"Then wise Penelope answered him again: 'Strange man, I have no proud thoughts, nor do I think scorn of thee, nor am I too greatly astonished, but I know right well what manner of man thou wert when thou wentest forth out of Ithaca, on the long-oared galley.--But come, Euryclea, spread for him the good bedstead outside the stablished bridal chamber that he built himself. Thither bring ye forth the good bedstead, and cast bedding thereon, even fleeces and rugs and shining blankets.'

"So she spake and made trial of her lord, but Odysseus in sore displeasure spake to his true wife, saying: 'Verily, a bitter word is this, lady, that thou hast spoken. Who has set my bed otherwhere? Hard would it be for one, how skilled soever, unless a G.o.d were to come that might easily set it in another place, if so he would. But of men there is none living, howsoever strong in his youth, that could lightly upheave it; for a great marvel is wrought in the fashion of the bed, and it was I that made it, and none other. There was growing a bush of olive, long of leaf, and most goodly of growth, within the inner court, and the stem as large as a pillar. Round about this I built the chamber, till I had finished it, with stones close set, and I roofed it over well and added thereto compacted doors fitting well. Next I sheared off all the light wood of the long-leaved olive, and rough-hewed the trunk upwards from the root, and smoothed it around with the adze, well and skilfully, and made straight the line thereto and so fashioned it into the bedpost, and I bored it all with the auger. Beginning from this headpost, I wrought at the bedstead till I had finished it, and made it fair with inlaid work of gold and of silver and of ivory. Then I made fast therein a bright purple band of oxhide. Even so I declare to thee this token, and I know not, lady, if the bedstead be yet fast in its place, or if some man has cut away the stem of the olive tree and set the bedstead otherwhere.'

"So he spake, and at once her knees were loosened, and her heart melted within her, as she knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed her. Then she fell a-weeping, and ran straight towards him and cast her hands about his neck, and kissed his head and spake, saying:

"'Murmur not against me, Odysseus, for thou wert ever at other times the wisest of men. It is the G.o.ds that gave us sorrow, the G.o.ds who were jealous that we should abide together and have joy of our youth and come to the threshold of old age. So now be not wroth with me hereat nor full of indignation because I did not welcome thee gladly as now, when I first saw thee. For always my heart within my breast shuddered for fear lest some man should come and deceive me with his words, for many there be that devise gainful schemes and evil. Nay, even Argive Helen, daughter of Zeus, would not have lain with a stranger, and taken him for a lover, had she known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans would bring her home again to her own dear country. Howsoever, it was the G.o.d that set her upon this shameful deed; nor ever, ere that, did she lay up in her heart the thought of this folly, a bitter folly, whence on us, too, first came sorrow. But now that thou hast told all the sure tokens of our bed, which never was seen by mortal man, save by thee and me, and one maiden only, the daughter of Actor, that my father gave me ere yet I had come hither, she who kept the doors of our strong bridal chamber, even now dost thou bend my soul, all ungentle as it is.'

"Thus she spake, and in his heart she stirred yet a greater longing to lament, and he wept as he embraced his beloved wife and true. And even as when the sight of land is welcome to swimmers, whose well-wrought ship Poseidon hath smitten on the deep, all driven with the wind and swelling waves, and but a remnant hath escaped the gray sea water and swum to the sh.o.r.e, and their bodies are all crusted with the brine, and gladly have they set foot on land and escaped an evil end; so welcome to her was the sight of her lord, and her white arms she would never quite let go from his neck.

"Now when the twain had taken their fill of sweet love, they had delight in the tales which they told one to the other. The fair lady spake of all that she had endured in the halls at the sight of the ruinous throng of wooers, who for her sake slew many cattle, kine, and goodly sheep; and many a cask of wine was broached. And, in turn, Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, recounted all the griefs he had wrought on men, and all his own travail and sorrow; and she was delighted with the story, and sweet sleep fell not upon her eyelids till the tale was ended."

Filled with incidents of domestic life in heroic times, the Odyssey presents us a galaxy of women, if not more impressive, at any rate more brilliant than that of the Iliad. Of these attractive figures, who should first merit our consideration, if not the heroine of the poem?

