SECT. IV. The Composition of the Olympian Court: and the Classification of the whole Supernatural Order in Homer.

In the full Olympian Assembly, or Great Chapter of the Immortals, we find a collection of deities, who are respectively the representatives, in the main, of Elemental Powers, of Human Passions or Ideas, and of Historical Traditions, either single or intermixed. Among the simple examples, we may cite the Rivers and Nymphs for the first, Mars and Venus for the second, the goddess Themis for the third, Latona and Iris for the last. In Jupiter, the chief of all, these elements are blended together.

Principal cases of exclusion from Olympus.

But we must also consider those who do not appear in Olympus, and why they are excluded. If, as is perhaps the case, Aidoneus and Persephone are not there, it is because of the separateness of their work, and the remoteness of their kingdom. They had servants, guards, and a judge, in short, a sort of polity of their own. Atlas, Proteus, Calypso, Circe, and the other purely local deities, so far as we know, are not there; probably because they do not enter into the national religion, but are little more than convenient symbols[515] of geographical points known or conceived through maritime, that is, without doubt, through Phœnician report. Again, we do not hear in Olympus of Destiny, Sleep, Night, Dream, Terror, Panic, Uproar, and the rest; probably because these had not attained to practical impersonation in the religion of the people, but were merely objects of the poetical faculty. So likewise with respect to the Winds, who stand as receivers of worship and sacrifice in Il. xxiii. 195. The different treatment which they receive in the Iliad and Odyssey, like their non-appearance in the Great Chapter[516] of Olympus, unless referable to the peculiarities of the Outer Geography, shows that they had not a developed and established godhead, but might be dealt with by the Poet at his will. In these imperfect impersonations, it has been well observed, sometimes the mere elemental power, sometimes the superinduced personality prevails. Again, Ἄτη the temptress, and Ἐρινύες the avengers, might stand excluded, both on the same ground of inadequate impersonation, and on other grounds. Nereus and the purely elemental deities of the sea are not summoned to the Assembly, apparently because he too had his own submarine palace. It answered to Olympus; and here he sat in state amidst his numerous Court of Nymphs. Even Thetis was fetched from thence to attend the last Assembly of the gods in the Twenty-Fourth Iliad. Κρόνος and Ῥέα are not in the divine meetings, firstly, because he, probably with her as his reflected image, is penally confined in Tartarus; but secondly, because, the first representing Time, and the second Matter, they are the primary ideas in the metaphysical order, which comprehended all others, and from which all others were derivative. And as they stood in the metaphysical nexus of ideas, so stood Oceanus and his feminine, Tethys, in the terrestrial order; where Oceanus was the all-inclosing, all-containing; the Form, within which every terrestrial existence was cast, and beyond which even Thought could not pass. Hence the curious and marked exception of him from the summons of Themis to the Great Assembly of the Twentieth Book[517].

He is the father of the rivers, and the feeder of the Sea. Even of the gods he is the ‘Genesis,’ perhaps as their physical source, or as affording material for their formation; perhaps as the outer band of that world to which they belong, as much as we do, and outside of which there was no attempt to conceive them as existing. Lastly, it is perhaps because Homer meant to assign to Oceanus and Tethys the actual first parentage of the gods. This supposition is favoured by the fact that Juno applies the name μήτηρ[518] to Tethys, in a connection which may make it equivalent to ‘our Mother Tethys.’

It is clearly on a principle that Oceanus is not summoned to Olympus, and not from mere defect or immaturity of personality. For in conjunction with his wife Tethys, he took over the infant Juno from Rhea, at the time when there was trouble between Jupiter and his father; and afterwards he reared the child in his own domain. He can be lulled into slumber by Ὕπνος like any other deity: he has a daughter, Eurynome[519]: and he is capable of conjugal quarrels[520].

Again, Ocean is water, and Oceanus is the father of all the Rivers: but yet he was not included in the great lottery which divided the world between the Kronid brothers. This shows us afresh, that he is outside and independent of their rule: he forms the framework of the visible creation, while they are parts of the picture that is within the framework.

The same thing is true of Κρόνος and Ῥέα in the metaphysical order. They represent anterior conditions of thought and of existence to all other Beings, human and divine. Their personality is established; but it is, even more than that of Oceanus, in abeyance: for Oceanus is at least ever-flowing, while Time, and Space, or Matter, are with Homer wholly passionless, mute, and still. When once the Kronid family has been brought into existence, and the attempt of Time to impose the law of death on Deity has been put down by Jupiter, then the impersonations are virtually withdrawn from him and his partner, and they relapse into the torpid state of purely abstract ideas.

The Elemental Powers have nowhere what may be called a strong position in Homer, except in the invocations of solemn swearing; where they give force to the Oath, because they are the avengers of perjury. Thus their connection is not with deity in general, but with that nether world, which the ideas of mankind have always associated with the lower parts of the Earth[521].

Even on grounds larger than those derived from a particular phrase, it may be probable, that we ought to consider Oceanus as the Homeric parent of all the deities, Κρόνος and Ῥέα included. To a state of the human mind not yet familiar with abstractions, Time and Place, imperfectly conceived, might be more limited, less comprehensive, than the great all-infolding Ocean, which encircled and wrapped in the world. And in this conception there may lie hid the embryo of what afterwards grew into the aquarian cosmogony, a system which appears not to be without support from other passages of the poem, especially from the very curious verse (Il. vii. 99),

If, however, this idea was really in the mind of the Poet, still we should consider it as having been with him an instinct rather than a theory.

Dî majores of the later tradition.

The Olympian deities of Pagan antiquity are commonly represented as twelve in number; and the names are

1. Jupiter.

2. Juno.

3. Neptune.

4. Minerva, or Pallas Athene.

5. Phœbus Apollo.

6. Diana.

7. Mercury.

8. Histie, or Vesta.

9. Mars.

10. Venus.

11. Vulcan.

12. Ceres.

But Homer knows nothing of this number or arrangement of the gods; or of the distinction between Dii majores and Dii minores. Nor does he enable us with precision to substitute any other number for it. He gives us, however, his idea, at least by approximation, of the number of the Olympian gods. For when Thetis visits Vulcan, to obtain new armour for Achilles, she finds the deity at work upon twenty τρίποδες[522], to stand round the wall of the well-built hall, which he is carefully fitting with wheels, in order that they may automatically take their places in the assembly of the gods. Whatever these τρίποδες be, the number is probably meant to correspond with that of the ordinary Olympian meeting for festivity or deliberation. They are commonly supposed to be bowls or vessels for wine set on three-legged stands; but there are two reasons, suggested by the language of the passage, which seem to recommend our understanding the word to mean seats, such as that of the priestess of Apollo at Delphi: one is, their being intended to stand around the apartment, along the wall: and the other is, that they were to place themselves for the divine assembly[523];

This idea of the great bowls placing themselves, one apparently for each deity to draw from, does not correspond with the classical representation of the cupbearer filling the cup of each, as he moves from the left towards the right. Nor does the word ἄγων seem to be suitable for a merely convivial meeting: and we ought, I presume, to consider the meetings on Olympus as in theory political councils for the government of the world, only relieved by meat and drink. If we take τρίποδες as signifying the seats, it has of course a reference to the number of gods who constituted the ordinary Olympian family; a reference which indeed it may probably have, even if the other signification be preferred.

And the text of the poems affords sufficient evidence, that twenty was about the number of the Olympian gods of Jupiter.

Deities of Olympian rank in Homer.

Of the Olympian twelve recognised in later times, all, except Vesta and Ceres, must at once and indubitably be pronounced Olympian in Homer. For all take part in the Trojan war, and likewise make their appearance in Olympus. Thus we have ten Olympian deities of Homer already ascertained. And there are several others whom we can have no doubt in adding to the list. These we will proceed to consider:

1. Latona is clearly Olympian; from her great dignity as an unquestioned wife of Jupiter (ἄλοχος Διὸς, Il. xxi. 499); and from the fact that her position entitled her to take a side in the Trojan war, where none but Olympian deities were engaged, with the single exception of the formidable local power, Xanthus or Scamander. Another reason is, because the title of Dione, as we shall see, is clear; who is a deity in some respects similar, but decidedly inferior, to Latona.

2. Dione the mother of Venus is in the same order. For she receives her child, when she repairs wounded to Olympus, and in her speech of consolation distinctly describes herself as one of the Ὀλύμπια δώματ’ ἔχοντες, Il. v. 383. She is called in this passage δῖα θεάων: a title twice given to Minerva, but also, sometimes, to very secondary deities, such as Calypso and Circe. Either as insignificant, or possibly as being foreign and not sufficiently naturalized, she finds no place in the Catalogue of Mothers in the Fourteenth Iliad.

3. Iris, the messenger-goddess. The grounds of her title may be found among the remarks upon this deity[524].

4. Themis, although not a party in the war, has the office of Pursuivant or Summoner to the Olympian Assembly: and her ordinary presence there is distinctly proved by the Fifteenth Iliad, where she is the first to welcome Juno on her entrance into the circle.

