as nearly a synonyme with devils.
The kakós daluap of Aeschylus and the Greek tragedians,
however, is never the diáboros of the Scriptures, the
accuser of the saints, the universal tempter, and the
prince of a kingdom of darkness hostile to the kingdom
of light; but always an avenging, cursing, and bewil-
dering deity.
There is, however, a class of gods who are represented
as hostile to Zeus: the gods of the old régime, who were
dethroned by Jupiter when he first came into posseş-
sion of supreme power, or who conspired against his
government when it was already established, or who
resisted his will though he was acknowledged sovereign.
But all alike are now overthrowu, and suffer the ven-
geance of the conqueror. Prometheus is chained to a
cliff or chasm in the Scythian desert, while a vulture
preys perpetually on his vitals (Prom. 1020). His
brother Atlas, bound in adamant, is doomed to sustain
the heavens ou his shoulders, while the ocean boils
around him, and the dark vault of Hades groans be-
neath his feet (Prom. 425). The hundred-headed and
impetuous Typhon, stricken with the thunder-bolt of
Jove, lies scorched and crushed beneath the roots of
Etna (Ibid. 353). Aud the ancient Kronus, with all his
Țitan allies, is sụnk in the deep and dark abyss of
224
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
gloomy Tartarus . (Ibid. 220). So we are told in the
epistles of Peter and of Jude, “God spared not the
angels that sinned, but cast them down to Tartarus
(Taptapóras, 2 Pet. ii. 4), in everlasting chains under
darkness."
Not unlike these Titanic sons of heaven and earth,
and sometimes classed with them, though of less pro-
digious power, and not so dreadful a doom, are the heroes
and demigods, offspring of gods and men, some of whom,
indeed, are the good angels of their age and race and
the benefactors of mankind; but others are demons,
monsters at once in crime and in calamity. Such are
not a few of the Theban heroes (Theb. passim), the
descendants of Tantalus (Agamem. 1468), and the other
mythical characters, who form the favorite subjects of
tragic verse. They remind the reader of the Jewish
Scriptures very forcibly of the description given of the
world before the flood in the book of Genesis (vi. 4, 5).
6 There were giants in the earth in those days; and
also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the
daughters of men, and they bare children unto them,
the same were mighty men, which were of old, men of
renown. And God saw the wickedness of man, that it
was very great upon the earth.” Many of the heathen
fables are doubtless the facts of revelation and of prime-
val history in disguise. The Pantheon of the Greeks
takes the place of the angelic hierarchy. The Titaus
are the fallen angels. The inferior deities of Olympus
perform not a few of the offices of the good angels,
though they partake much more largely of human pas-
sions and frailties; and yet - a fact which indicates
how much the Scriptures have done to elevate our ideas
of Deity — the occupants of Olympic seats were gods,
o
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
225
while those who stand and serve around the Most High
in heaven, are his creatures; and though they rise rank
above rank, angels and archangels, thrones, dominions,
principalities, and powers, still the highest archangel,
who stands nearest the eternal throne, presumes not to
accept the worship of men, but says: “ See thou do it
not, for I am thy fellow-servant: worship God.”
.8. THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF MEN..
: The Prometheus of Aeschylus represents mankind as
having been in the condition of helpless infants and
degraded savages (443 sqq.), without fire and without
houses, dwelling in caves of the earth, ignorant of the
arts and destitute of the comforts of life, with reason,
speech, and the senses themselves so imperfectly devel-
oped, that seeing, they saw in vain, and hearing, they
heard not (447, cf. Mat. xiii. 13):
βλέποντες έβλεπον μάτην,
. .. klúovies OÚK ñkovov • .
And in this sad condition they continued, till Prome-
theus stole for them fire from heaven, taught them the
useful arts, inspired them with hopes, — delusive hopes,
however, as he himself confesses, and revealed to
them the way of divining the future and propitiating
the favor of the gods (Ibid. 460-507). Whether this
was their original state, the state in which they were
created, Aeschylus does not expressly say; but he im-
plies, and doubtless held, the doctrine of Hesiod and
other poets, that under the reign of Kronus, the golden
age of the world, a better race inhabited the earth, the
companions of the gods and the favorites of heaven;
and the present race of men were fallen, degenerate,
depraved, and hence obnoxious to the displeasure of the
226
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK PQETS.
deity. Accordingly Jupiter' was, for a time, bent on
their extirpation, and the creation of a better race in
their stead (232). Hence, too, he punishes Prometheus
for imparting to them knowledge, and strikes with
thunder Aesculapius for having restored mortal man
to life (Agamem, 1022); even as our first parents were
forbidden to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and,
when they had sinned, were driven out of the garden,
and cherubim were placed at the entrance, and a fiam-
ing sword, which turned every way, to guard the way to
the tree of life (Gen. iü. 24). “ Alas, the fates of men ! "
exelaims the prophetess (Agamem. 1327):
* Alas, the fates of men! their brightest bloom.
A shadow blights, and in their evil day
An cozy sponge blots out their fleeting printa,
And they are seen no more. From bad to worse
Our changes run, and with the worst we end."
Such, not unfrequently, are the strains in which the
chorus laments the deeds and the sufferings (éprya kal
málos, Choeplı. 1014 sqq.) of men, and the whole series
of tragic plots is but an illustration and expansion of
this melancholy idea; as the history of the Bible is but
a running commentary on the sad strains in which the
prophets and singers of Israel deplore the brevity, sin,
fulness, and wretchedness of human life.
:. 4. THE PROVIDENCE AND GOVERNMENT OF GOD.
We have already seen that Jove is conceived of as
the original cause and author of all. All events proceed
from his will, and are brought to pass by his agency.
"Wo! wo! 't is by the will of Jove, cause of all, worker
of all. For what is accomplished among mortals with-
Cf, Gen. vi. b.
TUE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
227
out Jove? What of these things (the crimes and .ca-
lamities of the house of Atreus) is not wrought of God ??
(Agamem. 1485):
üs in Sai Alòs
travaitiov, mavepyéta •
τί γάρ βροτοίς άνευ Διός τελείται;
τί τώνδ' αυ θεόκραντόν έστιν.
Nay, his word is deed; he speaks, and it is done
(Sup. 595): mápeoti 8° épyov és érros; (Sup. 97-100):
... “No force he wields ; his simple will,
His quiet sentence, blasteth.”
He is sole monarch, and irresponsible, and gives no ac-
count of his matters; to resist his will is only to kick
against the pricks (Prom. 323). Men strive in vain to
disturb the execution of his purposes (Prom. 852).
“ Their counsels never can transgress
The settled harmony of things,
The wisdom of the king of kings."
2. At the same time, everything is declared to be sub-
ject to the control of an invincible destiny (Prom. 105).
“ Things are as they are, and are surely brought to their
destined issue” (Agamem. 67). In answer to the ques-
tion, Who is the guide (gubernator, oiakootpópos) of
necessity, Prometheus says, “ The triform Fates and the
vengeful Furies.” When further asked, if Jove is less
powerful than these, he answers, that Jove cannot es-
cape destiny (Prom. 515). According to the prevailing
doctrine of the other tragedies, however, the will of Jove
is superior to, or identical with fate, and that with jus-
tice ;1 and this is made a reason for worshipping him :
“Let us worship the God of strangers, the great, the
? See above, p. 221.
228
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
supreme Jove, who by hoary law directs fate:” ÔS-Troduộ
vóuo aivav opboî (Sup. 679). Hence, while the. Fates
are invoked as justice-dispensing deities (Eum. 963),
Jupiter also is represented as having justice with him-
self (Prom. 187). So, not unfrequently, justice and
fate are used interchangeably, as almost synonymes
(Agamem. 1535), and both are spoken of as the appoint-
ment of the gods, Tetaypéva èx Dev (Agamem. 1025);
or TÒ Médov êr Dew (Pers. 373). And Jupiter is in-
voked with Might and Right, as a threefold power, of
which Jupiter is the greatest (Choeph. 242), whose will,
guided by justice and clothed with power, will infallibly
bring out the right issue: 6 Whatever is fated, that
will take place; the great unbounded mind of Jove
cannot be overpassed” (Sup. 1045):
“ Comes fated good or ill,
Wait we in patience still,
No power may thwart his will,
Jove, mighty Jove.
Such is the juxtaposition into which the three ideas of
fate, justice, and providence are constantly brought to
each other.
As to the relation of the divine purposes, or the de-
crees of destiny, to the freedom of human actions, Jupi-
the divine purposes are not altogether irrespective of
human agency. Sooner or later, in some way and by
some person, they are certain to be fulfilled. But the
time and manner of their accomplishment, and if they
relate to families, races, and nations, the individual by
whom they are accomplished, may depend on the wis-
dom or the folly, the piety or the impiety, of men.
“ All!” mourns the shade of Darius, as he sees how
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
229
on the armies, and almost on the empire of Persia (Pers.
739 sqq.) :
“Ahlon wings how swift, the issue of the ancient doom bath sped !
Thee, my son, great Jove hath smitten. Long-drawn years I hoped
would roll,
Ere fulfilment of the dread prophetic burden should be known.
But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.”
The spirit of this last line is, as Blackie well suggests
essentially the same with the old Latin proverb: Quem
Deus vult perdere, prius dementat; and it is the pre-
vailing sentiment of the Greek tragedies : men go to
destruction under the impulse of their own folly and
madness, and an angry deity has only to add the
spur.”
If you say the sin is fated, and fate is responsible, the
answer is, the punishment is fated too:
% Lopa TouTuv, ở Técvov, TapaẾTua.
So pleads Clytemnestra (Choeph. 910) in extenuation
of her crimes, but Orestes replies :
και τόνδε τοίνυν μοίρ' επέρσυνεν μόρον.
links suffering to sin (Agamem. 67 sqq.)
“ But things are as they are ; the chain :
Of fate doth bind them; sighs are vain. ·
Tears, libations, fruitless flow, .
To divert from purposed ire.
The powers whose altars know no fire."
Yet the very thing which is fated may come in answer
to prayer; and this belief is urged as an encouragement
to pray (Choeph. 462):
20
230
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS..
“The tremulous fear creeps o'er my frame to hear
Thy words; for though long-dated,
The thing divinely fated
Shall surely come at last, our cloudy prayers to clear."
Or more literally rendered, “ that which is fated abides
from of old, and may come to you, praying”; that is,
on condition of, or in answer to, your prayers. The
dramas of Aeschylus are, in their whole structure and
contents, a. standing witness to a belief in the efficacy
of prayer, as a general thing, notwithstanding the fixed
decrees of fate or providence. No Calvinist was ever a
more strenuous assertor of the “ doctrine of decrees,"
than the chorus in these dramas. At the same time,
no Methodist ever offered more frequent or more fer-
vent prayers. Prayer, however, does not supersede the
necessity of exertion, or the use of suitable means.
“Pray," – such is the spirit of the reproof which Ete-
ocles administers to the chorus, as they pray for the
safety of beleagured Thebes (Theb. 216)-“pray indeed,
but look well to the fortifications ;” or, in the language
of a modern proverb, first addressed by Cromwell to his
Ironsides,“trust providence, but keep your powder dry."
The mystery of divine providence is a frequent sub-
ject of remark. The ways of the Deity are dark, thickly
shaded, difficult to trace, past finding out (Sup. 92):
“Oh, would that Jove might show to men
His counsel as he planned it;
But ah, he darkly weaves the scheme -
No mortal eye hath scanned it”
His purposes are an unfathomable abyss (Ibid. 1055).
Clouds and darkness are round about him. But the
poet, like the Psalmist, connects with this the assurance
that justice and judgment are the habitation of his
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS
231
throne (Ibid. 86–99). He sits upon his holy seat (Edpá
vwv ¢ø dyvav, 103), and thence executes all his right-
eous and steadfast purposes. He holds in his hands the
scales of equal and universal justice (Ibid. 819), and,
causing the balance to preponderate according to his
righteous will, distributes evil to the evil and good to
the good (Ibid. 401):
•“ Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war,
Jove looks on the strife and decides fiom afar,
Where he holdeth the scales even-handed;
Oh, why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right ?
He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite
Where the sons of the wicked are banded.”
He awards to every man that which is due (Toubellóue-
voy) for his deeds, measure for measure, speech for
speech, blow for blow, according to that thrice-hallowed
and venerable saying, “ He that has done evil must
suffer for it” (Choeph. 304–313). It is from Jove that
this great law of moral necessity proceeds; and it is for
him to provide that things end in accordance with this
rule of exact distributive justice (Ibid. 304–306). And
so long as Jove remains, it remains an eternal law that
the doer shall receive according to what he has done
(Agamem. 1563). The choral song, or rather prayer,
above referred to (Choeph. 304 sqq.), brings together so
many of the ideas respecting fate, justice, providence,
and prayer which we have been endeavoring to illus-
trate, that we quote it entire, in the spirited and sub-
stantially correct translation of Blackie :
“ Mighty Fates, divinely guiding
Human fortunes to their end,
Send this man, with Jove presiding,
Whither Justice points the way.
i Comp. Matt, vü. 2, “ With what measure ye mete,” etc.
292
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Words of bitter hatred duly
Pay with bitter words: for thus,
With loud cry triumphant shouting,
Justice pays the sinner's debt.
Blood for blood and blow for blow --
Thou shalt reap as thou didst sow:
Age to age with hoary wisdom
Speaketh thus to man.”
Jupiter is especially jealous for his own honors and
prerogatives. Wo to the man, or the god, who invades
or encroaches on them. Prometheus, chained to the
rocks and torn by vultures, pays the penalty not only
of assuming too much to himself, but of lavishing undue
knowledge and power on mortals (Prom. 29) Xerxes,
though a mortal, thought to surpass Poseidon and all
the gods, and soon met with a dreadful overthrow (Pers.
749). Agamemnon has been fortunate quite beyond
the ordinary lot of men. The choir therefore fear for
him the envy of the gods. “To have an exceedingly high
reputation is exceedingly hazardous; for the thunder-
bolt froin Jove smites such in the face.” Hence, they
prefer only that degree of happiness which does not
excite envy, and pray never to be sackers of cities
(Agamem. 468–472). Agamemnon himself is conscious
of the danger, and strives to avert it by humility and
inoderation. He refuses at first to tread on the purple
which Clytemuestra has spread before his feet, and bids
the obsequious attendants to honor him as a man, and
not as a god (kat' ävòpa, un Deóv). But liis treacherous
and crafty wife, who seeks in this very way to provoke
the jealousy of the gods against him, lures him on,
thronigh pomp and pride, to destruction. The Theban
heroes, undaunted by the omens and prohibitions of
the gods, go against the city boasting that they will
THE.THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS."
233
destroy it with or without the consent of Jove; and,
with a single exception, they all perish before the gates
(Theb. 410, 529, etc.). This envy of the gods - for
such is the ordinary meaning of the word (Tòv De@v
$Bóvov, Pers. 362 et passim) — is one of the most tragic
elements in the tragic drama of the Greeks, often re-
marked upon by the characters and the chorus, and
often the pivot on which the catastrophe turns. Hence
it became a proverb among the Greeks, TÒ Delov poovepov
(Herod. iii. 40) — God is envious. As it is expressed
by a word of lower moral significance, so is it a less
pure and elevated characteristic, having more reference
to mere outward prosperity, and less to the feelings of
the heart, than that jealousy which Jehovah asserts for
himself in the Decalogue. Still it is manifestly a kin-
dred attribute to that which guards the incommunicable
prerogatives of the Most High, and which says: “I will
not give my glory to another.”
Another attribute, which is asserted with great fre-
teristic of the God of Israel, is his regard for the poor
and needy, the suppliant and the stranger. Not a few
of the epithets most frequently applied to Jupiter ex-
press this character. He is Zeùs åpiktop, ikéTIS, ÉKeo los,
ixtúp; and “ dreadful is the anger of Zeus, the protector
of suppliants" (Sup. 344). “It is necessary to dread
the anger of Zeus, the protector of suppliants, for it is
the highest fear among mortals” (Ibid. 566). He is
also Zeùs févios (Agamem. 362), &vvéOTIOS (Agamem.
703), the guardian of the stranger and the rites of hos-
pitality; and they who do violence to the stranger on
the other, shall see his bow and feel his thunder-stroke
234
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
(Agamem. 364). The whole drama of the Sappliants
is an intentional illustration of this principle in the
divine government. The daughters of Danaus, fleeing
from the abhorred nuptials which were to be enforced
upon them at home, land on the shores of Argos, and
cast themselves on the altars of the country for protec-
tion; and their prayer is: “ Behold me a suppliant, a
fugitive, a wanderer (347). Spurn not my petition, lest
you rouse the anger of the gods.” For not Jupiter
alone, but the other gods befriend the suppliant stran-
ger. Themis is the goddess of suppliants (358). Apollo,
an exile once himself, will pity exiles (215). The land
will be defiled and cursed of all the gods, if it refuse
shelter to those who have fled to it for safety in the
hour of need. And though the Argive king foresees a
war with Egypt as the consequence of harboring the
fugitives, yet a war with the gods is more to be dreaded
(437); though the enemy plunder the house, yet the
god of the hearth and the household (Zeus kingios) can
more than make up the loss; and he resolves to be their
protector.1
The delay of the Deity in punishing the wicked ---a
subject which occasioned not a little perplexity to the sa-
cred writers -- was also the subject of one of the most
instructive and profound theological treatises that have
come down to us from pagan antiquity. “The mills
of the gods grind late, but grind to powder" -óké
Geu ảéovat nuou, ảéovat se ACTá—is a proverb
which is often repeated by the moralists of Greece ;
1 So according to the Odyssey (xiv. 57), all strangers and poor beggars
are from Zeus.
* See Professor Hackett's Analysis of Plutarch De Sera Numinis Vip-
dicta (ed. Hackett and Tyler), p. 65 sqq.
THE THÉOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
235
and the subject is one of frequent recurrence in the
tragedies of deschylus. There is in the Choephoroe
(58-60) a striking passage illustrative of the different
times and ways in which punishment comes upon trans-
gressors; “some in the light of day, others in the dark
twilight of life, a lingering but overflowing flood of
pains; while for others is reserved the endless night of
future retribution.” Paul, in his Epistle to Timothy,
draws a similar distinction. “Some men's sins are
open beforehand, going before to judgment, and some
they follow after.” But in time (xpovo ; év xpóvo; ¿v
Xpóvous) justice steals upon the wicked, and exacts of
them the full penalty of their crimes (Choeph, 650, 954):
" Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo,
The will of her 'high-purposed sire to obey,
The track of the blood-stained remorseless to follow,
Winged with sure death, though she lag by the way.”
At the set time, yes, on the appointed day (xoóvw tou
Kupio t'év ñuépa, Sup. 729), whoever dishonors the gods
shall pay the penalty to divine justice.
Prosperity, whether individual or national, is the gift
of God (0€ou @pov, Theb. 625). Prayer is not without
efficacy in procuring it (Ibid. 626); it is also the re-
ward of justice and piety (Eum. 550):
" The man without compulsion just,
Who by these rules preserves his trust,
Unprosperous shall never be;
At least, ne'er ruined utterly."!
Who fears the gods is fearful to oppose (SELVÒS Òs Deous
oéßel, Theb. 596).; the city which they preserve is im-
i These words are the standing limitations of the rule of retribution;
well rendered by Blackie: “though she lag by the way.”
3 Cf. P8. XXXVII. 24, “ Though he fal, he shall not be utterly cast down.”
236
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
pregnable (Pers. 247); it is taken only when the gods
forsake it (Theb. 218); they send forth the conqueror,
and they bring him back again victorious (Agamem.
1853); and in the conquest and destruction of empires,
he is but the agent of divine justice (Ibid. 812); but
when success' becomes a god, and more than a god, to
mortals, then divine justice watches its opportunity to
descend upon them (Choeph. 57). Jupiter is ever at
hand, as the severe judge and punisher of proud
thoughts (Pers. 827). It is an old saying, uttered in
ancient times, that great and entire prosperity does not
die childless, but begets as its legitimate offspring insa-
tiate calamity (Agamem. 750). Hence the chorus are
led to offer a prayer kindred to that of Agur, that nei-
ther poverty nor riches, neither conquest nor captivity,
may be their lot (Ibid. 472, cf. 1341):
“Who of mortals will not pray,
From high-perched Fortune's favor far,
A blameless life to spend.” 1
As prosperity has its dangers, so the idea is not un-
known, though less familiar, that adversity has, or may
have, its blessings. It, too, is of divine appointment.
It must be borne with patience, when the gods give it
(0€wv Sidóvtwv, Pers. 294). It teaches wisdom to the
wise, and sometimes purifies even the polluted (Eum.
276). “It is good to grow wise under sorrow" (Evu éper
owo poveîv útrò OTével, Eum. 520). It is the prerogative
of God, who has attached instruction to suffering (TÒV
Trádel pálos O evra), thus to guide them, though against
their wills (ěkovras), to wisdom (Agamem. 176 sq.):
“For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins
To virtue by tutoring of their sins;
: Cf. also Eum. 529: “By God's decree the mean is best,” etc.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
237
Yea, drops of torturing recollection chill
The sleepers ; ’gainst man's rebellious will
Jove works the wise remorse :
Dread powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel
Our hearts with gracious force.”!
There are not wanting, in Aeschylus, indications of
a belief in special providences, reaching even to the
elements and the changes of the weather. The mes-
senger who announces to the queen mother at Susæ the
overthrow of the forces of Xerxes, in describing the return
of the shattered remnant, says, that on the very night
when they reached the banks of the sacred Strymon,
the deity raised a wintry storm out of season, and froze
the whole stream, so that as many as availed themselves
of the providence before the rising sun, passed over
safely on a bridge of ice; but when the sun rose, it
soon melted the ice, and “man upon man, in crowded
ruin fell”; thus men, who had never before believed in
the existence and providence of the gods, believed and
worshipped (Pers. 498 sqq.).2
5. SIN, ITS PENALTY AND EXPIATION.
The sins, with which the tragic poets have to do, are
chiefly, as might be expected, such violations of the law
inhospitality to strangers, sacrilege, superhuman pride,
and arrogating divine prerogatives. These are, emphat-
ically, the crimes that characterize the Greek drama;
1 Xápis is the Greek word, and it is used in a sense strikingly similar to
the usage of the New Testament.
? As to the credibility of this miracle, as a matter of fact, compare Thirl-
wall, and Grote, Vol. v. p. 191.
3“Honor thy parents,” is the third, or as we should say the first, the
prime commandment (Sup. 704), and is often accompanied with a promise.
238
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
these, and such as these, the sins which stain with their
guilt, or involve in their consequences the individuals
and families set apart as the favorite themes of the tragic
muse; these the very atmosphere and element, darkened
with clouds and agitated by storms, in which tragedy
lives and moves and has its being. The drama, called
the Suppliants, starts from that aversion to intermar-
riage with near blood relations (cousins in this instance),
which is so nearly universal that it may be called an in-
stinct, an intuition, and turns for its peripeteia on the
sacredness of the domestic and the public altar, and the
inviolability of those who have fled for refuge to these
sanctuaries of the gods. Murder, incest, violation of
filial and fraternal duty, and other unnatural crimes,
are fundamental ideas in the Seven against Thebes.
The divine displeasure at those who arrogate to them-
selves that which belongs to God only, which is also
prominent in the Seven against Thebes, is the main
subject, or at least the chief tragic element in Prome-
theus and the Persians. And in the remaining three
of the seven extant tragedies of Aeschylus, the Agamem-
non, the Choephoroe, and the Eumenides, which to-
gether constitute a magnificent trilogy, the only trilogy
that has come down to us entire-hands red with blood,
with kindred blood, are ever before the spectator's mind;
and the great question which agitates spectators and
actors is, How can that stain be washed away? If there
were any room to doubt the genuineness and authen-
ticity of the Pentateuch, the doubter might find an
antidote to his scepticism in the bare fact, that the same
subjects which constitute the staple of the epic and tragic
mythology of the Greeks are also among the earliest
and most prominent subjects of Mosaic history and
YLUS.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
239
legislation. The histories of Cain and Lamech, the
laws of murder and incest, the altars and the cities of
refuge, the sacrifices and rites of purification, the ideas
of expiation and reconciliation, which make up so large
a portion of the Old Testament, reappear on the tragic
stage, and constitute the very warp of the Greek drama.
And the first great law which the tragedians recog-
nize— a law written in the hearts of men and sanctioned
by divine authority — is, that the sinner must suffer for
his sin (Choeph. 311):
δράσαντι παθείν
τριγέρων μύθος τάδε φωνεί.
6. For him that hath done the deed to suffer for it—thus
cries a proverb (or tradition) thrice-hallowed by age.”
Moreover, the great primary law of retribution is ex-
pressly the lex talionis : like for like and measure for
measure. “Ye have heard that it hath been said by
them of old time, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth.” We have this ancient saying, standing out with
great prominence, and repeated again and again, on the
pages of Aeschylus (Agamem. 1562):
“'Tis robber robbed, and slayer slain ; for, though
Oft-times it lag, with measured blow for blow,
Vengeance prevaileth
While great Jove lives. Who breaks the close-linked woe
Which heaven entaileth ?”
The Greek of this passage reads as follows:
* Ixion, the first murderer (Eum. 718), was purified by Jove himself, but
proving ungrateful, was doomed to endless punishment. Cf. Gen. iv. 15, 16.
The lament of Lamech (Ibid. 23, 24) is the lament of Orestes and of many
an unwilling homicide in the Greek poets. He had slain a man in self-
defence; and if Cain was protected by divine interposition from the avenger
of blood, much inore Lamech; “if Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, truly
Lamech seventy and seven fold.”
240
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
φέρει φέροντ', εκτίνει δ' ο καίνων:
μίμνει δε μίμνοντος εν χρόνω Διός,
παθείν τον έρξαντα· θέσμιον γάρ, κ. τ. λ.
And it may be literally rendered thus: “He spoils the
spoiler, and the slayer pays the full penalty. It remains
so long as Jove remains, that he must suffer who has
done the deed; for it is an established law.” Who can
read this, and the many kindred passages of our poet,
without being reminded of that primeval law of the
divine government, which was promulgated to the sec-
ond universal ancestor of the human race, as he went
forth from the ark to repeople a depopulated world :
“Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood
be shed.” And the principle is not repealed, but re-
peated and recognized as a general law of providence in
that saying of our Lord : “ They that take the sword
shall perish by the sword.”
This law is recognized as a law of nature, and there-
fore (so far as any of the laws of nature may be said to
execute themselves) self-executing. The connection
between sin and suffering is constantly represented as
a natural and necessary connection, like that between
sowing and reaping, parent and offspring (Choeph. 310;
Pers. 821) :
Blood for blood and blow for blow,-
Thou shalt reap as thou didst sow.
A haughty spirit, blossoming, bears a crop
Of woe, and reaps a barvest of despair.