Queen, wife, mother, the sentiment which most characterizes Penelope is love of husband, child, and home; her chief intellectual trait is prudence. We find in her the rare combination of warmth of temperament and sanity of judgment. Her sense of prudence does not exclude depth of devotion, longings for the absent one, and outbursts of indignation at the wrongs inflicted on her son. Her love for Odysseus is intense and constant. There is a beautiful legend that when Odysseus came to carry off his bride, her father entreated her to remain with him in his old age. The chariot is ready to bear her away, and the maiden pauses just a moment, hesitating 'twixt love and duty. Odysseus gives her her choice; but, drawing down her veil, she signifies that where her lover goes there will she go. This intensity of affection marks the twenty long years of separation. Every night, she bewails Odysseus, her dear lord, till gray-eyed Athena casts sweet sleep upon her eyelids. She ever longs for, though at times despairs of, his return; and she inquires of every stranger, that she may learn something of the wanderer. Penelope is also a devoted mother. Ever anxious about her son, she grieves for him when absent, and when at home guards him as far as possible from the insolence of the wooers. In her obedience to her son, she seems to have followed the Greek custom expected of a widow.

In her relations with the wooers, Penelope adopted the only att.i.tude which was possible for a woman who would wait indefinitely for the return of her lord. Parents and son, Greek custom and precedents, all expected that a widow should remarry after so long an interval. And the wooers were insolent, overwhelming the palace and rapidly making away with the patrimony of Telemachus. Hence, only by coquettish dallying could she postpone the evil day.

In all things Penelope was a model housewife, ever engaged in feminine tasks, overseeing her maidens at their work, watching over the younger servants with the solicitude of a mother, and observing toward the aged slave the deference of a daughter. But when the uncivil Melantho is deficient in respect, the queen calls her severely to a sense of her duty. When her husband returns, for whom she has waited during twenty long years of widowhood, she does not throw herself straightway into his arms. She fears a G.o.d may deceive her, and, the better to preserve for Odysseus the treasures of the tenderness stored up in her heart, she devises every cunning test to make sure it is really he. Never was there in woman's heart a more ardent flame of love and devotion; never in a woman's head intelligence so subtle, judgment so sure. When we fully appreciate the charm of Penelope's character, we better understand how the hero should sacrifice the devotion of a G.o.ddess for the love of such a woman.

"These two meet at last together, he after his long wanderings, and she after having suffered the insistence of suitors in her palace; and this is the pathos of the Odyssey. The woman, in spite of her withered youth and tearful years of widowhood, is still expectant of her lord. He, unconquered by the pleasures cast across his path, unterrified by all the dangers he endures, clings in thought to the bride whom he led forth, a blushing maiden, from her father's halls. O just, subtle, and mighty Homer! There is nothing of Greek here more than of Hebrew, or of Latin, or of German. It is pure humanity."

Closely interwoven with the plot of the Odyssey is the aged and touching figure of the faithful slave Euryclea, who by her devotion has become a member of the family she serves. Taken captive in her girlhood, she had nursed Odysseus in his childhood, and, later, his own son, Telemachus.

Thus she is to both a second mother. She a.s.sists the queen in managing the house, in bringing up her son, in succoring the stranger. When she recognizes her master, how ravishing is her joy, how she longs to share it with her mistress! Yet she knows how to keep a secret.

Circe and Calypso are styled G.o.ddesses, yet they are brought down to earth in their love for Odysseus, and are thoroughly human in their traits. Calypso feeds on ambrosia and nectar, and lives in a mysterious grotto on an enchanted island; yet she loves like any mortal woman, and bitter is her wail when she receives the command of the G.o.ds to let Odysseus go. The enchantress Circe is much more dangerous, and takes a ghoulish delight in metamorphosing men into swine; yet, when she falls in love with Odysseus, she is the queenly lady, considerate of his comrades, and in every way his guide, philosopher, and friend. Unlike Calypso, she seeks not to detain Odysseus against the will of the G.o.ds, but after the expiration of a year sends him on his way.

