_THE ALEXANDRIAN PERIOD._
=Decline of Letters.=—The triumph of the Doric states over Athens
in the Peloponnesian War (431-404 B.C.) gave the first blow to the
intellectual power of Greece. Literary decay forthwith set in; its
progress was hastened by internal dissensions, and completed when
liberty was hopelessly extinguished by Philip of Macedon and his
successors.
Alexander indeed benefited the East by introducing the Greek language
and culture, and building magnificent cities in return for her hordes
of barbarians slain; but his policy left out of view the interests
of Greece. While Athens remained the seminary of Europe for several
centuries after his death, Alexandria, founded by him at the mouth of
the Nile, became the intellectual as well as commercial capital of the
world. From this city, the period we are about to consider derives its
name. It extends from the death of Alexander the Great (323 B.C.) to
the conquest of Egypt by the Romans (30 B.C.).
=The Alexandrian Age= produced no grand masterpieces. No glorious
struggle for freedom inspired the historian; there was no further need
for the efforts of the orator; science and criticism flourished instead
of poetry; and a host of imitators usurped the place of the mighty
originals of the olden time. The national taste had sadly deteriorated;
an affected obscurity was fashionable; and gaudy tinsel was more highly
valued than true gold.
Yet one bright bloom gladdened this waste—Idyllic Poetry, which
expanded into a perfect flower in the hands of Theoc’ritus the
Sicilian. A new school of comedy was also established by Menander and
Phile’mon; and many seeds of Greek genius that Alexander had scattered
broadcast over the earth sprung up on foreign soil, and yielded
fruit—but fruit inferior to that ripened under its native sun.
DRAMATIC POETRY.
=The New Comedy= dealt with the follies and vices of society at large,
not with individuals, the actor no longer venturing, since the downfall
of political liberty, to imitate Aristophanes in representing living
characters. Its simple plot was generally based on some love-intrigue.
Though the broad fun of the Old Comedy was wanting, quiet humor
contrasted happily with pathos, the grave with the gay; the audience,
provoked by turns to laughter and to tears, were all the time learning
some useful principle or moral lesson. Cicero styled the New Comedy
“the mirror of real life.”—The chorus now ceased to take part in
the representation, and the play was divided into acts separated by
intervals of time.
Of the sixty-four poets associated by the ancients with the New Comedy,
the greatest were Menander and Philemon, both citizens of Athens,
though Philemon was foreign-born. Not until both had passed from the
stage of life was the meed of superior excellence awarded to Menander.
=Menander= (341-291 B.C.) dramatized love-stories for the young with
elegance and dignity; while the undercurrent of wisdom that flowed
through his plays recommended them to the old. Out of a hundred
comedies of which he was the author, only a few fragments are left; but
these Goethe pronounced “invaluable.” So perfectly did he delineate
character that Aristophanes, the grammarian, asked whether Menander
copied life, or life Menander.
His talent early displayed itself, securing him a crown while he was
yet a mere youth, but subjecting him to the displeasure of his defeated
rivals, who accused him of presumption in vying with experienced poets.
Menander replied to the charge by appearing on the stage with an armful
of new-born puppies, which he cast into a tub of water. Bidding the
audience mark how they swam, he exclaimed: “You ask me, Athenians, how
at my years I can have the knowledge of life required in the dramatist;
I ask you under what master and in what school these creatures learned
to swim?”
Despite his superior merit, however, Menander obtained the dramatic
prize but eight times, owing to the greater influence of his rival
Philemon with the masses. It is stated that this injustice at length
led the poet to drown himself. His plays long served as models to the
comic stage. The Romans, Plautus and Terence, helped themselves freely
from his treasury, and through their dramas our modern comedy may be
traced back to Menander himself.
FRAGMENTS FROM MENANDER.
“When thou would’st know thyself, what man thou art,
Look at the tombstones as thou passest by:
Within those monuments lie bones and dust
Of monarchs, tyrants, sages, men whose pride
Rose high because of wealth, or noble blood,
Or haughty soul, or loveliness of limb;
Yet none of these things strove for them ’gainst time:
One common death hath ta’en all mortal men.
See thou to this, and know thee who thou art.”
SYMONDS.
“The sum of all philosophy is this—
Thou art a man, than whom there breathes no creature
More liable to sudden rise and fall.”
“Of all bad things with which mankind are cursed,
Their own bad tempers surely are the worst.”
