USA > Illinois > Cook County > Chicago > The Congress of Women : held in the Woman's building, World's Columbian exposition, Chicago, U.S.A., 1893 : with portraits, biographies and addresses > Part 15
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 | Part 76 | Part 77 | Part 78 | Part 79 | Part 80 | Part 81 | Part 82 | Part 83 | Part 84 | Part 85 | Part 86 | Part 87 | Part 88 | Part 89 | Part 90 | Part 91 | Part 92 | Part 93 | Part 94 | Part 95 | Part 96 | Part 97 | Part 98 | Part 99 | Part 100 | Part 101 | Part 102 | Part 103 | Part 104 | Part 105 | Part 106 | Part 107 | Part 108 | Part 109 | Part 110 | Part 111 | Part 112 | Part 113 | Part 114 | Part 115
116
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
Hephæstos (the smith-god) a most wondrous suit of armor. Clad in this glittering mail, the light of his shield shining afar off, as shines the light of the moon, the infu- riated Achilles shouting his terrible war-cry, his teeth gnashing, his eyes blazing, dashes his steeds into the fight.
Everything yields to him; the Trojans flec within their gates; the River Scaman- dros rears his furious wave against him. But the gods fight for Achilles, and Hector, in the sight of his aged parents, is slain, mutilated, bound to the swift chariot of Achilles, and his fair head trailed in the dust. Now Achilles had sworn to give the corpse of Hector to the dogs; but the gods put into the heart of old Priam the thought of going in person to Achilles to beg the body of his son. He proceeds to the tent. What happens Homer shall tell: "But they were unaware of great Priam as he came in, and so stood he a-nigh and clasped in his hands the knees of Achilles, and kissed his hands, terrible, man-slaying, that slew many of Priam's sons * * * * So Achilles wondered when he saw god-like Priam, and the rest wondered likewise, and looked upon one another. Then Priam spake and entreated him, saying: 'Bethink thec, O Achilles, like to the gods, of thy father that is of years with me, on the grievous pathway of old age. Him haply are the dwellers round about entreating evilly, nor is there any to ward from him ruin and bane. Nevertheless, when he hear- eth of thec as yet alive, he rejoiceth in his heart and hopeth withal day after day that he shall see his dear son returning from Troy land. But I, I am utterly unblessed since I begat sons, the best men in wide Troy land, but declare unto thee that none of them is left * * * Yea, fear thou the gods, Achilles, and have compassion on me, even me, bethinking thec of thy father. Lo, I am more pitcous than he, and have braved what none other man on earth hath braved before, to stretch forth my hand toward the face of the slayer of my sons.
"Thus spake he, and stirred within Achilles desire to make lament for his father. And he touched the old man's hand and gently moved him back. And as they both bethought them of their dead, so Priam for man-slaying Hector wept sore as he was fallen before Achilles' feet, and Achilles wept for his own father and now again for Patroclus, and their moan went up throughout the house."
So Priam takes home the dear son's body; and Hector's aged mother, Hekuba, and his sweet young wife, Andromache, make lament; and Argive Helen wails for him who was ever gentle to her and reproached her not-her at whom all men shud- der. And the Trojans make a lofty pyre, and mourn nine days, and on the tenth they hold the funeral for Hector, tamer of horses. So closes the Iliad.
Let us turn now to the fascinating adventures of the steadfast, goodly Odysseus, that crafty man of many devices. The plot has been admirably told in a simple man- ner by Charles Lamb, in his "Voyage of Ulysses." But in simplicity of narration, and in absorbing interest, the text itself is supreme; and apart from any poctical valuc, the story is a never-failing delight to the imagination of old and young. As the Iliad treats of war, the Odyssey deals mainly with domestic life; "the onc," says Bentley, " is for men, the other for women."
