Chapter I

ATHENS, AND THE MEN OF ATHENS.

"Is it not worth while, for the sake of the history of men and nations, to study the surface of the globe in its relation to the inhabitants thereof?"--Goethe.

There is no event recorded in the annals of the early church so replete with interest to the Christian student, or which takes so deep a hold on the imagination, and the sympathies of him who is at all familiar with the history of Ancient Greece, as the one recited above. Here we see the Apostle Paul standing on the Areopagus at Athens, surrounded by the temples, statues, and altars, which Grecian art had consecrated to Pagan worship, and proclaiming to the inquisitive Athenians, "the strangers" who had come to Athens for business or for pleasure, and the philosophers and students of the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, and the Garden, "the unknown God."

Whether we dwell in our imagination on the artistic grandeur and imposing magnificence of the city in which Paul found himself a solitary stranger, or recall the illustrious names which by their achievements in arts and philosophy have shed around the city of Athens an immortal glory,--or whether, fixing our attention on the lonely wanderer amid the porticoes, and groves, and temples of this classic city, we attempt to conceive the emotion which stirred his heart as he beheld it "wholly given to idolatry;" or whether we contrast the sublime, majestic theism proclaimed by Paul with the degrading polytheism and degenerate philosophy which then prevailed in Athens, or consider the prudent and sagacious manner in which the apostle conducts his argument in view of the religious opinions and prejudices of his audience, we can not but feel that this event is fraught with lessons of instruction to the Church in every age.

That the objects which met the eye of Paul on every hand, and the opinions he heard everywhere expressed in Athens, must have exerted a powerful influence upon the current of his thoughts, as well as upon the state of his emotions, is a legitimate and natural presumption. Not only was "his spirit stirred within him"--his heart deeply moved and agitated when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry--but his thoughtful, philosophic mind would be engaged in pondering those deeply interesting questions which underlie the whole system of Grecian polytheism. The circumstances of the hour would, no doubt, in a large degree determine the line of argument, the form of his discourse, and the peculiarities of his phraseology. The more vividly, therefore, we can represent the scenes and realize the surrounding incidents; the more thoroughly we can enter into sympathy with the modes of thought and feeling peculiar to the Athenians; the more perfectly we can comprehend the spirit and tendency of the age; the more immediate our acquaintance with the religious opinions and philosophical ideas then prevalent in Athens, the more perfect will be our comprehension of the apostle's argument, the deeper our interest in his theme. Some preliminary notices of Athens and "the Men of Athens" will therefore be appropriate as introductory to a series of discourses on Paul's sermon on Mars' Hill.

It will be readily perceived that, in attempting to estimate the influence which exterior conditions exert in the determination of national character, we encounter peculiar difficulties. We can not in these studies expect the precision and accuracy which is attained in the mathematical, or the purely physical sciences. We possess no control over the "materiel" of our inquiry; we have no power of placing it in new conditions, and submitting it to the test of new experiments, as in the physical sciences. National character is a complex result--a product of the action and reaction of primary and secondary causes. It is a conjoint effect of the action of the primitive elements and laws originally implanted in humanity by the Creator, of the free causality and self-determining power of man, and of all the conditions, permanent and accidental, within which the national life has been developed. And in cases where physical and moral causes are blended, and reciprocally conditioned and modified in their operation;--where primary results undergo endless modifications from the influence of surrounding circumstances, and the reaction of social and political institutions;--and where each individual of the great aggregate wields a causal power that obeys no specific law, and by his own inherent power sets in motion new trains of causes which can not be reduced to statistics, we grant that we are in possession of no instrument of exact analysis by which the complex phenomena of national character may be reduced to primitive elements. All that we can hope is, to ascertain, by psychological analysis, what are the fundamental ideas and laws of humanity; to grasp the exterior conditions which are, on all hands, recognized as exerting a powerful influence upon national character; to watch, under these lights, the manifestations of human nature on the theatre of history, and then apply the principles of a sound historic criticism to the recorded opinions of contemporaneous historians and their immediate successors. In this manner we may expect, at least, to approximate to a true judgment of history.