“The maxim‘Know thyself’ does not suffice;
Know others!—know them well—that’s my advice.”
=Philemon= exhibited the first of his ninety-seven comedies when
Menander was a boy of eleven. Nine years later Menander’s first piece
appeared, and the rivalry between the poets began. In their subsequent
contests, Philemon sometimes stooped to unworthy means to defeat his
opponent; still, that his countrymen really admired him is evident from
the legend current of his death. As he was concluding a comedy in his
ninety-ninth year, nine beautiful maidens were said to have entered
his chamber and beckoned him away. They were the Muses, about to wing
their flight from Athens forever, and with them departed the soul of
Philemon—the last of the Athenian poets.
FRAGMENTS FROM PHILEMON.
“Have faith in God, and fear; seek not to know him,
For thou wilt gain naught else beyond thy search:
Whether he is or is not, shun to ask:
As one who is, and sees thee, always fear him.”
“All are not just because they do no wrong,
But he who will not wrong me when he may,
He is the truly just. I praise not them
Who, in their petty dealings, pilfer not;
But him whose conscience spurns a secret fraud,
When he might plunder and defy surprise.
His be the praise who, looking down with scorn
On the false judgment of the partial herd,
Consults his own clear heart, and boldly dares
To be, not to be thought, an honest man.”
PASTORAL POETRY.
=Theocritus= (flourished 283-263 B.C.).—The pastoral, or bucolic,
poetry of the Greeks, which originated in the rude songs of Laconian
and Sicilian shepherds, was matured and elevated into a new department
of polite composition in the idyls of Theocritus. Born in Sicily, as he
tells us in an epigram intended to preface his works, he was tempted
to the court of Ptolemy Philadelphus. Here his refreshing pictures of
rural scenery were the delight of the Alexandrians, shut in by the
walls of their city from the beauties of nature. Theocritus eventually
returned to Sicily, and ended his days amid his native fields.
(_Symonds’s “Studies of the Greek Poets,” p. 302._)
The poetry of Theocritus exhibits originality and refinement, the Doric
dialect in which he wrote lending the charm of picturesqueness to his
descriptions. Pope commends him for simplicity and truthfulness to
nature; Dryden, for “the inimitable tenderness of his passions” and
the skill with which he disguised his art. As a delineator of natural
scenery, he has no superior among ancient or modern poets.—There are
extant thirty idyls and twenty-two epigrams of this poet. We present
below Idyl VIII.
THE TRIUMPH OF DAPHNIS.
“Daphnis, the gentle herdsman, met once, as rumor tells,
Menalcas making with his flock the circle of the fells.
Both chins were gilt with coming beards, both lads could sing and
play;
Menalcas glanced at Daphnis, and thus was heard to say:
‘Art thou for singing, Daphnis, lord of the lowing kine?
I say my songs are better, by what thou wilt, than thine.’
Then in his turn spake Daphnis, and thus he made reply:
‘O shepherd of the fleecy flock, thou pipest clear and high;
But come what will, Menalcas, thou ne’er wilt sing as I.’
MENALCAS.
This art thou fain to ascertain, and risk a bet with me?
DAPHNIS.
This I full fain would ascertain, and risk a bet with thee.
MENALCAS.
But what, for champions such as we, would seem a fitting prize?
DAPHNIS.
I stake a calf: stake thou a lamb, its mother’s self in size.
MENALCAS.
A lamb I’ll venture never: for aye, at close of day,
Father and mother count the flock, and passing strict are they.
DAPHNIS.
Then what shall be the victor’s fee? What wager wilt thou lay?
MENALCAS.
A pipe discoursing through nine months I made, and full fair to view;
The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true.
I’ll risk it: risk my father’s own is more than I dare do.
DAPHNIS.
A pipe discoursing through nine months, and fair, hath Daphnis too;
The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true.
But yesterday I made it: this finger feels the pain
Still, where indeed the rifted reed hath cut it clean in twain.
But who shall be our umpire? who listen to our strain?
MENALCAS.
Suppose we hail yon goatherd; him at whose horned herd now
The dog is barking—yonder dog with white upon his brow.
Then out they called: the goatherd marked them, and up came he;
Then out they sang; the goatherd their umpire fain would be.
To shrill Menalcas’ lot it fell to start the woodland lay:
Then Daphnis took it up. And thus Menalcas led the way.