Lust and violence beget lust and violence, and ven-
geance too at the appointed time (Agamem. 763).1
* In one of these passages, ő Bpes is the root or the seed, and árn the fruit
or the harvest. In the other, øßpis is the parent, and yßpis the immcdiate,
and árn the remote offspring. Sce a similar genealogy of lust, sin, and
death, in James i. 15.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
241
Impiety multiplies and perpetuates itself (Ibid. 788).
The sinner pays the debt he contracted, ends the career
to the dregs the cup of cursing which he himself had
filled (Ibid. 1397). But so far from the atheistic idea
that these laws are in such a sense self-executing as to
dispense with a personal God, a divine governor and
judge, the laws themselves become real, living, divine
persons, the agents and executioners of the Most High;
ment and retribution, the conscience itself is only an
instrument in the hands of Justice and Vengeance, and
the Most High directs and controls all these inferior
agents and instrumentalities. It is in reference to this
very matter of punishment for sin that the question
already cited is asked : 66 What is accomplished with-
out Jupiter ? What of these things is not wrought of
God?"
With the general doctrine, “ The soul that sinneth it
shall die,” the Scriptures connect another, which seems
at first view to conflict with it, namely, that God visits
the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, unto the
third and fourth generation. These same apparently
inconsistent doctrines lie, side by side, at the very foun-
dation of Greek tragedy. Aeschylus repeats, again and
again, with all the earnestness of the prophet Ezekiel
(ch. xviii.), the law, dpáoavtu tadelv. But he is equally
explicit in declaring that an old transgression sometimes
abides to the third generation, as illustrated in the un-
happy family of Laius (Theb. 742):
παλαιγενή γαρ λέγω
αιώνα δ' ες τρίτον μένει.
21
242
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
With urgent force the Fury treadeth
To generations three,
Avenging Laius' sin on Laius' race.
In all cases, however, in which the children suffer for
the sins of the parents, they are themselves not innocent.
The sin is hereditary as well as the suffering. The guilt
and the punishment are propagated together, from gen-
eration to generation. It runs in the blood. Like be-
gets like (Agamem. 758–762 ; Ibid. 1564, 1565):
"One base deed, with prolific power,
Like its cursed stock, engenders more;
But to the just, with blooming grace,
Still flourishes a beauteous race.”
“ Thus by the laws of nature son succeeds
To sire; and who shall drive him from the house ? ”
Or, to render this passage more literally, as it is amended
by Hermann and Bloomfield, “Who can expel the
brood of curses from the family! The race is wedded
(glued) to Ate." A kind of judicial blindness and mad-
ness not only comes over the heinous transgressor him-
self, but cleaves to the accursed race. They are given
over to the power of an avenging demon, the demon,
the Ate, the Ara, the Erinys of the race, who involves
them, one after another by their own acts, and yet
almost in spite of themselves, in guilt and ruin. To
illustrate this were simply to unfold the plot of the
several dramas, and to repeat the history of blood and
crime, familiar to every one who knows anything of clas-
sical mythology, of the house of Pelops, and (to carry it
back to its root) of Tantalus liimself (Agamem. 1469).
The Agamemnon is a locus classicus on this subject. It
paints the power and sway of the avenging deity, in the
same dark and fearful colors in which the retributive
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
243
power of conscience is drawn in Macbeth; and while the
resemblance between the two plays is thus striking, a
careful comparison would also illustrate most clearly the
difference between the theology of Aeschylus and the
theology, or more strictly the anthropology, of Shake-
speare. Under Jove, Ate or Erinys, two names for one
and the same power, is the divinity of the Agamemnon ;
and the characters of the play are but her ministers.
- Say not,” cries Clytemnestra, with a grandeur and
steadfastness in wickedness surpassing even that of Lady
Macbeth, and with an element of justice to which that
lady had no claim (1498; 1432):
“ Say not that I, that Agamemnon's wife
Did it. The Fury fatal to this house,
In vengeance for Thyestes' horrid feast,
Assumed this form, and, with her ancient rage,
Hath for the children sacrificed the man.”
"By that revenge
Which for my daughter I have greatly taken;
By the dread powers of Ate and Erinys,
To whom my hand devoted him a victim,
Without a thought of fear I range these rooms.”
Aegisthus, too, puts on a moral dignity foreign to his
nature, claims to be but the avenger of his father's
wrongs, and heaven's executioner of justice, and wel-
comes the doom which in turn awaits him (1578):
"Now I know that the just gods
Look from their skies, and punish impious mortals,
Seeing this man rolled in the blood-wove woof,
The tissue of the Furies, grateful sight!
And suffering for bis father's fearful crimes.”
And then he goes on to describe the liorrid banquet of
Thyestes, spread for the sacrilegious Atreus beneath his
own roof, for his own brother (the father of Aegisthus),
244
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
CL
and the curse which Thyestes, when he discovered that
he had been feasting upon the flesh of his own children,
pronounced upon Atreus (father of Agamemnon) and all
his race: “ Thus perish all the race of Pleisthenes"
(1602). And the chorus, possessed with the same
thought of a race doomed to calamity and crime, and
hunted by an avenging deity, exclaims (1468) :
“O god, that o'er the doomed Atridan halls
With might prevailest,
Weak woman's breast to do thy headlong will
With murder mailest!
O'er his dead body, like a boding raven,
Thou tak'st thy station,
Piercing my marrow with thy savage hymn
Of exultation.”
To which Clytemnestra responds :
“ There's sense in this; now hast thou touched the key
Rousing the Fury, that from sire to son
Hath bid the stream of blood, first poured by her,
Descend. One sanguine tide scarce rolled away,
Another flows in terrible succession."
And the chorus in reply, while acknowledging the
agency of Erinys, recognizes also the hand and will of
the Highest:
“Ah, 'tis a higher power
That thus ordains; we see the hand of Jove,
Whose will directs the fate of mortal man.”
The consequences of great crimes, especially in high
places, extend to every person and every thing that has
any connection with them. The country and country's
gods are polluted (Agamem. 1645: Kópas míao ua kai
Deôv éryxwpiwv). The army and the people share in the
curse (Pers. passim). The earth itself is defiled by pol-
lutions of ancient blood (Sup. 265) Even the innocent
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
245
and the virtuous who share in the enterprises of the
wicked may be involved in their ruin, as the pious man
must sink with the ungodly when he embarks in the
same ship with them (Theb. 602). This doctrine of
social liability is illustrated by this striking simile in
the case of Amphiaraus, of whom a character is drawn,
than which nothing more beautiful has come down to
us from ancient times — “a discreet, upright, good, and
pious man, who wished not to seem but to be good,”
of the Theban expedition, and forewarned the leaders ;
but led on by a high sense of honor, he went with them,
and fell like them (Theb. 601):
“Death's unblest fruit is reaped
By him who sows in Ate's fields. The man
Who, being godly, with ungodly men
And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,
He, when the god-detested crew goes down,
Shall with the guilty, guiltless perish.”
The pollution and curse of sin (uiaoua, utoos, áryos),
when once contracted by an individual, or entailed upon ..
a family, will rest upon them and pursue them, till the
polluted individual or the hated and accursed race (OTU
ynd év, dúOTTOTUOv ryévos, Theb. 691, 813) is extinct, unless
in some way the sin can be expiated, 1 or some god inter-
pose to arrest the penalty. Some sins are inexpiable.
Prayers, tears, sacrifices, are all in vain. The criminal
must die by the hand of justice, and even in Hades,
vengeance will still pursue him (Sup. 227). Others
may in time be washed away by ablutions, worn away
by exile and pilgrimage, and expiated by offerings of
i The expiation requires the intervention of some friend, a god or a prince,
who is clothed with more or less of divine authority.
21*
246
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
blood (Eum. 445 seq. et al.). “It is enough,” pleads
the chorus in the Seven against Thebes, “for Thebans
to come to blows with Argives, for such blood admits
of expiation (kabápolov); but the death of own brothers
thus mutually wrought by their own hands, this pollu-
tion never grows old” (Theb. 678). Indeed, the pre-
sumption in regard to great crimes is, that they cannot
be expiated. The blood cannot be washed away (alu?
åvittov, 1459); (Choeph. 518):
“All ocean poured in offering
For the warm life-drops of one innocent man
Is labor lost: old truth thus speaks to all.” 1
- For what expiation is there for blood when once it
hath fallen upon the ground ? » (τί γάρ λύτρων πεσόντος
aiuatos médw, Choeph. 47); (Choeph. 398):
“What hath been, and shall be ever,
That when purple gouts bedash
The guilty ground, then blood doth blood
Demand, and blood for blood shall flow.
Fury to Havoc cries; and Havoc,
The tainted track of blood pursuing,
From age to age works woe.”
Thus the law (vóuos), for so it is expressly called,
rolls on reverberating its thunders and threatening ven-
geance from act to act and chorus to chorus of that
grand trilogy of which we have spoken, through the
Agamemnon, through the Choephoroe, and far into the
Eumenides. And the history of blood and crime fol-
lows close upon the law, like the rain-storm after the
boding thunder. In the Agamemnon — the first of the
trilogy—the crimes of former generations-of Tantalus,
1 Compare Shakespeare's NIacbeth:
“Will all Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from iny hand ?”
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
247
of Pelops, and of Atreus, - gathering blackuess as they
descend, are often alluded to by the chorus as ground
of fearful foreboding. Then Cassandra sees them in
frightful visions, and sings them in prophetic frenzy as
a bloody prelude to the vengeance which is just ready
to fall upon the proud Achaean king. Moreover, that
monarch's own crime in the sacrifice of his weeping,
pleading daughter, though committed under the heavy
yoke of necessity, and the hardening influence of frenzy
(218), still haunts the memory of the people as the sure
precursor of coming evil, while it goads on the bereaved
and outraged mother to her long-cherished and now soon
to be accomplished vengeance. She lures him on over
purple tapestries to the luxurious bath, where she throws
a net over him, and slays him with repeated strokes of
her own hand; and this play ends with threats of ven-
geance on the murderess at the hand of his and her son,
the absent Orestes.
In the Choephoroe those threats receive their accom-
plishment. Orestes returns under the guise of a mes-
senger sent to announce his death, unites with his sister
Electra in tears, prayers, and vows at the tomb of
their father, and then slays Clytemnestra and Aegis-
thus, who perish by treachery, just as they had treach-
erously slain Agamemnon (886). But no sooner has
he imbrued his hands in his mother's blood - though
he did it by command of the oracle, under threats of
dire calamity if he disobeyed — than his thoughts begin
to wander like horses without a charioteer; doubt, fear,
and frenzy seize upon him ; and he sees the Furies —
the angry hell-hounds of his mother (untpos čY.KOTOU
KÚVES, 1052) — in Gorgon form, in sable vestments, and
entwined with snakes, wlio pursue him as he flees to
find a refuge at the altar of Apollo.
248
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
But after the law comes the gospel. First the con-
troversy, then the reconciliation. Such is the natural
order of the ideas; such the actual sequence of events;
and a dim consciousness of the former as a fact, and of
the latter as a want, if not also as an object of faith and
hope, seems to have revealed itself to the human mind,
even in the darkest period of its existence. Something
like this seems to underlie not a few of the Greek trilo-
gies. The Prometheus Bound was followed by the Pro-
metheus Unbound, reconciled and restored to the favor
of Jove through the intervention of Jove's sou (Prom.
767–769). The Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles was
completed by the Oedipus at Colonus, where he dies in
peace amid visible tokens of divine favor. And so the
Agamemnon and Choeploroe reach their consummation
only in the Eumenides, where the Erinyes themselves
are appeased, and the Furies become the gracious ones.
This is not, however, without a special divine inter-
position, and then only after a severe struggle between
the powers that cry for justice and those that plead for
mercy. The law still thunders its dreadful sentence;
the avenging goddesses come into the very sanctuary,
and threaten vengeance in the very presence of “great
Loxias,” Orestes' advocate, “the healing prophet and
the seer,” and “the cleanser (kabúpolos, 63) of the
house."
i Hermes declares to Prometheus, that he shall not be released till some
god appear a successor (diádoxos) to his sufferings, and willing to go down
to Hades and Tartarus for him (Prom. 1026); Apollodorus says, that Her-
cules, after freeing Prometheus, delivered up the centaur Chiron to Jove,
willing, though immortal, 10 die in liis sead (ovho Kelv å vt' aŭtoll, Apol. ii.
thc idca of vicarious sacrifice has prevailed among the heathen nations.
The Druids, according to Caesar, hell the docirine: Pro vita hominis, nisi
hominis vita reddatur, 1qu posse aliter deorum immortalium numen placari
arbitrantur (Bell. Gall. vi. 16).
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
249
The scene opens at Delphi. Orestes is seen sitting
on the Omphalos (40):
“ His hands with gore are dripping, and he holds
A sword drawn newly, and an olive branch
Chastely enwrapt with wool of whitest fleece.”
Apollo stands by his side, and Hermes, messenger of
Jove, in the background. The Furies sit all around
him, sleeping and snoring under the power of the sup-
pliant-protecting god. Their form is the same in which
they first appeared to Orestes, immediately after the mur-
der of his mother. Hideously grim and black, from their
eyes they distil a deadly dew. Hags, antique maids,
they are fit only to dwell in subterranean Tartarus.
Apollo encourages Orestes, sends him under the conduct
of Hermes to the feet of Athena at Athens, and there
promises to find out means for his deliverance. No
sooner has he gone out than the ghost of Clytemnestra
rises, and rebukes the Furies for their inertness. Thus
awakened to their duty, and quickened by the scent of
blood, they pursue after him, muttering as they leave
the temple of Apollo (160, 177):
"Such things our young gods do, by might
Prevailing ever over right:
Apollo, stern to me, shall never save him,
Nor under earth shall be be free;
Another blood-avenger there shall have him,
And cling unto him after me."
The scene is now shifted from Delphi to the temple
of Athena Polias at Athens. Scarcely has Orestes
arrived at the house and image of the goddess, and
offered his prayer for reception and protection, as a
suppliant, polluted indeed, but whose pollution has been
worn away by long and weary wanderings, when the
250
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Furies overtake him, and renew their threats of ven-
geance in language and imagery most frightful (264-
275):
“But thou must give thy living limbs to me
To suck the marrow out; may I from thee
The odious draught as food receive;
Thee, while alive, I will bereave
Of all thy pith, and take thee downward hence;
This the tributary recompense
Thou art in thy person paying
For thy impious mother-slaying.
And thou shalt see if any other,
To god or stranger, sire or mother,
Hath done despiteous wrong, how he
Must pay the penalty, like thee.
For Hades, underneath the ground,
A strict examiner is found;
And all the deeds of mortal kind
He sees, and writes them in his mind.”
To which Orestes replies (280 sqq.):
“My mother's blood, that was upon my hand,
'Tis there no inore, - the stain, washed out, is gone.
While fresh, it was removed at Phoebus' hearth,
By purifying blood of slaughtered swine."
The Furies, to whom Aeschylus with characteristic bold-
ness has assigned the sacred and venerable office of the
chorus in this piece, now close in, as it were, around
their victim, and join in singing a hymn of curses, in
which they magnify their own powers and functions as
the avenging deities appointed by the eternal law of
Fate, and imprecate the direst woes on all offenders,
and especially on those who shed kindred blood (354
sqq. ; 381 sqq.):
" When Mars, grown tame to touch and sight,
In social life shall slay a friend,
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
251
Then we pursue him to the end,
And hunt him down, though he be stout,
Nor leave him till we blot him out.”
“For we are skilful to devise,
And can effect whate'er we plan;
Of ill deeds, awful memories,
And hard to be appeased by man;"
Athena soon appears in person, and the two parties
plead their cause before hier, Apollo appearing openly as
the advocate of Orestes. The Furies urge the overthrow
of ancient laws as the inevitable consequence of acquittal.
Orestes, in person and through his advocate, pleads duty
to his father, the sanction of Apollo, and the expiation,
which under Apollo's teaching, he has made. Athena
summons about her a council of the oldest and wisest
of the citizens — the original of the famous council and
court of Areopagus — and takes their votes; and when,
so difficult and doubtful is the question, they are equally
divided, she throws her casting vote in favor of Orestes.
For a season, the Furies are frantic at the indignity,
and threaten dire revenge on the people and the very
soil of Athens (778 sqq.):
“ Ye younger gods have trampled down
• Old laws, and wrested them from me;
Amerced of office and renown,
I will, for this indignity,
Drop from my heart's wrath-bleeding wound
A blight, a plague-drop, on the ground:
A lichen fatal to the trees,-
To children, shall invade the soil,
Hear, Justice !) and inflict disease
On men— the blotch and deadly boil.”
But Athena finds means to appease and reconcile them,
and gives them a sanctuary at the very base of Mars'
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Hill, hard by the court of Areopagus. The dreadful
goddesses, having now become the venerable and the
gracious-minded, invoke their sister Fates to join them
in blessing, instead of cursing, the land; and as they
are conducted with great pomp to their new seats of
just but benignant power, all the people unite in a
general song and shout of rejoicing.
Such is an imperfect outline of this most interesting
and instructive drama. It is not denied that much of
all this is earthly, civil, and political in its primary in-
tention. But the presence of the gods, and the constant
references to a future state of just and inevitable retri-
bution, forbid any restricted application. The ideas are
forth the theology of Aeschylus and the better part of
his contemporaries. And it must be confessed that that
theology is surprisingly healthy, sound, and truthful in
its essential elements. The great doctrines of hered-
itary depravity, retribution, and atonement are there in
their elements, as palpably as they are in the Sacred
Scriptures. Would that much of modern poetry were
equally true to the soul of man, to the law of God, and
to the gospel of Christ !
The offices and work here ascribed to Apollo, taken
in connection with what has been said of the same god
under a former head, must strike every Christian reader,
whatever may be his explanation of them, as remarkable
resemblances, not to say foreshadowings, of the Christian
doctrine of reconciliation. This resemblance or analogy
becomes yet inore striking when we bring into view
the relation in which this reconciling work stands to
Zeùs Ewtúp, Jupiter the Saviour— Zeùs Tpítos, Jupi-
ter the third, who in connection with Apollo and
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
253
Athena, consummates the reconciliation. Not only is
Apollo a {wtýp (Agamem. 512) who, having himself
been an exile from heaven among men, will pity the
poor and needy (Sup. 214); not only does Athena
sympathize with the defendant at her tribunal, and,
uniting the office of advocate with that of judge, per-
suade the avenging deities to he appeased (Eum. 970);
but Zeus is the beginning and end of the wliole process.
Apollo appears as the advocate of Orestes, only at his
bidding (Eum. 616). Athena inclines to the side of the
accused, as the offspring of the brain of Zeus, and of
like mind with him (664, 737). Orestes, after his ac-
quittal, says that he obtained it:
“By means of Pallas and of Loxias,
And the third Saviour who doth sway all things.” 1
And when the Furies are fully appeased by the persua-
sion of Athena, she ascribes it to the power of Zeus
àyopaios, Zeus, the master of assemblies :
" Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
In the bigh debate hath conquered.
In the strife of blessing now,
You with me shall vie forever.” 2
In short, “ throughout the Oresteia, Aeschylus exhib-
its dimly and mysteriously in the background, but with
all the more poetical effect on that very account, the
idea of Zeus Soter, the third, as the power that pervades
the universe, and conducts the course of things, gently
(slowly ?) indeed, but eventually to the best possible
issue." 3
1 To Tera ApaivotTos ToiToo GoTipos (975).
3 Chapman's version is more striking, but less true to the original:
But Zeus prevails; the power of mercy still
Predominates - good doth o'ermaster ill.
8 C. O. Müller on the Eumenides, p. 219; where see also his remarks on
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
6. A FUTURE STATE OF REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.
The immortality of the soul is nowhere taught by
Aeschylus as an abstract and general truth. Still less
does he know anything of the doctrine of the resurrec-
tion. That struck the philosophers at Athens as a nor-
elty and an absurdity when Paul preached it five or
six centuries later on Mars' Hill. But a future state
of existence is everywhere taken for granted, as it is in
the Old Testament. It is implied in prayers and offer-
ings to the dead. Thus Electra invokes Agamemnon
to send blessings on herself and Orestes, and to appear
as an avenger of his murderers (Choeph. 140; 480 et al.)
And Atossa, by advice of the chorus, makes her prayer
to her departed husband Darius, whom she had seen in
vision the previous night, that he would avert all evil
omens and bring to pass all that was good (Pers. 220,
etc.). It is implied also in the evocation of departed
spirits, who even make their appearance on the stage in
the tragedies of Aeschylus. Thus Clytemnestra comes
up from the abodes of the dead to goad on the Furies
to avenge her murder, and declares that she wanders in
disgrace, not only unavenged, but perpetually dishon-
ored and reproached among the dead for the murder
of her husband (Eum. 95). Darius, evoked from the
under-world by the queen-mother and the Persian no-
Xerxes (Pers. 680). And the living Clytemnestra,
with hands yet dripping with her husband's blood, with
biting sarcasm avers that Iphigenia, the victim of her
father's unnatural cruelty, shall meet him, as is fit, at
the wide diffusion through Greece of the conception and cultus of Jupiter
Soter, as the third.
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
255
“the Ferry of Sighs," greet him lovingly, throw her
arms about him, and kiss him (Agamem. 1555).
The place of the departed is called Hades, or the un-
seen world. It is ó vekpodéyuwv, the receiver of the
dead (Prom. 153); ó Távdokos, the all-receiver (Theb.
860); it is the realm of the most hospitable Zeus (tov
molučevótatov Züva, Sup. 157), the entertainer of most
numerous guests. It is situated under the earth (Prom.
152 et al.). It is a dark and gloomy abode (åvaúryntos,
Prom. 1027), untrodden by Apollo, uncheered by the
light of the sun (Theb. 859). Men are conveyed to this
sunless, all-receiving, invisible shore, across Acheron,
by an ill-omened boat with sable sails, filled by a breeze
of sighs (Ibid. 854-860). It seems to be conceived of
often as one vast sepulchre, where are gathered all the
dead of all ages; often as a subterranean world, the
image of this, only excluded from the light of day; an
empire with its infernal sovereignties (νερτέρων τυραν-
vides, Choeph. 403); a city with its counsellors sitting
at the gates (Agamem. 1291), and its inhabitants with
characters and pursuits not unlike those in the present
1
life.
Tartarus is a part of Hades, or rather a dark, deep
dungeon (ueraußaons Kevo uóv, Prom. 219) sunk far
beneath it (vépdev Aidov, Ibid. 152) in whose dismal
depths (kvepala Báon, 1028) the enemies of Zeus are
kept in indissoluble chains (Sequois åútois, 154), and
from which there is no way of escape (árrépavtov, 153,
cf. 1077).
The character and condition of the departed corres-
ponds in a great measure with their character and
condition here. The same distinctions of rank hold
there as here. Darius rules in Hades ; nay, ranks
256
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
among the gods of the lower world (Pers. 691), even
as the Persians honored their kings as gods on earth
(Pers. 156). And Agamemnon, not less distinguished
below than above, is honored and reverenced as a king
and a minister of the greatest subterranean powers
(Choeph. 253 seq.); for (such is the argument of
Electra) thou wast a king when thou wast living. Yet
wealth is of no avail to the dead, and earthly pleasures
are not there to be enjoyed; and on this ground Darius
exhorts the Persian nobles, even in their defeat, to
make the most of the pleasures of the present life (Pers.
840).
Still more certainly will the distinctions of character
which exist on earth continue also in another world.
The good and happy here will be good and happy here-
after, though comparatively little is said in Aeschylus
of the blessedness of the righteous. It is the punish-
ment of the wicked on which the tragedians chiefly
insist, for the obvious reason that this falls in more
with the plan and idea of tragedy. Death is no escape
to the wicked from their sins or the consequences of
them. Their crimes will follow them into another
world. The same Furies that pursue them on earth,
unless appeased and reconciled, will follow them in
Hades, nay, in Tartarus, which is their fit and favorite
abode (Eum. 72). In Hades also there is a tribunal
which the wicked cannot escape, and a faithful record
of their lives, and a just judge, who will certainly bring
them to judgment and punish them according to their
deeds. For example, Danaus encourages his frightened
and desponding daughters with the assurance that the
wretch who would fain force upon them an incestuous
marriage, without their own or their father's consent,
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
257
cannot be pure in the sight of God. Not even in Hades
can he who does such things escape guiltless and un-
punished. For there, as the saying or tradition is (os
Tóyos), another Zeus judges crimes, and awards to the
departed their final sentence (Sup. 227):
“Who does these deeds
Will find no refuge from lewd guilt in Hades;
For there, as we have beard, another Jove
Holds final judgment on the guilty shades."
And the Argive king fears to deliver up the fugitive
suppliants, lest he bring upon himself as an avenger,
the all-destroying god, who does not even let go free
the dead in Hades (Ibid. 414):
In the Eumenides, as we have seen on a former page,
the Furies declare to Orestes that they will not only
waste his body and suck his blood here, but after hav-
ing hunted him through life, they will drag him away
to the lower world, there to pay the full penalty for his
mother-slaying. And like certain and condign punish-
ment awaits every other sinner, whether against God
or man (273-275):
“For Hades, underneath the ground,
A strict examiner is found;
And all the deeds of mortal kind
μέγας γαρ Αίδης έστιν εύθυνος βροτών,
ένερθε χθονός,
δελτογράφω δε πάντ' επωπά φρενί.
And this punishment is not only certain, but remediless
and endless. Though he flee beneath the earth, he shall
never be set free from the demands of justice (175).
** And where shall be the end of the murderer's punish-
22*
258
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
(D
ment?” “Where joy is never kuown” (422). Such
are the ideas of future punishment which are perpetu-
ally recurring in the Eumenides. From the beginning
almost to the end of this magnificent drama, eternal
retribution hangs like a gloomy cloud in the distance ;
and it is on this dark background that the poet has
painted, in bright and beautiful contrast, the bow of
reconciliation.
In conclusion, should we attempt to express our
views of the Greek drama, and the old Paganism gene-
rally, in its relation to Christianity, we could hardly
sum them up better than in the words of the learned
and devout American historian of the church, Dr.
Schaff: “ Its polytheism rested on a dim monotheistic
background, subjected all the gods to Jupiter, and Ju-
piter himself to a mysterious fate; it had at bottom the
feeling of dependence on higher powers and reverence
for divine things; it preserved the memory of a golden
age and of a fall ; it had the voice of conscience, and a
sense, obscure though it was, of guilt; it felt the need
of reconciliation with deity, and sought that reconcilia-
tion by prayer, penance, and sacrifice. Many of its
religious traditions and usages were faint echoes of the
primal religion; and its mythological dreams of the
mingling of the gods with men, of Prometheus delivered
by Hercules from his helpless sufferings, were uncon-
scious prophecies and fleshly anticipations of Christian
truths."