5. It will be seen from a brief statement elsewhere relating to Aidoneus or Aides, that he is clearly of Olympian rank and character.

6. Next to Aidoneus, we may take the claim of Hebe. She is not indeed an important, nor a very prominent, person in the poems: but there is no room for doubt as to her Olympian dignity. We find her officiating as cupbearer in the Olympian Court of the Fourth Iliad. Her connection with Olympus is further established by her assisting Juno in the preparation of her chariot: and by her assisting Mars in the bath, when that deity has betaken himself into the presence of Jupiter, to complain of his wound. Again, her personality is quite clear. Nor can her divinity be questioned. She is pronounced in the Eleventh Odyssey to be the daughter of Jupiter and Here. The verse is suspected; but the suspicion itself may be suspected in its turn. Further, the case rests not on the particular account given of her parentage, but, in connection with the context, on her appearing as the wife of Hercules at all. Nor is she anywhere connected with the idea of a mortal origin[525].

7. A second divinity of somewhat similar rank is Paieon. On two occasions, he heals in Olympus the wounds of deities; first of Aidoneus, then of Mars. He is summoned to the exercise of his function as a person within call, and habitually present there. After the rebuke of Jupiter to Mars, the line that follows is[526],

There is no doubt therefore either of his personal, or of his Olympian character; and none but divine persons are capable of bearing the Olympian offices. Ganymede, for instance, though carried up to dwell among the Immortals in order to pour out wine, has no function assigned to him in the poems. The Egyptians, indeed, are stated to be of the race of Paieon[527]; but we must probably understand this with respect to their royal family, just as the same thing is said of the Phæacians with respect to Neptune, because their kingly house had sprung from him[528]. In the later mythology he appears to be absorbed, like the Sun, in Apollo; but in the Homeric poems there is no confusion, or approach to confusion, of the persons. Paieon has the relation to Apollo with respect to surgery or medicine, which Vulcan has to Minerva with respect to manual art: and, apparently by a mixture of distinct traditions, he is also connected with Apollo, by being the synonyme for the hymn of victory, of which Apollo is doubtless supposed to be in a peculiar manner the giver.

To all these deities the poems appear to give a title to seats in Olympus, unquestionable as well as direct. By a somewhat less clear and simple process, we may, I think, arrive at a similar conclusion as to the views of Homer regarding two other deities.

8. The first of these is Demeter, or Ceres, whose Olympian rank is considered, and I think established, in the remarks elsewhere upon her individual divinity[529].

9. The second is Ἠέλιος, the Sun. His share in the episode of Mars and Venus[530] does not indeed absolutely imply his residing on Olympus. But this is clearly involved in the account of his receiving the intelligence, that his oxen had been consumed by the companions of Ulysses. For, upon hearing it, he instantly proceeds to address the company of the Immortals assembled there[531], and is answered by Jupiter. He must therefore unquestionably stand as one of the Olympian gods of Homer.

There are but three other personages named in Homer, with respect to whom there is room for the supposition, that he may have intended them to rank as Olympian deities. They are Dionysus, Persephone, and Eris. For Histie, or Vesta, is so entirely wanting in personality, that she cannot possibly belong to that order. She is invoked indeed in company with Jupiter; but with these two is likewise combined the ξενίη τράπεζα, the table of hospitality. In the hymn to Venus[532] she has become fully personified, and is celebrated as the eldest of the daughters of Κρόνος. But this imagery probably belongs to a different stage of Greek society and Greek poetry.

1. 2. The case of Dionysus and that of Persephone, very different, but both on this point doubtful, have been stated elsewhere[533].

The Eris of Homer.

3. The case of Eris is different. She is the sister and also the mistress of Mars[534]. And in the fierce battle of the Eleventh Book, Eris alone is present to enjoy it, while all the other deities, inhibited from action by Jupiter, have betaken themselves to their several abodes on Olympus.

Again, Jupiter sends her down to the camp at the beginning of the Eleventh Iliad, where she stands on the ship of Ulysses, and raises a mighty shout to stir up the Greeks for the contest[535]. The word is, indeed, the common and established word for strife in Homer, and it is applied even to the conflict of the gods[536], θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνιόντων. But this use of it is probably to be compared with that of Ἄρης for a spear, and of Ἀφροδίτη (in later Greek) for the sensual function of that deity. She is, on the whole, less a figure than a person, though standing upon the border between the two respectively; and though, as she never actually performs what may be called a personal action, she is only by a few degrees removed from the family of Terror, Din, Panic, and the rest. The first of these, Φόβος, as he is the son of Mars[537], and attends him in fight against the Ephyri, is as distinctly personified as Eris in one passage; but the effect of it is neutralized by others, where he passes into sheer figure. She rejoices in seeing the slaughter[538] wrought in battle: and an intense eagerness is imputed to her[539], of course meaning an eagerness for blood.

But another form of this deity is probably exhibited to us under another name, that of the πτολίπορθος Ἐνύω. Enuo is mentioned together with Pallas as being a warlike deity, in contrast with the effeminate Venus[540]: and she leads the Trojans to the fight in concert with Mars: but while he has a huge spear in his hands, she holds or leads, instead, another form more shadowy than her own, that of Κύδοιμος or Tumult. Yet the mode in which she is joined with Pallas proves her impersonation. The fundamental identity of her name with Ἐνυάλιος, the second name of Mars, and her joining him in leading on the Trojans, place her in some very close relation to him: and that close relation cannot well be other than the twofold one of sister and mistress, which had been assigned to Ἔρις.

When it is said, that ‘she alone of the gods was present, as the others had retired to their respective mansions on Olympus,’ the most natural inference certainly is, that she too is meant to be described as belonging to the Olympian Court.

Upon the whole, it seems pretty clear, that if the Poet intended to limit absolutely the number of the Olympian Court or Minor Assembly to the exact figure twenty, then the choice for the twentieth place will more justly fall on his Eris, than either his Dionysus, or even his Persephone. It appears to me, however, that so strict a numerical precision is not in the manner of Homer; that he intended the twenty tripods to be a general indication of the number of the Court, and that with this indication the facts of the poems substantially, though indeterminately, agree.

Such is the composition of the Olympian Court, or smaller Assembly.

Classification of the Supernatural Order.

The Deities who, in virtue of belonging to that Court, may be most properly called Olympian, may be divided into the following classes:

I. Deities having their basis, and the general outline of their attributes and character, from tradition.

1. Pallas Athene, or Minerva.

2. Phœbus Apollo.

3. Latona.

4. Iris.

II. Deities of traditional basis, but with development principally mythological or inventive.

1. Jupiter.

2. Neptune.

3. Aidoneus, or Pluto.

4. Diana.

5. Persephone.*

III. Deities of invention, or mythology proper.

1. Juno.

2. Mars.

3. Mercury.

4. Vulcan.

5. Venus.

6. Demeter.

7. Themis.

8. Ἠέλιος.

9. Paieon.

10. Dione.

11. Hebe.

12. Eris, or Enuo.*

13. Dionysus.*

Those three names, which are marked with an asterisk, appear to have only a more or less disputable title to a seat in Olympus.

Outside, so to speak, of Olympus and its Court, we may classify the superhuman intelligences of Homer as follows: observing, however, that the minor deities who represent natural powers, if thoroughly personified, give their attendance in Olympus on high occasions, and help to form its great Chapter or Parliament.

They may be thrown into the six following classes:

1. The greater impersonations of natural powers, and of ideas; with their reflections, where such have been formed, in the feminine. These are

Oceanus and Tethys.

Κρόνος and Ῥέα.

Ouranos and Gaia (not Earth, but rather Land).

Nereus and Amphitrite.

We are not authorized by Homer to associate either of these last couples as husband and wife. We have to add:

Destiny, (which also has a place in the fifth class,) Dream, Sleep, Death, Terror, Panic, Rumour, Din, Uproar.

The process of impersonation is with some of these fully developed, with others scarcely begun, and wholly poetical; therefore as yet in no degree mythological. In one place, Il. xiii. 299, Φόβος is the son of Mars, in another Φόβος and Δεῖμος are his horses (xiii. 119.); and in a third they appear along with Ἔρις, in a shape hovering between personality and allegory. Ἔρις herself, at times fully personified, in one passage is simply a figure on the Ægis of Minerva, perhaps, however, as an animated work of art, Il. v. 740. In all these cases we see the work of poetical fabrication actually going on.

Perhaps the best example of a merely poetical, as distinguished from a religious or practical impersonation, is to be found in Æschylus, who makes Dust the brother of Mud[541].

This class was greatly augmented in the later Theogonies, beginning with Hesiod.

2. The minor impersonations of natural powers, such as

(1) The Winds.

(2) The Rivers.

(3) The Nymphs of meadows.

(4) The Nymphs of fountains.

(5) The Nymphs of groves.

(6) The Nymphs of hills.

(7) The Sea Nymphs.