MENALCAS.
Ye god-created vales and streams! Oh! if Menalcas e’er
Piped aught of pleasant music in your ears;
Then pasture, nothing loath, his lambs; and let young Daphnis fare
No worse, should he stray hither with his steers.
DAPHNIS.
Ye joy-abounding lawns and springs! If Daphnis sang you e’er
Such songs as ne’er from nightingale have flowed;
Lend to his herd your fatness; and let Menalcas share
Like plenty, should he wend along this road.
MENALCAS.
’Tis springtide all and greenness, and all the udders teem
With milk, and all things young have life anew,
Where my sweet maiden wanders: but parched and withered seem,
When she departeth, lawn and shepherd too.
DAPHNIS.
There shep and goats twin-burdened abound, and honey-bees
Peopling the hives, and oaks of statelier growth,
Where falls my darling’s footstep: but hungriness shall seize,
When she departeth, herd and herdsman both.
MENALCAS.
Storms are the fruit-tree’s bane; the brook’s, a summer hot and dry!
The stag’s, a woven net; a gin, the dove’s;
Mankind’s, a soft sweet maiden. Others have pined ere I:
Zeus! Father! hast not thou thy lady-loves?
Thus far, in alternating strains, the lads their woes rehearsed:
Then each one gave a closing stave. Thus sang Menalcas first:
MENALCAS.
O spare, good wolf, my weanlings! their milky mothers spare!
Harm not the little lad who hath so many in his care!
What, Firefly, is thy sleep so deep? It ill befits a hound,
When ranging with his master, to slumber over-sound.
And, wethers, of this tender grass take, nothing coy, your fill:
So, when the after-math[37] shall come, will none be weak or ill.
So! so! feed on, that ye be full, that not an udder fail:
Part of the milk shall rear the lambs, and part shall fill my pail.
Then Daphnis flung a carol out, as of a nightingale:—
DAPHNIS.
Me from her grot but yesterday a girl of haughty brow
Spied as I passed her with my kine, and said,‘How fair art thou!’
I gave for answer not so much as one disdainful word,
But, looking ever on the ground, paced onward with my herd.
For sweet the heifer’s music, and sweet the heifer’s breath;
Sweet things to me the youngling calf, sweet things her mother saith;
And sweet is sleep by summer brooks upon the breezy lea:
And acorns they grace well the oak, apples the apple-tree,
Her calves the cow; the herdsman, but for his herd cares he.
So sang the lads; and thereupon out spake the referee:—
GOATHERD.
O Daphnis! lovely is thy voice, thy music sweetly sung;
Such song is pleasanter to me than honey on my tongue.
Accept this pipe, for thou hast won. And, should there be some notes
That thou couldst teach _me_, as I plod alongside with my goats;
I’ll give thee for thy schooling this ewe, that horns hath none:
Day after day she’ll fill the can, until the milk o’errun.
Then how the one lad laughed, and leaped, and clapped his hands
for glee!
A kid that bounds to meet its dam might dance as merrily.
And how the other inly burned, struck down by his disgrace!
A maid first parting from her home might wear as sad a face.
Thenceforth was Daphnis champion of all the country side:
And won, while yet in topmost youth, a Naiad for his bride.”
C. S. CALVERLEY.
=Bion= of Smyrna, a contemporary of Theocritus, emigrated to Sicily
for the purpose of studying pastoral poetry in its native haunts. What
little we know respecting his life is gathered from the elegy written
by his pupil, the delicate and graceful MOSCHUS, a bucolic poet of
Syracuse ranked with Theocritus and Bion, but inferior to both. “The
Lament for Bion” intimates that he died from the effects of poison,
administered perhaps by jealous rivals.
Bion’s love-songs and pastorals are characterized by sweetness and
finish; they are less life-like, however, than those of Theocritus.
The “Lament for Adonis” is the poet’s best effort; but as it is
uninteresting to the general reader, we give a free paraphrase of
THE BIRD-CATCHER AND LOVE.
A young bird-catcher sat ’neath a wide-spreading tree,
Where the breath of the summer breeze sported free,
Looking round on the neighboring bushes with care,
To see if a songster were lingering there.
At length, in the distance, he something espies—
A creature with wings of unusual size—
“Aha! what a treasure!” he joyously cries;
“To catch such a bird would indeed be a prize!”