There are unquestionably fundamental powers and laws in human nature which have their development in the course of history. There are certain primitive ideas, imbedded in the constitution of each individual mind, which are revealed in the universal consciousness of our race, under the conditions of experience--the exterior conditions of physical nature and human society. Such are the ideas of cause and substance; of unity and infinity, which govern all the processes of discursive thought, and lead us to the recognition of Being in se;--such the ideas of right, of duty, of accountability, and of retribution, which regulate all the conceptions we form of our relations to all other moral beings, and constitute morality;--such the ideas of order, of proportion, and of harmony, which preside in the realms of art, and constitute the beau-ideal of esthetics;--such the ideas of God, the soul, and immortality, which rule in the domains of religion, and determine man a religious being. These constitute the identity of human nature under all circumstances; these characterize humanity in all conditions. Like permanent germs in vegetable life, always producing the same species of plants; or like fundamental types in the animal kingdom, securing the same homologous structures in all classes and orders; so these fundamental ideas in human nature constitute its sameness and unity, under all the varying conditions of life and society. The acorn must produce an oak, and nothing else. The grain of wheat must always produce its kind. The offspring of man must always bear his image, and always exhibit the same fundamental characteristics, not only in his corporeal nature, but also in his mental constitution.

Nations, like persons, have an Individuality. They present certain characteristic marks which constitute their proper identity, and separate them from the surrounding nations of the earth; such, for example, as complexion, physiognomy, language, pursuits, customs, institutions, sentiments, ideas. The individuality of a nation is determined mainly from without, and not, like human individuality, from within. The laws of a man's personal character have their home in the soul; and the peculiarities and habits, and that conduct of life, which constitute his responsible character are, in a great degree, the consequence of his own free choice. But dwelling, as he does, in society, where he is continually influenced by the example and opinions of his neighbors; subject, as he is, to the ceaseless influence of climate, scenery, and other terrestrial conditions, the characteristics which result from these relations, and which are common to all who dwell in the same regions, and under the same institutions, constitute a national individuality. Individual character is variable under the same general conditions, national character is uniform, because it results from causes which operate alike upon all individuals.

Now, that man's complexion, his pursuits, his habits, his ideas are greatly modified by his geographical surroundings, is the most obvious of truths. No one doubts that the complexion of man is greatly affected by climatic conditions. The appearance, habits, pursuits of the man who lives within the tropics must, necessarily, differ from those of the man who dwells within the temperate zone. No one expects that the dweller on the mountain will have the same characteristics as the man who resides on the plains; or that he whose home is in the interior of a continent will have the same habits as the man whose home is on the islands of the sea. The denizen of the primeval forest will most naturally become a huntsman. The dweller on the extended plain, or fertile mountain slope, will lead a pastoral, or an agricultural life. Those who live on the margin of great rivers, or the borders of the sea, will "do business on the great waters." Commerce and navigation will be their chief pursuits. The people whose home is on the margin of the lake, or bay, or inland sea, or the thickly studded archipelago, are mostly fishermen. And then it is a no less obvious truth that men's pursuits exert a moulding influence on their habits, their forms of speech, their sentiments, and their ideas. Let any one take pains to observe the peculiarities which characterize the huntsman, the shepherd, the agriculturist, or the fisherman, and he will be convinced that their occupations stamp the whole of their thoughts and feelings; color all their conceptions of things outside their own peculiar field; direct their simple philosophy of life; and give a tone, even, to their religious emotions.

The influence of external nature on the imagination--the creative faculty in man--is obvious and remarkable. It reveals itself in all the productions of man--his architecture, his sculpture, his painting, and his poetry. Oriental architecture is characterized by the boldness and massiveness of all its parts, and the monotonous uniformity of all its features. This is but the expression, in a material form, of that shadowy feeling of infinity, and unity, and immobility which an unbroken continent of vast deserts and continuous lofty mountain chains would naturally inspire. The simple grandeur and perfect harmony and graceful blending of light and shade so peculiar to Grecian architecture are the product of a country whose area is diversified by the harmonious blending of land and water, mountain and plain, all bathed in purest light, and canopied with skies of serenest blue. And they are also the product of a country where man is released from the imprisonment within the magic circle of surrounding nature, and made conscious of his power and freedom. In Grecian architecture, therefore, there is less of the massiveness and immobility of nature, and more of the grace and dignity of man. It adds to the idea of permanence a vital expression. "The Doric column," says Vitruvius, "has the proportion, strength, and beauty of man." The Gothic architecture had its birthplace among a people who had lived and worshipped for ages amidst the dense forests of the north, and was no doubt an imitation of the interlacing of the overshadowing trees. The clustered shaft, and lancet arch, and flowing tracery, reflect the impression which the surrounding scenery had woven into the texture of the Teutonic mind.