In the opening chapter Odysseus, after a wandering of ten years, is held an unwill- ing guest by the loving nymph, Calypso, on her Island Ogygia; but the gray-eyed Athene, his protectress, prays' Zeus to restore him to his home. Calypso, commanded by the deathless gods, allows Odysseus to build a raft which she stores with provis- ions, and then reluctantly she sends him on his way. During the time of Odysseus' long absence from Ithaca, his son Telemachus has grown to manhood, and his wife, the wise and gracious Penelope, is besieged by suitors in marriage. Now Penelope, still longing and hoping against hope for the return of Odysseus, tells her suitors that she will choose among them after she has woven a web that shall be the shroud of her father-in-law, the aged Laertes. This she weaves in the day and ravels by night until the trick is discovered. The suitors then wax clamorous; they remain about the house of Odysseus and devour his goods. When the story opens Telemachus resolves to submit to the waste of his substance no longer, and impelled by Athene he fits out
117
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
a vessel and goes in search of his father. He visits the courts of Nestor and Mene- laus; sees the beautiful Helen restored and repentant, and hears many stories of the war. After vain seeking he returns to Ithaca. Meanwhile Odysseus on the raft of Calypso is wrecked by the sea god Poseidon, whose anger he had incurred when he had put out the one eye of Poseidon's son --- the Cyclops, Polyphemus. Saved by the aid of his patron Athene, Odysseus is tossed upon the rocky shore of the Island of Scheria, bleeding and exhausted. Upon this island dwell a colony of cultivated Phoenicians. The daughter of the King Alcinous is the lovely Princess Nausicaa. She is in the dawn of womanhood, and into her gentle heart comes the dream of married love; so she wishes to wash her linen for her bridal day. But she does not acknowledge her thought even to herself, and under the plea of washing the linen of the king she drives with her maidens to the shore where sea and river meet. After trampling the clothes in the clear wave, the maidens play at games and so disturb Odysseus asleep among the leaves. Naked and bloody, soiled by the wave and the earth, he appears like a wild beast before the maidens, driving them back in a fright. But his ever ready tongue wins the heart of the princess, and giving him clothing she tells him to follow her to the city behind the wain, yet not to keep close to her after they reach town, lest the gossips should talk. So Odysseus throws himself upon the hospitality of King Alcinous and Queen Arete, and having rested and bathed his glorious limbs, he tells to his wondering listeners his adventures from the time of the Fall of Troy. He speaks of his hair-breadth escape from the one-eyed giant Polyphemus whom he had blinded, an escape made by suspending himself to the wool on the belly of a ram; of the gift of the bag of the winds by King Æolus, pierced by his curious fol- lowers, and of how the freed winds then blew them to and fro upon the wide sea; of his life on the Island of Circe, on which his men were turned into swine; of his adventures in dread Hades, where he converses with the ghosts of the dead heroes; of his sail through the Sirens' Pass, when he is bound to the mast lest he should be beguiled to destruction by the entrancing song; of his passage through the fearful Straits of Scylla and Charybdis; and of other enthralling adventures ended by total loss of men and ships and his imprisonment on Calypso's Island.
Then he begs of his host to give him safe convoy to his home in Ithaca. This . request is granted, and many guests-gifts are bestowed upon the man whose speech wins all hearts, and the princess, his savior, may cherish only his words, but worthy words they are: "May the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire; a husband and a home, and a mind at one with his may they give-a good gift, for there is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and wife are of one heart and mind in a house, a grief to their foes, and to their friends great joy, but their own hearts know it best."
So Odysseus is taken by his friends to Ithaca, and there, disguised as a beggar, he goes to the hut of the faithful swineherd Eumæus, and learns all that has occurred during his absence. At this point Telemachus returns, and the father revealing him- self to the son, they lovingly embrace, while pitifully falls the tears beneath their brows. Then the two, with the aid of Athene, devise a plan for killing all the suitors. Odysseus goes to his home still in the guise of a beggar, receives the insults of the suitors, talks with Penelope, and is nearly betrayed by his old nurse who discovers a familiar scar while washing his feet. The suitors make trial of their strength by attempting to draw the bow of Odysseus, but no one can draw it until Odysseus takes it in his hand and easily sends the arrow through the twelve axe-rings. Then he turns upon the suitors, and by the aid of the gods all are slaughtered, and Odysseus is re- venged. The wise Penelope, however, refuses to believe that the stranger is her husband, and tries to prove him by ordering the nurse to bring out the goodly bed of Odysseus, which he made for himself. But says Odysseus: " Verily, a bitter word is this, lady, that thou hast spoken. Who has set my bed otherwhere? Hard would it be for one, how skilled soever, unless a god were to come, that might easily set it in another place, if so he would. But of men there is none living, howsoever strong in his youth, that could lightly upheave it, for a great marvel is wrought in the fashion of the bed,
118
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
and it was I that made it and none other. There was growing a bush of olive, long of leaf, and most goodly of growth, within the inner court, and the stem as large as a pillar. Round about this I built the chamber, till I had finished it, with stones close set, and I roofed it over well and added thereto compacted doors fitting well. Next I sheared off all the light wood of the long leaved olive, and rough-hewed the trunk upwards from the root, and smoothed it round with the adze, well and skillfully, and made straight the line thereto, and so fashioned it into the bed-post, and I bored it all with the auger. Beginning from this head-post, I wrought at the bedstead till I had finished it, and made it fair with inlaid work of gold and of silver and of ivory. Then I made fast therein a bright purple band of ox-hide. Even so I declare to thee this token, and I know not, lady, if the bedstead be yet fast in his place, or if some man has cut away the stem of the olive tree and set the bedstead otherwhere. So he spake and at once her knees were loosened, and her heart melted within her, as she knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed her. Then she fell a-weeping, and ran straight toward him and cast her hands about his neck, and kissed his head.'