And then sets to work with his rods all together,
To take the huge bird without spoiling a feather.
But the creature, alarmed, from its perch quickly flew;
The boy, all excited, still kept it in view
Till it lit on a box-tree—then followed his prey;
Alas! with a cry, it again flew away.
At length he grew tired of this profitless chase,
And turned toward his home with a wearisome pace.
But ere long, on the road, an old farmer he met,
Who had taught him his snares for the songsters to set.
And he told how the bird all his skill had evaded,
And to go see this wonder the farmer persuaded.
At length they drew near; in a thicket of trees,
Whose tops gently waved in the murmuring breeze,
On a dwarf laurel-bush, on the verge of the grove,
In beauty bewitching, there sat errant Love!
His pinions hung prettily down by his side,
And his features, the Cyprian goddess’s pride,
Were as lovely as ever, more roguish by half,
For he scarce could refrain from a boisterous laugh.
And as soon as he saw him, the husbandman, smiling,
Knew at once the young Love-god the boy was beguiling.
Then said he to the boy: “Quick, away from this grove:
The bird thou art seeking is mischievous Love!
Though brilliant his hues as the butterfly’s wings,
And melody dwells on the strain that he sings,
Yet a dangerous prize to the catcher he’ll prove.
Then away with thy bird-lime, nor follow this Love!
When he flies, seize thy chance and escape if thou can,
For in vain wilt thou shun him when grown to a man.
Then thou’lt be the bird—he, the catcher,’ll pursue thee;
Though now he evades, then he’ll quickly fly to thee.”
LINES TO HESPER.
“Hesper, thou golden light of happy love,
Hesper, thou holy pride of purple eve,
Moon among stars, but star beside the moon,
Hail, friend! and since the young moon sets to-night
Too soon below the mountains, lend thy lamp
And guide me to the shepherd whom I love.
No theft I purpose; no wayfaring man
Belated would I watch and make my prey;
Love is my goal, and Love how fair it is,
When friend meets friend sole in the silent night,
Thou knowest, Hesper!”—SYMONDS.
FROM MOSCHUS’S LAMENT FOR BION.
“Ye mountain valleys, pitifully groan!
Rivers and Dorian springs, for Bion weep!
Ye plants, drop tears; ye groves, lamenting moan!
Exhale your life, wan flowers; your blushes deep
In grief, anemonies and roses, steep;
In whimpering murmurs, hyacinth! prolong
The sad, sad woe thy lettered petals keep;
Our minstrel sings no more his friends among—
Sicilian Muses! now begin the doleful song.
Ye nightingales! that ’mid thick leaves set loose
The gushing gurgle of your sorrow, tell
The fountains of Sicilian Arethuse
That Bion is no more; with Bion fell
The song—the music of the Dorian shell.
Ye swans of Strymon! now your banks along
Your plaintive throats with melting dirges swell,
For him who sang like you the mournful song;
Discourse of Bion’s death the Thracian nymphs among—
The Dorian Orpheus, tell them all, is dead.
His herds the song and darling herdsman miss,
And oaks, beneath whose shade he propped his head.
Oblivion’s ditty now he sings for Dis;
The melancholy mountain silent is;
His pining cows no longer wish to feed,
But moan for him; Apollo wept, I wis,
For thee, sweet Bion! and in mourning weed
The brotherhood of Fauns and all the Satyr breed.
The tears by Naiads shed are brimful bourns;
Afflicted Pan thy stifled music rues;
Lorn Echo ’mid her rocks thy silence mourns,
Nor with her mimic tones thy voice renews;
The flowers their bloom, the trees their fruitage lose;
No more their milk the drooping ewes supply;
The bees to press their honey now refuse;
What need to gather it and lay it by,
When thy own honey-lip, my Bion! thine is dry?”
CHAPMAN.
=The Museum.=—While the Muses who fled with the spirit of Philemon
were never induced to return to Hellas, in the East the Greek mind,
stimulated by the architectural wonders, the new religious systems, the
proficiency in many departments of knowledge, which it encountered,
entered upon a new phase of development. Alexandria witnessed its
proudest achievements in science.