Is not the summary we have given of the theology
of Aeschylus sufficient to demonstrate the above con-
clusions as a matter of fact? And why should we fear
or reluctate to receive them as a matter of doctrine ?
Paul, while he censured the idolatry of the Athenians,
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
239
O
II
ity in their poets, and to build upon this foundation his
masterly discourse on the Areopagus. So likewise in
his epistles, whenever he can seize upon anything truth-
ful, which the heathen “ prophets” have said, he presses
it into the service of Christianity. There certainly is
in the poets and philosophers of ancient Greece not a
little of truth and of resemblance to the great central
facts of Christianity, mixed up with gross superstitions
and hurtful errors; and why should not this, like all
other truth, be referred to God as its source? Does not
God rule in history ? Has he not always had his wit-
nesses in the world and in human hearts? Does God,
in his word, contradict his works; or are his works of
creation and providence the scaffolding wherewith he
built — the mould wherein he cast -- his word ? Is
Christianity at variance with history, or is it rather the
consummate flower and fruit of all God's dealings with
mankind ? And if it is, must there not be some type
and promise of its coming in all his previous dealings
with men, even as in every tree which he has made, the
type of the flower and fruit is found in every leaf and
twig and branch, and the whole stock, even to the root ?
He who made the pre-Adamic earth an “unconscious
prophecy” of man, and formed the lower orders of ani-
mals types of the higher, and planted the seeds of each
succeeding age of human history in that which preceded
it, and filled the outward world and the soul of man
with types and shadows of coming events, even as he
filled the Old Testament with types and shadows of the
New — has he planted 110 seeds of Christianity in hu-
man hearts; caused no types of the highest truth and
260
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
life to grow in the literature and religion of the ages;
cast no shadow of the greatest event that is ever to
transpire in our world on the previous history of that
world; created no unconscious prophecies of his last
and best dispensation in the brightest and best minds
of antiquity? If we believed this of Christianity, we
could not believe it came from God, because it would
want the stamp of all his other works. But when we
see all literature and history, as well as external nature
and the soul of man, full of prophecies and preparations
for its coming, then we cannot resist the evidence that
he who made and governs the world is the author of
Christianity.
There are two extreme views of the theology of the
old Greek poets and philosophers. The one is held with-
in classical literature as so much subtracted from the
brightness of Christianity. As if the Logos were not
the light which lighteth every man that cometh into the
world! As if, in order to add to the glory of the sun,
the stars must be extinguished !
The other, assumed without proper examination by
too many mere scholars and free-thinkers, denies, like
Buckle in his History of Civilization, that Christianity
has added anything to the sum of moral and religious
truth known to the ancients. As if our very children
did not understand the chief end of man and the way of
salvation better than the wisest of pagan philosophers !
“What sages would have died to learn,
Now taught by cottage dames. "I
As if there were in pagan literature and biography any
1 [Keble on the Catechism.]
THE THEOLOGY OF AESCHYLUS.
261
near approximation to the life and teachings of Jesus
of Nazareth. As if unbelievers themselves could really
know him without exclaiming, “Never man spake like
this man ;” “his life was more than human;" “his
death was the death of a god!”
Between these extremes there is a middle ground,
taken after the fullest and freest investigation by such
Christian philosophers and scholars as Schaff, Trench,
Neander, and Cudworth, not to say such sacred writers
as Paul, who see in Christ “ the desire of all nations,"
and in Christianity that towards which human history
has been tending, and for which human hearts have
been longing, in all ages. In medio tutissimus ibis.
VI.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.1
In the museum of the Lateran at Rome there is a
statue - discovered within the last quarter of a century
among the ruins of ancient Anxur— whose faultless
symmetry of form and harmony of expression suggest
to the uninstructed beholder the thought that it must
be some Greek artist's ideal of perfect manly beauty,
executed in the best period of Grecian art, and preserved
by a kind providence for the instruction of an age whose
prerogative it is to collect and interpret the wisdom of
the ancients. But by its resemblance to all the known
likenesses that have come down to us from antiquity,
it is proved to be a portrait statue of the master who
carried Greek tragedy, which is the culmination of
Greek poetry, to its highest perfection. Not only the
general features, and the outshining soul bespeak this
most favored of the sons of the muses; but the smallest
details of dress and manner are highly characteristic.
While wisdom sits enthroned on the brow, and eloquence
on the lips; while every limb seems to have been shaped
regulates every attitude and movement, the mouth
seems formed for the utterance of musical harmonies ;
the drapery displaying, rather than veiling, the fine
1 [Reprinted from the Bibliotheca Sacra, Vol. xvii. No. 67, July 1860,
and Vol. xviii. No. 69, Jan. 1861.)
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLESUU
TT
263
.
structure of the body, images the transparent purity
and refinement of his style; and the light fillet which
confines the natural and graceful tresses of this, in
common with all the other statues of the poet, indicates
the almost uninterrupted series of triumphs which
crowned his long and prosperous life.1
With these plastic representations the descriptions of
ancient writers fully accord. Literature and art agree
in representing Sophocles as one of the most gifted and
fortunate of mortals, the favorite alike of men and gods.
Born of wealthy parents, in the most beautiful of the
suburbs of Athens; educated under the best masters
of gymnastics and music in that harmonious system of
culture which aimed to develop a healthy mind in a
healthy body; endowed with every gift of nature, and
adorned with every grace of art, when the Greeks were
assembled in Salamis to celebrate their victory over the
barbarian hosts of Xerxes, in the sixteenth year of his
age he was chosen among all the children and youth
of Athens, naked and lyre in hand, to lead the chorus
in dance and song around the trophy. Triumphing
over the acknowledged master of tragedy at his first
appearance on the stage at the age of twenty-five; carry-
ing off the first prize in more than twenty of his pieces,
the second in many more, and never falling into the
third rank; raised to the highest honors, civil and
military, as the reward of his genius, and never for a
moment losing the favor of the capricious multitude ;
enjoying the friendship of all the great and good at
Athens; the intimate friend of Herodotus; receiving
i See an appreciative and graphic description of this statue in Braun's
Ruins and Museums of Rome. See also Müller's Anc, Art with Welcker's
Additions (London, 1852), p. 598.
264
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
his first prize at the hands of Cimon and his colleagues;
himself the colleague of Pericles and Thucydides; ad-
mired by the lyric poets, envied by the tragic, and spared
even by the comic Aristophanes ;1 outliving as well as
outshining not only his older, but also his younger rival,
and at the age of ninety turning a charge of dotage
into the most magnificent of all his triumphs, by simply
reading before his judges one of the choral songs of a
recently-written tragedy; and dying, at a sacred fes-
tival, a death as enviable, and almost as remarkable,
as that of his own Oedipus; he deserved, as few mor-
tals have ever deserved, the felicitations that were pro-
nounced upon him from the stage by a contemporary
comic poet:
« Μάκαρ Σοφοκλέης, δς πολύν χρόνον βιούς
'Απέθανεν, ευδαίμων ανήρ και δεξιός,
Πολλάς ποιήσας και καλάς τραγωδίας:
Καλώς δ' ετελεύτησ' ουδεν υπομείνας κακόν.” 2
And he was not more happy in his person and life
than he was in the circumstances in which his lot was
cast. It was his good fortune to come upon the stage
of active life just in season to take a leading part in
celebrating the triumphs of united Greece over the
wealth and power of Persia, and to leave it a little while
before Athens succumbed to Sparta, in that deplorable
strife of parties and nations in which the Grecian states
exhausted their resources, and paved the way for their
common subjugation to the yoke of Macedon; and, if
we may credit some anonymous ancient memoirs, and
the traditions preserved by Pausanias,3 the din of war
1 Cf. Frogs, 76 sqq.
8 Cf. Pausan. i. 21, 2.
? From the Moñoal of Phrynichus.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
265
and battle was hushed a moment at his death and
burial : Dionysus, the father-god of tragedy, having
twice appeared in vision to the Spartan general Lysander,
and commanded him to allow the interment of the
poet's body in the family tomb outside the walls of
Athens. He saw the astonishing growth of Athenian
power after the Persian wars, the forsaken and ruined
city rebuilt with far more than its previous splendor,
the "Aotu and the Piraeus fortified by strong walls, the
Agora surrounded by porticos and public edifices, the
Acropolis crowned with temples and statues of the gods,
Athens acquiring the hegemony by sea and land, and
bringing all the nations under the more powerful sway
of her literature and art; and, as from year to year the
Dionysiac festivals drew together crowds, not only of
citizens but of strangers, from every part of Greece to
admire the magnificence of the city, and to enjoy the
splended entertainments of the theatre, Sophocles, more
than any other man, was the host in this feast of reason,
6 the observed of all observers."
The Iliad and Odyssey had long since been written,
and the poems of the mythic and the epic cycle were
complete. Anacreon and Pindar had already sung ;
the poets of the lyre had already perfected that infinite
variety and richness of metre and music which has
never been equalled by any other people. Aeschylus
had transformed the car of Thespis into the fixed and
amply-furnished stage, the troop of itinerant players
into the chorus of accomplished actors and singers, the
goat-song of satyrs into the regular drama, which had
taken its place among the established institutions of the
state, and aspired to the honor not only of amusing but
instructing the people. It remained for Sophocles --
23
266
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
and for this his well-balanced mind was admirably
adapted — to combine and harmonize the several ele-
ments of dialogue and song, action and scenic repre-
sentation, and carry tragedy to its highest perfection.
It was that happy period in the national existence when
wealth had superseded the primitive rudeness, but had
not yet passed over into luxury; when tyranny had
given place to liberty, and liberty had not degenerated
into licentiousness; when blind tradition or dogmatic
prescription no longer ruled with absolute sway, and
yet unbridled speculation had not loosened the bonds
of morality and religion. The despotism of the Túpavvou
had been abolished ; the despotism of the oņuos was not
yet established. The age of ignorance and barbarism
had passed away; the age of the sophists and rhetori-
cians had not yet fully come. The retiring shadows of
the former still lingered upon Aeschylus; the false and
artificial lights of the latter already dazzled and misled
Euripides ; Sophocles dwelt in the sunlight of the golden
age of Athenian government, literature, and religion.
Aeschylus, like some ancient prophet or oracle-declaring
priest, ascended the tripod and, in strains of awful sub-
limity, proclaimed the laws of God and the destinies of
men, pointed criminals to the everlasting Erinyes, that
were sure to overtake them, and arraigned heroes and
demigods before the tribunal of divine justice. Eurip-
ides seated himself in the chair of the philosopher, and,
interspersing his dialogues with discussions, reasoned,
refined, doubted, sometimes almost scoffed, and per-
petually mingled the myths of the ancients with the
declamations of the sophists and the speculations of the
schools. Sophocles walked the stage as if it were em-
phatically his own, sung in the orchestra, as if music
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
267
and verse were the language of his birth; and repre-
sented the past, the present, and the future, the provi-
dence and government of God, and the character and
destiny of men, idealized but not distorted or discolored,
just as they were mirrored in the pure and tranquil
depths of his own harmonious nature. Aeschylus,
as we have before said, was the theological poet of
ancient Greece. Euripides may be characterized as
the philosophical and rhetorical poet. Sophocles was,
emphatically, the dramatic poet, wliose home was in
the theatre ; and who, from that central and elevated
position in the midst of the city, on the sunny side of
the Acropolis, looking up to the temples of the gods,
and around on all the diversified scenes of nature and
pursuits of men, saw them all canopied by the blue sky
and bathed in the bright sunlight of Athens. We must
not expect, then, to find the theology of Sophocles so
strongly marked in its character, nor so ubiquitous in
its presence as that of Aeschylus, nor, perhaps in some
l'espects, so faithful a transmission of the universal and
primeval traditions of our race; but it may, for that
· very reason, furnish a fairer representation of the aver-
age sentiments of the Athenian people.
Only seven out of more than a hundred tragedies
which the ancients ascribed to Sophocles have come
down to us. But among those, fortunately, and by a
very natural law of preservation, are the very tragedies
which were most admired by his contemporaries. Of
these seven, all but one (the Trachiniae) cluster about
those fruitful themes of ancient epic and tragic verse
- Thebes and Troy; three (Philoctetes, Ajax, and
Electra) attaching themselves to the latter, and three
(Oedipus Tyrannus, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone)
UCU
268
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
D
centring in the former. The scenes of the tragedies,
however, conduct us, not only to Thebes (Oedipus
and Antigone) and Troy (Ajax), but to Lemnos (Phil-
octetes), Trachis (Trachiniae), Argos (Electra), and
Athens (Oedipus at Colonus), the chief cities of his-
torical Greece. As the perfection of his plots is among
the chief excellences of Sophocles, we shall pursue a
different method from that adopted in the treatment of
Aeschylus, and instead of a classified synopsis of doc-
trines, we shall present our readers with a brief analysis
of each tragedy. There will be less of logical unity in
this method, but, we trust, more of variety and interest.
Besides, this difference of treatment is due to the dif-
ference between the authors. The Theology of Aeschy-
lus is uttered more fully in words and single passages,
while that of Sophocles is acted out in the characters
and the plots.
THE TRACHINIAE.
The scene of this drama is laid in Trachis, near Ther-
mopylae, and there is a distinct allusion (632 seq.) to
Thermopylae as the place of meeting for the Amphic-
tyonic Council. It derives its name from the fact that
the chorus consists of Trachinian women. The subject
is the Death of Hercules; and the Dying Hercules would
be a more characteristic title. Schlegel pronounces it
so inferior to the other pieces of Sophocles, that he wishes
he could believe it spurious; and “many critics have
remarked that the introductory soliloquy by Deianira,
without any motive, is very unlike the prologues of
Sophocles.” The scene opens with the wife of Hercules
(Deianira) soliloquizing on her unhappy lot as having
been wooed by the frightful, hateful river-god, Achelous,
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
269
and since she has been won by Hercules, doomed to per-
petual loneliness and anxiety, while her lord is involved
by the Fates in endless labors; and though now his
allotted labors are all performed, she is peculiarly dis-
tressed by his absence for fifteen months, during which
she, an exile at Trachis, has received from him no in-
telligence. The soliloquy begins with an anachronous
allusion to the famous maxim 1 of Solon : 6 Call no man
happy before his death,” in which the poet intends, per-
haps, to shadow forth the tragic end of Hercules, but
which his wife alludes to only by way of contrast with
the palpably unhappy life which she has led from her
birth, and is likely to lead till she rests in her grave.
An attendant maid suggests that she relieve her anxiety
by sending a messenger in quest of Hercules. Hyllus,
her son, opportunely presents himself, and, after some
conversation with his mother, departs to seek his absent
father. The first chorus invokes the aid of the sun-god
(Helius) in discovering the abode of the hero, approves
the sympathy and fidelity of his half-widowed wife, and
yet reproves her for not reposing more confidence in the
overruling providence of the all-controlling king, the son
of Kronus (ó távta kpaívov Baoileùs, Kpovídas, 127),
who does not intend unmixed good for mortals, and yet
never forsakes his children (139, 140):
έπει τίς ώδε τέκνοισι
Ζην άβουλον είδεν.
“ Spangled night, with sable sway,
Frowns not on the world for aye;
Sorrow wounds not — golden store
Doth not bless to change no more;
noyos åpxalos åvopúrwv, vs. 1.
23*
270
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Joy and woe in turns succeed :
Hearts, in turn, must bound and bleed.
Lady, on my counsels dwell,
Trust that all may yet be well;
When, oh when did lofty Jove
Reckless of his children prove?”1
Deianira responds by assigning as a special cause of
her anxiety, an old tablet (malacòv déATOV éryryeypanévny,2
157) which Hercules put into her hands at his last de-
parture (quite unlike his wont on former occasions), in
which was inscribed his destiny (eluapuéva) as revealed
to him by the Oracle at Dodona, and his last will and
testament (Euvonuata) in case he should not return at
the end of fifteen months, for that was to be the crisis
of his fate, when he must either die, or thereafter live
an untroubled life ; and that time had already expired.
While she is yet speaking, a crowned messenger appears,
and announces that Alcides lives and conquers, that he
is bringing out of the battle the first-fruits for the gods
of the country (åmapxàs Deciou Tois éyxwpious, 183), and
will soon return home in triumph. Deianira renders
thanks to Zeus, who dwells in Oeta’s unshorn meads
for this welcome, though late news, and calls on the
Trachinian maidens to join with her in celebrating the
unexpected intelligence. A brief choral song follows
1 Dale's version, which we follow chiefly in the choruses; though we
shall make use of Francklin and Potter, when they seem to be more true
to the sense and spirit of the original. It will be seen that these last lines
do not include all men as the children of the universal father, but refer
exclusively to the natural children of Jove, born of mortal women, like
Hercules.
Cf. 685: xariñs ows dúovittov èK Sén Tou ypapiv; also 1169. These
passages illustrate Sophocles' idea as to the early existence of alphabetic
writing. It is not a mere unconscious anachronism; for he details the
form and inanner.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
271
- a general paean to Apollo, Artemis, and Dionysus.
A train of captives is now seen approaching, sent for-
ward by the conquering hero to attest his victory, and
herald his speedy return; though for the present he re-
mains on the extreme northern promontory of Euboea
to erect altars, consecrate a grove (TÉAn èy kapta, 238),
and offer purifying sacrifices (àyvà búpata, 287) to
paternal Jove. The sight of the captives awakens the
compassion of Deianira, and excites her fears, lest, as
an offset to her present great prosperity, similar calam-
ities may come upon her; and she prays to Zeùs Tpo-
maios (303), the giver of victory and the averter of
calamity, that she may die, rather than live to see
such a day, thus foreshadowing her own actual doom.
Among the captives one of noble mien and patient
spirit excites her special pity, and she inquires who the
stranger is. The messenger who would fain conceal
the hero's moral infirmities, affects ignorance, but is
at length compelled by a spectator who has heard the
whole story from him in the Agora, to disclose the fact
that she is the daughter of Eurytus, king of Oechalia,
and that a passion for her was the sole cause of the
long delay of Hercules, and the sole motive for the
slaying of Eurytus, and the destruction of Oechalia.
Grieved, but not maddened, by these facts, the un-
happy but still loving wife puts the best construction
on her husband's unfaithfulness. Love rules in her
own breast; love lords it over the immortal gods; why
then should she not be indulgent towards her husband
if he has fallen beneath the power of this disease (Tņde
Tỳ voow, 445), and still more towards the innocent vic-
1 In doubtful readings we for the most part follow Wunder; thougn the
verses are cited as numbered in the Leipsic edition.
272
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
tim of his passion. This is not the first time that the
son of Jove, like Jove himself, has been thus overcome:
“Hath not Hercules
Of other consorts been the only lord,
Yea, and of many; and did one receive,
At least from me, harsh words or keen reproach ?
Nor shall she meet them ; though for her his breast
Glows with impassioned love.
Nor will we court a voluntary ill,
Contending with the gods."
The chorus, which follows, celebrates the matchless
might of Aphrodite, alluding cautiously to her triumphs
over the three gods who divide the sovereignty of the
world— Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades (Pluto); and dwell-
ing at length on the strife of the river-god (Achelous)
and the son of Jove (Hercules) for the hand of Deianira.
That princess now reappears from the palace, with
bleeding but submissive heart, bewailing chiefly the
almost certain loss of her husband's affections, yet relat-
ing to the Trachinian maidens the means which she
proposes to use in order, if possible, to retain them. In
obedience to the instructions of the dying centaur -
slain by Hercules for undue liberties with his bride on
their bridal tour — she had carefully preserved, in a
brazen vase, the clotted blood from the arrow's point-
of which the centaur said:
“ Forever shall it bind to thine
The soul of Hercules, that ne'er his love
Shall burn to others as it burns to thee." I
1 It is not difficult to see the sardonic grin with which the centaur thus
“paltered with words in a double scnsc,” deceiving the woman, as Satan
· did Eve, when he said: “Yc shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”
Hercules never lived to love another woman, after putting on the fatal
robe.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
273
And now she has moistened (_Bayra, 580)1 or anointed
(čxplov, 677) with it a tunic, which she proposes to send
by the returning messenger to her absent lord. Encour-
aged by the approval of the choir, she sends it, with a
charge that none be suffered to put it on but himself,
and that he should let no light of sun or fire fall upon
it, till, in accordance with her vow, on the day of sac-
rifice (611-612):
" He should stand forth, and to the gods display
A new adorer clad in new attire.”
With that blindness which is one of the most tragic
elements in the character and destiny of men, the chorus
now exult in the near prospect of Hercules' return.
Meanwhile, however, Deianira has made a discovery,
which has thrilled her with horror and fearful forebod-
ings. The lock of wool with which she applied the
poison to the robe, thrown upon the ground, in the
sunshine had crumbled to pieces like sawdust; and,
from the spot on which it fell, clotted foam bubbled up,
as when new wine of the vintage is poured upon the
ground (700 sqq.). And now, wise only when it is too
late, she marvels that she did not see that the dying
centaur could bear no good will to his slayer; and she
has only this consolation, that if Hercules slall thus
lose his life, she is resolved to die with bim.
TO
I DEBaya is not only interpreted by its synonyme (ěxplov) here; but the
process of applying the poison is explained at length in vs. 690-699. It
was applied to the tunic with a lock of wool. 'EBaya is plainly used here
as a generic woru, equivalent to wet, or moistened, and the more specific
word explov, 677, éxploa, 691, is repeatedly used to explain the process.
Compare the Battlo uoùs ..... Xarkiwv kal kaivâv, Mark vii. 4, where the
application must have been made in a similar way. Sophocles uses the
word frequently of the sword stained with blood, and in Ajax, 30, uscs
Saível in the same way: veoppávtw Fidel; cf. 95: _Bayas šyxos eŮ pòs
'Apreiw otpatöö.
274
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
While she is thus speaking, Hyllus her son returns
from Euboea, and tells the tragic story, how Hercules,
while sacrificing to his father Jove, at the Cenaean
promontory, received the deadly robe (Daváo tkov méthov,
760) at the hands of the messenger ; arrayed himself in
it, slew the victims — twelve unblemished (évteleis, 762)
bulls, the firstlings of the spoil (relas amapxýv, 763),
together with a hundred smaller cattle from the com-
mon herd ; and, exulting, poured forth his prayers, till
the sacrificial flame kindled the dormant virus, when
the sweat started from his body, the robe clung as if
it had been glued to his sides and every limb, and an-
guish shot through all his bones. Frantic with pain,
he hurled the unsuspecting messenger from the preci-
pice upon the wave-encompassed rocks, dashed himself
upon the around, and made the rocks and woods ring
with his cries of agony. Then borne, helpless and dis-
tracted, by his son and attendants, he was placed on
board a ship, and they would soon see him, living or
dead, brought to his home (809 sqq.):
“ Such were thy counsels, mother, such thy deeds
To my poor father; for which traitorous acts
May penal justice and the avenging Fury?
Meet recompense award thee. Thus I pray,
If it be lawful - lawful it must be,
Since every law towards me thyself hast spurned,
And slain the best and bravest of mankind,
One on whose like thou ne'er shalt look again.”
Without a word in replý, the wretched woman, cursed
by her own son as the cause of death to her husband,
steals away to put in execution her threat against hier
Toiviuos Alan 'Epıvús Te (810-811). This dreadful prayer is soſtened by
the filial limitation: if it is right, ci Béles ye.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
· 275
own life ; while the choir break forth in lamentations,
and reflections on the true meaning of the oracle and
its now hastening fulfilment (823 sqq.):
"Behold, dear virgins, with what fatal speed
The ancient oracle of heaven
Hastes, to its dread fulfilment driven:
When the revolving months,' so Fate decreed,
· Had crowned the twelfth long year,
Rest from his toils severe
The son of Jove should win’; firm to its end
Doth the sure presage tend:
Who wakes to life and light no more,
His earthly toils are closed, his earthly bondage o'er.”
At the close of the chorus, a nurse comes forth from the
house and announces the death of Deianira by her own
hand. Another choral soug ensues, in which the sing-
ers know not which to deplore most, the past, or the
evils that are yet to come:
" To feel or fear is equal pain.”
Borne by attendants, Hercules now comes upon the
stage, racked with pain, murmuring at Jove for the ill
return he has received for his altars and sacrifices, in-
voking death to relieve his pangs, imprecating vengeance
on her head, whom he supposes to be the guilty cause ;
and dwelling with bitter and prolonged emphasis, on
the contrast between his past heroic achievements and
his present helpless and suffering state (1105–1108) :
“ Yet remember how, with torn and wasted frame,
I pine, devoted with this dark, dark curse:1
1, who a mother of the noblest vaunt!
I, who in heaven was styled the son of Jove !"
Tuplas údărns, under that blind bewildering Ate, with whose dread
power we have become so familiar in the theology of Homer and of Aes-
chylus.
276
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Hyllus, who has learned the innocence of his unhappy
mother, ventures a word in her defence; which, at first,
rouses the hero almost to frenzy. But when he hears
the sad story of her death, and learns liow she had been
misled by the artful centaur, he sees at once that his
doom is sealed, and resigns himself to his fate. He
now exacts from his son a promise, under dreadful pen-
alties, that he will convey his body, already more dead
than alire, to the brow of Oeta, dear to Jove, and there
build a funeral pyre, place him upon it, and, without a
tear, set it on fire and consume him to ashes. He
further extorts from his son a promise to marry the cap-
had been the cause of his present calamity — a promise
command of his father, and to avoid his curse, leaving
the responsiblity with him (1245–1253) :
“ Hyl. And would my father teach an impious deed ?
Herc. It is not impious if it be my pleasure.
Hyl. And canst thou, then, with justice, thus command me?
Herc. I can; and call the gods to prove my truth.
Hyl. Then I will do it, nor resist thee more;
Appealing to the gods, thy will constrained me:
I cannot err if I obey my father.”
The passage involves, it will be seen, the question of
the higher and the lower law — a question which is
often raised in the Greek tragedies, and which, between
the gentle Hyllus and the mighty Hercules, seems to
be decided against the higher, but which we shall see
1 Cf. above 200, 436, 754, et passim. We see everywhere among the
Greeks the same disposition to worship in groves and high places, which
so often led the Israelites into the idolatrous practices of their lieathen
neighbors.
2 Hyllus yields his own convictions of right to the authority of his father.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
277
meeting with quite another solution from the uncom-
promising and high-souled Antigone.
Now Hercules has only one more favor to ask, and
that is, to hasten the funeral pyre, since :
“This is my rest from ills, this my last end.”
Hyllus reluctantly consents, distinctly laying all the
blame on the gods (1261 sqq.):
“ Ascribe the injustice to the gods ;
They gave him being — bear the name
Of fathers, yet can view his pangs unmoved.”
And the drama ends with this brief moral from the
chorus:
“ Ye have beheld the mighty fall,
Beheld these recent woes, unnumbered, strange;
But all were wrought by Jove.
Odè toÚTWV 8,71 un Zeús."