To return to the domestic heroines: Queen Arete of Phaeacia is, like Penelope, an example of the elevated position held by women in the royal houses of heroic times. She exerts over the subjects of her husband the same influence she exercises in the family circle. Her children share the reverence and affection she has from husband and people. To her Odysseus makes supplication; for if he win her favor, sure is his return to his native land; she bids her people prepare gifts for her guest friend at his departure, and to her Odysseus extends the pledging cup in saying farewell.

Where can one find phrases sufficiently subtle, expressions sufficiently delicate, to reproduce the sweet picture of Nausicaa? Of all the creations of poetic fancy, none equals her in perennial charm. "She is simply," says Symonds, "the most perfect maiden, the purest, freshest lightest-hearted girl of Greek romance." This immortal child of the poetic imagination will, with two real women,--Lesbian Sappho, and Mary, Queen of Scots,--have lovers in every age and in every clime. Though merely a poet's fancy, Nausicaa is absolutely human and full of life, and thus differs from the heroine of _The Tempest_, who of all poetic creations most resembles her. Note her naive grace and charm, her girlish vivacity and joy, at the beginning of the scene; and when the occasion demands it, the girl becomes the woman, and with unaffected simplicity and dignity she addresses the hero. No wonder that Odysseus should seem the Prince Charming for whom she had been waiting; and there may have been a slight chill of disappointment when, in expressing his grat.i.tude for his deliverance, he made her his patron saint instead of his sweetheart. Yet, no doubt, she soon learned that the unknown hero was the great Odysseus, husband of faithful Penelope, and hers was too buoyant, too healthy a nature to pine away and die at the shattering of a dream. Then, even if he had been a widower, he was too old for this bright beauty. But what an ideal father-in-law he would make! And if the young Telemachus should only come to Scheria!--and how do we know that he did not later arrive there, sent a-courting by Odysseus after the restoration of his realm? Eustathius preserves a tradition, based on such good authorities as h.e.l.lanicus and Aristotle, that Telemachus actually did wed the Princess Nausicaa; and the Athenian orator Andocides claimed to be a descendant of this ill.u.s.trious pair.

So beautiful a legend could not escape treatment by later poets. Alcman, one of the earliest lyric composers, describes in a poem the meeting of Odysseus and Nausicaa, and Sophocles wrote a drama ent.i.tled _Nausicaa_, or _The Washers_; and there is a tradition that, contrary to his usual custom, the poet himself "appeared as an actor, winning much applause by his beauty and grace in the dancing and rhythmic ball play, in the character of Nausicaa herself." Lucian names her among the heroines of mythical times who, through their goodness of heart, humanity, gentleness of demeanor, and compa.s.sion toward the needy, deserve to rank as patterns of womanly virtue.

With such brilliant pictures of domestic life--the queens Penelope, Helen, and Arete, exerting a womanly influence in the palaces, the G.o.ddess-lovers Circe and Calypso on their enchanted islands, the slave Euryclea tenderly caring for mistress and young master, and the maiden Nausicaa, engaged in occupation and in pastime with her girl friends--the Odyssey is a mirror reflecting the character of the Heroic Age of Greece.

V

THE LYRIC AGE

From the fascinating visions of the heroic past as they are presented in the Homeric poems, we must now prepare to descend to the actualities of life as they disclose themselves at the dawn of Greek history. Hesiod, the epic poet of Boeotia, const.i.tutes the bridge, as regards social conditions, between the Heroic Age and the early historical periods of the various peoples and cities of Greece. He describes the actual conditions about him, and gives us glimpses of the life of the Greek people which prepare us for the great changes that have taken place through the overturning of monarchies, the spread of commerce and colonization, and the awakening of the common people to a sense of their rights and their power. Hence we may expect to find in his poetry much light on the status of woman in remote times.

Hesiod is usually ascribed to the second half of the ninth century before the Christian Era. He lived at Ascra, near Mount Helicon, in Boeotia, the original home of the aeolians. Amid agricultural surroundings the poet grew up. Defrauded by his brother Perses of part of his inheritance, he experienced hardships that quickened his sympathy for the plain people and led him to reflection on life and its problems.