This city was embellished with temples and palaces, with parks,
fountains, and monuments, until it eclipsed in beauty all others
of its time. Our interest, however, centres in its marble Muse’um,
or Temple of the Muses, begun by the first Ptolemy and finished by
his son Philadelphus, which sent forth the greatest scientists of
antiquity. In its halls, those hungering for knowledge were more than
satisfied; up and down its corridors the professors walked as they
gave instruction; while its botanical and zoölogical gardens afforded
opportunities for delightful relaxation. An observatory and the best
astronomical instruments of the day invited to the study of the
heavens, and a dissecting-room was at the disposal of the anatomist.
Chemical investigations were facilitated by a laboratory, where thus
early the science of alchemy was born, and Philadelphus himself eagerly
experimented in search of the elixir of life. To this brilliant centre
of letters, the first university in the world, learned men were
attracted from all quarters. At one time, 14,000 students were under
instruction.
=The Alexandrian Library.=—The Museum was the seat of a great library,
collected in accordance with Ptolemy’s command that all the writings
of the earth should be brought to Egypt to be transcribed. But once
there, the originals seldom parted company with the pictures and
statues in Ptolemy’s sculptured alcoves, the owners being obliged to
content themselves with fac-similes of their treasured rolls made by
the royal copyists. The Egyptian kings often paid roundly for valuable
manuscripts. It is stated that Philadelphus borrowed at Athens the
plays of Euripides to have them copied for his library, depositing
about $10,000 as security for their return. But when the work was done,
he sent back the transcript, preferring to lose his money rather than
part with the originals.
[Illustration: GREEKS OF THE ALEXANDRIAN PERIOD.]
Philadelphus left 100,000 volumes in the library. These quadrupled
after his death, and filled the Museum to overflowing, so that in the
Temple of Sera’pis was opened “the Daughter Library” for the reception
of additional volumes. The number of these ultimately reached 300,000,
making 700,000 in all.
When, after the assassination of Pompey, Cæsar fired Alexandria (47
B.C.), the flames enwrapped the Museum, and its library perished.
Antony subsequently gave Cleopatra the Pergamene Collection of
parchment books (see p. 24), which, with his kingdom, Attalus III.
had bequeathed to the Romans (133 B.C.). This, added to the rolls in
the Temple of Serapis, formed at once an extensive library. It was
increased by constant additions, but in the end served as fuel for
the four thousand baths of the city, when Alexandria fell before the
Mohammedan arms (640 A.D.), and the bigoted caliph decided that “if the
Greek writings agreed with the Koran, they were useless and need not
be preserved; if they disagreed, they were pernicious and ought to be
destroyed.”
POETRY AT ALEXANDRIA.
The first school of poetry at Alexandria was founded by Phile’tas
(330-285 B.C.), the elegiac writer, so dwarfish and emaciated that the
jesters of his time declared he had to wear leaden shoes to keep the
wind from blowing him away. Philetas was the instructor of Theocritus.
But the greatest names associated with the Museum are those of
Callim’achus and Apollonius Rhodius.
=Callimachus= (250 B.C.) shines not only as a lyric and epic poet,
but also as a critic and grammarian. From the position of a suburban
schoolmaster he rose to that of librarian at the Museum, and made
himself “the literary dictator and universal genius of his age.”
Callimachus exercised his talents in all the departments of poetry,
and wrote as well in prose. His works reached the number of 800; which
is not to be wondered at when we remember his remark, “A great book is
a great evil.” Such of his hymns and epigrams as time has spared, bear
the marks of study rather than genius.
=Apollonius=, called =Rhodius= from his long residence in Rhodes, was
born at Alexandria, and studied under Callimachus. But the master
grew jealous of his pupil, and a quarrel arose between them. When,
at the instigation of Callimachus, his epic poem on the Argonautic
Expedition was unfavorably received by the Alexandrians, Apollonius,
in his mortification, left the city and opened a school of rhetoric
in Rhodes. Here he revised his poem, and became justly renowned for
his brilliant attainments. After the death of Callimachus, he was
recalled to Alexandria, read his epic a second time to the people, and
had the satisfaction of receiving their warmest commendations with the
honorable office of librarian (194 B.C.).
The “Argonautica,” in four books, is all that is left of his works. We
take from it the passage which describes the impression made on Medea
by Jason, the leader of the expedition; compare the history of Medea
as sketched in connection with the play of Euripides bearing her name,
page 210.
MEDEA IN LOVE.