3. I place in a different class all those deities, who appear in Homer as the subjects of foreign fable not fully naturalized. These are they who dwell in the Outer sphere of the marvellous Geography in the Odyssey, and with whom Menelaus and Ulysses are brought into contact. They are wholly exterior to the system of Homer, and we cannot safely give them a position implying any defined relation to it. But there are certain links supplied by the Poet himself, as when he makes Circe child of the Sun, and Mercury presumptively nephew of Calypso: by these he shows us the connection of the Greek mythology with Eastern sources, and the partial assimilation of the materials they supplied.

These deities are:

1. Proteus.

2. Leucothee.

3. Æolus (perhaps).

4. The Sirens.

5. Calypso.

6. Atlas.

7. Circe.

8. Œetes.

9. Maias.

10. Perse.

11. Eidothee.

And several Nymphs[542].

4. Those impersonations which represent, each in its several part, or its peculiar aspect, the tradition of the Evil One, have been considered along with the deities of tradition.

5. Of ministers of doom or justice, real or reputed, and less than divine, yet belonging to the metaphysical or moral order, we have in Homer:

1. The Fates, Κῆρες, who fall within the range of ideas described by his Αἶσα and his Μοῖρα.

2. The Ἁρπυῖαι.

3. The Ἐρινύες.

6. Besides all these, we have yet another class with subdivisions of its own, composed of beings who stand within the interval between Deity and Humanity.

There are some observations to be made on several of these classes.

Destiny or Fate in Homer.

It is much easier to obtain a just perception of the manner in which Homer handles the subject of Destiny or Fate, than to represent it in a system. The conflict which it involves, either of ideas, or at least of the words denoting them, was certain to give occasion to argument and difference of opinion in a case where a poet is of necessity called to take his trial at the bar of philosophy[543].

Besides the θέσφατον, on which I shall make a remark hereafter, there are five forms of speech which are employed by Homer to express the idea of Destiny; they are, Κατακλῶθες, Κήρ, Μοῖρα, Μόρος, and Αἶσα: the two last in the singular number only, the two preceding it in the singular or plural, and the Κατακλῶθες only in the plural.

Of these, the Κῆρες and the Κατακλῶθες have undergone the most effective process of personification; but, brought more distinctly into the sphere of life and action, these phrases have a much less profound root in the order of ideas, and scarcely touch the great questions, whether destiny is a power separate from the human will, separate from the Divine will, and superior to either or to both.

The fundamental idea both of Μοῖρα and Αἶσα, traced from their original source, is not a part merely, but rather a portion or share allotted according to some rule or law. But, though of similar origin, some distinctions obtain between the uses of the two words. And first as to Αἶσα.

Under the form of Αἶσα.

We have in Il. xviii. 327, ληΐδος αἶσα; in Od. xix. 24, ἐλπίδος αἶσα; in Il. ix. 378, τίω δέ μιν ἐν καρὸς αἴσῃ. In all these cases it is plain, that the word means not a mere part, but a part assigned upon some given principle. Hence it comes to mean either the whole share or lot assigned to a man, or the law according to which it is assigned, that is, the law under which the moral government of human life, and the distribution of good and evil, are conducted. Accordingly, we have these several senses in which it is employed.

1. The αἶσα, as the entire destiny, of an individual man, Il. i. 416. Ἐπεί νύ τοι αἶσα μίνυνθά περ, οὔτι μάλα δήν.

2. A notable part of that destiny, as his death: Τῷ οἱ ἀπεμνήσαντο καὶ ἐν θανάτοιό περ αἴσῃ. Il. xxiv. 428.

3. The moral law for the government of conduct, as in Ἕκτορ, ἐπεί με κατ’ αἶσαν ἐνίπαπες, οὐδ’ ὑπὲρ αἶσαν. Il. iii. 59.

4. That moral law as it is supposed to proceed from Jupiter; the Διὸς αἶσα, or dispensation of Jupiter; the δαίμονος αἶσα, or dispensation of Providence.

5. That same law, as it is supposed to proceed from some other source, or to speak more correctly, for Homer, as the power which administers it is separately personified. This we have in the passage ἅσσα οἱ Αἶσα γεινομένῳ ἐπένησε λίνῳ, ὅτε μιν τέκε Μήτηρ, Il. xx. 127; or, again, as in Od. vii. 197; where Αἶσα is assisted in the spinning process by the Κατακλῶθες βαρεῖαι, as if it was felt that she was not strong enough to make a Destiny.

Upon the whole it appears to me that there is in the word Αἶσα only the minutest savour of the proper idea of Fate. For Fate involves these things: 1. a power dominant over man: 2. a power independent of the divinity: and 3. a power standing ideally apart from right.

Now αἶσα does not fully answer even to the first of these conceptions, since αἶσα, even when it is backed by the gods, may be overcome by the energies of man. Jupiter in the Iliad[544] ordained glory to Hector and success to the Trojans until the sunset of the day when the battle of the ships was fought: yet just before the death of Patroclus the Greeks prevailed, Il. xvi. 780.

The only instances in which we find αἶσα endowed with any thing in the nature of an inexorable force are such as that quoted from Il. xx. 127. In this passage it is said by Juno, ‘We will give Achilles glory; thereafter let him suffer what αἶσα has appointed for him.’ Now this refers not to a course of life that he was to pass through, but simply to the crisis of his death. In Od. vii, the speaker is Alcinous; and his sentiment is, ‘Let us carry our guest safe home and then leave him to whatever αἶσα and the κατακλῶθες have ordained for him.’ Probably this is only an euphemism, and means death, as Juno meant it; but, in any case, proceeding from another mortal, it is a mere form of speech perfectly compatible in itself with the idea that the gods are superior to αἶσα, nay, that man may upon occasion surmount it. In the other case it is not so; we must understand Juno to recognise the αἶσα or dispensation as absolute; but then it is the dispensation of death; and it is, I think, the clear doctrine of the poems that that dispensation cannot be cancelled or averted from mortals, though there are various modes in which it may be escaped or baffled: one of them, that of postponement, which is temporary: another, that of translation out of the mortal state, as in the case of Ganymede: and a third, that of revival, as in the cases of Castor and Pollux. To Minerva alone is ascribed a power over death: and this seems to be a power of subsequent rescue, and not one of absolute exemption. Euryclea comforts Penelope with the exhortation to pray to Minerva about Ulysses[545], as she can afterwards deliver him;

The stress is evidently to be laid upon the word ἔπειτα.

Another passage, which may at first sight present a different appearance, will, I think, on examination, be found to harmonize completely with what has been said. When in the Sixteenth Iliad, Jupiter perceives that his cherished son Sarpedon is about to meet his death by encountering Patroclus, he laments that it should be the destiny of one to him the dearest of men, to be slain by that warrior. Then he proceeds to consider whether he shall remove him from the scene of danger, though he was fated to die, or whether he shall subdue him by the hands of Patroclus[546],

Thus, in the space of a few lines, 1. he seems to recognise destiny as a power superior to his own will; then, 2. he debates whether he shall overrule this superior power; and lastly, 3. he treats the execution of its decree as the act of that very will of his. And on this course, advised by Juno, he finally decides.

He desists from executing this plan, not because it is impossible, but apparently for two reasons: the first, that it may cause discontent and spleen among the gods; the second, that by similar interferences, on behalf each of his own child, they too may trouble the order of nature. His power, therefore, to execute the scheme is clearly implied. But what scheme? Not one for repealing the law of death, so far as Sarpedon is concerned[547]; but simply for adjourning the evil by removing him to his home, and so putting him far beyond the reach of the chances of the war.

When Vulcan is asked by Thetis to provide arms for Achilles, he replies, Would that I could hide him from his fated hour, even as I can and will provide him with arms! Here, indeed, the expression is not to save, but to hide him; yet even this is beyond his power:

Vulcan indeed is a deity of limited powers; but in this case he seems to express a general law.

Death inexorable to Fate or Deity.

The death, therefore, at some time within a given space, of every person remaining in the state of a mortal man, was a point settled and immovable, and so was accordingly the αἶσα of death: but it was that the αἶσα was fixed, because death was fixed, and not that death was fixed, because αἶσα ordained it. We must distinguish between a single incident of a mortal career, an order which nothing can infringe, unchangeable but uncaused, and the supposition of a power, which causes that, and likewise all other parts of it, irrespective of personal will, whether in the gods or in men.

It appears, I think, on the whole, that αἶσα has but a limited and equivocal connection with the idea of fate; it seems never to mean more than the fate of a single individual, never to signify the large-handed destiny that grasps nations and the world. It may be overridden, as by the Greeks, after the battle of the ships. And the reason of this seems to be that its meaning has so strong a bias to the side of a moral law, as opposed to a mere force. This comes out clearly in the sense of the word αἴσιμος: αἴσιμα εἴδειν is little less or more, than to be a good man. Its predominating sense is the ordained law of right; and as such, it is a law very liable to be broken.

Destiny under the form of Μοῖρα.

It is in the Μοῖρα, if anywhere, that we must seek for destiny, in the sense which approximates to fatalistic ideas. Here, far differently from αἶσα, the moral idea is subordinate in nearly all cases, and in some it is wholly suppressed.