Absorbing are the plots of these poems, and wondrous the literary dexterity with which they are handled; yet these features are the least of those which make them a joy forever. In the drawing of individual character, Homer has never been excelled; and while in range he is at least equaled by our Shakespeare, it seems to me that the English poet never breathed the breath of life into so god-like yet human a creation as Odysseus, skilled in devices. Both poets are eminently objective; each is at home equally in the hut and the palace, but Shakespeare, living in a more enlightened age, has given us no sweeter specimen of girlhood than the Princess Nausicaa of the Odys- sey, nor of wifely dignity and grace than the wise Penelope, nor of gentle loveliness than poor Andromache. Achilles, noble but resentful, may be compared in these qualities with Coriolanus, but the beauteous golden-haired Achaan is infinitely more lovable than the stern Roman. Old Adam in "As You Like It" is but a silhouette of the well-rounded picture of Eumæus, the swineherd of Ithaca. Even the gods and goddesses of Homer are endowed with pulsating life, and forever remain with us the gray-eyed Athene, the ox-eyed, white-armed Hera.
Of the form in which these images of genius present themselves, it may be said that Homer wrote in the most beautiful language that was ever spoken by human tongue; of it he had supreme command. He fitted sound to sense as no other poet has done. "No one who is a stranger to Greek literature," says Professor Jebb, "has seen how perfect an instrument it is possible for human speech to be." In clear- ness, in flexibility, the Greek is unrivaled, having by force of its particles the power of expressing delicate shades of thought, untranslatable except by tedious circumlo- cution. The measureof the poems iscorrespondent to our iambic hexameter, of which the most notable example in English is Longfellow's "Evangeline"-
"Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of Heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels."
This is a classic measure, foreign to the genius of our English tongue, and no satisfac- tory translation of Homer in the native meter has ever been made. In fact, while translations are legion, no adequate rendition as a whole, in any form, has been pro- duced. The necessities of English versification so pervert the simple directness of Homer's style, so retard his swift-winged flight, that a sympathetic presentation in prose best conveys to mind of the English readers the characteristic traits of Homer's style. Such a version is Leaf, Myers & Lang's of the Iliad, and Butcher & Lang's of the Odyssey-the translations used in this paper. Yet it will readily be seen that to those who read Homer in translation, the charm of his literary style must, in a large measure, be missing. Matthew Arnold, in his delightful essays on translating Homer, expresses the hope and the belief that an English poet, capable of handling Homer in his native meter, will yet be born. "The perfect translator," says Arnold, "must be rapid in movement, simple in style, plain in language, natural in thought, eminently noble-in grand manner.'
119
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
But while the full enjoyment of the flavor of his style is reserved for the scholar, in keenness of wit, in tenderness of pathos, in fitness of epithet, in loveliness of senti- ment, in grandeur of simile, Homer appeals to the unlearned as well as to the scholar. I wish that I had the time to read to you such passages as the parting of Hector and Andromache; the meeting of Odysseus with his old father, or with his neglected dog, who moans and dies upon once more beholding his beloved master; or that I might show you the glorious Hector bursting through the Achaan gate, his face like the sudden night, shining in wondrous mail, with two spears in his hands.
Would that I might take you to the shore of the unharvested sea, where the dark wave singeth about thestorm,and roareth on the long beach, while the main resoundeth. And again to this same echoing beach, where the sea-wave lifteth up itself in close array before the driving of the west wind; out on the deep doth it first raise its head, and then it breaketh upon the land, and belloweth aloud, and goeth with arching crest about the promontories, and speweth the foaming brine afar. I would show to you the assembling of the people like thronging bees from a hollow rock, ever in fresh procession, flying among the flowers of spring, some on this hand and some on that.