He was commissioned by the Muses, who appeared to him on Mount Helicon, to _utter true things to men_--a phrase which strikes the keynote to his poetry, for he dealt in realities and sought to alleviate the social conditions of his times. His princ.i.p.al works are the _Works and Days_ and the _Theogony_; there was also a Hesiodic _Catalogue of Women_, attested by many allusions in cla.s.sical writers, but, unfortunately for our purpose, altogether lost to us. Very probably in this work, Hesiod or his school told of the aristocratic women of Greek mythology, from whose union with G.o.ds had sprung heroes. Lacking this, Hesiod is to us "the poet of the Helots," and we gain from him only knowledge of the common people of Boeotia and their manner of life.

Hesiod's estimate of women is vastly inferior to that of Homer. Homer, who sang for aristocratic ladies at the court of kings, has introduced us into a society where women presided over their houses with grace and dignity, and softened and refined the rough, warlike manners of men.

Hesiod, the poet of the plain people, is impressed with the hopelessness of the conditions about him. The people are oppressed by the n.o.bles; it is impossible for them to obtain justice; the world seems all wrong. And in seeking the causes of existing evils, the poet traces them back to the one great evil which the G.o.ds have inflicted upon men; and that is--woman.

This indictment first finds expression in his version, of the myth of Pandora, the Mother Eve of Greek legend.

Hesiod tells us in this poem that in old days the human race had the use of fire, and in grat.i.tude to the G.o.ds offered burnt sacrifice. But Prometheus had defrauded the G.o.ds of their just share of the sacrifices and had compelled Zeus to be content with merely the bones and fat; and, in return for this deception, Zeus devised grievous troubles for mortals by depriving them of fire. Prometheus then stole fire from heaven.

Zeus, angered at being outwitted by the crafty Prometheus, determined to inflict on men a bane from which they would not quickly recover. He straightway commanded Hephaestus to mix earth and water, to endow the plastic form with human voice and powers, and to liken it to a heavenly G.o.ddess--virginal, winning, and fair. Athena was commanded to teach her the domestic virtues; Aphrodite, to endow her with beauty, eager desire, and pa.s.sion that wastes the bodies of mortals; and Hermes, to bestow on her a shameless mind and a treacherous nature. All obeyed the command of Zeus, and in this manner was fashioned the first woman. Then Athena added a girdle and ornaments; the Graces and Persuasion hung their golden chains over her body, and the Hours wove for her garlands of spring flowers. The name given this fascinating creature was Pandora, because each of the G.o.ds had bestowed on her gifts to make her a fatal bane unto mortals.

Hermes then led her down to earth to present her to Epimetheus, whom his brother Prometheus had bidden never to receive any presents from Olympian Zeus. Epimetheus, however, was captivated by Pandora's beauty and received her, and only after the evil befell did he remember his brother's command. Until the advent of woman, men, it is said, had lived secure from trouble, free from wearisome labor, and safe from painful diseases that bring death to mankind. But now Pandora with her hands lifted the lid from the great jar with which the G.o.ds had dowered her, the great jar wherein these evils had been securely imprisoned, and let them loose upon the earth. With the sorrows, hope had been confined; but when they were loosed, hope flew not forth, for too soon Pandora closed the lid of the vessel. Hence, laments Hesiod, hopeless is the lot of humanity, while innumerable ills pa.s.s. .h.i.ther and thither among hopeless men. Such is the mythus of the fall of man, as imagined by the early Greeks. Man was punished for rebelling against the will of heaven. Woman is the instrument of his chastis.e.m.e.nt, thrust upon him by the angry deity. She possesses every charm, every allurement, but her very fascination is a chief cause of ill to man. He in his folly receives her, and thence befall him all the ills of life. The whole argument of Hesiod in this pa.s.sage indicates that he regarded woman as "a necessary deduction from the happiness of life," as "the rift in the lute that spoils its music." Contrasted with the Hebrew story, the Greek represents woman as closing the door of hope to man; while the Hebrew version sees in her seed the hope of the salvation that is to overcome the evils of the fall. Even stronger is Hesiod's invective against the female s.e.x in the _Theogony_, where he repeats the story of Pandora, and concludes with the following reflections:

"From her the s.e.x of tender woman springs; Pernicious is the race; the woman tribe Dwells upon earth, a mighty bane to men; No mates for wasting want but luxury; And as within the close-roofed hive, the drones, Helpers of sloth, are pampered by the bees; These all the day, till sinks the ruddy sun, Haste on the wing, 'their murmuring labors ply,'

And still cement the white and waxen comb; Those lurk within the covered hive, and reap With glutted maw the fruits of others' toil; Such evil did the Thunderer send to man In woman's form, and so he gave the s.e.x, Ill helpmates of intolerable toils.