The history of painting and of sculpture will also show that the varied "styles of art" are largely the result of the aspects which external nature presented to the eye of man. Oriental sculpture, like its architecture, was characterized by massiveness of form and tranquillity of expression; and its painting was, at best, but colored sculpture. The most striking objects are colossal figures, in which the human form is strangely combined with the brute, as in the winged bulls of Nineveh and the sphinxes of Egypt. Man is regarded simply as a part of nature, he does not rise above the plane of animal life. The soul has its immortality only in an eternal metempsychosis--a cycle of life which sweeps through all the brute creation. But in Grecian sculpture we have less of nature, more of man; less of massiveness, more of grace and elegance; less repose, and more of action. Now the connection between these styles of art, and the countries in which they were developed, is at once suggested to the thoughtful mind.

In seeking, therefore, to determine correctly what are the characteristics of a nation, we must endeavor to trace how far the physical constitution of that people, their temperament, their habits, their sentiments, and their ideas have been formed, or modified, under the surrounding geographical conditions, which, as we have seen, greatly determine a nation's individuality. Guided by these lights, let us approach the study of "the men of Athens."

There were two places in Athens known by the name of Ceramicus, one without the walls, forming part of the suburbs; and the other within the walls, embracing a very important section of the city. The outer Ceramicus was covered with the sepulchres of the Athenians who had been slain in battle, and buried at the public expense; it communicated with the inner Ceramicus by the gate Dipylum. The Ceramicus within the city probably included the Agora, the Stoa Basileios, and the Stoa Pœcile, besides various other temples and public buildings.

Having fairly passed the city gates, a long street is before us with a colonnade or cloister on either hand; and at the end of this street, by turning to the left, we might go through the whole Ceramicus to the open country, and the groves of the Academy. But we turn to the right, and enter the Agora,--the market-place, as it is called in the English translation of the sacred narrative.

We are not, however, to conceive of the market-place at Athens as bearing any resemblance to the bare, undecorated spaces appropriated to business in our modern towns; but rather as a magnificent public square, closed in by grand historic buildings, of the highest style of architecture; planted with palm-trees in graceful distribution, and adorned with statues of the great men of Athens and the deified heroes of her mythology, from the hands of the immortal masters of the plastic art. This "market-place" was the great centre of the public life of the Athenians,--the meeting-place of poets, orators, statesmen, warriors, and philosophers,--a grand resort for leisure, for conversation, for business, and for news. Standing in the Agora, and looking towards the south, is the Museum, so called because it was believed that Musæus, the father of poetry, was buried there. Towards the north-west is the Pnyx, a sloping hill, partially levelled into an open area for political assemblies. To the north is seen the craggy eminence of the Areopagus, and on the north-east is the Acropolis towering high above the scene, "the crown and glory of the whole."

The most important buildings of the Agora are the Porticoes or cloisters, the most remarkable of which are the Stoa Basileios, or Portico of the king; the Stoa Eleutherius, or Portico of the Jupiter of Freedom; and the Stoa Pœcile, or Painted Porch. These Porticoes were covered walks, the roof being supported by columns, at least on one side, and by solid masonry on the other. Such shaded walks are almost indispensable in the south of Europe, where the people live much in the open air, and they afford a grateful protection from the heat of the sun, as well as a shelter from the rain. Seats were also provided where the loungers might rest, and the philosophers and rhetoricians sit down for intellectual conversation. The "Stoic" school of philosophy derived its name from the circumstance that its founder, Zeno, used to meet and converse with his disciples under one of these porticoes,--the Stoa Pœcile. These porticoes were not only built in the most magnificent style of architecture, but adorned with paintings and statuary by the best masters. On the roof of the Stoa Basileios were statues of Theseus and the Day. In front of the Stoa Eleutherius was placed the divinity to whom it was dedicated; and within were allegorical paintings, celebrating the rise of "the fierce democracy." The Stoa Pœcile derived its name from the celebrated paintings which adorned its walls, and which were almost exclusively devoted to the representation of national subjects, as the contest of Theseus with the Amazons, the more glorious struggle at Marathon, and the other achievements of the Athenians; here also were suspended the shields of the Scionæans of Thrace, together with those of the Lacedemonians, taken at the island of Sphacteria.

It is beyond our purpose to describe all the public edifices,--the temples, gymnasia, and theatres which crowd the Ceramic area, and that portion of the city lying to the west and south of the Acropolis. Our object is, if possible, to convey to the reader some conception of the ancient splendor and magnificence of Athens; to revive the scenes amidst which the Athenians daily moved, and which may be presumed to have exerted a powerful influence upon the manners, the taste, the habits of thought, and the entire character of the Athenian people. To secure this object we need only direct attention to the Acropolis, which was crowded with the monuments of Athenian glory, and exhibited an amazing concentration of all that was most perfect in art, unsurpassed in excellence, and unrivalled in richness and splendor. It was "the peerless gem of Greece, the glory and pride of art, the wonder and envy of the world."