So much for Homer and the poems ascribed to him -so much for Homer, the poet, as he appeals to a lover of poetry. His value to the student of comparative religions and folk-lore, to the archæologist and ethnologist, to the historian and sociologist, we shall not even touch upon. For we have set our faces toward the long vista of Homeric criticism, and of this criticism Seneca said in his day, that life was too short to enable one to arrive at a just conclusion. But we will pause for a passing glance and be not tempted to consider too curiously.
The first authentic point in the literary history is the fact that the poems were publicly recited by the rhapsodists at the festivals of Athene in the sixth century, B. C. Of the manner of their perpetuation from the prehistoric days of Homer, noth- ing positive is known. A tradition tells that Homer left a school of disciples, and there seems to have existed a society or guild called the Homeridæ in Chios. But whether these were a literary society, or descendants of Homer by blood, or really custodians of his verse, does not appear. When the rhapsodists come upon the historic stage as the authorized reciters of Homer, Solon orders that they should " proceed with promptings," thus implying that the prompter held a recognized text.
Pisistratus, the enlightened tyrant of Athens who followed Solon, is generally credited with having caused a commission of learned men to collect and put in proper order the songs of Homer. On the one hand, it is claimed that this commission merely gave forth what would be termed in our time a correct edition. On the other side, it is contended that the commission collected "stray songs," vaguely known as Homer's, making additions and subtractions which they deemed suitable to the con- struction of a harmonious work of art; in fact, that Pisistratus made our Homer. The latter view is weakened by the recorded custom of promptings in Solon's time before cited, and by the statement of Hipparchus, the son of Pisistratus, in a Platonic dialogue. Hipparchus there tells us that the rhapsodists took up each other in order "as they still do." This leaves no doubt as to Plato's opinion, and to the current opinion in Plato's day concerning the traditional character of the text.
The first study of Homer that can really be called critical was made in the Alex- andrian Age. Then arose a school of Separatists (about 170 B. C.) who believed that the Iliad and the Odyssey were by different authors. Zenodotus, the first chief of the great museum, was also the first critic of the Homeric text, and he was soon fol- lowed by Aristarchus, the greatest of ancient critics, to whom is ascribed the present division of Homer into books. Aristarchus discovered a number of spurious passages in the poems, but he had no doubt that Homer was virtually their author.
At the end of the eighteenth century there was found in Venice, in the library of St. Mark, a manuscript of the Iliad, dating from the tenth century. Around this transcription were marginal notes, called "scholia." These were textual criticisms by
-
120
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
Aristarchus and other learned grammarians. The finding of the "scholia" gave a new impulse to Homeric criticism, and led to the famous Recension of the Iliad by the German scholar, Frederick Augustus Wolf, in 1795. Previous to Wolf, the idea that Ilomer was not the sole author of epics ascribed to him had been suggested by Bentley, Rousseau, and others in modern times, and, it is said, by Josephus, Cicero, and others in ancient times. But no serious attempt at proof had ever been made until Wolf, in his revolutionary Prolegomena (preface to his edition of the Iliad), shook the literary world to its foundations, and inaugurated a new era of literary criticism. The celebrated Wolfian theory, is in the main, as follows: Alphabetic writing, according to Wolf, was not known to the Greeks until about 600 B. C. There is no evidence that the laws were written until that time, and certainly a prose literature, which calls for writing, was not in existence previously. It is truc that many verses were older, but verse was the original form of extemporaneous oratory or chanting, and the profession of rhapsodist was that of one who recites from memory. In Homer hin- self, there is but a single mention of a message by characters, and that is the case of Bellerophon, "who bore tokens of woc, graven on a folded tablet, many deadly things," to the King of Lydia. This was in some form a written message to the king, in which the writer requests him to slay Bellerophon, and it was not until the tenth day of Bellerophon's visit that the king asked to see "what token he bore." Now, this token on the folded tablet does not by any means imply alphabetic writing, and throughout the rest of the poems we hear of no communication as passing between any of the chiefs in Troy and their families at home. Even if letters were known, nobody read, and wooden or leaden tablets were unable to contain lengthy works. If the poems were not written, it is impossible that the text could have been preserved from cor- ruption during several centuries. Besides, there are manifest discrepancies in the poems themselves. In one case a chief, who has been killed in an carly book, is made to attend the funeral of his son in a later book, and there are other discrepancies of time, place and style. Then, too, the exploits of all the chiefs have nothing to do with the story of the Wrath of Achilles, and are manifestly inserted to glorify local heroes. These are the main grounds of the Wolfian theory. The conclusion is that the Iliad is a series of short songs put together in a later age. In regard to the Odyssey, the opinion of the Wolfian school is that it is of different authorship altogether from the Hliad.