Yet more of ill instead of good he gave: The man who shunning wedlock thinks to shun The vexing cares that haunt the woman-state, And lonely waxes old, shall feel the want Of one to foster his declining years; Though not his life be needy, yet his death Shall scatter his possessions to strange heirs, And aliens from his blood. Or if his lot Be marriage and his spouse of modest fame Congenial to his heart, e'en then shall ill Forever struggle with the partial good, And cling to his condition. But the man Who gains the woman of injurious kind Lives bearing in his secret soul and heart Inevitable sorrow: ills so deep As all the balms of medicine cannot cure."

This pa.s.sage contains in brief Hesiod's general ideas concerning woman.

Pandora brought infinite ills to mortals, for from her sprang the tribe of woman, "a mighty bane to men." If a man marry, he will be sorry; and if he refrain from marriage, he will regret it. A wretched old age awaits the bachelor; and his possessions, at his death, are dissipated by indifferent kindred. Even if he marry, and get a good wife, sorrows and blessings are mingled in his lot; while if his wife be bad, ills so deep are his "as all the balms of medicine cannot cure." So woman is a being whose presence is a necessary evil; without her, man's destiny is not complete, but he must endure the ills she brings for the sake of the possible blessing that may come by sharing one's lot with her. A man, says the bard of Ascra, cannot be too cautious in choosing his helpmate, as the following sage counsel indicates:

"Take to thy house a woman for thy bride When in the ripeness of thy manhood's pride; Thrice ten thy sum of years, the nuptial prime; Nor fall far short nor far exceed the time.

Four years the ripening virgin shall consume, And wed the fifth of her expanding bloom.

A virgin choose: and mould her manners chaste; Chief be some neighboring maid by thee embraced; Look circ.u.mspect and long; lest thou be found The merry mock of all the dwellers round.

No better lot has Providence a.s.signed Than a fair woman with a virtuous mind; Nor can a worse befall than when thy fate Allots a worthless, feast-contriving mate.

She with no torch of mere material flame Shall burn to tinder thy care-wasted frame; Shall send a fire thy vigorous bones within And age unripe in bloom of years begin."

The vein of contempt for woman which runs through the verses of Hesiod finds many echoes in later writers, which indicates that in this transition period, especially in Ionian Greece, evil influences were at work, causing men to rebel against the shackles of wedded life and to fail to realize the happiness they desired in the home and in the family. It seems strange that Hesiod, in describing farm duties, should not tell us more of the important function of the housewife. Yet in one pa.s.sage he merely emphasizes the importance of starting with "a house, a wife, and an ox to plow," and in other pa.s.sages speaks disparagingly of woman and her work. So that even in lines where he might well have commended her virtues the words of praise are left unsaid.

The two centuries of Greek history following Hesiod are chiefly known to us through the lyric poets, as epic poetry declined and the writing of history had not yet begun. Lyric poetry is an index to the hearts of the people: for in lyric poetry are expressed the thoughts and feelings of reflective man. Woman is the great mainspring of existence; she it is who is the general cause of man's thoughts, emotions, pa.s.sions, joys, and sorrows. Hence, as lyric poetry is the poetry of the heart, we find recorded in the verses of Grecian lyrists man's att.i.tude toward woman in this period of "storm and stress" in the development of Greek nationality.

Archilochus is the father of iambic poetry, and he made it the medium of expression of personal pa.s.sion and satire. With all the ardor of his nature, he loved Neobule, daughter of Lycambes, of the island of Paros, where the poet had made his home. Certain fragments of his poems, still extant, indicate the intensity of the flame with which he was consumed.