The filial love and obedience of Hyllus commend him
to our regard. He was a pattern son ; but he was more
pious towards his father, and more gentle even towards
his erring mother, than he was reverential to the gods
or obedient to the dictates of his own conscience. The
woman's love and charity of Deianira, her conjugal
fidelity and submission to the will of her unfaithful
lord, and the speechless agony with which she goes
away to find her last consolation, and her best vindica-
tion in death, reflect the essential features of many a
tragedy in real life. But we sorrow over the darkness
of the age which knew no better remedy than suicide
His first answer is, that he would rather dic than marry her who was the
occasion of his mother's death and his father's calamity, a deed which
none would do, who was not smitten as with a plague by the avenging
deities : 60TIS un gåraotópwv voroî, 1237.
24
278
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
for heavy calamities; while we deplore the blindness of
human nature, which not unfrequently brings ruin on
itself in the very endeavor to shun the ills of life. The
choral songs in this piece are not of the highest order
of poetical or moral excellence, though they breathe the
simplicity and purity befitting virgins.
The leading character of the drama is the least per-
fect, and attaches to himself the smallest measure of
our sympathy. The physical hero 1 of a barbarous age,
battling incessantly with wild beasts and savage men,
lie has all the faults of Samson and many more, without
all his virtues or extenuating circumstances. He was
anything but a Nazarite in regard to wine and strong
drink. If the lying messenger may not be believed
when he represents him as expelled in a state of in-
toxication from the banquet of Eurytus, the manner
in which the story is received, to say nothing of the
inebriated Hercules of other dramas, shows that the
story was not, in itself, incredible. One Delilah at a
time was not enough for Hercules ; though, in that re-
spect, he was no worse than his father. With all his
weaknesses and imperfections, the son of Manoah was
superior, morally and religiously, to the son of Jove;
and though there are not a few circumstances of gran-
deur attending his tragical end, yet the apotheosis of
Hercules on Mount Oeta cau scarcely be compared in
moral sublimity with the self-sacrificing and trium-
phant death of Samson at Gaza, who slew more of his
enemies and the enemies of his country and his God in
his death than he slew in his life.
i Compare his lamentation over his wasted muscles (1090 sq.) with that
of Milo, for whom Cicero expresses so much contempt. De Senec. ix. 27.
2 Cf. Eur. Alc. 799 sq.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
279
But neither his relationship to Jove, nor his numer-
ous sacrifices, can save him from the retribution due
to his sins; and in the righteous providence of the
supreme, the injured wife is made the unintentional
instrument of that retribution; her robbed and wounded
affections, the medium through which that retribution
is visited on his liead. The retributive government of
the most high, his universal providence, and his par-
ticular care over his children (though they are chil-
dren by natural or rather unnatural generation, and
not by creation, still less by spiritual regeneration), the
inspiration and divine authority of oracles, the accept-
ableness of vows and bloody sacrifices, and the divine
appointment of afflictions to all of mortal race, especially
to all who are raised up to be great public benefactors,
are among the theological lessons which seem to be
involved in the plot of the Tracbiniae, or directly incul-
cated in the dialogue.
Perhaps the myth of Hercules may contain an uncon-
scious prophecy; gross indeed, darkened by ignorance,
and defiled by sin, but still a prophecy of a yet higher
truth and a still deeper mystery: The son of Jove could
be made perfect only through suffering; he could find
life only in death, rest only by passing through life-long
labors and a tragical end. While he dwelt on earth he
was an exile and a wanderer, often a sufferer and a
servant; and it was only through the purifying power of
suffering that he reached his apotheosis. If the Logos
is the light of every man that cometh into the world,
why may we not refer to him all the truth and goodness
there is in the heroes and sages of the ancient heathen
world, as well as in the prophets and kings of Israel ;
and see in the former as well as in the latter, types and
VUA
280
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
forerunners of the Messiah, whose office it was to awaken
ideas and felt wants, which could be realized only in him
who was the desire of all nations !”
PHILOCTETES.
The Philoctetes has one point of close contact with
the Trachiniae, and also one point of close resemblance.
For setting fire to the funeral pile on Mount Oeta — a
service which Hyllus shrunk at last from performing in
person — Philoctetes was rewarded with the possession
of the bow and arrows of Hercules. On the way to the
siege of Troy he lands with the other Grecian warriors
on the island of Chrysa, to offer sacrifices to the god of
the island, and there receives a deadly wound from the
bite of a serpent, the guardian of the sacred enclosure;
and the Greeks, disturbed in their sacrifices by his cries
of anguish, and moved also by the offensive odor of the
wound, convey him to an uninhabited portion of the isle
of Lemnos, and there leave him to perish or to support
himself as he can by his famous arrows. In the tenth
year of the war, taught at length by the prophecies of
Calchas and Helenus that Troy cannot be taken without
the arrows of Hercules, they send Ulysses and Neopto-
lemus, son of Achilles, to bring them, with their present
owner, to the camp. Ulysses would fain take the bow
and arrows by fraud, and then carry off the archer him-
self by force. Neoptolemus falls in for a time with the
plan of the inventful Ulysses; but after he has got pos-
session of the arrows he relents, refuses to succeed by
such base means, and actually restores the arrows to
their rightful owner, when Hercules appears, reconciles
Philoctetes to the plan, and sends him voluntarily to
aid in completing the siege of Troy. The arrows of
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
281
Hercules, and the reappearance of that hero on the
stage, are the point of contact of which we spoke.
The point of resemblance is the intolerable physical
suffering, to which the principal character is subject,
and the paroxysms of which are exhibited on the stage.
But here the resemblance ceases with the mere external
suffering. The spirit of the sufferers is entirely dif-
ferent: Hercules longs for death, and demands the co-
operation of his friends in hastening his fiery apotheosis.
Philoctetes clings to life, though forsaken of all his
friends (and even after he has been robbed of his faith-
ful bow), and drags out an existence of ten long years,
nursing all the while an incurable wound, obtaining a
precarious subsistence by shooting the birds that chanced
to come near his den, and then crawling with extreme
pain and difficulty to the spot where they fell.
Besides the sympathy we feel for the patient toil and
suffering of Philoctetes, and the painful interest which
attaches to his Crusoe-like struggle to prolong life, the
chief charm of the piece is the fine ethical contrast be-
tween the artful and unscrupulous son of Laertes, who
holds and practices the jesuitical doctrine that the end
sanctifies the means, and the frank, brave, and generous
son of Achilles who scorns lying, hates all disguise, and
though he attempts for a time to walk in the crooked
ways of his comrade, ere long breaks the shackles and
acts out his own noble nature. This nice discrimina-
tion of character, like that which distinguishes the
modern drama and romance, and the Shakespearean
perfection of the plot, without sacrificing, however, one
iota of the simplicity so characteristic of Grecian trag-
edy, have made this a favorite play with most modern
readers.
24*
282
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
We cannot dwell on the opening scene in which Ulys-
ses unfolds the web of artifice and falsehood by which he
proposes to inveigle the unhappy wretch of his arrows;
and then, with the ingenuity of the arch tempter, plies
Neoptolemus with arguments and motives, once, for a
brief portion of a day, to be false to himself and to that
father who hated falsehood as the gates of hell (Hom.
Il. ix. 312), and aid him in the execution of the plot.
The reply of Neoptolemus is worthy of his parentage,
and worthy of immortal remembrance among the noblest
utterances of human lips:
“ If but to hear such words offends mine ear,
Son of Laertes, how I loathe the actions !
I stand prepared to seize the man by force,
But not by falsehood ; on one foot sustained,
'T were strange if he could match our manly might.
Yet know, O prince, I deem it nobler, far,
To fail with honor than succeed by baseness.”
But the artless youth is no match for the man of
wiles, and soon yields to the tempter's sophistries and
the tyrant's plea — alleged necessity. Ulysses goes
away offering the prayer (134, 135):
“May Hermes, god of wiles, be now our guide,
And conquering Pallas, queen of rampired towns,
Whose favoring presence evermore preserves me;"
while Neoptolemus labors to justify himself and recon-
cile the choir by the “flattering unction” that Philoc-
tetes is but suffering the just punishment of his impiety.
Philoctetes is now seen dragging his wounded foot
towards his solitary cave amid the rocks and trees, and
shrieking for anguish. He welcomes the Grecian cos-
tume in which they are clad, and anxiously inquires
their errand. Neoptolemus tells him the story, partly
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
283
true and partly false, in which he had been instructed
by Ulysses, interweaving with it not a little of the his-
tory of the war and the fortunes of the heroes, and elic-
iting from Philoctetes comments on the character of
those heroes, together with the touching tale of his own
misfortunes. The death of Ajax and Antilochus calls
forth complaints from a heart oppressed by its own griefs,
and almost despairing of divine justice (428–430):
“Ah, whither, whither must I look, since these
Have perished, and the vile Ulysses lives;”
while, on the other hand, the safety of Thersites pro-
vokes the more rebellious comment (446 sqq.):
“Aye, fit he should ; for nothing vile is lost;
Such the gods visit with peculiar care.
How shall I judge or how extol the gods,
Proved, by the actions I would praise, unjust !”
And these remarks receive the partial assent of Neop-
tolemus, though in less impious language :
“War never sweeps away
• The vile and worthless, but destroys the good.”
As Neoptolemus at length rises to depart, professedly
to his own land, offended by the injustice of Ulysses
and the Atridae brothers, Philoctetes importunes him
by his sorrows and adjures him by Jove, the suppliant's
aid (Ir pòs aŭtoll Znvòs ineolov, 484) to take him with
him. This prayer is seconded by the chorus, who bid
laim beware of the Nemesis of the gods (518), if he re-
fuse. With seeming reluctance the request is at length
granted, and Philoctetes retires to take a last farewell
of his home that is not a liome (äoikov čo oiknow, 534).
As he returns bringing the herb that soothes his wound,
and the much-coveted irresistible arms of Hercules, he
11
284
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
1
is seized by sudden and dreadful paroxysms of pain in
his foot, during which he entrusts the arms to the care
of Neoptolemus, adjuring him by the gods, not to yield
them to any other hands, and charging him also to pro-
pitiate envy (Tòv QBóvov Sè ar póskuoov, 776); that is, to
deprecate the jealousy of the gods, lest those arms
should become a source of many woes to him, as they
had been to their former possessors; as if the posession
of so great a prize were a good fortune so superhuman,
as might well excite the envy of heaven. After a suc-
cession of pangs so unwonted that they seem to the
sufferer ominous of impending evil, he finds relief at
length in sleep, and the chorus sing a brief and beau-
tiful ode to Sleep as the sorrow-soothing, life-blessing
(evalov), healing (acáv) power (827 sqq).
While he sleeps the conflict begins in the breast of
his captor; and when he awakes and the time comes for
action, the son of Achilles is paralyzed. The wretched
man is now entirely at his mercy. The way is clear
to take him on board the ship by fraud, and then by
force convey him to Troy. But he cannot do the base
deed (902, 903 ; 908, 909):
“ All must be ill,
When man the bias of his soul? forsakes,
And does a deed unseemly."
“Great Jove direct me! shall I twice be proved
A villain : first concealing sacred truth,
Then uttering words of falsehood ?”
Truth and honor at length prevail. He frankly re-
veals to the exile the purpose of the voyage, and urges
? Cf. Aesch. Prom. 935: oi TPOOKUVOÛVTES Thu 'Adpáo telav dopol; and Ps.
ji. 12; “Kiss the son, lest he be angry,” etc. The Greek word means
worship, kiss the hand to, etc
Tyv aútoû púoiv, 902.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
285
him by every motive of duty and interest, of patriotism
and piety, to go with free consent, and help to finish
the siege of Troy. But resentment for his wrongs is
too deep. He refuses, demands back his bow, paints in
lively colors the baseness of the fraud that has been
practised upon him; and, as if he had nothing to expect
from human justice or divine compassion, calls on the
rocks and trees to witness the wrong and sympathize
with him in his calamities.
Unable to withstand the appeal, the generous son of
Achilles is about to restore the bow to its rightful owner,
when the master of the plot rushes in from his conceal-
ment, and forbids the surrender, pleading the divine will
in justification of his course (989, 990):
os It is Jove,
Yes, Jove, supreme controller of the land ;
Jove thus bath willed, and I but do his will.”
“Detested wretch,” answers Philoctetes, pleading
at once his own cause and the character of the gods
(991, 992):
• Detested wretch! what falsehood dost thou frame,
The gods alleging; thou dost tax the gods
With lies, to gloss thine own dissembling guile !"
And in the dialogue which ensues, he gives vent to
his sense of justice and his religious faith, in the follow-
ing strain of mingled sarcasms, arguments, and curses
(1032 sqq.):
“ How can ye serve the gods in prayer ? how slay
The votive victims, if I share your bark !
How pour libations due ? Such was the plea
On which ye first expelled me. Curses on ye!
Ye who have wronged me thus, yourselves shall meet
An equal doom, if Heaven cares aught for justice.
286
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
I know, I know it does; for never else
Would ye have voyaged for a wretch like me,
Had not a goad from heaven itself constrained you."
Ulysses bids him welcome to remain. The arms of
Hercules are all they want. With them, perchance,
himself can gain the prize which heaven intended for
Philoctetes, but which he rejects. Neoptolemus waives
his decision till the ship is ready, and they have offered
prayers and vows to the gods (1077), in the hope that
time and divine power will yet change the purpose of
Philoctetes.
Meanwhile the conflict is fearful in the mind of the
exile, aggravated by occasional spasms of physical pain,
and expressed, now in argument with the chorus, now
in pathetic apostrophes to the crags and caverns, wild
beasts and birds. The chorus, loyal at once to their
earthly and their heavenly lords, argue thus (1116):
“ The doom, the doom of Heaven !? No treacherous scheme,
Framed by my hand, hath wrought thee this.
One moment, he bids them go and leave him to his
fate. The next, he adds (1187):
“Go not, I pray, by Jove, who adds the curse.”
Mń, npòs åpalov 8 Alós, ērons iketeúw.
Resolved at length, he asks but one boon, a sword or
an axe, that he may put an end to his life, and go to his
father in Hades (1210).
Ulysses and Neoptolemus now reappear on the stage,
]
The chorus consists of the sailors in the ship of Ulysses and Neopto-
lemus.
?TTOTUOS damuóvwv, 1116.
3 Compare what is said of the goddesses Arae, in the Theology of Aes-
chylus.
* Compare the expression “gathered to his fathers," so often applied to
patriarchs and pious kings in the history of the Old Testament.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
287
S
in impassioned dialogue: the latter intent on restoring
the bow to its owner; the former remonstrating with
him, arguing the inexpediency of his course, and threat-
ening him with the vengeance of the Greeks; to which
the latter replies, in a high tone of ethical philosophy,
not always found in public men, or even in ethical sys-
tems, that justice is better (stronger) than expediency;
and that, with justice on his side, he fears not his threats.
The Greek is worthy to be placed on record, and to be
written in the heart of every scholar (1246 ; 1251) :
'Αλλ' ει δίκαια, των σοφών κρείσσω τάδε.
Ξυν το δικαίω τον σον ού ταρβω φόβον!
Then turning to Philoctetes, and finding him more re-
solved than ever not to go willingly to Troy, he gives
him the bow. Ulysses rushes in to prevent, threatens
to recover it by force; and is threatened in turn with
the drawn bow in the hand of its owner. But Neoptol-
emus lays his hand upon him and entreats him, by the
gods, to forbear. The hero's heart now opened by
generous treatment, Neoptolemus again plies him with
arguments: tells him — invoking Jove, the god and
guardian of oaths (Zîva opklov),2 to witness his unsul-
lied truth -- that he is now suffering the penalty of di-
vine providence (én delas túxns, 1326) for treading with
rash foot on hallowed ground ; and he never can be
cured till, of his own free will, borne to Troy, he is
healed by the sons of Esculapius; in proof of which he
cites the prophecy of Helenus, the best of prophets (åplo-
1 Compare Shakespeare, Henry VI: “Thrice is he armed wbo hath his
quarrel just.” And Julius Caesar: “There is no terror, Cassius, in thy
threats,” etc.
2 Cf. 1289, where he swears by “the sacred majesty of most high Zeus,"
-- αγνόν Ζηνός υψίστου σέβας.
288
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Tómavtis, 1338). Philoctetes is much moved, hesitates
for a season, but at length refuses to submit to such
dishonor, and calls on Neoptolemus to fulfil his pledge,
and conduct him home. Neoptolemus, finding argu-
ment unavailing, consents; and bidding the exile lean
on his shoulder, is already on his way to the ship, when,
in an emergency worthy the interposition of a god, dig-
nus vindice nodus, Hercules appears from his celestial
seat (oúpavías édpas politáv, 1414), bringing the man-
date of Jove, revealing to him the speedy fall of Troy,
bidding him bring the spoils to liis pyre, and charging
him, last of all and most of all, to be ever pious towards
the gods (1440–1444):
“ Once more must Troy be taken by my arms;
And oh remember, when her lofty towers
Are laid in ruins, to revere the gods.
Second to this all else great Jove esteems.
True piety alone defies the grave; 1
Let mortals live or die, this blooms forever.”
He yields immediately to the voice of the god. A few
words of farewell to his rocky liome, and of prayer for
a safe voyage, and they set out forthwith for the shore,
whither great Destiny impels him, and the advice of
friends, and the all-conquering deity, who brought it to
pass.
Ev6 % ALEyen uopa Koui_cu,
Γνώμη τε φίλων, χω πανδαμάτωρ
Δαίμων δς ταύτ' επέκρανεν.
In the former part of this tragedy, the ethical element
prevails over the theological. The right and the expe-
dient are set over against each other. Duty and interest,
truth and sophistry, strive for the mastery. Gratitude
1Ου γαρ ηυσέβεια συνθνήσκει βροτοίς.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
289
S
and resentment, desire of revenge and love of society,
fear of pain and love of life, struggle for the ascendency.
The human heart is laid open, and its springs of motive,
action, and passion are laid bare, with a skill not un-
worthy of our own Shakespeare.
But as the drama draws towards a close, religious
motives assert their native supremacy. The divine plans
and purposes move on steadily and irresistibly towards
their accoinplishment. The light of prophecy shines
on the future; and at length heaven opens and the son
of Jove descends in person to disclose the will of the
gods, and to make willing the appointed human instru-
ment. May we not see here, in the light of revelation,
what was imperfectly revealed to the consciousness of the
poet or his audience, a dim foreshadowing of these great
truths of Christian theology ? God has foreordained
whatever comes to pass. Yet even these foreordained
events can be accomplished only through appointed in-
strumentalities. Those instrumentalities may be de-
spised and rejected by men; but in due time they will
be brought out, though it be from the deepest obscurity,
and exalted to the highest honor. They may be unwil-
ling; but they shall be made willing, in the day of God's
power. They may appear too feeble to achieve the ap-
pointed work; but they shall be mighty through God.
And, if need be, God himself will interpose by prophecy,
and oracles, and messengers from heaven. Men have
always believed in revelations, of some kind or other,
from God; and though these have been but dim shad-
ows, they foretell a substantial reality; if you pronounce
them all counterfeits, they imply the genuine coin.
And where you find the pure metal bearing this oft-
counterfeited form and image, the presumption is that
CD
290
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
it is the genuine coin. When you find that which pur-
ports to be a revelation from God for all mankind, which
meets not only the general expectation of a revelation,
but answers to all the highest aspirations, the purest
intuitions, and the deepest longings, of the race, there
is certainly a strong presumption that it came down
from heaven.
AJAX.
In Ajax, Ulysses is again a prominent actor, exhibit-
ing the same character as in Philoctetes, the tragic
Ulysses being generally an exaggeration, if not also a
misrepresentation, of the leading traits in the much-
scheming hero of the Odyssey and Iliad. Here, as in
the Odyssey, he is under the special guidance and
guardianship of Athena, who appears on the stage, not
like Hercules in Philoctetes, to reveal the future and
bring the drama to a magnificent close; but at the be-
ginning of the piece, conversing familiarly with her
favorite, like another, though a wiser and more power-
ful self, acquainting him with facts which no mortal
eye had seen, interpreting to him the mysterious con-
duct of Ajax, and instructing him in those arts and
wiles of which he was himself already the acknowledged
master - in strict accordance with the scriptural doc-
trine, “ to him that hath shall be given, and he shall
have more abundantly.” It is a point which has been
much disputed among critics, whether Athena is seen
by the bodily eye or only by the mind of Ulysses ;
Hermann, Lobeck, and some others, maintaining the
former opinion, but the latter being the prevailing sen-
timent among scholars. There is great weight in the
Cf. 35: oņi Kußepv@ual Xepl.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
291
names on the other side; still this latter is the most
obvious interpretation of the language of Ajax (14 sqq.):
"Ω Φθέγμ’ 'Αθάνας, φιλτάτης έμοί θεών,
Ως ευμαθές σου, κάν άποπτος ής, όμως
Φώνημ' ακούω, και ξυναρπάζω φρενί.
“O accents of Minerva, to my soul
Dearest of powers immortal, how mine ear
Thy welcome voice perceives, and with my mind
I grasp the sounds, though thou art viewless still.”
However that may be, it is admitted on both sides, that
the goddess is seen by the audience, sustained aloft by
stage-machinery; and she carries on an extended dia-
logue with Ulysses, and a briefer one with the frenzied
Ajax.
The scene is before the tent of Ajax, on the plain of
Troy. The time is shortly after the death of Achilles,
whose arms, awarded to Ulysses by the Atridae brothers,
have incensed Ajax to madness; and, in a fit of frenzy,
blinded and made sport of by Athena, he turns his
hands against the unoffending flocks, mistaking them
for the Greeks; and, after dealing dreadful slaughter
among them, he drives home the rest in triumph as
captives, selecting two rams as Agamemnon and Ulys-
ses, whom he reserves for further torture and a more
ignominious death. Athena glories in these frantic
deeds, as all the result of her agency:
“I urged him still, and lured to evil toils
The man, misled by frenzy's impulse wild :"1
1 This frenzy is designated by various names, as uavidoi voools here,
59; Dela vóoos, 186; and štay oupavlav 196: and these maddening par-
oxysms, this plague from the gods, this judicial blindness from heaven,
involves him in epkn nará, in evil toils. Compare the “evil net.” (Eccl.
ix. 12). Tecmessa adds below (953), that Athena does it all for the sake
of Ulysses.
292
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
She invites Ulysses to look on his fallen rival, and enjoy
that sweetest of all laughs, a laugh over a fallen foe
(79); a sentiment not much in the spirit of the golden
rule, though uttered by the daughter of Jove and the
goddess of wisdom. He looks on, while the goddess
plays with her victim and mocks him in his madness,
winding up with the triumphant exclamation:
“Thou seest, Ulysses, Heaven's resistless might !”
He is moved, first, to pity, at seeing even his enemy
then he is led to reflect, that such might easily become
his own lot:
"I see that we who live are nothing more
Than a vain image and a fleeting shade."1
To which she adds this moral lesson, suggested by the
life and fall of Ajax (127 sqq.):
“This then observing, dare not thou to breathe
Nor boast presumptuous, if in martial deeds
Or treasured wealth thou pass thy fellow man.
A day o'erthrows, a day to light restores
All mortal things; and still the heavenly powers
Regard the lowly, while they loathe the proud.”
We understand better the reason for this warning, and
the moral of the whole dramā, when, towards its close
(760 sqq.), we learn, indirectly, from the mouth of the
entertained thoughts not becoming a mortal. When he
set out for the Trojan war, his father had given him this
parting counsel :
" Seek, my son, in fight
To conquer, but still conquer through the gods."
Erow'koúpnv oktáv, (126). Cf. Aesch. Prom. 447; Job. viii. 9; Eccl.
viii. 13; Ps. cxliv. 4 et passim.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
293
But he made this arrogant and impious reply (766 sqq.):
“Father, with heavenly aid a coward's hand
May grasp the prize of conquest; I confide
To win such trophies e’en without the gods.”
Again, when in the midst of the fight, Athena incited
him, in common with the others, to battle against the
enemy, he replied in language dreadful and not to be
spoken (delvòv äpöntóv 'ětros, 773):
“O queen, to other Argives lend thine aid ;
No hostile might shall break where Ajax stands.”
And now she laughs at his calamity, because he has
despised her reproof.
While the frenzy still remains upon the unhappy
Ajax, and none but Ulysses, under the teaching of
Athena, understands fully what he has done, or why he
has done it, the chorus (consisting of sailors who fol-
lowed him from Salamis) mourn over his madness, and
impute it to a stroke from Jove (Tanyn Alós, 137), or
Artemis, or Enyalius (Mars), for some neglected sacri-
fice; at any rate, some plague from the gods (Bela vóoos,
186) — for surely he could not have done such a deed
in his own right mind — and they pray that Zeus and
Phoebus will avert the spread of the evil report Tec-
messa, the captive concubine of Ajax, now joins with
them in their lamentation over his fall, recounts to them
what she knows of the events of that dreadful night,
and represents him as uttering dreadful words, taught
him by some dainwv, and no man (243).
Meanwhile Ajax recovers from his paroxysm, and
awakes to the sudden consciousness that he is the sport
of angry gods and the scoffing of unfriendly men. He
prays for darkness and the shades of Erebus to receive
him, for these are indeed his brightest light ice OKÓTOS,
25*
294
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
èuòv báos k. T. X., 394, etc.). He calls on his comrades
to slay him, and intimates his purpose to take his own
life, justifying that purpose by such arguments as these
(473 sqq.):
" It shames a man to seek protracted life,
Who sees no limit to encircling woes.
I count the man most worthless who would feed
His wavering soul with vain delusive hope:
To live with glory, or with glory die,
Befits the noble.”
Tecmessa entreats him in pity to her woes, and in
love to their son, and conjures him by Zeus éDéoTLOS,
1
not yet fully cured of his impiety, declares that he owes
no reverence to the gods (590). After breathing out
hatred to his enemies and impiety towards the gods for
a time, he seems to be somewhat softened by the words
of his wife and the sight of his son, and professes his
intention to seek the baths of the seashore, that he may
wash away his pollution (aúnað áryvioas éuá, 655) and
escape the weighty anger of the goddess, the gorgon-
faced, invincible daughter of Zeus (656 cf. 450); and on
his way thither he will hide, where none but Night and
Pluto will ever see it more, the hated sword; which he
received from Hector at the close of their single com-
bat, and which, from that day to the last fatal night,
has been his constant curse. Moreover, he will yield
obedience to the powers that be; and, as change is the
law of nature (a law which the poet beautifully illus-
trates through his lips, 670 sqq.), so he will henceforth
change his whole course (666, 667):
The passage resembles in pathos the parting address of Andromacho
to Hector, Hoin. Iliad, vi. 407, sqq.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
295
“ Henceforth we'll pay meet reverence to the gods,
And learn submission to the sons of Atreus.” 1
And the chorus break forth into a song, accompanied
by the dance, at the marvellous change and happy
reconciliation.