Like αἶσα, μοῖρα, properly means a portion or share, a part accruing to some one under a law. Thus we have οὐδ’ αἰδοῦς μοῖραν ἔχουσιν Od. xx. 171; and παρώχηκεν δὲ πλέων νὺξ τῶν δύο μοιράων, τριτάτη δ’ ἔτι μοῖρα λέλειπται (Il. x. 252). Thus it appears to pass into the following senses, which may be usefully compared with those of αἶσα.

The scope of its meaning is far wider: it hardly stoops to signify the destiny of a single man; Homer could not well have said (see Il. i. 416.) ἐπεί νύ τοι μοῖρα μίνυνθά περ: although he can make μοῖρα as a power, appoint a destiny for a man, (Il. xxiv. 209.) it is not the μοῖρα of a man. But it is

1. The appointing power as separate from any thing else. It hovers between the state of an abstraction and of a person: and it comes nearer to the latter than αἶσα. Not only have we μοῖρα κραταιὴ γεινομένῳ ἐπένησε λίνῳ, (Il. xxiv. 209.) but especially,

A passage by which, unless its effect were modified from elsewhere, the μοῖραι seem in principle to take the whole administration of moral government into their hands, by fixing dispositions as well as outward actions.

2. Besides being thus personal, μοῖρα reaches to mankind at large, and expresses a general law, in the passage last quoted.

This may be a law of good fortune, as in Od. xx. 76[550]:

3. Or, with an epithet, it may mean ill fortune; as in μοῖρα δυσώνυμος, Il. xii. 116.

4. It seems very strongly to signify death, when used simply, and without addition, as τεῒν δ’ ἐπὶ μοῖραν ἔθηκε, in Od. xi. 560.

5. Or when in apposition, as μοῖρα θανάτοιο, Od. ii. 100, or again as in Il. iii. 101, θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα.

6. Or any thing ordained for mankind at large, as Od. xix. 592, the μοῖρα ὕπνου. You must sleep, says Penelope; for the gods have so ordained it, (ἐπὶ γάρ τοι ἑκάστῳ μοῖραν ἔθηκαν ἀθάνατοι θνητοῖσιν ἐπὶ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν).

7. Μοῖρα, like αἶσα, may be the embodied will, decree, or dispensation of the gods. Thus we have μοῖρα θεοῦ, Od. xi. 292, where θεὸς is either Jupiter or possibly Apollo: and μοῖρα θεῶν, Od. iii. 269, and xxii. 413. Now the names θεὸς and θεοὶ seem to be higher with Homer than any mythological name. They are his most solemn forms for the expression of the idea of deity. Thus it is remarkable that he never attaches μοῖρα directly to any Olympian person. This testifies to its signifying something larger than is conveyed by αἶσα. But it also seems to indicate that, even if it were capable of being placed in antagonism to the will of one of the mythological persons, into whose forms theistic ideas had passed by degeneracy, yet it was not conceived as opposite to or separate from the divine principle, but rather as a power associated with it.

8. Though in general μοῖρα means the thing ordained without reference to moral ideas, yet it is not always so. Μόρσιμος ordinarily means destined, while αἴσιμος means right. But the ideas of right and might were not yet wholly parted. In Od. xxii. 413 it is plain that μοῖρα θεῶν, pronounced by Ulysses over the Suitors, contains a moral element: for he goes on to say, οὔτινα γὰρ τίεσκον κ.τ.λ.: and so Eurymachus, when he means to acknowledge that the death of Antinous was morally just, says,

The presence of the moral element in this word is entirely adverse to the theory, that it was used in the sense of fatalism. Power apart from a personal deity has been conceived by the human mind: but moral power, I think, in such a state of severalty, has never been made the subject of serious speculation.

9. Μοῖρα has yet another sense, that of κοσμὸς, order. The force of the term κατὰ μοῖραν is generally ‘with propriety,’ while κατ’ αἶσαν is ‘with right.’

Thus in Il. xix. 256 the Greeks sit still, κατὰ μοῖραν, in order to hear Agamemnon: and we have an instance of κατὰ μοῖραν meaning ‘with propriety’ in Il. x. 169. Here Nestor has been chidden by Diomed, not for a moral offence, but for over-activity: and he replies,

He could not here have said κατ’ αἶσαν.

Under the form of μόρος.

Lastly, we come to the word μόρος. There are several shades of distinction between it and μοῖρα.

1. It is never personified in Homer, nor even approaches to impersonation.

2. It draws peculiarly to the dispensation of death, in conformity with the law by which in Latin it became mors. See Il. xviii. 465. xxi. 133: and, except in this connection, it does not seem to be used to express individual destiny.

3. Accordingly it is never associated with deity; in conformity with the fixed character of the dispensation of death. We have no μόρος θεῶν, μόρος Διός.

4. Yet this is not because μόρος is stronger than μοῖρα. On the contrary, we have no case in Homer of a thing done ὑπὲρ μοῖραν, though it is sometimes apprehended. Thus in Il. xx. 335 Neptune warns Æneas to retire from before Achilles,

But μόρος receives the sense of αἶσα as the law of right: a relationship curiously maintained in mos, moris, compared with mors, mortis. Men bring woe upon themselves ὑπέρμορον, by obstinate wickedness: and the crimes of Ægisthus (Od. i. 35.) have been committed ὑπέρμορον.

General view of the Homeric Destiny.

We thus see that, on the whole, the force of destiny, as it appears in Homer, although it commonly prevails, is not uniformly irresistible. We never find the deities actually fighting against it, or it against them. So full and large were Homer’s conceptions of the freedom of the human will, that fate is sometimes on the point of giving way before the energy of his heroes, and this even when the strength of some god is brought in aid of it. Thus Jupiter fears, lest ὑπὲρ μόρον Achilles should dash the Trojan walls[552] to the ground. Apollo enters the city[553], lest the Greeks should take it ὑπὲρ μόρον on the day of the battle with Hector. In the Second Book, after the rush from the assembly, the Greeks would ὑπέρμορα have returned home, unless Juno had urged Minerva to bestir herself by influence among them. Many things are done contrary to αἶσα, or the ordained law of right; whereas, although μοῖρα is not in the abstract insurmountable, yet in fact it rarely is surmounted. But then the Fate of Homer, the thing spoken, is not in conflict with him that speaks it.

We do not find in Homer the curious distinction which the speculative mind of the Greeks afterwards worked out, between a fate representing the mere will of the gods, and a fixed fate higher and stronger than they:

And again in Herodotus[555]: τὴν πεπρωμένην μοίρην ἀδύνατά ἐστιν ἀποφυγέειν καὶ θεῷ.

While this, on the one side, was the course of speculation, the course of poetic thought was towards a complete impersonation of Destiny in the three Fates, representing an image so congenial, as a poetic image only, to the human mind, that it found its way into the romance poetry of Christian Italy.

Upon the whole, it appears at any rate most probable, that Homer had not formed the conception of a law extrinsic to all volition human and divine, and so powerful as to override it.

It is hardly to be conceived that Homer would have treated a successful resistance to the laws of Destiny as lying within the possible reach of mankind, had he deemed it to be a power independent of, and superior to, the Divine Will; because he always represents the latter as decisive and supreme over human fortunes.

I think that the primary ideas conveyed in the terms μοῖρα and Fatum will not be found, when examined, to agree. Fatum is the decree without reason; the sic volo sic jubeo; and the idea of it is the result of the long, wearisome, despairing experience of bewildered man, after the world has lost the freshness and the joy of its childhood. The μοῖρα, or share, is a distribution made according to a law or moral purpose: it cannot, without parting from its nature, be blind: its tendency in Homer rather is, as we see in Il. xxiv. 49, to grow into a sort of rival Providence.

The arguments to an opposite effect are surely inconclusive[556]. The question raised by the Scales of Jupiter is, not what the springs may be which determine the movement of the world, but simply what is his foreknowledge of the direction it will take. These representations would be perfectly consistent with belief in the supremacy (so to speak) of Chance: and while we may admit that, inasmuch as they are not produced for the information of men, they must indicate a limitation in Jupiter, we should not mistake the nature of that limitation.

Again, we must not suppose that because some particular deity deplores the course of destiny, therefore that course is in opposition to the general deliberation and decision of Olympus.

And when, as is commonly the case, we find the deities cooperating with μοῖρα, the assumption that they are its servants, seems to be wholly unwarranted. It seems much more natural to suppose that the μοῖρα, to which they are giving effect, is simply the divine will: especially as, though we find single gods, Neptune or Apollo, for example, cooperating with μοῖρα, I doubt whether this is ever represented of the gods at large and their supreme decrees.

In order to solve the general question, what after all can be more reasonable than to look to the main action of the poems, and inquire what power or what counsel it is which takes effect through the medium of their machinery as a whole? If this be the test, there is no room for doubt upon the issue. In the Iliad it is the Διὸς βουλὴ (Il. i. 5): the determination of Olympus, into which Jupiter had wisely allowed his own opposite inclinations to merge. In the Odyssey[557], it is the decision of the same tribunal, at the instance of Minerva, and with Neptune alone dissentient. Upon the whole, for the poems and the day of Homer, I cannot but think that both the supremacy of godhead as a whole, and the freedom of man remain, if somewhat darkened, yet certainly unsubverted. The μοῖρα of Homer may, it is probable, be no more and no less in the main than that θέσφατον, or divinely uttered decree, which he sometimes uses in such a manner as to admit of the supposition that they were really synonymous.

