Another writer of this period who has been unduly extolled for his
insight into the mysteries of love, is Apollonius Rhodius, concerning
whom Professor Murray goes so far as to say (382), that "for romantic
love on the higher side he is without a peer even in the age of
Theocritus."(!) He owes this fame to the story of Medea and Jason,
introduced in the third book of his version of the Argonautic
expedition (275 _seq_.). It begins in the old-fashioned way with Cupid
shooting his arrow at Medea's heart, in which forthwith the
destructive passion glows. Blushes and pallor alternate in her face,
and her breast heaves fast and deep as she incessantly stares at Jason
with flaming eyes. She remembers afterwards every detail about his
looks and dress, and how he sat and walked. Unlike all other men he
seemed to her. Tears run down her cheeks at the thought that he might
succumb in his combat with the two terrible bulls he will have to tame
before he can recover the Golden Fleece. Even in her dreams she
suffers tortures, if she is able to sleep at all. She is distracted by
conflicting desires. Should she give him the magic salve which would
protect his body from harm, or let him die, and die with him? Should
she give up her home, her family, her honor, for his sake and become
the topic of scandalous gossip? or should she end it all by committing
suicide? She is on the point of doing so when the thought of all the
joys of life makes her hesitate and change her mind. She resolves to
see Jason alone and give him the ointment. A secret meeting is
arranged in the temple of Hecate. She gets there first, and while
waiting every sound of footsteps makes her bosom heave. At last he
comes and at sight of him her cheek flames red, her eyes grow dim,
consciousness seems to leave her, and she is fixed to the ground
unable to move forward or backward. After Jason has spoken to her,
assuring her that the gods themselves would reward her for saving the
lives of so many brave men, she takes the salve from her bosom, and
she would have plucked her heart from it to give him had he asked for
it. The eyes of both are modestly turned to the ground, but when they
meet longing speaks from them. Then, after explaining to him the use
of the salve, she seizes his hand and begs him after he shall have
reached his home again, to remember her, as she will bear him in mind,
even against her parents' wishes. Should he forget her, she hopes
messengers will bring news of him, or that she herself may be able to
cross the seas and appear an unexpected guest to remind him how she
had saved him.
Such was the love of Medea, which historians have proclaimed such a
new thing in literature--"romantic love on the higher side." For my
part I cannot see in this description--in which no essential trait is
omitted--anything different from what we have found in Homer, in
Sappho, and in Euripides. The unwomanly lack of coyness which Medea
displays when she practically proposes to Jason, expecting him to
marry her out of gratitude, is copied after the Nausicäa of the
_Odyssey_. The flaming cheeks, dim eyes, loss of consciousness, and
paralysis are copied from Sappho; while the _Hippolytus_ of Euripides
furnished the model for the dwelling on the subjective symptoms of the
"pernicious passion of love." The stale trick too, of making this love
originate in a wound inflicted by Cupid's arrows is everlastingly
Greek; and so is the device of representing the woman alone as being
consumed by the flames of love. For Jason is about as unlike a modern
lover as a caricaturist could make him. His one idea is to save his
life and get the Fleece. "Necessity compels me to clasp your knees and
ask your aid," he exclaims when he meets her; and when she gives him
that broad hint "do not forget me; I shall never forget you," his
reply is a long story about his home. Not till after she has
threatened to visit him does he declare "But _should you_ come to my
home, you would be honored by all ... _in that case_ I hope you may
grace my bridal couch." And again in the fourth book he relates that
he is taking Medea home to be his wife "in accordance with her
wishes!" Without persiflage, his attitude may be summed up in these
words: "I come to you because I am in danger of my precious life. Help
me to get back the Golden Fleece and I promise you that, on condition
that I get home safe and sound, I will condescend to marry you." Is
this, perhaps, the "romantic love on the higher side" which Professor
Murray found in this story? But there is more to come.
Of the symptoms of love in Medea's heart described in the foregoing
paragraph not one rises above that egotistic gloating over the pangs
and joys of sensual infatuation which constitute one phase of
sentimentality; while the further progress of the story shows that
Medea had no idea whatever of sacrificing herself for Jason, but that
the one motive of her actions was the eager desire to possess him.
When the fugitives are being pursued closely, and the chivalrous
Argonauts, afraid to battle with a superior number, propose to retain
the Golden Fleece, but to give up Medea and let some other king decide
whether she is to be returned to her parents, it never occurs to her
that she might save her beloved by going back home. She wants to have
him at any cost, or to perish with him; so she reproaches him bitterly
for his ingratitude, and meditates the plan of setting fire to the
ships and burning him up with all the crew, as well as herself. He
tries to pacify her by protesting that he had not quite liked the plan
proposed himself, but had indorsed it only to gain time; whereupon she
suggests a way out of the dilemma pleasanter to herself, by advising
the Argonauts to inveigle her brother, who leads the pursuers, into
their power and assassinate him; which they promptly proceed to do,
while she stands by with averted eyes. It is with unconscious sarcasm
that Apollonius exclaims on the same page where all these details of
"romantic love on the higher side" are being unfolded: "Accursed Eros,
the world's most direful plague."