It is only a feint, however, to escape observation and
find opportunity to execute his fixed and fatal purpose.
Instructed by the prophet Calchas, his brother Teucer
sends a message to prevent Ajax from leaving the house.
But the messenger arrives too late. He has already
gone out. Tecmessa and the choir, half distracted,
seek him in every direction, but find him already fallen
on his sword. The choir lay the blame on Ulysses and
the sons of Atreus. But the submissive and pious Tec-
messa responds (950; 970):
“ It had not fallen thus, but heaven decreed.”
Ουκ άν τάδ' έστη τηδε, μη θεών μέτα.
“'T was by the gods he perished, not by them.”
Devis TéOvnKev OŮTOS, où kelvolo lv, oở.
And she consoles herself with the assurance that his
death, though sad to her and sweet to his enemies, was
yet more joyous to himself:
“ The death
He prayed for, wished for, now hath closed his woes.”
Contrary to the usual law of the Greek drama, the
suicide takes place on the stage, while the wife and the
choir are seeking in vain to find him; and it exhibits
some characteristio, some instructive features. Ajax
has now but one favor to ask of Jore; and that is, that
he will send Teucer to give him due burial, that his body
. The same association of duty to God and to civil rulers as occurs often
in the Scriptures; cf. 1 Pet. ii. 17.
296
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
may not be a prey to dogs and birds. He next invokes
infernal Hermes guide of souls (Troutraîov'Epuño xoóvlov,
833), to put him well to sleep by a speedy and easy death.
Much of his dying breath is poured out in prayers, and
curses on the heads of his enemies (835 sqq.):
“I next invoke to aid me those dread powers,
Forever virgins, and of mortal wrongs
Forever conscious, swift in keen pursuit,
The awful Furies, to attest my doom,
By the base sons of Atreus basely slain,
And plunge the traitors in an equal fate.
As they behold my blood by mine own hand
Poured forth, so be their best-loved children's hands
Imbrued in theirs — thus self-destroyers too.
Come ye avenging Furies, swift and stern,
Quaff their warm blood, nor spare the peopled host.”
"It', ú taxeial Troliuoí 7' Epivúes,
Γεύεσθε, μη φείδεσθε, πανδήμου στρατού.
Then imploring the Sun to bear the tidings to his aged
father and mother, he welcomes death, bids farewell to
earthly scenes, and dies with these words on his lips:
“ The rest will I say to those below in Hades.”
Tà dall'Év "Aldov tols kátw uroñoopai.?
The lamentation of Teucer over the dead body, is
worthy of notice as expressive of his full belief in an
overruling Providence, in contrast with the scepticism
which is implied as more or less prevailing in the minds
of others (1034 sqq.) :
1
? del odpáras távta råv Bpotois ráon
Oeuvės ’Epivūs Tavútodas (836, 837).
2 The reader will not fail to observe how the expectation of a conscious
existence after death is constantly implied, as in Aeschylus, so in Sophocles.
Philoctetes wishes to go and see his departed father; and here Ajax ex-
pects soon to converse with the inhabitants of the unseen world.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
297
Did not the Furies forge that slaughtering sword,
And Hell's dread monarch, ruthless artist, frame
That belt? These things, I deen, and all the events
Befalling mortal man, are by the gods
Always assigned. To these, whose mind dissents ?
Let him enjoy his thoughts : but these are raine.”
Herein, doubtless, the poet expresses his own believing,
and at the same time tolerant spirit; and both in oppo-
sition to a spirit which he saw widely prevalent around
him. The higher classes were inclined to scepticism,
while the masses at Athens were believing, but intolerant
of any departure from the religion of the state. Sopho-
cles has a settled faith in the providence and government
of the gods; but be is willing that others should enjoy,
with equal freedom, their own religious opinions.
After the death of Ajax, which is the natural catas-
trophe of the drama, the piece is still prolonged through
some four hundred verses (from one quarter to one
third of the whole), in a strife between Teucer on the
one hand, and the sons of Atreus on the other, touch-
ing the burial of the body, which is finally terminated
in favor of his burial, by the intervention of Ulysses,
who is too politic to sanction any gratuitous or un-
profitable crime. Menelaus charges Ajax with treason,
and argues at some length the necessity, to the state
and to the maintenance of law and order, that he should
be made an example. Teucer denies, in the first place,
that Ajax was ever subject to the Atridae, and then
pleads the higher law of heaven (1125 sqq.):
1 The sword which Hector gave Ajax, and the belt which Ajax gave
Hector; the former of which Ajax plunged into his own breast, and the
latter bound Hector to the car of Achilles, 10:27 sqq.; cf. Hom. Iliad, vii. 363.
See also 665, where Ajax himself, in view of the same fact, gives his assent
to the truth of the proverb : éxopwv adwpa owpa x' oºk óvnoqua.
298
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
“ Conscious of right,
The soul may proudly soar.
Men. Is it right, then, right
To grace with honor the base wretch who slew me?
Teuc. Slew thee! Oh wondrous, - slain, and yet alive!
Men. The gods preserved my life ; in his intent I died. .
Teuc. Thou dare not, then, despise the gods,
Thus by the gods preserved."
As Menelaus retires, and Teucer, with the wife and
child, hastens to effect the interment, Agamemnon ap-
pears to enter his imperial prohibition, repeats his
brother's reasoning, and heaps threats and abuses on
the head of Teucer; and Ulysses interposes to plead,
not so much the cause of Ajax and Teucer, as the wel-
fare of the army, the honor of the commander, and the
eternal laws of heaven (1343 sqq.):
* “ Thus to degrade the chief would shame thyself :
Not him alone, but heaven's eternal laws
Wouldst thou contemn. Unjust it is to wrong
The brave in death, though most abhorred in life.”
Ulysses prevails. Teucer thanks him, though still im-
precating dire curses on the head of the sons of Atreus
from the revered fathers of Olympus, unforgetting
Erinys, and unfailing (literally, fulfilling) Dike (1389
899.):
Τοιγάρ σφ' 'Ολύμπου τουδ' ο πρεσβεύων πατήρ,
Μνήμων τ’ Ερινύς, και τελεσφόρος Δίκη
Κακούς κακώς φθείρειαν, κ. τ.λ.
Preparations are made for the burial -- the hollow trench
(κοίλην κάπευον), the ablution of holy water (λουτρών
Evilly destroy those evil men; cf. Matt. xxi. 41: KAKOÙS KAK@s åtonéoel
aitoús. This formula, so frequent in classical and sacred Greek, is not
mere paronomasia, but an apt expression of the great law of justice and
fitness. Campbell well renders it: He will bring those wretches to a
wretched death.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
299
1
dolov), the arms which cover the body, and which are
to be buried with it; and the scene closes where all
earthly scenes, sooner or later, close upon all of mortal
race, with those honors which friends pay to friends
gathered around their graves.
The voice of nature, which is the voice of God, has
taught men in all ages and nations, however rude, to
render certain offices, rights, duties, dues, to their de-
parted friends; and these have almost always been such
as not only to honor their memories, but such as imply
more or less clearly a belief in their continued existence
after death, with the same essential nature and charac-
ter, if not also with the same identical wants, and in
the very same pursuits as during the present life.
The Greeks and Romans deemed these rites essential
to the repose of the soul, nay, to its very entrance into
the world of spirits. Hence the burial of the dead was
esteemed the most sacred duty of surviving friends.
The stranger even was pronounced inhuman who would
not throw earth upon a dead body which he might
chance to find unburied; and though it was the keenest
vengeance which an enemy could inflict upon a fallen
foe not to suffer him to be buried, yet for an enemy
to carry this vengeance too far were to provoke the
vengeance of heaven. When Paul preached the doc-
trine of the resurrection on Mars' Hill, the Athenians
mocked. Yet in their own view there was a mysterious
connection between the burial of the body and the re-
pose of the soul ; and in this idea, as well as in the care
with which they, in common with all nations, preserved
Tà dikala, vouiçbueva, a posnkoyta, KTEPSbueva, funera justa, etc., are
among the expressions used by the Greeks and Romans to denote these
dues.
300
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the entire body or the ashes of the dead, we see an “un-
conscious prophecy” of the resurrection. Do no evil
to the dead (1154); speak no evil of the departed, for
they are with the gods, and under their special protec-
tion : these sentiments are written everywhere in Greek
literature; in the laws of legislators, in the maxims of
philosophers, in the writings of scholars, and in the
hearts of the people. The Iliad of Homer and the Ajax
of Sophocles could not come to an end till the minds of
the readers or hearers were put to rest respecting the
burial of those whose right of interment had been called
in question. And this question is the central point and
which won for him the highest honors in the gift of the
Athenian people.
Certain criminals who had been put to death by the
state were deprived of the right of burial, as an addi-
tional punishment. Suicide did not incur this dreaded
penalty, though sometimes the land which had done
the deed was cut off and buried by itself, as it were in
unconsecrated ground. Indeed, the frequency of sui-
cide is one of the striking features of the Greek drama,
and a marked characteristic of Grecian and Roman as
compared with Christian civilization. If not more fre-
quent among the masses, it was less condemned, nay,
more approved in the higher classes. It was not only
celebrated by poets, but justified by moralists, and it
was expected of heroes, if they could not live honorably,
to die honorably by their own hand. Christianity in-
i There are suicides in more than half the extant drainas of Sophocles,
and in some of them repeated instances.
? Even Plato's authority was claimed for, as well as against, suicide by
different disciples, though it seems to us to be clear and decisive against it.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
301
C
spires its genuine disciples with a higher appreciation
of the sacredness of life, a deeper reverence for the
authority of God, a more awful dread of appearing
unbidden before his judgment seat; and above all, a
more submissive, humble, cheerful, childlike trust in
the all-wise, all-good providence of a heavenly Father.
Defective as are the morality and the theology of
Ajax - burlesque as it almost seems to be, on heroism
and on divinity - still it teaches forcibly one great les-
son which is most sedulously inculcated in the Scrip-
tures; and that is the helplessness, the littleness, the
nothingness of great men when they set themselves in
opposition to the laws and government of God; and the
folly of wise men when they imagine they can be any-
thing, or do anything, independent of the blessing of
heaven. Nothing short of the arrogant self-conceit and
daring impiety of Ajax could have reconciled the taste
or the moral feelings of an Athenian audience, or of
modern readers, to see him tossed about in the hands
and blown about by the breath of Athena, like the
feeblest prey in the paws of a sporting lion.
ELECTRA.
The four remaining tragedies are all upon those fruit-
ful themes of tragic interest, the houses of Pelops and
of Labdacus. And here we come upon ground occupied
in common by the three masters of Greek tragedy.
The Cloephoroe of Aeschylus, the Electra of Sophocles,
and the Electra of Euripides, are all on the same sub-
ject-- the vengeance of heaven on Clytemnestra and
Aegisthus for the murder of Agamemnon, of which
Orestes was the appointed instrument, and for which
Electra had waited till impatience had changed almost to
26
302
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
despair. Their different methods of treating the same
high theme afford a fine opportunity for comparing
these great masters.
Euripides, partly from the necessity of avoiding the
track of his predecessors, and partly from faults inhe-
rent in his nature, has failed in his Electra. There are
not wanting in it lofty sentiments and single passages
of great power. But on the whole he has almost bur-
lesqued this grandest of tragic themes by his unbefit-
ting trivialities. Aeschylus, hy introducing the tomb of
Agamemnon on the stage, and carrying the purposed
vengeance into speedy execution, has given a sublime
exhibition of the irresistible decree of destiny and the
overwhelming march of divine justice; though in the
scarcely less grand portrait which he has drawn of Cly-
temnestra, justifying her murderous deed, and claiming
to be herself also the executiouer of justice, as well as
in the appearance of the Furies to Orestes, and the be-
wildering madness which comes over him, he represents
Loxias and the Furies, wisdom and vengeance, as for the
time in confliet. Sophocles transfers the conflict to the
breast of mortals, where joy and grief, hope and despair,
faith and scepticism, false security and fearful forebod-
ings, in alternate billows go over the soul, while divine
justice moves on tardily and stealthily, but surely, to
the infliction of the penalty which meets the harmoni-
ous approval of heaven, earth, and the powers beneath.
“ Aeschylus makes the Furies, so to speak, personifica-
tions of an impulse, which wreaks itself upon the viola-
tor of natural order, whether he is engaged on the side
of justice or not--of a blind power, which, like the fiery
furnace in Scripture, burns the ministers of the highest
authority. Sophocles places the whole plot in the hands
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
303
C
of divine intelligence, leaves the Furies but à very sub-
ordinate part, and does not imagine that any atonement
is demanded from Orestes for a deed which the god has
justified."1 The punishment of the wicked is delayed
in Sophocles, till faith and hope have almost expired in
the bosom of Electra, but agreeably to the solution of
this mystery of divine providence in Plutarch's admira-
ble treatise, this delay is only that they may be deceived
with false hopes of impunity, and that, in the very .
moment of their seeming triumph, justice may over-
take them in a form and manner more befitting their
crimes. The conception is bolder in Aeschylus, the
poetry grander, and the theology more awful in its
sublimity; but Sophocles surpasses his rival in the
harmony and beauty of his religious sentiments, not
less than he does in the dramatic interest which he
excites by his marvellous succession of contrasts, his
power in delineating character and the varied workings
of the passions, and his skilful management of all the
details of the plot.
The scene opens with a dialogue between Orestes,
Agamemnon's son, and the old servant who snatched
him in infancy from the hands of his murderers, and
bore him to an asylum in foreign lạnds, and who now,
after pointing out to him the objects of chief interest
in the plain of Argos, brings him to the palace of his
fathers, and thus strikes the key-note to the whole piece
(10 sqq.):
“ This is the home of Pelops' race, defiled
With frequent murders; on thy father's death,
From thy true sister's hand receiving thee,
1 Woolsey's Preface to the Electra of Sophocles.
2 De Sera Numinis Vindicta.
304
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
I bore thee hence, preserved thee, trained thee up
To man,-avenger of thy father's blood.”
Orestes, in reply, details his own plan for surprising, and
thus destroying, the murderers of his father, in obedi-
ence to the command of the oracle, and in righteous
retribution for the treachery with which Agamemnon
was slain (32 sqq.) :
“When to the Pythian oracle I came
A suppliant, asking how I should exact
Just retribution for my father's blood,
Phoebus, as thou shalt hear, this answer gave:
That I, devoid of arms or martial host,
Should strike by stratagem the righteous blow.”
The audience are thus put in possession of a clew to the
mazes of the plot, through which poor Electra is left to
wander without any such guidance or support. While
Orestes offers prayers to the gods of his country and his
sires, for success in the work, which, sent by the gods,
he comes to accomplish, as a purifier (kabaptńs, 70) of
his father's house, Electra is heard moaning within the
palace; and as they retire to do, first, the will of Lox-
ias (undèv póo Dev û tà ločlov, 82), and to offer libations
and garlands of hair on the tomb of Agamemnon, she
comes upon the stage, gives vent to her sorrows, like
the hapless nightingale; and in the following dreadful
imprecation, invokes the avenging powers (110–120):
“ Ye dark abodes of Dis and Proserpine,
Thou Hermes, guide to hell, thou awful Curse,
And ye dread Furies, offspring of the gods,
Who on the basely murdered look,
On those who mount by stealth the unhallowed couch :
16Tvı 'Apà, oeuvai te bev taides 'Epivúes.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
305
Come aid me, and avenge the blood
Of my beloved sire,
And give my absent brother to mine arms.
Alone no longer can I bear the weight
Of this o’erwhelming woe.”
A choral dialogue ensues between Electra and the chorus
of noble women; in which they express their sympathy
and strive to comfort her, among other consolations,
with the assurance that a god of justice still reigns, and
will, sooner or later, punish the wicked (174 sqq.):
“Still in yon starry heaven supreme,
Jove, all-beholding, all-directing, dwells —
To him commit thy vengeance.”
At the same time a graphic picture is drawn of the
crime, as if it were a frightful living form, begotten of
Fraud, brought forth by Lust, and originated by some
unknown dreadful power (197–200):
Δόλος ήν ο φράσας, "Έρος ο κτείνας,
Δεινάν δεινώς προφυτεύσαντες
Μορφάν, είτ' ούν θεός είτε βροτών
"Ην ο ταύτα πράσσων.
These lines will strongly remind the reader of the Scrip-
tures of the passage in the epistle to James (i. 13-17),
in which the apostle gives a similar genesis of sin; but
distinctly answers in the negative the question in regard
to the divine authorship of sin, which the heathen poet
leaves unanswered.
Meanwhile, Electra complains, Aegisthus sits on the
throne of her father, and insults the gods with libations
at the hearth which he has sprinkled with that father's
blood ; Clytemnestra shares his bed, and joins with him
in celebrating, with dance and offerings to the gods, the
anniversary of the murder; while she is compelled to
1
26*
306
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS
dwell beneath the same roof with the murderers, waiting
in vain the return of Orestes.
Chrysothemis now comes forth from the palace with
funeral offerings to the dead, and reproves her sister
for not submitting, like herself, to the ruling powers
and the necessities of their lot. Electra replies with
great severity, charging her with weakness and falseness
to her father's name. Chrysothemis endeavors to soften
her asperity by disclosing the severities which Aegisthus
threatens to visit upon her (Electra) when he returns
liome. The audience know that Aegisthus is to return
home only to fall himself beneath the avenging stroke
of Orestes, and they enjoy the contrast. But Electra
knows it not. Still threats only brace her to resist the
tyrant; only provoke her to the utterance of bitter
scorn for her sister's cowardice. Failing to subdue her
sister, Chrysothemis says she will go on her errand
(405–410):
" Elec. What errand ? Whither dost thou bear those off'rings ?
Chry. My mother sends me, at my father's tomb
To make the due libation.
Elec.
What! to him
Of all mankind her most detested foe?
Chry. And whom she murdered, since thou'lt have me say so.
Elec. By whom persuaded? Who hath counselled this?
Chry. From some nocturnal vision, as I deem.”
Chrysothemis relates the vision. It is rumored that
she saw Agamemnon again before her, returned to the
light of life; that he took again his ancient sceptre, the
sceptre of Aegisthus now, and planted it in the earth,
and there sprung from it a blooming branch, which
overshadowed all the land of Mycenae.) Electra sees
1 In Aeschylus, it will be remembered, Clytemnestra has a dream of the
307
in the vision the shadow of the returning Orestes, and
begs her sister not to offer the hateful libations of her
mother, but cast them to the winds, and lay upon the
tomb, instead, a lock of hair from the liead of each of
the sisters, and the belt of Electra ; and then kneeling
down beside it, pray for the avenging interposition of
their father from below, and the coming of their long-
expected brother. Chrysothemis consents, and goes
away to execute the plan. The choral song which
succeeds is full of confident predictions of speedy ven-
geance (472 sqq.):
“ If true prophetic skill be mine,
If aught of wisdom's ray divine,
Soon shall avenging justice here
Her own dread harbinger appear;
With hand of might and threatening brow,
She cannot, will not, linger now;
But soon, my daughter, shall pursue
The track of guilt, and punish too."
The antistrophe repeats the same idea in other words
(488 sqq.):
With many a hand of deadly deed,
Erinys, veiled in ambush now,
With brazen tread, shall track the foe.”
And the epode concludes with a reference to the guilt
game purport, but the sign is different. She dreamed that she gave her
breast to a dragon in the cradlo of her son, and suckled it with her blood.
This diversity of form with identity of substance illustrates the manner in
which the poets felt at liberty to deal with the fables of the Greek mythology.
1 duoneveîs xoás, 440. These offerings are spoken of below (447) as Authpia
Toù povov, intended to ransom or expiate the murder. Cf. 1490, where
Electra says that to give the body of Aegisthus to the dogs and birds wero
the only adequate Authplov Tôv tárai Kakov.
2 In 459, 460, Electra declares her full belief that Agamemnon was con-
cerned in sending the ill-boding dream to Clytemnestra.
308
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
of Pelops in slaying Myrtilus, and the woes which have
ever since followed his devoted race (508 sqq.)
“Since Myrtilus, in ocean deep,
Was headlong hurled to death's cold sleep,
Hurled from his radiant car of gold,
With insult fierce and uncontrolled,
Nor woe hath passed, nor dire disgrace,
Unfelt by this devoted race!”I
Clytemnestra, herself, now comes upon the stage;
and, in a conversation with Electra, justifies her act, as
in Aeschylus, though with less daring; representing it
as done in righteous retaliation for the sacrifice of her
daughter Iphigenia. Electra, in reply, explains the dire
necessity of that sacrifice, as a satisfaction to the hunt-
ing-goddess Artemis, offended at the slaying of a stag in
hier sacred grove; and though beginning with the def-
erence due to the relation, yet her indignation kindles
as she speaks, and she ends with renouncing all filial
regard for a mother who has not only stained her hands
T
motive, by taking a murderous paramour to that hus-
of Artemis, her tutelary goddess, on the unnatural
daughter, and then (having begged of Electra to desist
from such ill-omened words, at least while she brings
her offerings to the gods, a favor which Electra willingly
grants, in the confidence that offerings made by such
blood-stained hands can only provoke the displeasure
i The language of this chorus (472-515) is strong and impassioped. The
epithets are singularly apt and expressive. Observe, for instance, the
apóuavtis Dike; the tohútovs, Xarkorovs, monóxelp Erinys, and the descrip-
tion of the unhallowed, incestuous strugglings of a murderous marriage
(árektpåvuuda ulajdóvwv yauwe duiwñual'), attacking those whom it
ought not.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
309
of heaven), she pours forth prayers to tutelary Phoe-
bus, that he will confirm or avert the doubtful import
of her dream, according as it is propitious or adverse;
concluding with this beautiful tribute to the divine om-
niscience (657 sqq.):
“ What still remains unsaid, though I be mute,
Is known, I deem, to thee, a potent god ::
· Nought can be hidden from the race of Jove." :
At this moment, and, as the blinded Clytemnestra thinks,
in answer to her prayers, the old servant enters, announc-
ing, according to the preconcerted plan of deception,
the death of Orestes. While he sets forth in lively
detail the narrative of Orestes, overthrown in the
chariot-race and slain on the very eve of a splendid
triumph,--a detail fitted to work powerfully on the sym-
pathies of friends and foes, — Electra gives herself up
for lost; the chorus lament the utter extinction of the
house of Pelops ; and Clytemnestra, though touched by
a momentary pang of maternal sorrow, yet drinks in
the tale with ill-concealed satisfaction, and, on the whole,
concludes, that the doom he met became him well. To
which Electra answers (792):
“ Hear, thou avenger of the recent dead;
Hear, Nemesis !”
*Ακουε, Νέμεσι του θανόντος αρτίως.
While Clytemnestra, with her fears all lulled prepara-
tory to the approaching catastrophe, goes within the
palace to reward the old servant for his good news,
thus with her own hand admitting and welcoming the
avenger, Electra remains deploring the destruction of
all her hopes, and the chorus half reprove and half min-
ister to her despair, in such strains as these (823 sqq.):
1 Baluov' tut
TOÙS ÈK ALÓS.
310
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
“Where are the vengeful bolts of Jove,
Or where the beaming sun,
If deeds like these beholding, still
Such deeds they calmly hide ? "
As Electra thus despairs and refuses to be comforted,
Chrysothemis returns from the tomb of Agamemnon,
rejoicing in the assurance that Orestes has already com',
as is proved by the libations of fresh-flowing milk, the
garland of flowers, and the locks of fresh-cut hair which
she found upon the tomb, and which could have pro-
ceeded from no other source. But so far from gladden-
ing the despairing heart of her sister, her own heart
falls from the heights of hope and joy to the depths of
sorrow and despair, at the positive assurance, derived
from an eye-witness, that Orestes is no more. Yet
gathering courage from despair, Electra resolves her-
self to execute the stroke of vengeance, and invites,
but invites in vain, the co-operation of the timid and
passive Chrysothemis, who hears unmoved, or moved
only to pity, her sister's mad appeals to a sense of duty
to the dead, and the desire of undying fame; while
that sister, in turn, steeled by adversity and despair,
casts off the remonstrances of sisterly affection, sec-
onded by the counsel of the choir, and resolves to do
the deed alone. And in the succeeding chorus, even
the choir, carried away by sympathy with such heroism
and such misfortunes, cannot withhold their approval
of her love of honor and her fear of Jove (1085 sqq.) :
“ Waging with guilt eternal war,
That on thine honored name might rest
A double meed - approved by far
At once the wisest daughter and the best.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
311
In every law divine
Which blooms with holiest awe above,
A steadfast piety was thine, -
The love of honor and the fear of Jove."
At the same time they express their confidence that:
“If Themis reigns on high,
And Jove's blue lightnings rend the sky,
Ere long shall vengeance crush the guilty pair."
To complete the pathetic scene, Orestes now enters
in disguise, with an attendant bearing the urn which
purports to contain the ashes of the deceased brother.
Electra takes the urn in her hands, and, in a strain of
unaffected pathos scarcely to be equalled in the whole
range of elegiac literature, mourns the sole, sad relic
of all they loved and all they hoped on earth. The
scene is too much for Orestes. Despite of his plans for
concealment, he is constrained to make himself knowii
to his sister, whom he convinces of his identity by show-
ing his father's seal; and then a scene of joy succeeds,
which contrasts powerfully with the previous mourn-
ing, and which finds utterance not in the cold iambics
of the usual dialogue, but in the strophe, antistrophé,
and epode of choral songs from the lips of the rejoicing
brother and sister. This untimely rejoicing is prolonged
till the old servant, who has been keeping watch within
the palace, comes out and reproves them, and summons
them to immediate action. Orestes yields his hearty
assent, saying as he enters (1374, 1375): .
“Let us speed
Within, adoring my paternal gods,
All, who within this vestibule abide.”
Justice now delays no longer. The plot hastens to its
consummation. Electra beseeches Apollo whom she has
312
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
often served with such as she had (å$' v éxowul), and
now entreats with such as she has (°F oiwv šyw, 1379),
that he will be a helper in these righteous measures,
and thus show men what penalties the gods award to
impiety. The chorus see, and summon others to see;
the avenging Orestes enter the palace, guided by Her-
mes, the god of stealth, and followed by the Furies,
those bounds of retribution, from whose pursuit there
is no escape (ăDUKTOL Kúves). And soon from within
are heard the shrieks and cries for mercy of the dying
Clytemnestra. And her death is celebrated by the
chorus : now the curses are fulfilled, the dead live
again ; the long-slain shed the blood of their slayers.