At the same time we do not find, nor could we expect to find, in Homer any clear assertion of the majesty of the true Divine Will, as the mainspring that moves the universe. That is emphatically a Christian sentiment, which is conveyed in the lofty formula of Dante:

The Fate of Homer may indeed logically embrace a germ, which will afterwards expand into the idea of a power extrinsic to Deity, and able to overrule it. We may argue to show that the representation, perseveringly developed, means as much as this. But then such representations in Homer are not perseveringly, much less are they unilaterally, developed. They have not been thought through even to their legitimate consequences, and far less to those which appear to arise from the following out, not of a full truth, but of some particular and severed aspect of it. Taken at the worst, Destiny in Homer broods like a cloud in a distant quarter of the sky, silently gathering the might which, when ripe, is to engage in obstinate and unending conflict with deity. But for this work the material is not yet prepared; and practically neither μοῖρα nor αἶσα much crosses the work of Divine government, such as it is conceived and exhibited in Homer. I pass on to the second Class.

Minor impersonations from Nature.

Among the Greeks, and even in Homer, every tree, every fountain, all things inanimate, that either vegetated or moved, had their indwelling deity. Homer, however, represents the infancy of that system, and though he impersonates many other local agencies, he gives to none so active a personality as to Rivers. Ulysses in his distress addresses the god of the Scherian river[558]; and is answered by the staying of the current. Simois is addressed personally by Xanthus[559]; and Xanthus himself, by virtue of his local power, is promoted to the honour of contending with Vulcan, the god of fire, a member of the Olympian Court, and a son of Jupiter and Juno. So the Spercheus[560] is invoked, and, what is more, invoked so far off as in Troas, by Achilles.

The perpetual movement which inheres in the essence of a river, combined with the visibility which separates it from mere atmospherical currents, seems to connect it more closely than any other natural object with the idea of life. It is most interesting to observe how the sentiment here expressed seems to have worked in ages widely distant, upon great poets of differing nations, temperaments, and circumstances, after their differing manners. Homer does not impute feelings to a River; but he impersonates it with a treatment different to that which he applies to groves, fountain, or meadow. Now these personifications though not yet disused (especially in the English poetry of the last century), have become far less real and effective for the human mind, since the Gospel opened to us the unseen world with its crowd of ethereal inhabitants. Observe, accordingly, how a feeling identical with that of Homer, a tendency to invest outward nature with vitality and action, in these more recent times takes a different form. The great Dante, more than two thousand years later in the line of human descent, without personifying, yet ascribes feeling to a river; he imagines the Po, after its tumultuous headlong descent with all its feeders from the mountains, longing for peace, and seeking it by repairing to the sea. Francesca da Rimini thus describes her birth-place;

And one of lesser indeed, (for who is not less than such as these?) but yet of both high and honoured poetic name, our own Wordsworth, in his Sonnet[561] on the River Thames, seen from London Bridge at sunrise, has the well known line,

He may also be claimed as a witness to what has been said of the truth and power of these personifications to the ancients. For in another noble Sonnet, where he complains of the deadening power and weight of worldly life, and intends to show that a system of shadows, when men really appropriate and digest the truth it has, is better for them than to have a system of substances around them, and yet to remain unpenetrated by it, he describes that system of shadows by recalling two of its vivid personifications[562].

But while Homer brings into action no personifications of this class, except those of Rivers, he peoples each with its appropriate Genius, the fountains, the grassy meadows, and the groves. In the Great Parliament of the supernal world at the beginning of the Twentieth Iliad, all are represented. Even here, however, the distinction is preserved: the Rivers attend as it were in person; but the rest by deputy, that is, by their proper indwelling and presiding Spirits;

Thus the first are impersonations: the second only residences for persons to dwell in.

The Harpies of Homer.

The Harpies, Ἁρπυῖαι, of Homer have been, I think, truly described as ‘nothing but personified storm-winds[564].’ They have no connection, when jointly viewed, with the moral order, except that they may, as mere carriers, take a subordinate part in the fulfilment of a moral purpose, which is quite as true of the Winds, personified or unpersonified. The Harpy Ποδάργη is personified individually, as the mother who bears to Zephyr the two deathless horses of Achilles, Xanthus and Balius[565]; but apparently for no other purpose than one purely relative. The classical passage respecting the Harpies is that in Od. xx. 61–79, which forms a part of the prayer of Penelope to Diana. The object of the matron’s petition is that, wearied out with her sorrows, she may die, and this in one of two modes: either by the arrows of the goddess; or else, that a hurricane may seize her, and, driving her along the paths of air, deposit her in the channels of Ocean, that is to say, the place of the dead. Then she proceeds to illustrate this last mode of death, of which she has named θύελλα as the instrument, by the tale of the daughters of Pandareus, who, having lost their parents, were in an extraordinary manner petted by the goddesses. Aphrodite fed them, Here gave them sense and beauty, Artemis stature, Pallas endowed them with skill. And, lastly, Aphrodite went to Olympus to induce Jupiter to provide for their marriage. But while she was away on this errand, the Harpies carried off these maidens, and gave them to the Ἐρινύες, ἀμφιπολεύειν, to be their servants, as it is sometimes rendered, but, as I should venture to construe it, ‘for them, i. e. the Ἐρινύες, to deal with.’ It is evident that, in this curious legend, the Harpies are introduced to exemplify nothing more than the part which Penelope had previously referred to the θύελλα; and these powers, who represent Hurricane or Squall, and in whose agency lies the gist of the story, appear to have been in this matter the ministers of the Ἐρινύες, beings of a very different order. These beings are evidently introduced, though entirely beyond the parallel of the θύελλα, in order to complete the moral. The only other case in which Homer introduces the Harpies is in a line, twice repeated, where Penelope supposes that they may have carried Ulysses off (ἀκλειῶς) ingloriously[566], i. e. so as to rob him in death of his due meed of fame. And this Friedreich well compares with part of a passage in the Book of Job, which is as follows, chap. xxvii. 20, 21. ‘A tempest stealeth him away in the night: the east wind carrieth him away, and he departeth; and as a storm hurleth him out of his place.’

The Erinues of Homer.

The Ἐρινύες are of much greater importance; and their position deserves the more careful inquiry, because it has, I think, been often misunderstood, perhaps from being appreciated only through the delusive medium of the later tradition, which appears to me to have let drop all the finer elements of the conception, by a process similar to that which it effected upon the great Homeric characters of Achilles, Helen, and Ulysses.

It is quite insufficient to say of these personages, by way of description, that they are the avengers of crime[567], or that they grudge the bliss of mortals, or that they defend the authority of parents[568]: and it is wholly erroneous, in my opinion, to treat them as ‘originally nothing but a personification of curses pronounced upon a guilty criminal[569].’

Let us first collect the facts respecting their position in Homer.

1. In the narrative of Phœnix we find that when, at the instigation of his mother, he had sought the embraces of a παλλακὶς, for whom his father had a passion, the father, incensed, invoked the Ἐρινύες to make him childless. ‘This curse,’ he says, ‘the gods (θεοὶ) accomplished, and the subterranean Jupiter, and awful Persephone,’ Il. ix. 449–57.

2. The mother of Meleager, on account of his having slaughtered her brother, invoked Aïdes and Persephone, beseeching them to slay that hero: whereupon the Erinūs, here called ἠεροφοῖτις, ‘that walketh in darkness,’ heard her from Erebus, and the city was besieged. But here the Erinūs appears to act, if not wholly in favour of Meleager, yet against his mother. The city is assaulted, forced, and set on fire. The family, including the mother who had cursed him, entreat Meleager to deliver them, and attempt to attract his favour by splendid promises of a demesne, to be conferred on him by the public. Only when the palace itself is assailed does he consent. He repels the enemy; the demesne is not given him: and, on account of his thus relenting only at the last moment, Phœnix quotes him as a warning example, for Achilles to avoid. (Il. ix. 565–603.)

3. In Il. xv. 204, when Neptune seems inclined to be refractory, Iris reminds him that the Erinūs will act with Jupiter, because he is the elder brother:

And upon this hint Neptune at once alters his tone, allows that she has spoken κατὰ μοῖραν, and complies with the command that she has brought.

4. In Il. xix. Agamemnon, while he admits his ἄτη, (v. 87), throws, we might say shuffles off, the blame of it upon Jupiter, Destiny, and Erinūs:

5. In vv. 258–60 of the same Book, the same personage invokes as witnesses to his asseveration concerning Briseis, 1. Jupiter, 2. the Earth, 3. the Sun, 4. the Ἐρινύες, ‘who dwell beneath the earth, and punish the perjured.’