“Thus Medea went, her soul absorbed
In many musings, such as love incites,
Thoughts of deep care. Now all remembered things
In apparition rose before her eyes:
What was his aspect; what the robe he wore;
What words he uttered; in what posture placed,
He on the couch reclined; and with what air
He from the porch passed forth. Then red the blush
Burned on her cheek; while in her soul she thought
No other man existed like to him:
His voice was murmuring in her ears, and all
The charming words he uttered. Now, disturbed,
She trembled for his life; lest the fierce bulls,
Or lest Æe’tes should, himself, destroy
The man she loved.[38] And she bewailed him now
As if already dead; and down her cheeks,
In deep commiseration, the soft tear
Flowed anxiously. With piercing tone of grief
Her voice found utterance:‘Why, unhappy one!
Am I thus wretched? What concerns it me,
Whether this paragon of heroes die
The death, or flee discomfited? And yet
He should unharmed depart. Dread Hecate!
Be it thy pleasure! let him homeward pass,
And ’scape his threatened fate; or, if his fate
Beneath the bulls have destined him to fall,
First let him know that in his wretched end
Medea does not glory.’ So disturbed,
Mused the sad virgin in her anguished thoughts.”
ELTON.
PROSE WRITERS.
=Science.=—The influence of the Alexandrian university in shaping
modern science was all-potential. Among its ornaments are numbered the
mathematicians Euclid and Archime’des, the astronomer Eratos’thenes,
Hero the inventor of a steam-engine, and Ctesibius who devised
water-clocks, pumps, and other ingenious machines.
EUCLID (300 B.C.) compressed in one volume all the geometrical
knowledge extant, adding several original theorems. His “Elements”
has been translated into many languages, and though it has attained
the venerable age of 2,200 years, its clear demonstrations are still
standards in our schools.
ARCHIMEDES was educated in Alexandria, but afterward lived in
Syracuse, where his mathematical genius challenged the admiration
of the world. In geometry and mechanics he was the master-mind of
antiquity; and until the star of Newton rose twenty centuries after,
Europe saw not his equal. Many important discoveries in physical
science are due to Archimedes,—the principle of the lever, which led
him to exclaim, “Give me a place to stand on, and I will move the
world;” the process of finding the specific gravity of bodies; the
hydraulic screw and the pulley. Of his many mathematical works, written
in Doric Greek, eight survive.
ERATOSTHENES (276-196 B.C.) was the founder of geodesy and chronology,
as well as a proficient in astronomy, grammar, and poetry. The
ancients styled him _Pentathlos_ (_quintuple athlete_); also, from his
determining the magnitude of the earth, “Measurer of the Universe.”
His most important works are “Chronographies,” and geographical and
mathematical writings.
HIPPARCHUS (150 B.C.), an astronomer of the Alexandrian age, deserves
mention as the inventor of the planisphere and as the first to make a
catalogue of the stars. He devised the method of locating places by
latitude and longitude.
=Grammar.=—The Museum was especially eminent as a school of grammar and
criticism, the principal occupation of its scholars being the revision
and correction of the texts of the old authors.
The most distinguished of the Alexandrian critics were—ZENOD’OTUS, the
first librarian and critical editor of Homer’s epics; ARISTOPHANES
OF BYZANTIUM, his pupil (200 B.C.), the inventor of Greek accents
and punctuation; ARISTARCHUS (156 B.C.), “the arch-grammarian of
Greece,” who divided Homer’s poems into books, revised the Alexandrian
canon, and was the author of 800 commentaries; and CRA’TES, head of a
grammatical school at Pergamus, and the first to make grammar a popular
study at Rome.
=History.=—POLYBIUS (204-122 B.C.) was the chief historian of the
Alexandrian age. Brought to Rome a prisoner after the battle of Pydna
(168 B.C.), in which the king of Macedon was overthrown by Paulus
Æmilius, he became the intimate friend of Scipio Africanus the
Younger. Seventeen years elapsed before Polybius was permitted to
return to Greece. Then he went back the firm friend of the Romans; and
had his countrymen heeded his counsels, the sack of Corinth might have
been averted and Greece might have preserved her independence. So, at
least, declared the inscription on his statue: “Hellas would have been
saved had she followed the advice of Polybius.”