Meanwhile Aegisthus, who has heard in the street
the tidings of Orestes' death, comes home exulting, and
mocks Electra, by demanding of her the details of such
welcome news. Electra, whose office it is to cherislı
his false security till he falls into the hands of Orestes,
“ palters with him in a double sense,” i describing the
fate of Clytemnestra in language which he understands
of Orestes. He commands to open the gates and
let all Argos and Mycenae see the blasting of their
hopes in Agamemnon's son; and blinded to the last,
he draws near to the supposed body of Orestes, saying
(1466 sqq.):
" Jove, a sight I view that well hath chanced- .
If thus to speak be lawful; but my words,
If Nemesis be present, I recall.”
Nemesis was indeed present, and heard his indecent
joy at the supposed death of a near relative, and re-
i The reader will excuse the repetition of these words of our great Eng.
lish dramatist. They express better than any other language a frequent
characteristic of the tragic style.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
313
turned at once the poisoned chalice to his own lips.
The veil is removed; he sees the lifeless body of Cly-
temnestra, and soon falls himself beneath the avenging
stroke of him at whose fancied death he came exulting,
on the same fatal spot on which he had slain the unsus-
pecting Agamemnon.
Contrary to the plot of both the other masters, but
with that correctness of taste which almost never errs,
Sophocles has made the death of Clytemnestra precede
that of Aegisthus; thus letting the mother fall beneath
the first uncalculating stroke of her children's ven-
geance, while the more cool and deliberate slaying of
Aegisthus forms the closing sceno, on which the mind
dwells with unmixed satisfaction.
1
The Electra furnishes the best example in the Greek
drama of that perfect adaptation of punishment to crime
which is called “poetic justice.” Of course this nice
adjustment is not often seen in the distribution of re-
wards and punishments in real life. Yet there are not
wanting examples, both in secular and sacred history,
which suffice to show that the principle which so com-
mends itself to the aesthetic and the moral nature of
man is recognized in the providence and government
of God, and so constitute a presumptive argument from
analogy, answering to the intuitive convictions of the
human soul, that this principle will be fully carried out
in the retributions of the life to come.
The same tragedy which develops the doctrine of
1 Herodotus' history of the Persian wars, and indeed his whole history,
is a great prose drama, written to illustrate the same moral as that of the
book of Esther and the history of the Old Testament generally. That
moral, stated generally, is providence, and specifically it is the doctrine of
a divine nemesis in human affairs.
27
314
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
fetributive justice in a manner so congenial to the aes-
thetic and the ethical nature of man contains also a
distinct recognition of another principle deeply rooted in
the human soul, — the principle of expiatory and vica-
rious sacrifices of one human being as a substitute and
. a satisfaction for the sins of others.
Artemis is offended by the slaying of a stag in her
sacred grove, or rather by some boastful words uttered
by Agamemnon when he slew it (569). Adverse winds
detain the Grecian fleet in port at Aulis, and tliey can
neither set sail for Troy nor return home till they have
Toropitiated the goddess. This propitiation, as they are
instructed by the voice of oracle or seer, can be effected
only by the sacrifice of Agamemnon's daughter, as. a
compensation (åvrlota@uov, 571) for the slain stag.
The father resisted, and for a time refused to offer the
sacrifice. But there was 110 other means of escape
(Dúois, 573) from the anger of the goddess and the
winds that imprisoned them in the harbor. At length,
though much against his will (Biaodeis mollá); he
yielded. The unwilling victim was brought and sacri-
ficed.1 The angry goddess was appeased; the adverse
winds became favorable, and the host set sail for Troy.
The mother treasured up in her memory the dreadful
sacrifice, and, many years after, alleged this rending of
her affections in justification of her crimes. She argues
that Agamemnon had no right to offer her daughter to
According to Euripides (Iph. in Taur.) and some other authorities,
Iphigenia was rescued by the goddess herself, when on the point of being
sacrificed, and conveyed in a cloud to Tauris, where she became the priestess
of Artemis; while a stag (or, as others say, some other victim) was offered
in her stead, thus bearing a striking resemblance to the sacrifice of Isaac,
as related in the book of Genesis. But Sophocles makes Electra say in so
many words that Agamemnon sacrificed her (ěQuo ev aŭThu, 576).
• THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
315
make satisfaction for the Greeks (Αργείων χάριν τίνων,
534), nor instead of Menelaus his brother (åvr’ åderboll
Mevéiew, 537), on whose account the voyage was under-
taken. The pure-minded, earnest Electra justifies her
father on the ground of unavoidable necessity, and casts
the blame, if blame there be, on the goddess, who de
manded the sacrifice, saying: Ask the huntress Artemis
as a satisfaction for what (tivos trouvŕs, 564) she re-
strained the favoring winds at Aulis ? Reason about
the justice of it as we may, men have never been able to
get rid of the idea of expiatory and vicarious sacrifice.
History-Grecian, Roman, and barbarian — is full of
it. In one form or another it pervades or underlies
all religions, be they Pagan, Mohammedan, Jewish, or
Christian. And the law of vicarious sacrifice is almost
universal in nature. Throughout the mineral, vegeta-
ble, and animal kingdoms the higher organizations and
forms of life are nourished by the destruction or decay
of the lower. Life springs from death, and the nation
is saved, the race is rescued and reclaimed, the species
is propagated, multiplied, and improved by the sacrifice
of the individual. The corn of wheat must fall into the
ground and die before it can bear much fruit. But it
is only in the gospel of Christ that we see the great pro-
pitiatory sacrifice for a sinful race provided by the holy
love of the Universal Father, made by the willing and
joyful obedience of the Son of Man, who is at the same
time the Son of God, and accepted with admiring and
adoring gratitude by believing souls, as a necessary
“ satisfaction for the ethical nature of both God and
man."
316
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
ANTIGONE.
• In its leading characters the Antigone bears a strong
resemblance to the Electra. The central figure in each,
on whom all eyes are fastened, and who gives name to
the piece, is a young woman who stands up for the right
in opposition to the ruling powers, and is willing to
sacrifice herself in the performance of a duty which she
owes to her kindred, to justice, and to the gods. In
cach, the heroine, who is made of sterner stuff, and
possesses the martyr-spirit, is contrasted with a sister
of more complying disposition, the representative of
ordinary womanhood. Antigone is offset by Ismene, as
Electra is by Chrysothemis, and is exalted to a higher
pitch of heroism and self-sacrificing derotion by the con-
trast. But Electra has the sympathy and support of
the chorus, which is made up of noble women, like her-
self; while the chorus in Antigone, consisting of Theban
senators and courtiers, after a few feeble attempts to
withstand oppression, yield a servile submission to
the tyrant, and leave the more manly, more heroic
woman to stand up, unfriended and alone, against
despotism, clothed with the forms of the law and the
powers of the state. Moreover, Electra has a brother
to lean upon, who takes the active part in the work
of vengeance, while Antigone, although she has a lover
who pleads her cause, is forbidden by female delicacy
to ask his co-operation, or even to mentiou his name;
and so she goes alone, to perform with her own hand,
the prohibited rights of sepulture to her brother. This,
however, she is the better able to do, because there is
no room for doubt or conflict in her own bosom. Elec-
tra, in avenging her father's death, is obliged to lift her
· THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
317
hand against the life of her mother. The ties of nature
bind her to both her parents. The claims of filial duty
might well impel her in opposite directions. But in
Antigone, however plausible the pleas by which the
ruling powers justify their action to their own con-
· sciences, it could not but appear to her a clear case of
wrong to the dead on one side, and of duty to the dead
on the other. Whether, therefore, we consider the holy
cause in which she is enlisted, or the solitary grandeur
in which she resists the mandates of the government,
· Antigone carries with her our undivided syınpathy, and
rises to a moral sublimity that finds its parallel only in
the annals of martyrdom, in which tender and delicate,
yet heroic and devoted, women have ever borne a con-
spicuous part.
: Not the least interesting feature to modern readers
- and doubtless a point of chief interest to the writer
also and his contemporaries -- is the conflict between
human government and divine authority ; in other
words now familiar to our ears, the conflict between
the lower and “the higher law," which lies at the foun-
dation of the plot, and makes itself prominent in the
dialogue. Creon is an eloquent advocate of the divine
right of kings to do wrong, and of that still more subtle
and demoralizing heresy : “Our country, right or
wrong.” Antigone asserts the eternal and innmutable
supremacy of the law and government of God with a
clearness and force which should put to the blush the
professedly Christian, but practically atheistic, politi-
cians and divines, who deny the existence in political
affairs of any higher law than the law of the land - of
any will paramount to the will of the people.
After the defeat of the confederate chiefs and the
27*
318
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
death of the two brothers, rival claimants to the throne
of Oedipus, which Aeschylus has sketched with such a
masterly hand in his Seven against Thebes, Creon,
who as nearest of kin has now succeeded to the throne,
awards sepulchral honors to Eteocles; but forbids, under
the severest penalties, the burial of Polynices, as a trai-
tor. to his country. Antigone, in open disobedience to
the inhuman mandate, performs the last sad offices to
her unhappy brother, and falls beneath the vengeance
of the king. But the blow recoils, with overwhelming
force, upon the whole family of the oppressor. The law
of the land seizes on its victim ; but divine justice soon
overtakes the maker and executioner of the law.
Warned by providence and awakened to a sense of his
guilt, and folly by visible tokens of divine displeasure,
he begins to retrace his steps. But it is now too late.
The storm has already gathered; and now it bursts,
and not only strikes down the guilty, but involves also
the innocent who are connected with the guilty ; nay,
it strikes the personally guilty chiefly through those
members of his family who are personally innocent...
Here, not only the conclusion, as in Ajax, but the
whole plot, turns on the sacredness of the right of
burial — sacred in the sight of the gods, as well as in
the eyes of men; and here too, as in Ajax, Trachiniae,
and Oedipus, suicide is the last resource of those who
find the ills of life too heavy to be borne. .
The opening scene between the two sisters is pathetic,
and almost painful, especially in the want of sympathy
and sisterly tenderness between those who now have no
carthly resource but their love for one another. But
it is of dramatic rather than theological interest. .
Creon, on whom the sceptre has now. devolved, next
"THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.'
314
appears before the councillors of the state, who constitute
the chorus; and after a preface, in which he justifies
his course by the most plausible reasons of patriotism
and state policy, to which he is willing to sacrifice even
the ties of friendship and relationship, he makes public
proclamation forbidding the burial of that son of Oedi-
pus who, in asserting his right to the throne, had dared
to levy war in foreign lands against his own country.
The cliorus, who had just been celebrating the fall of
the confederate chiefs beneath the walls, now, as in duty
bound, acknowledge Creon's right to rule over the dead
as well as the living (214). Scarcely has the proclama-
tion gone forth from his lips, when a messenger arrives,
bringing intelligence that some one has already dared
to sprinkle dust over the dead. The chorus venture
humbly to raise the question, whether this may not be a
divinely ordered deed (Bennatov toðpyov móde, 278). But
Creon sternly rebukes the thought that the gods can
honor one so accursed; and from this time the chorus
are little more than politicians, courtiers, echoes of the
king. In the spirit of an Asiatic despot, Creon threatens
death to the messenger himself, if he does not detect
the guilty person ; and the chorus, in place of the higli-
toned moral and religious sentiments which such tyr-
anny and impiety should elicit, goes off into a splendid
lyric declamation (332–375) on the marvellous inventive
powers of mankind, the gods of this lower world, and
the conquerors of all but death.
The messenger now returns, bringing with him the
young Antigone, and relates how when the guard had
i Very like, perhaps the original of, Hamlet's celebrated panegyric:
“What a piece of work is man.” See also Eccl. vii. 29: “They have
bought out many inventions.'?
320
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
removed the slight covering of earth that had been cast
upon the body,- an act of impiety which was followed
by whirlwinds and sweeping clouds of dust, the visible
tokens of heaveu’s displeasure, — she had been detected
in again scattering dust and pouring libations on the
dead. When asked by Creon if she knew the royal com-
mand, she frankly avows her intentional disobedience.
When further asked how she dared to disobey, she makes
this heroic, this martyr-like, this almost inspired answer
(450 sqq.) :
“ Ne'er did eternal Jove such laws ordain,
Or Justice, throned amid the Infernal Powers,
Who on mankind these holier rites imposed.
Nor can I deem thine edict armed with power
To contravene the firm unwritten laws
Of the just gods; thyself a weak, frail mortal !
These are no laws of yesterday : they live
Forevermore, and none can trace their birth.”
Creon declares that, though sprung from his own
sister, Antigone shall suffer the full penalty of her dis-
obedience; and crowning cruelty with impiety, (for
Jupiter is already making mad whom he intends to
destroy), he gratuitously adds (486 sqq.):
"Were she sprung from one
Dearer than all whom Hercian Jove defends,
She and her sister shall not now evade
A shameful death."
Antigone bids him hasten his tyrannical will; enough
for her is the holy praise of having done her duty to her
brother (510 sqq.):
• Cre. Doth it not shame thee to dissent from these ?
Ant. I cannot think it shame to love my brother.
i The Chorus
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
321
Cre. Was not he too, who died for Thebes, thy brother?
Why then dishonor him to grace the guilty ?
Ant. The dead entombed will not approve thy words.
Cre. Yet he wronged his country:
The other fought undaunted in her cause.
Ant. Still death at least demands an equal law.
Cre. Ne'er should the base be honored like the noble.
Ant. Who knows if this be holy in the shades ? *
Cre. Death cannot change a foe into a friend.
Ant. My love shall go with thine, but not my hate.
Cre. Go, then, and love them in the tomb;but know,
No woman rules in Thebes while Creon lives."
Ismene enters, and is charged with being an accom-
plice of Antigone. With true womanly.fortitude and
beautiful sisterly affection, she consents to share the
guilt, if her sister does not refuse. But Antigone, whose
heart is steeled, even against her sister, by the terrible
process through which she has passed, scorns a friend
who loves only in words, and denies her sister's right,
though tenderly pleading for it now as a privilege, to
die with her whose life has long been devoted to the
dead. Ismene now turns to Creon (who thinks that of
the two maidens, the one has gone mad, and the other
was born so), and pleads for the life of Antigone, urging
especially that she is the affianced bride of Creon's son.
But Creon answers that she is already dead, and Hades
shall put a stop to the intended nuptials. And the cho-
rus, as if her doom were fixed, descant at length on the
- wretchedness of families on which there rests an hered-
itary taint or curse (583 sqq.):
“ But when a house is struck by angry Fate,
Through all its line what ceaseless miseries flow!
18 g! "Alons.
? Kdtw.
8 The flexibility and expressiveness of the Greek in this verse is inimit-
able; 0ð TOL OUVéxoeiv, aard ouupiaeivé pov (523).
322
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
I see the ancient miseries of thy race,
O Labdacus, arising from the dead
With fresh despair; nor sires from sons efface
The curse some angry power hath riveted
Forever on thy destined line."
This curse, however, is not irrespective of the charac-
ter and conduct of the individuals. Their own folly
and madness conspire with divine vengeance : "ATI,
"Avoia, and 'Epivús reap, together, the bloody harvest,
and the imperishable, irresistible might of Jove presides
over all (601 sqq. cf. 584):
Kar' aŭ viv Dewv pouvía tô
Νερτέρων άμα κοπής,
Λόγου τ' άνοια και φρενών Ερινύς, κ. τ.λ.
Grand, worthy almost of some Hebrew prophet, is
the description of the unsleeping, undecaying power
and dominion of Jove (606-614):
“Spurning the power of age, enthroned in might,
Thou dwell'st mid heaven's broad light.
This was in ages past thy firm decree,
Is now, and shall forever be :
That none of mortal race on earth shall know
A life of joy serene, a course unmarked by woe,"
The chorus do not seem to be aware that they are
thus not only deploring the calamities of the house of
Oedipus, but foreshadowing those which are soon to fall
upon the family of Creon. And yet more distinctly,
though still unconsciously, do coming events cast their
shadows before, as the chorus descant, in the conclusion
of their song (615 sqq.), upon the delusive power of
hope, and the blinding force of passion, changing evil to
apparent good, in the eyes of him whom the god is
hurrying to destruction.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
323
As the chorus conclude this unconscious prophecy,
Haemon, the son of Creon and the affianced husband
of Antigone enters; and, with a filial deference which
contrasts beautifully with the unfeeling, unparental
sternness of his sire, pleads, not so much his own cause,
or that of his affianced bride, as the character, reputa-
tion, and well-being of his father. The son now takes
up the doctrine of the higher law, while the father, as
the advocate of the lower, lays down the doctrine of
implicit obedience to the powers that be, in all things
whatsoever, whether right or wrong (667; 737-745):
. Kai ouexpà, kai dikala kai růvavría.
“ Haem. That is no state, which crouches to one despot.
Cre. Oh thou most vile!
Wouldst thou withstand thy father?
My father swerve from justice.
Cre. Do I err,
Revering my own laws ?
Haem. Dost thou revere them,
When thou wouldst trample on the laws of heaven?"
The unnatural father at length proceeds so far as to
threaten to put to death the bride of Haemon before
his own eyes. Flaemon declares that shall never be,
but he will leave his father's sight forever. As he goes
away, the chorus express their fears that he inay per-
petrate some act of rashness. But Creon, blinded by
pride and passion, says: let him do it; still he shall
not save Antigone (773 sqq.):
" To a spot
By mortal foot untrodden, will I lead her,
And deep immure her in a rocky cave,
Leaving enough of sustenance to provide
A due atonement, that the State may shun
324
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Pollution from her death.: There let her call
On gloomy Hades, the sole power she owns,
To shield her from her doom; or learn, though late,
At least this lesson : 't is a bootless task
To render homage to the powers of hell.”
A chorus suoceeds, celebrating the irresistible power
of love (781):
"Έρως ανίκατε μάχαν.
And then Antigone is brought in, under guiard, and
slie and the choir bewail, in responsive strains, like
Jephthah's daughter and her companions, her unhappy
lot, to be wedded only to death ; or, what is worse, to
live, Niobe-like, petrified with grief, tears ever flowing
down her rocky cheeks. The chorus, however, do not
admit that she is an innocent sufferer:
“ Deeply, my daughter, hast thou sinned
Against the exalted throne of right.”
And they even add sentiments worthy the lips of their
master Creon :
" Religion bids us grace the dead;
But might, when regal might bears sway,
Must never, never be contemned.”
Creon at length breaks off the lamentation, by
hurrying her away to a living death, to which she
goes expostulating with the gods and struggling with
her own doubts of divine justice (921 sqq.):
“Which of your laws, ye Powers, have I transgressed ? .
Yet wherefore do I turn me to the gods ?
If acts like these are sanctioned by the gods,
I will address me to my doom in silence.”
The next chorus still expatiates on the irresistible
| How like the ceremonial scruples of the Jews, when they were intens
on shedding the blood of their innocent victim (John xix. 28).
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
325
power of destiny, as, illustrated in its victims from
Danae to Antigone (986, 987):
: 'Allà kår' ékeiva
Molpat jakpaíwves čoxov, ú nal.
The blind old prophet Tiresias (the same who de-
nounced on Oedipus his doom in the presence of Creon)
now breaks in upon Creon himself like one of those
sudden and awful appearances of Elijah to the king of
Israel, and strives to arrest him in his career of madness.
In the exercise of his holy calling as a prophet-priest,
he has seen frightful omens: birds with dissonant cries
tearing each other, and the hallowed fire on the altar
casting out the offerings as unholy; and he interprets
these omens dire as tokens of the divine displeasure at
the king's unrelenting refusal to permit the burial of
the son of Oedipus. At the same time addressing him
kindly as his son, and reminding him that to err is
human, le calls upon him to remedy the error by re-
tracing his steps, as now he may, while it is not yet too
late (1025 sqq.): .
Έπήν δ' αμάρτη, κείνος ουκ έτ' έστ' ανήρ
"Αβουλος ουδ' άνολβος, όστις ές κακόν
Πεσων άκείται, μηδ' ακίνητος πέλει.
But the king is still unrelenting. He charges the
prophet with bribery, criminates the whole race of
prophets as a venal race, and even dares, indirectly, to
defy the avenging bolts of heaven by declaring that,
though Jove's eagles should carry the dead body to the
throne of Jore himself, not even the fear of such pol-
lution (uiaoua) should induce him to permit the burial,
for he knows well that no mortal can pollute the gods
(1044):
28
326
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Θεούς μιαίνειν ούτις ανθρώπων σθένει.
Now the king has received his last warning. The
minister of god has made his last effort to save him.
And now the insulted prophet, not without some ap-
parent mixture of personal resentment, proceeds to
denounce upon him the just recompense of his crimes
according to the ancient lex talionis : life for life -- one
dead from his own family for the dead whom he has
wronged and dishonored (VÉKUV Verpôv únoußòv åvridoús,
1067). And since he has intermeddled with matters
with which neither he nor the gods above have any
proper part, the powers beneath, the after-destroying
Erinyes of Hades and of the gods (uotepopOópol .....
"Aidov kal bewv 'Epivúes, 1075) are already lying in wait
to avenge upon him the invasion of their prerogatives.
No sooner has the prophet departed than the king
begins to stagger under the weight of the curses that
have fallen upon him; and yielding now to the counsels
of the choir, he takes measures for the immediate rep-
aration of his wrong, since the curses of the gods are
swift-footed to cut off (OUVTÉUVELV?) the evil-minded.
But it is already too late to repair the mischief. He
sends his attendants, with all speed, to release Antigone.
But it is too late. He hastens himself to bathe and
bury the body of Polynices, imploring Pluto and Pros-
erpine to restrain their anger. But it is too late. The
chorus intercede with Bacchus, the patron god of the
city, and Phoebus, the son of Jove. But it is too late.
Prayers and efforts are now unavailing. While they
yet utter the language of prayer a messenger comes
W
i Cf. Rom. ix. 28: OUVTéuvwv ev dikocoo Úvn.
THE THEOLOGY. OF SOPHOCLES.
327
and announces that all. is lost.1 Antigone has made
way with herself by a noose woven from her own dress;
and Haemon, embraciug her lifeless body, lies weltering
in his own blood. Eurydice, the wife of Creon, hears
the overwhelming news, and without uttering a word,
goes away to follow the example of her only son. And
while Creon is lamenting the death of that son, and
cursing his own folly as its cause, a second messenger
comes to him announcing the death of his wife, and
that she died imprecating curses on his head as the
murderer of their child. He takes all the blame to
himself, and prays for death, bereft as he is by his own
blind folly of friends and resources, with all adverse in
the present, and an intolerable fate overhanging him in
of the chorus summing up the moral lessons of the piece:
.“ There is no guide to happiness on earth,
Save Wisdom; nor behooves it us to fail
In reverence to the gods. High-sounding vaunts
Inflict due vengeance on the haughty head,
And teach late wisdom to its dark old age.”
Some critics have strenuously maintained that the
Antigone was intended to censure alike the transgressor
of human statutes and the violator of divine laws. Both
laws do indeed claim their victims. But the moral
lesson gathered from the piece by the chorus applies
(ynpą tò poveiv edidačav). Moreover, as we have be-
The poct has put into the mouth of this messenger words of high
import and remarkable conciseness touching the perpetual obligations of
truth; opody vj 'dei' dei (1195). They chime well with the higher law
doctrine of the tragedy.
328
TUEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
Antigone. Her death is viewed as a calamity, in which
she is involved by the curse on her family; while Creon
confesses with his own lips, that the ruin which has
fallen upon his entire family is the. just punishment
of his own evil counsels (1269). The transgressor of
liuman statutes, even though he acts in obedience to
his own conscience, transgresses at his peril. But the
violator of divine law, eren though in obedience to
luman statutes, incurs a more dreadful and inevitable
doom. The perpetual and unchangeable supremacy
of the divine law over all human laws and constitutions,
is the instructive lesson wbich the poet has bequeathed
to the ages in this immortal drama.
The Antigone is the only drama of Sophocles, we
might almost say the only poem of ancient Greece
(leaving brief lyrics out of the question), in which love
between the sexes --- pure, unwedded love, like that
which forms the staple of modern poetry and romance
- holds any important place. And here it is not the
cardinal point in the plot, or the main-spring of the
action. It is not even the sole cause of the suicide of
Haemon. The unnatural cruelty and injustice of his
father furnishes the immediate impulse to that fatal act.
And Antigone, the heroine of the play, while she be-
wails her virginity with a tragic pathos worthy of
Jephthal's daughter, and a frankness little in accord-
ance with modern notions of female delicacy, never once
alludes to the young prince to whom she had been be-
trothed. This suggests one of the most remarkable
contrasts between the literature of ancient and modern
times. Is the controlling power of woman in modern
* Cf. Hickok's Moral Philosophy, Part Second, Chap. viii.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES."
329
society, and the never-failing charm of love in modern
literature - is it owing to race or to religion ? Is it the
offspring of Teutonic blood, or is it the fruit of Chris.
tianity, elevating the sex, purifying the relation, frown-
ing on unchastity with a severity of which we find no
trace among Greeks or barbarians, and appropriating
purity and fidelity in the marriage state as the sacred
symbol of the union between Christ and the church,
and of the normal relation between God and the human
soul ?1
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS.
The two Oedipuses and Antigone are so closely con-
nected in the subject matter, in the characters, and in
the continued operation of the same moral causes, that
some have even called them a trilogy; though it is
quite certain that they were composed at wide intervals
of time, and not performed together; the Antigone,
which is the last in the supposed trilogy, having been
written the earliest of all the extant tragedies of Soph-
ocles, the Oedipus Tyrannus about the middle, and the
Oedipus Coloneus the last, and not exhibited on the
stage till after the death of the poet. Following the
order of time and causation in the connected series, we
should have reserved the Antigone to the last. But
Antigone so resembles Electra, that we could speak of
it most easily and concisely in that connection. And
the two Oedipuses form a bilogy (if we may be allowed
the coinage of a convenient though unauthorized word),
so complete in itself and so in harmony with the con-
i Compare Antig. 909 sqq., where Antigone sets the fraternal tie above
the filial or the conjugal, with Eph. v. 25–81, and even with such passages
of the Old Testament, as Gen. ii. 24.
28*
330
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
cluding epoch of the poet's life, that we cannot consent
to let even Antigone come after them in our analysis. ***
The preliminary history of Oedipus is too familiar to
require repetition. Doomed before his conception to
be the murderer of his father, and thus the arenger of
the crimes of his ancestors ; begotten by that father in
the recklessness of intoxication, against a solenn resolu-
tion not to approach his mother; exposed immediately
after his birth by that mother, in the mountains and
forests of Cithaeron ; found there by one of the shepherds
of the king of Corinth, wliose wife, being childless, pre-
railed upon her husband to adopt him as their son ;
brought up till manhood as heir-apparent to the Corin-
thian throne; fleeing his adopted home to avoid the
doom (revealed to him by an oracle) of killing his sup-
posed parent, and in that very flight falling in with his
real father, and, in a quarrel by the way, unintentionally
putting him to death; coming to Thebes just in time
to rescue the city from the devouring Sphinx, and
receive the kingdom as a free gift at the hands of the
grateful people ; honored with the hand in marriage of
the late queen, and blessed (?) by her with sons and
daughters; reigning with wisdom and in the hearts of
a willing and obedient people, who look up to liim as
their father — down to the opening scene of the tragedy
he is, in his own estimation and to all human appear-
ance, among the most fortunate of men.