Archilochus has left us an exquisite picture of his loved one, clad in all the beauty and grace a poetic lover could portray, with a rose and a myrtle branch in her hand, and her tresses falling caressingly over her shoulders. He sighed "were it to touch but her hand," and she seems at first to have returned his affection. The lovers were betrothed, but suddenly the father objected, and the match was broken off. Love immediately turned into hate, and pa.s.sion changed into rage. Thereupon, as Horace says:

_"Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo,"_

Archilochus used the iambic metre as his weapon of attack. As his love had been ardent, so, when betrayed, his rage was uncontrollable. Every possible taunt was cast at those who had deceived him. "Each verse he wrote was polished and pointed like an arrow head. Each line was steeped in the poison of hideous charges against his sweetheart, her sister, and her father. The set of poems which he produced, and, as it would appear, recited publicly at the festival of Demeter, was so charged with wit and fire that the country rang with them. The daughters of Lycambes, tradition avers, went straightway and hanged themselves--unable to endure the flight of fiery serpents that had fallen upon them; for, to quote the words of Browning, Archilochus had the art of writing verse that 'bit into the live man's flesh like parchment,' that sent him wandering, branded and forever shamed, about his native fields and streets."

Archilochus's verses indicate that, in the eighth century before our era, there was in Greece a certain freedom of intercourse between the s.e.xes, and that love was, at times at least, the basis for betrothal; it also shows the absolute control of the father over the hand of his daughter. The poet's story is also the earliest we have of love betrayed, and the name of Neobule is inextricably intertwined with the rise of satiric verse.

A different note is struck by Archilochus's contemporary, Semonides of Amorgus, who takes up and continues the tradition of Hesiod in speaking of woman in tones of contempt and disparagement. He composed a celebrated satire on woman, in which her various temperaments are ascribed to a kinship with different domestic animals,--the hog, the fox, the dog, the a.s.s, the mare, the ape,--or are compared to mud, sea water, and the bee.

Semonides first deals with the cla.s.s of women of the hog variety: "G.o.d made the mind of woman in the beginning of different qualities; for one he fashioned like a bristly hog, in whose house everything tumbles about in disorder, bespattered with mud, and rolls upon the ground; she, dirty, with unwashed clothes, sits and grows fat on a dungheap."

The woman like mud is thus satirized: "This woman is ignorant of everything, both good and bad; her only accomplishment is eating: cold though the winters be, she is too stupid to draw near the fire."

Here is the poet's picture of the woman who resembles the sea: "She has two minds; when she laughs and is glad, the stranger seeing her at home will give her praise--there is nothing better than this on the earth, no, nor fairer; but another day she is unbearable, not to be looked at or approached, for she is raging mad. To friend and foe she is alike implacable and odious. Thus, as the sea is often calm and innocent, a great delight to sailors in summertime, and oftentimes again is frantic, tearing along with roaring billows, so is this woman in her temper."

The woman who resembles a mare offers other disagreeable qualities: She is "delicate and long-haired, unfit for drudgery or toil; she would not touch the mill, or lift the sieve, or clean the house out! She bathes twice or thrice a day, and anoints herself with myrrh; then she wears her hair combed out long and wavy, dressed with flowers. It follows that this woman is a rare sight to one's guests; but to her husband she is a curse, unless he be a tyrant who prides himself on such expensive luxuries."

The ape-like wife is perhaps the worst of the lot: "This one, above all, has Zeus given as the greatest evil to men. Her face is most hateful.

Such a woman goes through the city a laughing-stock to all the men.

Short of neck, with narrow hips, withered of limb, she moves about with difficulty. O wretched man, who weds such a woman! She knows every cunning art, just like an ape, nor is ridicule a concern to her. To no one would she do a kindness, but every day she schemes to this end,--how she may work some one the greatest injury."

But at last we reach the bee: "The man who gets her is lucky; to her alone belongs no censure; one's household goods thrive and increase under her management; loving, with a loving spouse, she grows old, the mother of a fair and famous race. She is preeminent among all women, and a heavenly grace attends her. She cares not to sit among the women when they indulge in lascivious chatter. Such wives are the best and wisest mates Zeus grants to men."