Wolf's theory has been violently attacked, learnedly defended, and largely clab- orated. Grote, the historian of Greece, makes two distinct works of the Iliad: One he calls the Wrath of Achilles, mainly by Homer; the other the Iliad, composed of float- ing songs. Lachman, a celebrated German scholar, finds in the Iliad all the joints of sixteen small works. Mr. Walter Leaf has recently issued his edition of the Iliad, compiled by getting together twenty-six passages from different books of the poems. He, of course, has scholarly reasons for considering all the rest spurious. "The Nation," in reviewing this work, declares that "in a century after the promulgation of the Wolfian idca (that is, in 1895), the number who believe in the theory of genu- ineness of Homer's works as traditionally received, will be so small that first-class scholars will not consider it worth while to waste time in endeavoring to convince them of its untenableness."
A singular feature in all these later criticisms is the fact that the very noblest portions of the poem are considered not Homeric. The embassy to Achilles, con- taining the finest cloquence of the poem; the meeting of Achilles and Priam, contain- ing the noblest pathos-these and other passages of like significance are relegated to floating songs of unknown poets, and the Iliad becomes to the layman a Hamlet with- out the Prince.
But the Wolfian theory and its progeny have not gone unchallenged by eminent scholars. The English critics are its choicest defenders. The answers to the theory are mainly thesc:
First. Writing may have existed at the time of Homer, for the Greeks were in
121
THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
close communication with the Phoenicians as early as 1100 B. C. The Phoenicians were skilled in writing, and the quick-witted Greeks would not be slow to imitate so useful an art.
Second. Even if writing were unknown, transmission by memory was not at all impossible. Rhapsodists were a professional class, trained purely for the purpose of memorizing, and the public recitations in which each might criticise the other, insured the integrity of the text. Extraordinary feats of memory are not unknown in our own times. Macaulay could, without effort, recite half of "Paradise Lost;" Dr. Bathurst is said to have known the whole Iliad in Greek when a boy. If such performances are possible by non-professional reciters in an era when writing has weakened the power of memory, they certainly were not impossible in a trained and picked class of mem- orizers who could not depend on writing.
Third. There are discrepancies, it is true; but they are only such as might occur in long poems by a single author, especially if not written; and while some interpola- tions may be granted, they are not sufficient to disturb the general integrity of the text.
Fourth. The plots are essentially bound together by an underlying unity; the style and turn of language and thought in both poems are those of the one master; and if the author of the Iliad and he of the Odyssey are not the same, then nature must have produced bountifully the supreme poetic inspiration when the world was young.
This is, in very small mold, the modern Homeric question; its bibliography is enor- mous, although the controversy is really in its incipiency. Its solution will be aided by archæological researches, by studies in comparative mythologies and folk-lore, by philological investigation. The work ofSchliemann on the Hill of Hissarlik (his Troy), which promised so much in confirmation of the Iliad, is now being taken into question. His so-called tomb of Agamemnon is said to be that of a barbarian woman of a much later age. I shall conclude my paper with two charming fragments of translation. The first, by Dr. Hawtrey, gives to the English ear the swing and meter of the Greek hexameter. Helen has been called by Priam to the walls of Troy to tell him the names of the Greek chieftains. She says:
"Clearly the rest I behold of the dark-eyed sons of Achaia;
Known to me well are the faces of all; their names I remember;
Two-only two-remain whom I see not among the commanders;
Castor, fleet in the car, Polydeuces brave with the cestus- Own dear brethren of mine-one parent loved us as infants. Are they not here in the host, from the shores of loved Lacedæmon, Or, though they came with the rest in ships that bound through the waters, Dare they not enter the fight or stand in the council of Heroes, All for fear of the shame and the taunts my crime has awakened? So said she; they long since in earth's soft arms were reposing, There, in their own dear land, their fatherland-Lacedæmon.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.