But the wisdom which baffled the Sphinx and saved
the people, is not sufficient to baffle the Fates and save
himself. Every step he has taken to escape his destiny,
has only brought him nearer to his inevitable doom.
Every round of the ladder by which he has climbed to
the throne is stained, though unawares to himself, with
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
331
blood and crime. His very prosperity has not only
awakened the jealousy of the gods, but it lias in some
measure hardened his own heart; so that he will not
go down altogether innocent and undeserving to his
ruin. All the critics, from Aristotle downwards, have
remarked the consummate skill with which the poet
has adjusted the character of Oedipus: with so large a
ineasure of good in it as to enlist our sympathy strongly
in his misfortunes, yet not so free from the taint of
pride and evil passion that our moral sentiments are
shocked when we see him suffer. He is neither a god
nor a deinon. Mentem mortalia tangunt. And as we
behold this solver of enigmas and saviour of his people,
this imperfect yet, on the whole, wise and good king,
drawn as if by fascination within the circle of the des-
troyer; like the parent bird, moved at first by love of
her offspring, then fluttering with fear, and finally
screaming with anguish, but still by all her fluttering
and fear borne continually nearer the fatal centre; as
we see every measure which he uses to gain light in-
volving him in thicker darkness, and every struggle
which he makes to extricate himself plunging him
deeper in the mire, - we behold a striking illustration
of the doctrine of holy writ, that “the foolishness of
God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God
stronger than men.” We see, also, one of those ex-
ainples of imputed guilt, of hereditary crime and calam-
ity, which are not unfrequent in the history of the world,
which the Scriptures describe as the visiting of the
iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the
third and fourth generation of those that hate God,
and wliich, however mysterious, however apparently
irreconcilable with our ideas of divine justice, in them-
832
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
selves considered, manifestly serve an important purpose
in the natural government of the world, by the fearful
lessons which they teach of the evil consequences of sin
as affecting, perchance, generations yet unborn; and,
if our sense of justice is offended, it is at least partially
reconciled by the intuitive conviction that, so far as
there is partial injustice to any individual, it will, sooner
or later, meet with full reparation — that the Oedipus
Tyrannus will be followed by the Oedipus Coloneus, il
not in this life, yet surely in the next.
A wasting pestilence has fallen upon the city, Tbebes
(as we learn from the opening dialogue between Oedipus
and the priest of Zeus), which is consuming the fruits
of the earth, the herds of cattle, and the race of men,
and enriching Hades with groans and lamentations.
The people instinctively impute it to the anger of the
gods; for unsophisticated minds are at the farthest
possible remove from that philosophical scepticism, or
atheistic materialism, which severs natural from all
connection with moral causes; and with their religious
leaders they betake themselves with prayers and offer-
ings to the altars, especially of Zeus, Athena, and Apollo.
They gather in crowds with suppliant branches about
the altar in front of the palace, and look to their king
(the very person who is the occasion of their sufferings
- affecting picture of human ignoranoe and helpless-
ness) as, next to the gods and under their teaching,
able to find some way of reconciliation and deliverance
(33, 34):
'Ανδρών δε πρώτον έν τε συμφοραίς βίου
Κρίνοντες, έν τε δαιμόνων ξυναλλαγαίς.
20
1 The same word so often used in the Scriptures to denote reconciliatiou
to God.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
333
DI
Oedipus comes forth and assures them of his sympathy,
nay, his sleepless anxiety, and informs them that he has
already sent his brother-in-law, Creon, to the Pytlian
oracle to learn what he must do; and when he learns,
he will not fail to do it. While lie yet speaks, Creon
appears crowned with laurel, and announces as the will
of the god that they niust remove the polluting curse of
the land (uiaoua xópas, 97), by exiling the murderers
of Laius, or expiating his blood by shedding theirs
(bóvw póvov tránev lúovras, 100). After making some
inquiry into the facts attending the murder (which took
place just before the affair of the Sphinx, as he learns
without once being reminded of his own slaying a royal
personage at that time), Oedipus responds that, with
thic help of Apollo, he will do all in his power to avenge
at once the land and the god; and he will labor to
disperse the defilement (utoos, 138) for his own sake
also ; though he little suspects low nearly it concerns
himself. The chorus, aged and venerable men, trem-
bling at the unknown import of the oracle (which they
call the oracle of Zeus, though proceeding from the
healing Delian god at Delphi), invoke the interposition
of Athena, Artemis, and Apollo, triple arerters of death
(tploooi årečiuopoi, 163), also father Zeus, and Bacchus,
the patron-god of Thebes, to smite Ares the fire-bearing
god 1 and drive him from the country. This choral
prayer ended, Oedipus makes proclamation of his in-
tentions, inviting all wlio liare any knowledge of the
murder to make it known, with the assurance that, if
guilty themselves, they shall in that case suffer only
exile; but denouncing the direst woes on the man who
1 The priest of Zcus calls the Pestilence by the same name, fuppópos
Oeds, 27.
34
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK. POETS.
hould harborthe murderer, even though himself
should be the man (236–243 ; 249–251):
“ This man, whoe'er he be, let none that owns
Our sceptre and our sway presume to grant
The shelter of a house ; let none accost him;
Let none associate with him in the vows
And victims of the gods, or sprinkle o'er him
The lustral stream; let all, from every roof,
Chase far the dire pollution, as the word
Of Phoebus, by his oracle, enjoined.
Yea, on myself, if, conscious of the deed,
I grant the wretch asylum in my house,
The same dread curse in all its vengeance fall.'” .
But to those who co-operate with him in the discovery,
may the allied justice (Dike) and all the gods ever
grant their favoring presence.
The chorus, thus laid under a curse (åpaiov, 276),
declare their ignorance of the deed, and advise Oedipus,
in this matter known only to the gods, to have recourse
to the seer Tiresias, the royal seer whose vision is most
nearly the same with that of royal Phoebus (ävakti
åvakti taŭd' ópôvt',2 281). Oedipus replies, that in this
too he has already anticipated their suggestion and
sent two messengers for the prophct. The prophet
soon arrives. The king addresses him with the utmost
revçroncc, as one who revolves (literally, dispenses ----
vouwv,3 300) crerything on carth and in heaven, the
1. In his fatal Blindness, as if possessed by some higher power, and coin-
pelled in mockcry to foreshadow with his own lips the whole dreadful
ſuturc, he says that he will toil for Laius, as for his own father.
Cr. Dan. v. 11: “Wisdom, like the wisdom of the gods, was found in
him,” etc.
3 As if "the man of God," were in the place of God himself, and did
what bo prodicted, cf. Jer. I. 10: I have this day set thee over the nations
and over the kingdoms, to root out and to pull down and to destroy and
toʻthrow down, to build and to plant.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
335
only guardian and preserver of the state, and entreats
him to disclose his knowledge, whether derived from
birds or by any other method of divination, and so de-
liver the city. The whole dreadful truth seems to flash
at once upon the mind of the prophet. He deplores
the possession of wisdom that is not profitable to the
possessor, as the prophets of the Old Testament and the
New found the book of prophecy bitter in their souls,
and begs to be sent home at once, since it will be better
both for him and the king. Oedipus, seconded by the
chorus, adjures him not to withhold the knowledge he
possesses. Tiresias charges them with folly and refuses.
Oedipus is at length provoked, and declares his sus-
picion that the prophet himself was an accomplice in
the deed. The prophet turns instantly upon him, pro-
nounces him the unhallowed polluter (åvoolą uiáotopi,
353) of the land, and bids him execute on himself his
dreadful curse. Oedipus threatens punishment for such
treasonable words. Tiresias replies, that he has nothing
to fear if there is any power in truth (369) :
Είπερ τί γ' έστι της αληθείας σθένος.
The king taunts the prophet with utter blindness of the
mind as well as all the senses. The prophet answers,
that that reproach will soon return with all its force
upon the king. The king says, a blind man cannot
harm him. The prophet answers, it is not a blind man
he has to fear; but Apollo, whose concern it is, can
maintain the credit of his own oracles.
Oedipus, who seems honestly to regard his wisdom
and his power, both so soon to fail him, as objects of
envy to those around him, charges Tiresias with being
Cf. Ezek. ii. 10; Jer. xx. 14–18; Rev. x. 10.
336
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK PQETS.
•
suborned by Creon, at whose instance he had sent for
liim, and inquires where the boasted wisdom of the
prophet was when he, the ignorant Oedipus, solved the
riddle of the Sphinx. Tiresias now throws off all re-
straint, declares that he is a servant of Loxias, not of
Oedipus or Creon, and predicts in full, though still in
somewhat enigmatical terms, the woes that are soon to
overwhelm Oedipus and his family, bereft, blinded, and
driven from the land by the SELVÓTTOUS 'Apá of his own
father and mother. At the same time he throws out
incidental lints touching his parentage, which, with all
his skill in solving enigmas, Oedipus cannot understand.
The prophet gone, the chorus take up something of
liis spirit, and exult over the now certain and speedy
punishment of the murderer, overtaken and over-
whelmed by the ever-living, hovering oracles that pro-
coed from Delphi, centre of the earth, by the unerring
Fates (Kapes åvarlákntot, 472), and by the son of Jove
armed with fire and lightnings; though they are still
slow to accept any intimations against their sovereign
who had been found so wise and friendly to the state
in the matter of the Sphinx.
In the ensuing interview between Oedipus and Creon,
the monarch carries his suspicions, or rather his charges
and threats, to such a height of injustice, as to prepare,
and in some measure reconcile, the spectators to his
fall. Jocasta, the wife of Oedipus and the sister of
Creon, interposes to allay their strife. The choir also,
or the choir-leader in its behalf, takes part in the dia-
logue, and begs of Oedipus not to charge with crimes
unproved a friend " who calls the gods to witness for
his truth ;” but to reverence liim who, before was not
a child, and now is great, since he is under oath
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES
337
(680 sqq.). The king goes so far as to reflect upon
the loyalty of the chorus. The choir-leader calls the
sun, the god, leader of all gods (Trávtwv Dev Ocòv
a póuov), to witness his innocence, praying that he may
perish without god and without friend (äocos äpidos,
661), if he harbors an unloyal thought. The king at
length yields the life of Creon to the entreaties of Jocasta
and the chorus, but still hates him and frowns him
from his presence in an unforgiving spirit, which elicits
from Creon the prophetic answer (673-675) :
D
“ Even in relenting art thou stern; thy wrath,
Too far indulged, most fearful. Souls like thine
Are the just authors af their own remorse."
· In the endeavor to pacify her husband, Jocasta pro-
ceeds to show how little reliance can be placed on any
pretended oracles among men, by relating the oracle
which had predicted that Laius should fall by his
own son ; whereas their only son had been left to die,
in infancy, on the mountains, and Laius had fallen by
the hand of foreigners, where three ways met. This
incidental, chance allusion to three ways, awakens, at
length, the recollections and the fears of Oedipus; and
thus her own lips confirm the truth of the oracle in the
very attempt to prove it false. On further inquiry, the
time and place are found to agree with his own encoun-
ter on the way to Thebes. The description of Laius
and his attendants, also, answers to his own recollec-
tions; and a slave, sole survivor of his train, who, at
his own earnest request when Oedipus was crowned,
had been allowed to retire to some rural charge, is sent
0
? Thiş idea of being bound by an oath or. curse is expressed in throo
different ways in the connection, év &pko, 633; åpaios, 614; įvayî, 656.
29
338
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
for to make the matter sure. Meanwhile Oedipus relates
to his wife his early history at Corinth, his flight from
home to avoid the killing of his parent, and his encoun-
ter at the three corners between Corinth and Thebes,
trembling the while with apprehension, lest he had, un-
wittingly, pronounced upon himself a dreadful curse.
But Jocasta still blindly insists, that even if Laius fell
by the hand of Oedipus, he could not have fallen by the
hand of his own son ; so that the oracle, she argues
with bitter and impious madness, is false at any rate,
and unworthy of the slightest regard; to which conclu-
sion the deluded Oedipus also gives, at least, a partial
assent (rarôs vouífers, 859). But the chorus, so far
from falling in with this sceptical reasoning, gives utter-
ance to these lofty strains, in vindication of eternal truth
and eternal law (863–872):
Oh, be the lot forever mine
Unsullied to maintain,
In act and word, with awe divine,
What potent laws ordain.
Laws spring from purer realms above :
Their father is the Olympian Jove.
Ne'er shall oblivion veil their front sublime,
Th’indwelling god is great, nor dreads the waste of time."
Μέγας εν τούτοις θεός
• Ουδε γηράσκει.
And this sublime strophe is followed by a full and dark
picture of the daring impiety that will universally pre-
vail, if men loose their reverence for divine truth and
justice, ending in the concise and expressive line (910):
*Edget sẽ rà sữa.
Overcome by the fears of her lord, which she cannot
allay, Jocasta goes to the altar of Apollo, with garlands
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
339
and incense, and prays the god to bring them some
righteous deliverance. But when a messenger arrives
from Corinth announcing the death of Polybus, the
supposed father of Oedipus, the evil spirit of unbelief
and impiety returns upon her with increased violence
(946–949):
“ Vain oracles,
Where are your bodings now ? My Oedipus,
Fearing to slay this man, forsook his country:
Now Fate, and not his hand, hath laid him low."
And Oedipus again falls into the same snare into which
bis Eve has already fallen before him (964 sqq.):
"! Ha! is it thus ? Then, lady, who would heed
The Pythian shrine oracular, or birds
Clanging in air, by whose vain auspices
I was foredoomed the murderer of my father ?”
The unhappy pair are now ripe for ruin. From these
heights of presumption they are to be hurled, in a mo-
ment, to the depths of despair; and the very messenger
wlio has raised them to such a pitch of exaltation is to
dash their hopes and occasion their fall. In order to
relieve Oedipus of his only remaining fear, which is
that he may yet defile the bed of his mother, the mes-
senger informs Oedipus that he is not, in reality, the
son of Polybus, but a foundling, whom he himself (the
messenger) had rescued froin an ignorninious and cruel
death, on the mountains of Cithicron, to which rescue
his very name (OiSitious, or hc of the swollen feet) bore
testiinony. Jocasta now sccs, at a glance, the whole
dreadful truth, and adjures her lusband to investigate
110 further. But lic is bent upon solving the mystery
of his birth, which tortured him in former years, and
insists on sccing the licrdsman who had delivered the
.
340
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK I JETS.
exposed infant into the hands of the Corinthian ; and
she goes away, in silence and despair, to put an end to
her own life. The herdsman comes. It is the same
aged servant who, when Oedipus was crowned, had fled
the court in the vain hope of concealing the dreadful
fact of which his breast was the sole repository. Be-
tween the chattering Corinthian and the frantic (Jedi-
pus his secret is extorted from him. Oedipus sees
the frightful gulf of infamy and ruin which yawns
before him and prays for darkness to hide it from him
(1182–1185):
“Woel woe! 't is all too fatally unveiled.
Thou light! Oh may I now behold thy beams
For the last time! Unhallowed was iny birth,
In closest ties united, where such ties
Were most unnatural ; with that blood defiled
From whose pollution inost the heart recoils.”
And then he leaves the stage.
The chorus bewail the sad destiny of mankind, - of
vanity and woe combined,” and deplore the fall of the
sphinx-vanquishing Oedipus from the proudest height of
earthly wisdom and glory to the lowest depth of igno-
miny, horror, and despair. A messenger now appears
and gives a detailed account of the suicide of Jocasta,
and of Oedipus, over her dead body, tearing out his own
eyes with her golden clasps (1271–1274):
"That never, never more
Her should they see, the sufferings he endured,
Or the dire deeds he wrought.”
And while the messenger is yet speaking, Oedipus, hav-
ing burst the palace gate, shows limself to public view,
as the guilty murderer of his father, mother, and all
his house; and when asked by the sympathizing chorus
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
341
what.god impelled him to such violence on himself, he
replies (1329–1333) :
“'T was Phoebus, Phoebus, O my friends, above,
Who wrought my doom of woe,
My hopeless agony:
But this dark deed no hand save mine hath dared.”
The chorus intimate that he might better have died
at once than pine in darkness. But he answers, that
he could not endure the sight of his father and mother
in the lower world (1371-1374):
“Descending to the dead, I know not how
I could have borne to gaze upou my sire,
Or my unhappy mother; for to them
Crimes dark as mine not death can e'er atone.”
Oedipus is now morally and politically dead. The
throne is, ipso facto, vacated, as palpably, as immedi-
ately, as if the king had deceased ; and the wronged
and suspected Creon succeeds to the sovereignty. Of
him, who comes not to insult the fallen monarch, but
to remove him to the palace from the public gaze, and
from the light of the sun, Oedipus asks but one boon -
exile. Taught by his predecessor's fall to respect the
oracle, Creon replies that he must first ask the pleasure
of the god. Oedipus now bethinks him of his daughters,
commends them to the care of Creon, and when suffered
to place his hands upon them, blesses Creon for the
privilege, and breathes out his love and sorrow --sor-
row for their inlieritance of shame - in tones of disin-
terested and pathetic tenderness, which melt the heart
of the spectator. Yielding to necessity, he now retires
within the palace to await the disposal of the ruling
powers on earth and in heaven; and the chorus express
29*
342
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the moral of the tragedy in these concluding words,
addressed to their fellow citizens :
“ Sons of Thebes, my native city, this great Oedipus survey,
Who resolved the famed enigma, who, for virtue far renowned,
Naught of favor recked or fortune, with transcendent glory crowned.
Mark him now, dismayed, degraded, tost on waves of wildest woe.
Think on this, short-sighted mortal, and, till life's deciding close,
Dare not pronounce thy fellow truly happy, truly blest,
Till, the bounds of life passed over, yet unharmed, he sinks to rest.”
God alone is happy ; God alone is wise ; God alone is
great; God alone is good, — this seems to be the moral
and religious lesson (expressed in the language of Chris-
tian piety) which the Oedipus is intended to inculcate.
Not only is human power weakness, and human wisdom
folly, but all human good is evil in comparison with the
divine standard. Oedipus is an object of felicitation
and envy in the eyes of men. He is the wise man of
his age. But when he sets himself in opposition to the
oracles of Apollo and strives to defeat the plans and
purposes of heaven, we are astonished at the blindness
and infatuation which mark his course. He is a good
man in the view of the world. His people love and
honor him as a good king; but, in his mysterious provi-
dence, the deity 6 plunges him in the ditch, and his
own clothes abhor him." He finds himself stained with
involuntary crimes, and loathes himself for his imputed
guilt. Today, like Job he sits on the throne the great-
est of all the kings and princes of the age ; to-morrow,
like Job he sits in ashes, bereft of his power and for-
saken by his friends, pitied if not despised by all who
were wont to do him reverence. In the Oedipus at
Colonus, we shall see whether like Job he in the end
receives the double of all his former prosperity. Cer-
THE THEOLOGY OF. SOPHOCLES. ·
343
tainly in his terrible fall we see the same apparently
blind, all-controlling, irresistible power which men call
destiny, and which even Christians call mysterious and
inscrutable providence.
OEDIPUS AT COLONUS.
"With our sympathies thus enlisted in the fate of
Oedipus, we are now prepared to follow him to the last
scene of his life at Colonus. An interval of some years
has passed away, his sons have grown up, the younger
is in possession of his throne, the older at the head of
confederate armies is marching to possess himself by
force of the birthright which has been wrested from
him ; his daughters also, have arrived at maturity, and
while both serve as props of his declining years, and
eyes for him in his blindness, Antigone already man-
ifests that peculiar fervor of feeling and strength which
are more conspicuously displayed in the drama bearing
her name, and which have rendered that name immortal.
The Oedipus Coloneus is a natural sequel to the Oedi-
pus Tyrannus. But there is more of contrast than of
resemblance in the incidents, and in the situation of the
leading character who gives name to both. The one
is the compensation of the other. If fortune, or the
fates, or the gods, or the laws of the universe (different
names in Greek for essentially the same thing), or, to
use an expression of our author which barmonizes and
combines them all, if the god in them (év TOÚTOLS Deós,
Oed. Tyr. 871) has heretofore dealt hardly with Oedipus,
he is now to receive his compensation. If the sins of
his ancestors have involved him, more through ignorance
and necessity than of his own free will, in an unequal
controversy with higher powers, he is now reconciled,
344
TÉEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POÉTS.
and blessed with a departure from these scenes of earthly
conflict amid supernatural tokens of divine favor. If
Creon and his own sons have treated him selfishly and
cruelly in the days of his humiliation, the sceptre of
more than regal power is now in his hands; and it is
now their turn to solicit and plead in vain. If his
n'ative city, Thebes, has too soon forgotten his services,
and ungratefully banished him from the realm, she now
supplicates in vain, and endeavors to compel, his return;
while Athens, which grants him an asylum in his ap-
parent helplessness, has thus unconsciously reared for
herself a bulwark in her suburbs which her enemies
The Oedipus Coloneus of Sophocles brings us to the
same asylum of human law, and the sanctuary of the
same divinities as the Eumenides of Aeschylus. Oedi-
pus in the former, like Orestes in the latter, comes to
the sanctuary of the Furies at Athens for rest from
his weary wanderings, for expiation of his involuntary
crimes, for reconciliation to the retributive and avenging
powers. Orestes is welcomed and protected by Athena,
the patron-goddess of the city; Oedipus, by Theseus,
of her people to a court and council, and so institutes
the Areopagus. Theseus takes counsel of the priests
and at the altars of the gods. In both poets the pro-
ceeding is partly civil and partly religious. In both
the human and the divine, the powers of earth and the
powers of heaven, conspire to effect a reconciliation.
In Aeschylus, the Furies appear in person, in that
fiendlike form which we always associate with the name,
pursue their victim like hounds hunting their prey,
dance in chorus around him, and howl their curses on
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
345
i
his head. In Sophocles, in accordance with the ad-
vancing refinement of the age and under the guidance
of his own cultivated genius, they are invisible, and
their dreadful power is only shadowed forth by the
suppressed breath with which their name is mentioned,
and the shuddering horror with which the beholders
see Oedipus unwittingly invade their sanctuary. But
in both, the vengeful powers are appeased, the Erinyes
are transformed into the Eumenides, the wrathful deities
into the gracious ones. And as in the Eumenides of
Aeschylus they are conducted to their sanctuary with
songs and rejoicings by the magistrates and the whole
people; so in the Oedipus Coloneus, all nature sym-
pathizes with the calm and sweet peace which has suc-
ceeded to the storm: the olive and the vine spring up
in unwonted beauty about the sanctuary of the appeased
Furies, and the nightingale sings perpetually in the
branches. Of course, neither the spectators in the
ancient theatre, nor the poet himself, saw in these con-
ceptions all the breadth and depth of meaning which
we find in them. They were “unconscious prophecies,"
só shadows of good things,” which could be fully under-
stood only when the substance had come, and the true
light shone upon the world. But we cannot but see in
them ideas, or germs of ideas, of profound moral and
spiritual significance. Perhaps the primary aim of the
poet was, in the language of Schlegel,1 « to confer glory
on Athens, as the sacred abode of law and humanity,
where the crimes of the illustrious families of other
countries might by a higher mediation be at last pro-
pitiated; and hence an enduring prosperity was pre-
dicted to the Athenian people.” But as Schlegel him-
1 Lectures on Dramatic Literature, Lecture iv.
346
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
self confesses, " when the rancor of these goddesses of
rage is exhausted, it seems as if the whole human race
were redeemed from their power.”
At the opening of the drama, Oedipus is seen, aged
and blind, leaning on the arm of Antigone, and entering
the suburbs of Athens. The scene is thus described by
her who is at once the staff and the eyes of her father
(14–20):
“O Oedipus,
My much afflicted father, the high towers
The spot on which we stand I deem is holy:
Where laurels, olives, vines, in one green shade,
Are close inwoven ; and within the grove,
Rest, now, thy faltering limbs on this rude stone.
Such lengthened wanderings ill befit thine age.”
Scarcely has he taken his seat when he is warned to
remove his feet, for it is holy ground, and must not be
profaned by mortal footsteps (37; 39–43):
"Εξελθ', έχεις γαρ χωρον ουκ αγνον πατείν.
“ From mortal touch and mortal dwelling pure,
Is that mysterious grove; the awful powers,
Daughters of earth and darkness dwell within.
Oed. By what most holy name should I invoke them ?
Athen. We call them in this land th’Eumenides,
The all-beholding powers ; ' in other lands,
By various lofty titles men adore them.
In answer to further questions, he is informed that
the whole suburb is sacred to Poseidon, Prometheus,
and Colonus, whose name it bears. When the Athenian
with whom he holds this conversation withdraws to
? & OlKTOs où8' oikntós
aí čudobou deal, 39.
3 távo dpwoas.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
347
apprise the king, Oedipus addresses his prayers to the
august powers of dreadful aspect (Trótylai DELVÕTTES, 84)
and entreats them to receive him propitiously, in ac-
cordance with the oracle of Phoebus, which had pre-
dicted that his days should at length come to a peaceful
end at the hospitable abode of the venerable goddesses
(Dev Eeuvây édpav kai čevódtao, 90), amid thunder-
ings, lightnings, and earthquakes, as signs from heaven
(onueia).
As the company of aged men draw near, who consti-
tute the chorus, Oedipus screens himself in the thickest
of the grove; and they, as they search for him, sing
with trembling voice (117–134):
“Who, who is this sad, aged wanderer?
Doubtless of foreign land, or his rash foot
Haū never trod the grove
Of those unconquered virgin powers,"
Whose name we tremble but to breathe,
Whose mystic shrine we pass
With far-averted eye,
And pondering, silent and devout,
On happier omens there."
Oedipus comes forth at their call. With shuddering,
they bid him beware, lest he bring upon himself a more
dreadful curse than his present blindness ; and, not
daring to tread where he stands, they guide him with
words, as he withdraws, step by step, and seats himself
again on the sloping verge of the rocky pavement. As,
in obedience to their demand, he discloses his name
and race, they are still more appalled, and bid him quit
the land forever. Antigone intercedes for her father,
pleading for that peculiar respect due to the miserable,
1 åmaluakétav Kupây.
348
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
which we call pity, but which the Greek tragedians call
aidós.1 They reply (254–257):
“ Know, child of Oedipus, we pity thee,
Nor gaze relentless on thy woe-worn sire;
But we revere the gods, nor dare rescind
The firm decision of our former mandate.”