The western side of the Acropolis, which furnished the only access to the summit of the hill, was about 168 feet in breadth; an opening so narrow that, to the artists of Pericles, it appeared practicable to fill up the space with a single building, which, in serving the purpose of a gateway to the Acropolis, should also contribute to adorn, as well as fortify the citadel. This work, the greatest achievement of civil architecture in Athens, which rivalled the Parthenon in felicity of execution, and surpassed it in boldness and originality of design, consisted of a grand central colonnade closed by projecting wings. This incomparable edifice, built of Pentelic marble, received the name of Propylæa from its forming the vestibule to the five-fold gates by which the citadel was entered. In front of the right wing there stood a small Ionic temple of pure white marble, dedicated to Niké Apteros (Wingless Victory).

It would be impossible to convey any just and adequate conception of the artistic decorations of this wonderful edifice. The two pediments of the temple were decorated with magnificent compositions of statuary, each consisting of about twenty entire figures of colossal size; the one on the western pediment representing the birth of Minerva, and the other, on the eastern pediment, the contest between that goddess and Neptune for the possession of Attica. Under the outer cornice were ninety-two groups, raised in high relief from tablets about four feet square, representing the victories achieved by her companions. Round the inner frieze was presented the procession of the Parthenon on the grand quinquennial festival of the Panathenæa. The procession is represented as advancing in two parallel columns from west to east; one proceeding along the northern, the other along the southern side of the temple; part facing inward after turning the angle of the eastern front, and part meeting towards the centre of that front.

The statue of the virgin goddess, the work of Phidias, stood in the eastern chamber of the cella, and was composed of ivory and gold. It had but one rival in the world, the Jupiter Olympus of the same famous artist. On the summit or apex of the helmet was placed a sphinx, with griffins on either side. The figure of the goddess was represented in an erect martial attitude, and clothed in a robe reaching to the feet. On the breast was a head of Medusa, wrought in ivory, and a figure of Victory about four cubits high. The goddess held a spear in her hand, and an ægis lay at her feet, while on her right, and near the spear, was a figure of a serpent, believed to represent that of Erichthonius.

According to Pliny, the entire height of the statue was twenty-six cubits (about forty feet), and the artist, Phidias, had ingeniously contrived that the gold with which the statue was encrusted might be removed at pleasure. The battle of the Centaurs and Lapithæ was carved upon the sandals; the battle of the Amazons was represented on the ægis which lay at her feet, and on the pedestal was sculptured the birth of Pandora.

The temple of Erechtheus, the most ancient structure in Athens, stood on the northern side of the Acropolis. The statue of Zeus Polieus stood between the Propylæa and the Parthenon. The brazen colossus of Minerva, cast from the spoils of Marathon, appears to have occupied the space between the Erechtheium and the Propylæa, near the Pelasgic or northern wall. This statue of the tutelary divinity of Athens and Attica rose in gigantic proportions above all the buildings of the Acropolis, the flashing of whose helmet plumes met the sailor's eye as he approached from the Sunian promontory. And the remaining space of the wide area was literally crowded with statuary, amongst which were Theseus contending with the Minotaur; Hercules strangling the serpents; the Earth imploring showers from Jupiter; and Minerva causing the olive to sprout, while Neptune raises the waves. After these works of art, it is needless to speak of others. It may be sufficient to state that Pausanias mentions by name towards three hundred remarkable statues which adorned this part of the city even after it had been robbed and despoiled by its several conquerors.

The Areopagus, or hill of Ares (Mars), so called, it is said, in consequence of that god having been the first person tried there for the crime of murder, was, beyond all doubt, the rocky height which is separated from the western end of the Acropolis by a hollow, forming a communication between the northern and southern divisions of the city. The court of the Areopagus was simply an open space on the highest summit of the hill, the judges sitting in the open air, on rude seats of stone, hewn out of the solid rock. Near to the spot on which the court was held was the sanctuary of the Furies, the avenging deities of Grecian mythology, whose presence gave additional solemnity to the scene. The place and the court were regarded by the people with superstitious reverence.