6. In v. 418 of the same Book, after the horse Xanthus, receiving a voice by the gift of Juno, has given to Achilles a dark indication of his coming fate, the Erinues interfere to prevent any further disclosures:

7. When, in the Theomachy, Minerva has laid Mars prostrate by a blow, she taunts him by telling him he may in his overthrow recognise the Ἐρινύες of his mother Juno, invoked upon him for having changed sides in the contest (Il. xxi. 410–14).

8. In the Odyssey (ii. 135), Telemachus apprehends that, if he dismisses his mother, he will have to encounter, among other evils, the Erinuës whom she will invoke upon him.

9. Epicaste, the mother of Œdipus, is speedily removed from the face of earth for her hapless incest. Œdipus himself lives and reigns: but suffers many sorrows, which the Erinuës of Epicaste (μητρὸς Ἐρινύες, as in Il. xx. 412) bring upon him.

10. Melampus, a rich subject of Neleus in Pylos, is imprisoned for a whole year in the house of Phylacus, and has his property seized or confiscated, on account of the daughter of Neleus, and of his grievous ἄτη, which the goddess, the hard-striking[570] Erinūs, brought into his mind (Od. xv. 233):

But he escaped from death, and paid, i.e. accomplished, the strange act that Neleus had imposed as the condition of obtaining the command over his daughter’s hand. He thus procured it for his brother, termed in the post-Homeric tradition Bias. This condition was, that he should bring off to Pylos the cows which were the property of Iphicles (and apparently of Phylacus). He was caught at Phylace in the attempt: but after a year Iphicles released him, apparently in consideration of benefit derived from his prophetic knowledge, Od. xv. 228–38, and xi. 287–97.

11. In Od. xvii. 475, 6, Ulysses, when Antinous had hurled the stool at him, invokes upon that Suitor in return the anger of the gods and Erinuës (εἴ πού γε εἰσὶν, if such there be) of the poor.

12. Lastly, in Od. xx. 78, as we have seen, the Harpies deliver the daughter of Pandareus into the hands of the Erinuës.

We have thus a very copious supply of information from Homer, in no less than twelve passages, every one of which represents the action of these singular beings in a fresh and varied light: and the question is, what is the one common idea, which is sufficiently comprehensive to include them all, and is also in harmony with the purport of each?

Vindicators of the moral order.

I answer, that the Erinuës are, in the Homeric system, the never-failing champions, because they are the practical avengers, of the natural and moral order, at all times, under all circumstances, and against all persons whatsoever. They have nothing to do with the prevention of crime: but they appear to be the principal instruments for its punishment, especially here, but likewise hereafter. This, however, is only a part of their function. They are the sworn servants of a fixed order of the universe, apart from, anterior to, and independent of, all volition, divine or human: and they avenge the infraction of that order, not merely as a law of right opposed to wrong, but as a law of order opposed to disorder; they are goddesses themselves, but they are wholly apart from the Olympian dispensation, sometimes put in conjunction with deities of the mythology, sometimes apart from, sometimes in opposition to them. They are, in short, an early and poetical expression of that philosophy, which even in Christian times has seemed to seek a foundation for the supreme laws more or less dissociated from, and wholly exterior to, the Divine Will: the philosophy, not of Destiny, but of the ‘Immutable Morality’ of Cudworth and his school: the philosophy harmonizing with the Ideas of the Platonists: the philosophy of which we have a distant glimpse in the words of St. Bernard, incommutabile est, quod ne ipsi quidem Deo mutare liberum est[571]: and which Butler has presented to us in the mild forms of his admirably balanced wisdom.

I will take first, as the criteria of this proposition, the remarkable cases in which we find the Erinuës of Homer in qualified conflict with Deity. It is commonly held, that in the Nineteenth Iliad the Erinuës interfere to prevent Xanthus from telling too much to Achilles. No doubt Homer effects this purpose by their means: but they never interfere with the aim of prevention. It is the natural order which had been broken by the act of Juno in conferring the gift of speech upon a horse, and which they by their interposition mean to vindicate and reestablish.

They play the same part in the case of the daughters of Pandareus. It is plain that the goddesses of Olympus had vied with one another, after an unprecedented and abnormal manner, in loading these damsels with an extraordinary accumulation of gifts. Everything, even food, came to them by the direct and immediate agency of their Immortal handmaids: and at last Jupiter was actually besought to find them husbands. All this lay far beyond, and was therefore in derogation of the ordinary laws for the government of the world: it left no space for human volition, effort, or discipline: it thus struck at the root of the moral order; and on this ground the Erinuës interfere, apparently employing the Hurricanes as their agents, to remove these maidens from the earth, and to deposit them upon the Ocean stream, by the place of the dead.

Their operation upon the Immortals.

I do not know whether, over and above the infraction of natural order which I have mentioned, there may not have been another cause for their intervention in the special manner in which the endowments had been conveyed: for where we find Juno granting to them ‘beauty and sense beyond all other women[572],’ it appears as if she had travelled into the province not only of Venus, but of the great Minerva, with whose prerogatives I doubt whether we ever find any similar interference allowed by Homer. It is therefore just possible that the Erinuës may here interpose on behalf of the laws and arrangements of Olympus, as well as of those belonging to Earth.

The explanation which I have proposed will entirely fit the warning of Iris to Neptune. The natural order, which assigns the prerogatives of government to the elder, in other words, the right of primogeniture, is a rule for the Immortals, as well as for mankind, since it is taken to be founded upon a basis more profound than will, which was not, and could hardly be for Homer, even when divine, either the source or the master of creation. But while the Erinuës are thus on the side of Jupiter, and while the recollection of them at once induces Neptune to succumb, they are not on that account in any sense or degree his ministers.

On the same side with him we find them, where they are invoked by Ulysses, as the Erinuës, together with the gods, of the poor: or as when Agamemnon lays upon Erinūs, along with Jupiter and Destiny, the blame of errors, for which notwithstanding the Greeks rightly held him[573], and even he could not deny himself to be, responsible. Yet we are never told that the Erinuës move at the bidding of Jupiter, or of any other Olympian deity. Here we seem to have a glimpse into the deeper truths of the heroic age. Theology had already wandered from its orbit: it was fast losing all the severity and majesty of truth; but the deep roots which God had given to the sense of responsibility, and the expectation of retribution, in the human mind, had not yet been wholly plucked up; and Homer’s fine sense of truth forbade him to connect the most practical, and at the same time, the sternest parts of his religious system, with the gorgeous glare of his Olympus, and with the moral delinquencies of many among its inhabitants.

As the seniority of Jupiter is upheld by the Erinuës, so in like manner are the parental rights of Juno, which had been infringed by Mars, when he changed sides in the war. Here again, however, it appears as if more than the mere wish or influence of Juno had been set aside: for Mars had given a positive promise to fight for the Greeks, and it is probable that the breach of this engagement constituted the chief part of the offence that they were to punish[574].

Their connection with Aides and Persephone.

Where the Erinuës touch upon the province of other deities at all, it is upon that of Persephone and of Aïdes. If Homer associated Persephone, as I believe he did, with the Eastern nursery of his race, it was natural enough that, as has been the case, this part of his theo-mythology should remain comparatively untainted. And certainly the Homeric relation between the Erinuës and the sovereigns of the nether world is a close one. When, in the Ninth Iliad, Althea, grasping the earth in her vehemence, as if to lay the strong hand upon the object of her prayer, invoked Aidoneus and Persephone to put her son to death, the Poet proceeds to say that the Erinūs heard her: the Erinūs who stalks in the darkness heard her, and heard her out of Erebus[575]. In the case of Phœnix and Amyntor we have exactly the converse. Here the Erinūs was invoked, and it was Aides with Persephone that answered the prayer. In both these instances it must moreover be remembered, that the question is about present and even immediate, not about posthumous retribution. We cannot, then, refuse to admit, that in this manner Persephone with Aidoneus is placed in an intimate relation with the administration of retributive justice on earth, and during the course of human life there: and if the Erinuës are to be considered as abstractions, having their basis only in some ulterior impersonation, Persephone and Aidoneus offer the only objects on whom we can suppose them to depend. It seems to me, however, that they are not reciprocally identified, although they are profoundly connected, and although we read in the connection a very ancient testimony to a primitive conviction in mankind, that they must look to the powers of the other world to redress the deranged balances of this.

Conformably to these ideas, we find that, in the Nineteenth Iliad, the abode of the Erinuës is fixed ὑπὸ γαῖαν: and it is made clear from the passage (259, 60,) that their avenging office, which is so commonly exercised in this world, reaches also to the other.

From the character of the Erinuës, as vindicators of an order having deeper foundations than those which any volition could either lay or shake, there arises that natural association of them with Destiny, which we see expressed in the speech of Agamemnon[576]. Both have in common this idea, that they are not dependent on mere volition. They differ in these points; that Destiny prescribes and effectuates action, while the Erinuës only punish transgression; and that Destiny is but feebly moral, whereas the Erinuës are profoundly charged with ethical colouring. They represent that side of the idea of Destiny which alone can, after being resolutely scrutinized, retain a hold upon our interest.

Their operation upon man.