Oedipus responds by appealing to the far-famed piety?
and humanity of Athens: vain boast, if a stranger is to
be thus inhumanly banished for a name ; palliates his
crimes, as committed in retaliation and in ignorance,
and adjures them by the gods, whom they profess to
venerate, to spare him now that, in obedience to their
will, he has withdrawn himself from the inner sanctuary
of the Eumenides. Overcome at length by entreaties,
and overawed by something supernatural in the air and
words of the mysterious stranger, they consent to wait
the final sentence of their king.
Meanwhile Ismene, Antigone's gentle sister, arrives
from Thebes, bringing news of the furious war which
her brothers are waging for the throne; of a recent
oracle which declared that he (Oedipus) whose downfall
the gods had formerly willed, but whom now they pur-
pose to exalt, holds in his hands the balance of power
and victory; and that, for this reason, Creon is already
on his way to bear him back to the borders of the State,
that they may hold this now powerful arbiter in their
possession, though they are still resolved that his tomb
1 247. cf. Aesch. Sup. 577 Sakpwv Trévēlmov ai8w: tears of sorrow and
pity (respect).
Ptás q 'Aonvas paol DogeBeotáTas Elvai, 260. So below, 1006, Oedipus
in this. This explains the DELOldaluoVentépous in Paul's address to the
Athenians on Mars' Hill (Acts xvii. 22). Xenophon (Cyrop. iii. 3, 58)
uses δεισιδαίμονες as a synonyme with θεοσεβείς.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES
349
shall not defile Theban ground. The indignation of
Oedipus is roused by this new insult, added to the long
neglect and injury with which he has been treated by
his sons; and he imprecates destruction on them both,
while he promises lasting benefit to Athens, if her citi-
zens, with her tutelary gods, will now stand forth for
his protection. Drawn towards him now by patriotism
as well as compassion, the chorus instruct him how to
propitiate (O'éolai katapuov, 466) the Eumenides: first,
with three libations of honey and pure water, without
wine, poured out upon the ground towards the rising
sun; then with thrice nine olive branches, fresh-plucked,
and planted on the spot which drank the libations; and
then to offer this prayer (486, 487):
“ Propitious, so we call them, that, with minds
Propitious, they their votary would receive
And save.”
Too blind and infirm to perform these rites himself,
he devolves the duty on Ismene.
While the chorus are extracting from his reluctant
lips some further confession of his calamities and in-
voluntary crimes, Theseus arrives, and without waiting
for petitions or any address, assures at once the anxious
heart of the suppliant stranger with these comforting
words (560–566):
“Unfold thy wish; and arduous were th' emprise,
When thou should'st ask my utmost aid in vain.
I, too, was nurtured in a foreign land,
As thou art now; an exile's woes to me,
An exile's perils, are familiar all.
Then never, never, from the stranger's prayer,
Who comes like thee, relentless will I turn,
Or needful aid withhold.”
30
350
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
With the humility and yet the majesty befitting the
double cousciousness of what he is and what the gods
intend to make him, Oedipus answers (576-578):
“I come to offer thee this withered frame,
A gift to sight unseemly; yet endowed
With costlier treasures than the loveliest form;"
adding, that the value of the boon will be understood
only when he is dead, and Theseus has attended to his
burial. Previous to that, he has nothing to ask but
protection against his unnatural sons and his ungrateful
countrymen, who would fain bear him back hy force,
where once he would gladly have remained; but where
now he is resolved never more to return. Theseus ex-
postulates with him on the folly of such resentment in
such wretchedness. But Oedipus is unrelenting. Athens
is now his home and country; and when war shall arise
between Athens and Thebes, as war will rise in the
changeful course of human destiny, though now all is
peace (621 sqq.):
“ Then this cold body, in the sleep of death
Entombed, shall drink their warm and vital blood,
If Jove be mightiest still, and Jove-born Phoebus
Retain his truth unbroken.”
Εί Ζευς έτι Ζεύς, χώ Διός Φοίβος σαφής.
Theseus pledges him protection, offering him an asy-
lum here or in the palace, as he chooses. “Would to
heaven," he answers (644) :
" Would to heaven
I might attend thee; but the spot is here.”
And when his fears return and agitate him, Theseus
reassures him, declaring that his word is as sacred as
1 Of the Thebans.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
351
his oath ; that his name, alone, will suffice to protect
him from insult; and, moreover, (664, 665):
“If Phoebus hither was indeed thy guide,
Without my feebler aid his armı can save thec."
The choral song, which follows, (668–719) celebrates
the beauty of Colonus, in strains of poetry and elo-
quence, which betray the poet's love and admiration for
his birth-place; and which, at the same time, remind the
Christian reader of the glowing language in which the
Hebrew prophets describe rejoicing nature under the
reign of the coming Messiah. We will not mar it by
translation or synopsis. It is a glorification of Athens,
which the patriotic and tasteful Athenians might well
reward, as they did reward it, when he read it before
his judges, by an instant acquittal and a more than regal
triumph. But it seems to be also something more:
piety joins with patriotism in celebrating Colonus, as
not only the sanctuary of the Eumenides, but the favor-
ite haunt of Aphrodite and the Muses (691, 692), and
the sacred abode of Athena, Poseidon, and Zeus:
“Morian? Jove, with guardian care,
Watches, ever wakeful, there;
And Athena's eye of blue
Guards her own loved olive too."
Antigone breaks in upon the concluding strains of
this magnificent song, by saying, that now the might
and glory of Athens are to be put to the test. Creon
approaches with his body-guard. He addresses the
aged citizens of the country with respect; says he
comes only to restore the wretched outcast to his native
1 lsa. xxxv. 1, 2; lv. 12, 13, etc..
2 That is, guardian of the poplat, or sacred olives.
352
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
land; and then turns his entreaties, not unmixed with
compassion, to the unhappy Oedipus. Oedipus scorns
his pity, withheld when it would have been gladly re-
ceived, and extended only when it was no longer needed.
He charges Creon not only with cruelty in times past,
but with false pretences now, since it was not his inten-
tion to restore him to his home, but only to take him
to the border. His body shall not go there; but his
spirit shall ever dwell there as an avenging demon
of the land (zápas åráctwp óújós, 788) and his sons
shall inherit of his kingdom only soil enough to die on
(791-793):
“Is not my presage of the doom of Thebes
More sure than thine; yea, 't is e'en trebly sure,
As drawn from truer prophets, Phoebus' self,
And his dread sire, the all-controlling Jove."
Unable otherwise to bow his stubborn soul, Creon
informs him that he has already seized one of his daugh-
ters (Ismene, who had gone away to prepare the offer-
ings), and proceeds to take by force his only remaining
support and solace. He even threatens to drag Oedipus
himself from his asylum; and Oedipus defends himself
by frightful curses. Summoned from the altar near by,
where he had been offering a bullock to Poseidon, The-
seus interposes, arrests Creon, sends forces at once for
the recovery of the daughters, and censures, with digni-
fied severity, the double crime, against the country and
the gods, of forcing a suppliant from its altars. Creon
endeavors to justify himself by expatiating on the crimes
of Oedipus, which have forfeited even the right of asy-
lum. This rouses Oedipus; he replies at much length;
he confesses his crimes, but casts the responsibility on
the gods (Beols ydp nu oŰtw Dilov, 964), angry perchance
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
353
at his race aforetime ; and he exculpates himself as only
a foredoomed and involuntary murderer: how can I
reasonably be held responsible for a deed which was
involuntary (977):
Πως γ' αν το γ ακον πράγμ’ αν είκότως ψέγοις ;
and not only involuntary, but decreed and predicted
before I was born or even conceived (973) ? Questions
going to the root of human accountability, which have
always been asked in the world, and never fully an-
swered.
While the king and his attendants are executing the
mandates of justice, the chorus express their wish to
join in the pursuit, and offer prayers for the right to
Phoebus, Athena, and Zeus (1079, 1080; 1085–1091):
“ Jove, Jove to-day will aid the right,
And I forebode a prosperous fight.”
“ Thou of the all-pervading eye,
In heaven by subject-gods adored,
Jove, from thy radiant throne on high,
Send might and joy and victory,
To grace my country's lord !
Daughter of Jove, Athena, hear!
Thou Phoebus, lift thy fatal spear,” etc.
The daughters are soon brought back, and Oedipus
clasps them to his bosom. Theseus informs him that
some person, kindred to him, is sitting at the altar of
Poseidon, who begs the privilege of a few words with
Oedipus. From the description, Oedipus recognizes his
son Polynices, and at first refuses to see him ; but the
remonstrances of Theseus and the entreaties of Antig-
one, pleading not only the ties of nature but reverence
for the gods, prevail to win his reluctant consent. Poly-
Tiù ev navrápxa Zell marrónta, K. 7. 2. (1085).
30*
354
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
nices enters alone and in tears, deploring the misery he
sees, confessing the wrong of which he has been guilty,
and pleading for forgiveness (1266–1269) :
“By the throne
Of mighty Jove, associate of his sway,
Sits gentle Mercy, judge of human deeds ;
Let her be present at thy soul, my father.”
'Αλλ' έστι γαρ και Ζηνί σύνθακος θρόνων
Αιδώς επ’ έργοις πάσι, και προς σοι, πάτερ,
Παρασταθήτω.
Oedipus maintains an awful silence. But Antigone
encourages her brother at least to make known his
wishes; and he proceeds. He has been deprived of
the throne, his rightful inheritance, by his younger
brother. The fell cause of all their feud was the aveng-
ing curse of their father. He has married the daughter
of the king of Argos, and rallied, together with him, six
other chiefs, a sevenfold force in all, for the recovery
of his inheritance. And now he solicits his father's
presence and blessing, since (1331, 1332):
“If faith be due to heaven's prophetic voice,
Whom thou shalt succor, them must victory grace.”
For a long time Oedipus deigns no answer; but at
length his resentment and indignation burst forth in
reproaches and curses too frightful to repeat, too dread-
ful for a son to hear from a father's lips. Neither of
his sons shall possess his throne. The blood of both
shall stain the plain of Thebes. Such were the curses
which he pronounced upon them before ; and now he
invokes again the Curses to come as his allies, and teach
1 See what is said of Aidós (mercy, pity) above, p. 348. Here she is per-
sonified, or rather regarded as a goddess, the sharer of the throne of the
supreme; just as justice is represented below (1382).
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
355
his sons not to dishonor their parents. They therefore
(the Curses, 'Apaí) shall occupy the throne, which else
had been his sons', “ if ancient Justice sits associate with
Zeus and Guardian of primeval laws” (1381, 1382) :
Είπερ έστιν ή παλαίφατος
Δίκη ξύνεδρος! Ζηνός αρχαίους νόμους.
“ Thus I curse thee,” he concludes, in language more
dreadful than the curses of king Lear, “ thus I curse
thee; and I invoke the gloomy paternal darkness of
Tartarus 2 to remove thee hence to thine own place ; 3
and I invoke these goddesses, the Furies; and I invoke
Ares, who inspired you with fearful hate” (1389–1392).
Horrible as these curses are, the chorus take it for
granted that they will be fulfilled to the letter. Poly-
nices bows in despair to his fate, and goes away resolved
not to acquaint his confederates with his doom; but in
silence to meet, with them, his destiny, asking only of
his sisters, that when he has fallen he may not be robbed
of interment with proper funeral rites. Antigone utters
not a word of remonstrance against the maledictions of
her father; but with true sisterly tenderness, beseeches
her brother not to return to the war, since if he does,
those maledictions —-oracles she calls them (uavteúuata,
i Quite another sharer of Jove's throne from the Mercy (Aidús) to whom
Polynices makes his appeal (1268). The epithet manalparos is applied
especially to Justice, as here; to oracles, 454; and to providence Trach.
825: Tâs marcipatou povolas, and means literally, spoken long ago. The
primeval law especially intended in this connection must be that of honor
to parents. Cf. Theol. of Aesch. pp. 209, 210, 237.
2 TOÙ Taptápou Otvyvdy tratpộov "Epeßos. The meaning of tatpqov, pa-
ternal, is doubtful, some understanding Erebus to be represented as the
futher or guardian of Tartarus; and others (as Hermann and Wunder),
supposing it to mean the darkness that envelops Laius, father of Oedipus.
8 'Amoucion, lit. to remove from home to a colony or other residence.
Plato uses it of the transfer to the Islands of the blest. Rep. 5196.
356
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
1425) — will come upon him as sure as the decrees of
fate.
Now (as if, in giving utterance to these prophetic
curses on the last male offspring of his accursed race,
he had fulfilled his earthly destiny) Jove's thunders be-
gin to peal in fearful echoes over his head. He recog-
nizes them as the appointed signal of his death, and
sends in haste to Theseus. The chorus, overwhelmed
with fear and amazement, betake themselves to prayer.
Theseus comes, calm, yet full of sympathy, to receive
the last counsels and benedictions of Oedipus. Oedipus
summons him to follow him (for the blind is now to be
the guide of the seeing) to the spot where he is to die.
That spot, never to be nained to any human being, will
afford a surer defence than spears and shields. There,
also, he will disclose to his royal ear secrets which he
would not reveal to his dearest friend, and which The-
seus must communicate only to his successor, as he
draws near the end of life. These secrets will render
Athens impregnable against the Thebans. And now,
led by an unseen hand (Epus ở Tourbs, * Te Peprépa
Deós, 1548), leading his daughters and the king of
Athens towards the mysterious spot, he passes off the
stage, while the chorus, trembling with awe and almost
doubting if it is right to invoke the infernal deities,
beseech Pluto, Proserpine, the Eumenides, and Cerberus
himself, to grant the stranger an open (év kabápw, clear,
1575) and peaceful entrance to the regions below, that
he may thus be recompensed for the many sufferings
which, without his fault (uátav, 1565), may have come
upon him.
This prayer ended, a messenger enters and narrates
at length the death of Oedipus: Having arrived at the
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
357
threshold of the steep descent (Tòv katappákėti ósóv, sc.
"Aidov, 1590), with the help of his daughter, h3 bathed
in pure water from the hill of Demeter, put on a new
attire, instead of the filthy garments of which he had
divested himself; and then, summoned by the thunder
of infernal Zeus, he embraced his daughters and bade
them an affectionate farewell. A brief silence ensued,
and then a voice was heard which caused the hair to
stand up on the head of every one who heard it; a
voice calling distinctly for Oedipus to hasten his de-
parture. Commending his daughters to the care of
Theseus, he now sends them away with all attendants,
and was left alone with the Athenian king. As soon
as the messenger and those with him liad recovered
from their awe sufficiently to look behind them, the
king was seen standing alone, and holding his hand over
his eyes, as if to shade them from some sight too fearful
to behold, and soon after worshipping in one and the
same prayer the powers of heaven and earth (ynu te
åua kai tòv Dev "Oluuttov, 1655). But what became
of him, the wonderful, the illustrious stranger, no mortal
knew but Theseus. He was not struck by the thunder-
bolt, nor swept into the sea, nor wasted by pain and
sickness; some god conducted him away, or the earth
opened its kind bosom to receive him. For such a man,
remarks the messenger, is not to be mourned; but if
any one is to be admired and envied in his death, that
man is Oedipus.
The daughters now reappear bewailing their loss.
But Theseus forbids them to mourn for one to whom
grace is reserved in the lower world (zápis ♡ Yoovía
ATÓKELTAL,1 1753), for that were to provoke the divine
? Possibly this may mean only ono who was pleased and happy in the
358
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
displeasure (végeois yáp). Antigone, with character-
father's death. But Theseus declares, that is forbidden
by the charge of Oedipus himself and by the all-hearing
oath ("Opkos) of Zeus, who heard what passed between
them. And with true paterual kindness he unites with
the chorus in comforting the orphan children, assuring
them that all had happened according to the wishes of
their father and the sovereign will of Jove.
Counterpart and kindred to the instinctive satisfac..
tion with which we behold the perpetrator of many and
great crimes, who has long gone unwhipped of justice,
brought at length to condign punishment_counterpart
the unfortunate victim of untoward circumstances and
adverse fates, who, without any particular crime or fault
of his own, has been involved in heavy calamities, re-
stored to his former prosperity and standing, or in some
other way compensated, and more than compensated,
for all that he had suffered and lost. The former is
the satisfaction afforded by Electra, and many other
tragedies, and also by the book of Esther. The latter
is the pleasure derived from Oedipus and the book of
Job. The Oedipus at Colonus is a pathetic and bean-
tiful picture of one who had long been pursued by the
arenging furies of his own involuntary crimes and the
real crimes of his father's house, finding an asylum at
last in the sanctuary of those Furies appeased and recon-
ciled -- one who had been crushed beneath the weight
of imputed rather than personal guilt, the power of
destiny, the injustice of men, and the apparent anger
manner of his death, though it more naturally refers to something reserved,
laid up, in another world.
0
THE THEOLOGY. OF SOPHOCLES.
359:
of the gods, dying in the possession of such power and
estimation among men, and amid such manifestations
of divine favor as fully to counterbalance all the in-
equalities and ills of life. The plot is manifestly con-
structed on the principle of such a compensation. This
principle is distinctly recognized in the prayer of the
chorus (1565–1567). Oedipus receives “the double”
as manifestly as Job, though in a very different time
and manner. The recompense does not come till the
very hour of his departure from the present life, when,
of course, it cannot consist in his restoration to twice
his original wealth and prosperity and kingly power.
But it comes in a way no less striking and impressive.
The Theban exile is invited and entreated to return to
Thebes. But he refuses, and becoms a citizen, and
more than citizen, of Athens --- a counsellor, and no
ordinary counsellor, of her demigod and founder-king.
The dethroned monarch is still king, and more than
king, at Thebes. He not only holds the sceptre, and
gives it to whom he will ; but victory or defeat to the
contending armies, and life or death to the opposing
chiefs, hang on his lips. The neglected and despised
old man, who lately wandered alone, supported only
by his loving, sorrowing daughters, while all others
shunned him as if smitten with leprosy or plague, de-
parts this life amid lightnings and thunders, commotions
in nature, and voices from another world, such as, ac-
cording to an idea quite current among the nations of
antiquity, mark the exit only of prophets, lawgivers,2
? See page 856.
* This idea meets its realization in the mysterious death and burial of
Moses (Deut. xxxiv. 1-6). So far from militating against the reality, the
idea confirms itleads us to anticipate it, so that we should be disappointed
if there werc no answering fact in the Scriptures.
360
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
the greatest benefactors of mankind, and the special
favorites of heaven.
The exaltation of Oedipus to such a height of glory
is almost as mysterious as his fall. The poet does not
enter into the philosophy of it. He only gives us the
facts. He sheds no light on the ground of the recon:
ciliation. And as to the character of Oedipus, it is no
better at Colonus than at Thebes. Certainly he is no
saint, according to the standard of the New Testament, or
even of the Old. He is almost as far from the meekness
and godly fear of Moses as he is from the loving and
forgiving spirit of Christ. He is alınost as ignorant of
himself as he is of the character and government of
God; and his views of sin are as inadequate as his
ideas of redemption and reconciliation. He is as un-
conscious of his personal need of forgiveness as he is
destitute of the gospel requisites to be forgiven. How
impersonal and impalpable are his conceptions of the
powers above and the powers beneath. Near and pe-
culiar as the relations are into which he is brought to
them, how little is there that is clear, and how much
less that is attractive and endearing about them. How
dark and cold, how dim and distant, is the view of
death and the passage to another world which we get
in this nearest approach that Greek tragedy ever made
towards a revelation of that passage, when compared
with that which the Christian obtains as he stards by
the cross of the penitent and forgiven thief, and hears
the promise: “This day shalt thou be with me in para-
dise;" or as he looks on at the stoning of Stephen,
and sees heaven opened, and the dying martyr, like his
dying Lord, praying for the forgiveness of his enemies,
and then rising, almost visibly, to the immediate pres-
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
361
ence of his Saviour, saying: “Lord Jesus, receive my
spirit.”
LI
Longinus cites as a fine example of the sublime, the
scene where Oedipus suddenly disappears, and Theseus
remains alone, gazing after him with his hands over his
eyes, which are almost blinded by the awful spectacle.
In a poetical and critical point of view the passage
deserves all the critic's commendation. But scenes of
more spiritual sublimity, and at the same time scenes
of sweet and serene beauty, in which heaven is brought
down to earth, and God comes nearer to the presence,
clearer to the vision and infinitely dearer to the hearts
of men, are common occurrences in the actual experi-
ence of Christians who gaze after their departing Chris-
tian friends, as the disciples gazed after their ascending
Lord, and hear them sing as they ascend: 60 death,
where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory ?”
Religion holds a prominent place in Greek tragedy,
as in some form or other it always has done and always
will do in real life. The existence and providence of
God, his universal government, and his eternal and
immutable laws, with their unfailing rewards and in-
evitable penalties, are constantly recognized. This is
the point, perhaps, in which the tragedies approach
nearest to the unapproachable light and glory of the
Scriptures; and too many who bear the name of Chris-
tians might refresh their convictions and elevate their
.conceptions of the supremacy of the divine law and the
certainty of retribution, by a familiar acquaintance with
the doctrine of the divine nemesis, as it stands out on
the pages of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. The
'frailty, ignorance, and imperfection of men are also
confessed. The necessity of a revelation of the divine
31
- 362
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
will by prophets and oracles, is universally ackuowl.
edged. Prayer is offered. An existence after death is
implied. And the connection between this life and the
next, the dependence of men on a higher power, and
the necessity of obedience to a higher law, though
sometimes called in question, are more often strenu-
ously asserted.
Some ideas exist not only of a fall, but also of a re-
covery; some ideas, not only of a controversy between
the gods and wicked men, but of the possibility (in some
cases at least) and the blessedness of reconciliation.
Such ideas are universal. They belong to man as man;
and they lie at the foundation, not only of natural, but
revealed religion.
But as they appear in the Greek tragedies, these
ideas are too much ideas of the reason and the imagina-
tion; too little of the conscience and the heart. This
is true, perhaps, generally, of the religion of cultivated
nations; and true of too many nominal Christians.
But it is emphatically true of the Greeks. Their re-
ligion was ideal, poetical, aesthetic, rather than real,
practical, personal. There is more of the religious
element in Sophocles than there is in Shakespeare ; but
there is far less of the ethical element. The conscience
is less dereloped. The writer seems to know less of its
nature and power; and his characters who are fit sub-
jects for its compunctious visitings seldom or never
writhe under its tortures. And those sublime utterances
touching the retributive providence and government of
God, which hold very much the same place in the Greek
dramatist as the remorse of conscience does in the
English, proceed, not from the criminals who are to
experience the retribution, but from the chorus and the
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
363
better characters, who look on, and expect it, or see it
fall on others. The want of an enlightened, sensitive
conscience, is the grand defect in the Greek character,
as it is seen either in the literature or in the history of
the people.
And we see a decided growth of this ideal tendency
in passing from Aeschylus to Sophocles; owing partly,
perhaps, to the genius of the individual poet, but partly,
also, we must think, to the advancing culture of the
people. It seems as if, as they advanced in time and
progressed in the cultivation of literature and art, they
receded from the fountain of moral and religious truth,
and the ideas of the primeval revelation lost their vital
power. In Sophocles, more than in Aeschylus, there is
room for the feeling, in some passages at least, that the
gods are powers or personifications, rather than persons.
Law and providence are more nearly another name for
destiny, though the god in them is still at times brought
out with great distinctness. Worship approaches some-
what the modern pantheistic worship, though it is still
far from the unreality and absurdity of the latter.
Prayer is a sublime or beautiful song. . A veil is drawn
over the unseen world, and its awful retributions are
but dimly projected on the confines of the present scene.
As a natural consequence of the prevalence of the
imagination over the conscience, of the aesthetic over
the moral, in the character of the Greeks, their ideas
of holiness and sin, and hence also of recouciliation and
redemption, are sadly defective. Here, however, all
religions are defective in comparison with the religion
of the Bible. Holiness and sin are new ideas, almost
new words, in the Bible, so frequent is their occurrence,
$0 profound is their significance, so over-aving their
364
THEOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETS.
I
power. Other books talk of infirmities, vices, crimes -
the infirmities of this man, the vices of that man, and
the crimes of the few. The Bible convicts every man
of personal sinfulness in the sight of a personal and
holy God. The Hindoos worshipped might, in Jugger-
naut and other monstrous forms; the Assyrians, the
powers of nature, as idealized in their winged lions
and bulls; the Persians, light; the Egyptians, life ;
the Greeks, beauty - human beauty as the image of
divine; the Romans, law - the law of the State, as the
representative of the law of God. The Jew and the
Christian alone worship a God of holiness. “Glorious
in Holiness!” —you will get no such idea of God as
that, from all the poetry and philosophy of the ages.2
Yet that is the idea conceived of God by the Hebrew
lawgiver, a thousand years before Sophocles and Plato
were born. And as the higher idea always involves the
lower, so in this case holiness is at once the greatest
might, the purest light, the highest life, the truest na
ture, the divinest beauty, and the most perfect law;
while, over and above all these, it is the only proper
standard of personal, moral, and spiritual character that
can stand the test of all earthly temptations, and the
more fiery trial of the final judgment.
The chorus, in the Greek tragedy, sing of the all-see-
ing, all-powerful Zeus, with his oracle-inspiring, Loxian
son, and his wise and terrible daughter -- the triple
powers of heaven ; and also of the avenging deities -
the dreadful powers.of hell; and as they sing, the actors
and spectators tremble at their majesty and might. The
* Cf. Robertson's Sermons, First Series, Sermon xi.
. It is not denied that boliness is an attribute of the supreme god of the
Grecks; but it is not his characteristic and his glory.
THE THEOLOGY OF SOPHOCLES.
365
seraphim of the Old Testament, and the living creatures
in the New, veil their faces before Him who was, and
is, and is to come, and cry Holy! Holy! Holy! And
prophets and kings, the wisest and best men on earth,
overwhelmed by a sense of their comparative impurity,
cry out "Wo is me! for I am a man of unclean lips,
and I dwell among a people of unclean lips; for I have
seen the King, the Lord of hosts !” And saints and
angels in heaven, prostrate themselves before the throne,
saying, “ Thou alone art holy.”
It is just this lively consciousness of sin, educated by
all the history and prophecy and sacrifices and shadows
of the Old Testament, and quickened into yet higher
sensibility by the word and spirit of the New, which
gives such a new and strange significance to the ideas,
and the very words, Atonement, Reconciliation, Justifi-
cation, Sanctification, and the whole plan of salvation
which is revealed in the gospel of Christ. 66 The exceed-
ing sinfulness of sin" is the logical and practical antith-
esis of a God “glorious in holiness.” And when men
see and feel their “exceeding sinfulness" in the pres-
ence of a thrice holy God, then they are prepared to
appreciate the unspeakable preciousness of the Christian
revelation, which brings to such men life, salvation,
and comfort through the divine Trinity. Blessed, glo
rious gospel of the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost! How it shines brighter and purer in compari-
son with the brightest lights that have ever twinkled
and faded in the long night of ages!
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
DATE DUE

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FEB 19 1998

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