Polybius accompanied Scipio in several of his campaigns, and saw
Carthage burned to the ground. In his travels, which were varied
and extensive, he stored his mind with useful information for his
“Universal History,” the grand work of his life. Its forty books
impartially narrated the history of Rome and the contemporary
nations between the years 220 and 146 B.C., but in a style devoid of
attractions. Polybius, as Macaulay said, lacked “the art of telling a
story in an interesting manner.” The first five books of his work, and
a few fragments of the others, have been preserved.
As all eyes have recently been turned on Constantinople, whose
important situation has long made its acquisition the traditional
policy of Russia, it may not be uninteresting to present the view which
Polybius takes of this ancient city, then known as
BYZANTIUM.
“Byzantium, of all the cities in the world, is the most happy in its
situation with respect to the sea, being not only secure on that side
from all enemies, but possessed also of the means of obtaining every
kind of necessaries in the greatest plenty. But with respect to the
land, there is scarcely any place that has so little claim to these
advantages.
With regard to the sea, the Byzantines, standing close upon the
entrance of the Euxine, command so absolutely all that passage that
it is not possible for any merchant to sail through it, or return,
without their permission; and hence they are the masters of all those
commodities which are drawn in various kinds from the countries that
lie round this sea, to satisfy the wants or conveniences of other
men. For among the things that are necessary for use, they supply
the Greeks with leather, and with great numbers of very serviceable
slaves. And with regard to those that are esteemed conveniences, they
send honey and wax, with all kinds of seasoned and salted meats;
taking from us in exchange our own superfluous commodities, oil and
every sort of wine. They sometimes also furnish us with corn, and
sometimes receive it from us, as the wants of either may require.
Now it is certain that the Greeks must either be excluded wholly from
this commerce, or be deprived at least of all its chief advantages, if
ever the Byzantines should engage in any ill designs against them. For
as well by reason of the extreme narrowness of the passage as from the
numbers of barbarians that are settled around it, we should never be
able to gain an entrance through it into the Euxine.
Though the Byzantines, therefore, are themselves possessed of the
first and best advantages of this happy situation, which enables them
to make both an easy and a profitable exchange of their superfluous
commodities, and to procure in return, without any pain or danger,
whatever their own lands fail to furnish; yet since, through their
means chiefly, other countries also are enabled to obtain many things
that are of the greatest use, it seems reasonable that they should
always be regarded by the Greeks as common benefactors, and receive
not only favor and acknowledgments, but assistance likewise to
repel all attempts that may be made against them by their barbarous
neighbors.
And with these barbarous tribes they are involved in constant war. For
when they have taken great pains to cultivate their lands, which are
by nature very fertile, and the rich fruits stand ready to repay their
labors, on a sudden the barbarians, pouring down, destroy one part and
carry away the rest; and leave to the Byzantines, after all their cost
and toil, only the pain of beholding their best harvests wasted, while
their beauty aggravates the grief, and renders the sense of their
calamity more sharp and insupportable.”—HAMPTON.
MAN´ETHO in Egypt, BERO´SUS at Babylon, and TIMÆUS in Sicily, wrote
the annals of their several countries.
=The Septuagint.=—Finally, to the Museum we owe the Septuagint (p.
104), or Greek version of the Old Testament, made by learned Jews
employed by Ptolemy. The Jews no longer spoke the ancient Hebrew with
fluency, and their version in various parts betrays an imperfect
knowledge of the original. The Septuagint served as a basis for
translations into many different tongues.
THE SEVEN PLEIADES.
THEOCRITUS: the idyl-writer.
CALLIMACHUS: poet, grammarian, etc.
LYC’OPHRON, the Obscure: author of “Cassandra,” “the dark poem,” and
64 tragedies.
APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.
HOMER THE YOUNGER.
ARA’TUS: author of a popular astronomical poem; from him St. Paul
quoted the expression with reference to the Deity, “in whom we live,
and move, and have our being.”
NICANDER, a physician: two didactic medical poems on poisons and
their antidotes.
* * * * *
EUPHO’RION, author of three heroic poems and a celebrated
grammar—APOLLODORUS, the didactic poet—and MELEA’GER THE EXQUISITE,
flourished in the Alexandrian age. Meleager’s “Garland” was the first
anthology, or collection of epigrams. AN’YTE of Arcadia, “the female
Homer,” and NOSSIS, the Locrian poetess (300 B.C.), wrote epigrams.
CLEANTHES, the persevering disciple of Zeno (300-220 B.C.), composed
moral treatises and a hymn to Jupiter full of lofty sentiments.