All the residue of the threads will, I think, run out easily. It follows from what has been said, that in their aspect towards man, the Erinuës are not indeed administrators of the moral laws themselves, but administrators of their sanctions. So they punish the infraction of the rights inhering in all natural relations: the rights of the poor, as Ulysses protests to Antinous; of a father, as in the case of Amyntor; of a mother, as in the case of Penelope. But they do much more than punish the infraction of the rights of persons; it is the infraction of right as right, which they resent as a substantive offence. Let us accordingly notice the function of the Erinūs in those cases where there has been fault on both sides. An offender is not therefore secure, because the person who invokes the Erinūs upon him is an offender too. The father of Phœnix gave the original occasion to his offence, by an offence of his own: but Phœnix is punished at his instance notwithstanding, because the thing which he implores is not a personal favour, but is a vindication of the ὑψίποδες νόμοι[577], violated by the incest of his son; a thing right to be done, whether asked or not. The case of Althea and Meleager illustrates this truth in a manner still more lively. When she obtained the intervention of the Erinūs, she at once suffered by it. The city of Œneus was all but subjected to the horrors of capture: she was brought, in bitter humiliation, to supplicate the aid of the son, on whose head she had just invoked the stroke of doom. From this we must conclude, which indeed is not difficult, that the Poet regarded her prayer as in itself unnatural and cruel; so that the fulfilment of it involved immediate suffering to herself. But, on the other hand, Meleager had offended too, in the slaughter of a near relative. Therefore, although his pride might well be gratified when he saw king, priest, and people, with his humbled mother, at his feet, and proffering their choicest gift in order to appease him, yet for that original offence, and for his obstinately refusing to arm until fire was in the city, he must receive his punishment likewise, in vindication of the moral laws; accordingly, after he had repulsed the enemy, he never received the demesne[578].

The case of Meleager assists to illustrate that of Œdipus and Epicaste. Both of these unhappy persons had offended against the moral laws, though it was unwittingly (ἀϊδρείῃσι νόοιο); one, the mother-bride, was immediately put out of the way: the survivor was still pursued by the μητρὸς Ἐρινύες. We see here how insufficient the idea of a curse, invoked at will, is to explain the action of these remarkable Powers; for it does not appear that there was any mother’s curse in the case: but, because the natural laws were broken in a matter where the mother was the occasion, therefore, while both suffer, the sufferings of the son are attributed to the Erinuës of the mother; the defenders, because the avengers, of the sanctity of a mother’s place in relation to her son.

In the case of Melampus, it appears that his undertaking to obtain the cows of Iphicles or Phylacus was an ἄτη βαρεῖα, a grave error, beginning in a temptation suggested to him by the Erinūs, and ending in calamity. The seizure of these animals would probably be regarded as no moral offence: and if so, any error that could lie in the engagement to seize them would be, according to Homeric estimate, in the nature of folly rather than of crime. We seem to see, then, in this place, that the range of Erinūs, like that of Atè, embraced at a certain point the prudential as well as the strictly moral laws: nor is there involved in this idea any violent departure from the true standard, for great imprudences are most commonly, and almost invariably, in near connection with some form of moral defect.

It is however also to be observed, that in this place the Erinūs suggests the ἄτη. The idea lying at the root of this representation appears to be the profound one, that the exercise of an evil will is in itself penal: and that when the mind is already disposed to offend, retributive justice may take the form of a permission, encouragement, or incitement, to commit the offence. We have already seen a very remarkable development of this idea in the hardening agency of Minerva upon the Suitors[579].

According to the view of them which has here been given, though I could not class the Erinuës with the traditive deities, it is clear that they must represent, under metamorphosis, an important association of ideas belonging to primitive tradition.

Let us now turn to the Sixth Class.

The translation of mortals.

Those for whom it was a mental necessity to animate with deity even the mute powers of nature, could not but find modes of associating man, who stood nearer to the Immortals, with them and their conditions of existence.

These modes were chiefly three:

The first, that of translation during life.

The second, that of deification after death.

The third, the conception of races intermediate between deity and humanity.

And it was perhaps not the simple working of a fervid imagination, but also an offshoot from this profound and powerful tendency, which has filled the pages of Homer with continual efforts to deify what was most excellent, or most conspicuous, in the mind or in the person of living man.

The mode of translation during life was early in date, and was rarely used, for not only are the Homeric examples of it few, but he records no contemporary instance.

Ganymede[580], the son of Tros, was taken up to heaven by the Immortals on account of his beauty, that he might live among them. Tithonus, his grand-nephew, son of Laomedon, was, as we are left to infer, similarly translated during life, to be the husband of Aurora (in Homer Eos), or the morning: for Homer makes him known to us in that capacity, though he does not mention the translation. In like manner, she carried up, and placed among the Immortals for his beauty, Cleitus, one of the descendants of Melampus[581]. A similar operation to that which was performed upon Tithonus may have been designed in the case of Orion, who was the choice of Aurora, and whose career, in consequence of the jealousy of the Immortals, was cut short by the arrows of Diana[582]. The course of these legends seems to stop suddenly in the Greek mythology at the point where they are replaced by deification: and the connection of Aurora, as the principal agent, with three out of the four, (the other, too, is Asiatic, as being in the family of Dardanus,) seems to be an unequivocal sign of their eastern character. Homer places the dwelling of Ἤως at a distant point of the East, near the place where θάλασσα communicates with Ocean.

The deification of mortals.

In the age of Homer the very first names have hardly been entered in the class of deified heroes. Ino, the daughter of Cadmus, may be said to stand at the head of the list, from the distinct assertion of her translation, and from her being placed, as the ally of Ulysses, in continued relations with mortal men[583]. Of her also it is said that she had obtained divine honours; and nearly the same assertion is made of Castor and Pollux. But they perform no offices towards man while yet in this life. Of this Ino is the only instance. She appears to be Phœnician rather than Greek, and thus to belong perhaps to an older, clearly to a distinct mythology. Hercules, the only one of these persons who entirely fulfils the conditions of a hero, is admitted to the banquets of the gods, and united with Hebe[584]: yet he is not all in Olympus, for his εἴδωλον, endowed with voice and feeling, and bearing martial accoutrements, is the terror of the Dead. It is not easy to explain fully this divided state. I cannot but think, however, that we see here at work that principle of disintegration, which solved all riddles of character by making one individual into more than one: beginning, at least for earth, with that Helen in Egypt, who was made the depository of the better qualities that post-Homeric times could not recognise in Helen of Troy. Although the son of Jupiter, Hercules had on earth, through a sheer mistake, been subject to a destiny of grinding toil. His original extraction and personality stand in sharp contrast with the restless and painful destiny of his life. Death severs these one from the other, but Homer, contemplating each as a whole, endows the last also with personality, and gives it a reflection in the lower world of its earthly course and aspect: while the Jove-born Hercules, as it were by a natural spring, mounts up to heaven[585]. At the same time there is no more conspicuous example than Hercules, of that counter-principle of accumulation, by which legendary tradition heaps upon favourite heroes all acts not distinctly otherwise appropriated, which appear to harmonize with their characters; and thus often makes an historical personage into one both fabulous and impossible.

It must not be forgotten that this passage respecting Hercules was sharply challenged by the Alexandrian critics. This challenge is discussed, and its justice affirmed by Nitzsch[586]. Such authorities must not be defrauded of their weight. But for my own part, I do not find a proof of spuriousness even in the real inconsistencies of Homer, where he is dealing with subjects beyond the range of common life and experience. Still less can it be universally admitted, that what are called his inconsistencies are really such. They will often be found to require nothing but the application of a more comprehensive rule for their adjustment.

It is more difficult still to understand the case of Orion, who is at once a noted star in heaven, and a sufferer below in the Shades. There he appears not wholly unlike the shade of Hercules, a dreamy image of the sufferings of earth, and at the same time he ranks among the splendours at least of the material heaven.

Minos, who is placed in the Shades to exercise royal functions there, and Rhadamanthus, who has his happy dwelling on the Elysian plain, are approximative examples of deification.

It would be hazardous to build any opinion exclusively on the two verses Il. ii. 550, 551, relating to the worship of Erechtheus: but they are not altogether at variance with what we see elsewhere.

Growth of material for its extension.

Such is the rather slender list of personages in Homer, who approximate in any degree to what was afterwards the order of deified Heroes. There are, however, some other indications, that belong immediately to the living, and that point the same way. Such is the promise to Menelaus[587], that instead of dying he should be translated to Elysium, because he was the son-in-law of Jupiter. And this suggests other notes of preparation already found in Homer. Ulysses[588] promises Nausicaa that, when he has reached his own country, he will continue to invoke her all his life long, like a god. The invocation of the Dead was common. It was not practised only in illustrious cases like that of Patroclus. After their battle with the Cicones, Ulysses[589] and his crews thrice invoked their slaughtered comrades. A system of divine parentage was the fit, one might almost say the certain preparation for a scheme of divine honours after death; and of such parentage many of Homer’s heroes could boast. Again, Peleus was married to a goddess, and the gods in mass attended the wedding. By thus bringing the inhabitants of Olympus down to the earth, Homer laid the ground for bringing the denizens of earth into Olympus.