This completes, our survey of the principal buildings, monuments, and localities within the city of Athens. We do not imagine we have succeeded in conveying any adequate idea of the ancient splendor and glory of this city, which was not only the capital of Attica, but also

"The eye of Greece, mother of art and eloquence."

We trust, however, that we have contributed somewhat towards awakening in the reader's mind a deeper interest in these classic scenes, and enabling him to appreciate, more vividly, the allusions we may hereafter make to them.

The mere dry recital of geographical details, and topographical notices is, however, of little interest in itself, and by itself. A tract of country derives its chief interest from its historic associations--its immediate relations to man. The events which have transpired therein, the noble or ignoble deeds, the grand achievements, or the great disasters of which it has been the theatre, these constitute the living heart of its geography. Palestine has been rendered forever memorable, not by any remarkable peculiarities in its climate or scenery, but by the fact that it was the home of God's ancient people--the Hebrews and still more, because the ardent imagination of the modern traveller still sees upon its mountains and plains the lingering footprints of the Son of God. And so Attica will always be regarded as a classic land, because it was the theatre of the most illustrious period of ancient history--the period of youthful vigor in the life of humanity, when viewed as a grand organic whole.

Here on a narrow spot of less superficies than the little State of Rhode Island there flourished a republic which, in the grandeur of her military and naval achievements, at Marathon, Thermopylæ, Platæa, and Salamis, in the sublime creations of her painters, sculptors, and architects, and the unrivalled productions of her poets, orators, and philosophers, has left a lingering glory on the historic page, which twenty centuries have not been able to eclipse or dim. The names of Solon and Pericles; of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle; of Isocrates and Demosthenes; of Myron, Phidias, and Praxiteles; of Herodotus, Xenophon, and Thucydides; of Sophocles and Euripides, have shed an undying lustre on Athens and Attica.

How much of this universal renown, this imperishable glory attained by the Athenian people, is to be ascribed to their geographical position and surroundings, and to the elastic, bracing air, the enchanting scenery, the glorious skies, which poured their daily inspiration on the Athenian mind, is a problem we may scarcely hope to solve.

Of this, at least, we may be sure, that all these geographical and cosmical conditions were ordained by God, and ordained, also, for some noble and worthy end. That God, "the Father of all the families of the earth," cared for the Athenian people as much as for Jewish and Christian nations, we can not doubt. That they were the subjects of a Providence, and that, in God's great plan of human history, they had an important part to fulfill, we must believe. That God "determined the time of each nation's existence, and fixed the geographical bounds of its habitation," is affirmed by Paul. And that the specific end for which the nation had its existence was fulfilled, we have the fullest confidence. So far, therefore, as we can trace the relation that subsists between the geographical position and surroundings of that nation, and its national characteristics and actual history, so far are we able to solve the problem of its destiny; and by so much do we enlarge our comprehension of the plan of God in the history of our race.

"Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;

Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,

Thine olives ripe as when Minerva smiled,

And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields;

There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,

The freeborn wanderer of the mountain air;

Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,

Still in his beams Mendeli's marbles glare;

The effect of this scenery upon the character, the imagination, the taste of the Athenians must have been immense. Under the influence of such sublime objects, the human mind becomes gifted as with inspiration, and is by nature filled with poetic images. "Greece became the birth-place of taste, of art, and eloquence, the chosen sanctuary of the muses, the prototype of all that is graceful, and dignified, and grand in sentiment and action."

And now, if we have succeeded in clearly presenting and properly grouping the facts, and in estimating the influence of geographical position and surroundings on national character, we have secured the natural criteria by which we examine, and even correct the portraiture of the Athenian character usually presented by the historian.

Here the most perfect ideals of beauty and excellence in physical development, in manners, in plastic art, in literary creations, were realized. The songs of Homer, the dialogues of Plato, the speeches of Demosthenes, and the statues of Phidias, if not unrivalled, are at least unsurpassed by any thing that has been achieved by their successors. Literature in its most flourishing periods has rekindled its torch at her altars, and art has looked back to the age of Pericles for her purest models. Here the ideas of personal liberty, of individual rights, of freedom in thought and action, had a wonderful expansion. Here the lasting foundations of the principal arts and sciences were laid, and in some of them triumphs were achieved which have not been eclipsed. Here the sun of human reason attained a meridian splendor, and illuminated every field in the domain of moral truth. And here humanity reached the highest degree of civilization of which it is capable under purely natural conditions.

And now, the question with which we are more immediately concerned is, what were the specific and valuable results attained by the Athenian mind in religion and philosophy, the two momenta of the human mind? This will be the subject of discussion in subsequent chapters.