There is yet a further sign, which, though perhaps the least palpable, is, when well considered, the most striking of all. It is this; that sacrifice is offered, in the Odyssey, to the Shades of the departed. It is not indeed animal sacrifice that is actually offered. The gift consists of honey and milk, with wine, water, and flour[590]: but Ulysses distinctly promises that, on his return to Ithaca, he will supply this defect by offering a heifer in their honour, and a sheep all black to Tiresias in particular. Moreover, he distinctly recognises the idea of worshipping them[591];

It does not destroy the force of this proceeding, that they were supposed to need or to enjoy the thing sacrificed; for the Immortals of Olympus did the latter at least, and there are even traces of the former. Together with the mixed offering above described, and the promise of a regular sacrifice on his return home, Ulysses permitted the Shades to drink of the blood of the sheep which he immolated on the spot to Aidoneus and Persephone, after he had fulfilled the main purpose of his visit by consulting Tiresias[592].

The dead then have consciousness and activity. They are invoked by man. They can appear to him. They are capable of having sacrifices offered to them. They can confer benefit on the living. Here, gathered out of different cases, were the materials of full deification. All that was yet wanting was, that they should be put together according to rule.

The kindred of the gods.

We have now, lastly, to consider the kindred of the gods, or races intermediate between deity and humanity, which Homer has introduced in the Odyssey exclusively.

These are certainly three, perhaps four;

1. The Cyclopes.

2. The Læstrygonians.

3. The Phæacians.

It may also be probable that we should add

4. Æolus Hippotades and his family.

Among them all, the Cyclopes, children of Neptune, offer, as a work of art, by far the most successful and satisfactory result. In every point they are placed at the greatest possible distance from human society and its conventions. Man is small, the Cyclops huge. Man is weak, the Cyclops powerful. Man is gregarious, the Cyclops is isolated. Man, for Homer, is refined; the Cyclops is a cannibal. Man inquires, searches, designs, constructs, advances, in a word, is progressive: the Cyclops simply uses the shelter and the food that nature finds for him, and is thoroughly stationary. Yet, while man is subject to death, the Cyclops lives on, or vegetates at least, and transmits the privileges of his race by virtue of its high original. The relaxed morality of the divine seed, as compared with man, is traceable even in their slight customs. They are polygamous:

From their personal characters the moral element has been entirely dismissed. Polyphemus is a huge mass of force, seasoned perhaps with cunning, certainly with falseness. This union of a superhuman life with the brutal, that dwells in solitude, and has none of its angles rubbed down by the mutual contact between members of a race, produces a mixed result of extreme ferocity, childishness, and a kind of horrible glee, which as a work of art is most striking and successful. We may justly think much of Caliban: but Caliban cannot for a moment be compared to Polyphemus. It is equitable, however, to remember that contrast with Ariel, which must have been a governing condition in the creation of Shakespeare, required a nature which should be fatuous and grovelling, as well as coarse.

To feed Polyphemus, what lies nearest him, namely, the Læstrygonian adventure, has, perhaps, been starved. Again we are introduced to cruel Giants and to cannibalism, but with a great scantiness of detail. Their individuality is scarcely established. Their only marked qualities they hold in common with the Cyclopes, except as to a single point, namely, that they live gregariously. We see their city, and are introduced to their king, their queen, and their princess[594]. But a too great likeness to the Cyclops still suggests itself; and it is probable that in both the one and the other Homer set before him, among the materials of his work, that old tradition of powerful beings, allied to the deity, and yet rebellious against him, which meets us in so many forms, dispersed about the Homeric poems, and which the later tradition, by further multiplication and variety, resolved into a living chaos.

The Phæacians appear to stand quite in another category. While the Cyclops has no trace of deity but in superhuman force, the Phæacians have no pretensions of this kind. They are not even immortal, nor are they wholly removed from man, for they are accustomed to carry passengers by sea; they seem really to be meant in a measure to represent the θεοὶ ῥεῖα ζώοντες. We must not look too rigidly in them for notes of the divine character, but rather for the abundance, opulence, ease, and refinement of the divine condition. Hence Homer lavishes all the simple wealth of his imagination upon the palace and garden of Alcinous, which far exceeds any possessions he has assigned to ordinary men. This additional splendour of itself proves, if proof were wanted, that the picture is ideal. The same amount of ornament assigned to the palace of Menelaus would, from the contrast with fact, probably have been frigid to his hearers.

From the games and athletic exercises of this people all the ruder and more violent sports are excluded. Navigation, to others so formidable, for them is conducted by a spontaneous force and intelligence residing in their ships; which annihilates distance, and at last excites even the jealousy of Neptune (Od. viii. 555–69). We find in the island and in its history no poverty, no grief, no care, no want; all is fair to see and to enjoy. But we feel thankful to Homer that he has not here, as in the case of the Cyclops, made kin with the gods entail a marked moral or intellectual inferiority upon the sons of men; no purer or more graceful piece of humanity is to be found among the creations of the human brain, than his picture of Nausicaa. She combines in herself all that earth could suggest of bright, and pure, and fair. Still it cannot be denied that levity and vanity are rather conspicuous in the Phæacian men. They shew off, among other sports, their boxing and wrestling, before they know what Ulysses is made of. When they know it, Alcinous informs him in an off-hand way that they do not pretend to excellence in that class of sports[595]. After the dancers have performed, Ulysses with great tact at once passes a high compliment upon them. Alcinous, delighted with the praise, cries aloud, ‘Phæacian chiefs! this stranger appears to me to be an extremely sensible man[596].’

It appears, however, most likely that, besides the mythical element in two of them, Homer may have had some basis of maritime report, and thus of presumed fact, for his delineations of all these three races; that, with an unlimited license of embellishment, he, nevertheless, may have intended in each case to keep unbroken the tie between his own tale, and the voyages of Ulysses, founded upon Phœnician geography, as reported in his time. I form this opinion partly from some singularities in the Phæacian character, which, as they are not in keeping with any poetic idea, may probably have had an historic aim, though I cannot be persuaded that they afford a foundation broad enough for the full theory of Mure[597], if he conceives the Phæacians of the Odyssey to be strictly a portrait of the Phœnicians. Partly I draw the inference from the want of clear severance in the ideals, on which the characters of the Cyclops and the Læstrygones are severally founded. The remarkable natural characteristic of Læstrygonia which he has given us, its perpetual day, supports the same hypothesis. What would otherwise amount to poverty in the imagery is sufficiently accounted for, if we assume that he meant to describe two savage tribes, that inhabited the latitudes with which he was dealing; and that, feeling himself bound to brutality in each case, he has, under these unfavourable circumstances, varied it as much as he could. Unless it had been to preserve an historical or mythological tradition, the Læstrygonian adventure might hardly have deserved introduction into the Odyssey. Plainly, on the other hand, he is not to be held responsible for all that he has put down while he believed himself to be conforming to narratives of fact, in the same manner and degree as if he had been presenting us with a picture in which his fancy had only to work at will.

The remaining case is slight, and may speedily be dismissed. Æolus is φίλος ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσι, and is intrusted with the charge of the winds; and his six sons are married to his six daughters, as αἰδοίαι ἄλοχοι[598]. The word φίλος may bear the sense of relationship: immortality seems to be of necessity involved in the charge over the winds, who are themselves in the Iliad (in this point varying poetically from the Odyssey) invested with deity[599]: and the marriage of the sons to the daughters affords another absolute proof: for this, which would have been incest, μέγα ἔργον, among men, is evidently set down as in their case a legitimate connection. The great example in the Kronid family would give it full sanction for the Immortals.

The character of Æolus, if he be human, is one kindly to his fellow-men; and he inquires carefully respecting the fate of the Greeks and their chieftains. But it is very difficult to understand his place in the poem, and the reasons of it. The gift of Zephyr, and the folly of the crew in letting out the whole pack of winds, end only in the return of Ulysses to Æolia, and in his being dismissed from thence as one hateful to the gods, which he was not. This Æolus neither seems to be required for, nor to contribute to, the general purpose of the poem: nor to represent any ancient tradition: nor can we in any manner connect him with Æolus, the great national personage whose descendants were so illustrious, for that Æolus was clearly taken to be the son or immediate descendant of Jupiter; so that he could not have been called the son of Hippotas. Perhaps the origin of his place in the Odyssey was to be found in some Phœnician report about storms in the northern seas, where Æolia is evidently placed in complete isolation, figured by the sheer and steep rock of the coast, and by the metal wall which runs round it. It may have a partial prototype in Stromboli misplaced, the appearance of which from a distance entirely accords with this particular of inaccessibility. The whole picture, representing as it does, first, the ferocity of the winds, and, secondly, the existence of an efficient control over them, evidently embodies two features which could not but enter variously and prominently into the tales of Phœnician mariners; first, the fierceness of the gales prevailing in those outer latitudes, to deter others from attempting them; and secondly, their successful contest with the difficulty thus created in order to glorify themselves.