CHAPTER I.

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CHRISTIANITY

AND

GREEK PHILOSOPHY;

OR, THE RELATION BETWEEN

SPONTANEOUS AND REFLECTIVE THOUGHT IN GREECE

AND THE POSITIVE TEACHING OF

CHRIST AND HIS APOSTLES.

BY B.F. COCKER, D.D.,

PROFESSOR OF MORAL AND MENTAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

"Plato made me know the true God, Jesus Christ showed me the way to

him."

ST. AUGUSTINE

NEW YORK: CARLTON & LANAHAN.

SAN FRANCISCO: E. THOMAS.

CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN.

1870.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by HARPER &

BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United

States for the Southern District of New York.

TO

D.D. WHEDON, D.D.,

MY EARLIEST LITERARY FRIEND, WHOSE VIGOROUS WRITINGS HAVE

STIMULATED MY INQUIRIES, WHOSE COUNSELS HAVE GUIDED

MY STUDIES, AND WHOSE KIND AND GENEROUS WORDS

HAVE ENCOURAGED ME TO PERSEVERANCE

AMID NUMEROUS DIFFICULTIES,

I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME AS A TOKEN OF MY MORE THAN ORDINARY AFFECTION

_THE AUTHOR_.

PREFACE.

In preparing the present volume, the writer has been actuated by a

conscientious desire to deepen and vivify our faith in the Christian

system of truth, by showing that it does not rest _solely_ on a special

class of facts, but upon all the facts of nature and humanity; that its

authority does not repose _alone_ on the peculiar and supernatural

events which transpired in Palestine, but also on the still broader

foundations of the ideas and laws of the reason, and the common wants

and instinctive yearnings of the human heart. It is his conviction that

the course and constitution of nature, the whole current of history, and

the entire development of human thought in the ages anterior to the

advent of the Redeemer centre in, and can only be interpreted by, the

purpose of redemption.

The method hitherto most prevalent, of treating the history of human

thought as a series of isolated, disconnected, and lawless movements,

without unity and purpose; and the practice of denouncing the religions

and philosophies of the ancient world as inventions of satanic mischief,

or as the capricious and wicked efforts of humanity to relegate itself

from the bonds of allegiance to the One Supreme Lord and Lawgiver, have,

in his judgment, been prejudicial to the interests of all truth, and

especially injurious to the cause of Christianity. They betray an utter

insensibility to the grand unities of nature and of thought, and a

strange forgetfulness of that universal Providence which comprehends all

nature and all history, and is yet so minute in its regards that it

numbers the hairs on every human head, and takes note of every sparrow's

fall, A juster method will lead us to regard the entire history of human

thought as a development towards a specific end, and the providence of

God as an all-embracing plan, which sweeps over all ages and all

nations, and which, in its final consummation, will, through Christ,

"gather together all things in one, both things which are in heaven and

things which are on earth."

The central and unifying thought of this volume is _that the necessary

ideas and laws of the reason, and the native instincts of the human

heart, originally implanted by God, are the primal and germinal forces

of history; and that these have been developed under conditions which

were first ordained, and have been continually supervised by the

providence of God_. God is the Father of humanity, and he is also the

Guide and Educator of our race. As "the offspring of God," humanity is

not a bare, indeterminate potentiality, but a living energy, an active

reason, having definite qualities, and inheriting fundamental principles

and necessary ideas which constitute it "the image and likeness of God."

And though it has suffered a moral lapse, and, in the exercise of its

freedom, has become alienated from the life of God, yet God has never

abandoned the human race. He still "magnifies man, and sets his heart

upon him." "He visits him every morning, and tries him every moment."

"The inspiration of the Almighty still gives him understanding." The

illumination of the Divine Logos still "teacheth man knowledge." The

Spirit of God still comes near to and touches with strong emotion every

human heart. "God has never left himself without a witness" in any

nation, or in any age. The providence of God has always guided the

dispersions and migrations of the families of the earth, and presided

over and directed the education of the race. "He has foreordained the

times of each nation's existence, and fixed the geographical boundaries

of their habitations, _in order that they should seek the Lord_, and

feel after and find Him who is not far from any one of us." The

religions of the ancient world were the painful effort of the human

spirit to return to its true rest and centre--the struggle to "find Him"

who is so intimately near to every human heart, and who has never ceased

to be the want of the human race. The philosophies of the ancient world

were the earnest effort of human reason to reconcile the finite and the

infinite, the human and the Divine, the subject and God. An overruling

Providence, which makes even the wrath of man to praise Him, took up all

these sincere, though often mistaken, efforts into his own plan, and

made them sub-serve the purpose of redemption. They aided in developing

among the nations "the desire of salvation," and in preparing the world

for the advent of the Son of God. The entire course and history of

Divine providence, in every nation, and in every age, has been directed

towards the one grand purpose of "reconciling all things to Himself."

Christianity, as a comprehensive scheme of reconciliation, embracing

"all things," can not, therefore, be properly studied apart from the

ages of earnest thought, of profound inquiry, and of intense religious

feeling which preceded it. To despise the religions of the ancient

world, to sneer at the efforts and achievements of the old philosophers,

or even to cut them off in thought from all relation to the plans and

movements of that Providence which has cared for, and watched over, and

pitied, and guided all the nations of the earth, is to refuse to

comprehend Christianity itself.

The author is not indifferent to the possibility that his purpose may be

misconceived. The effort may be regarded by many conscientious and

esteemed theologians with suspicion and mistrust. They can not easily

emancipate themselves from the ancient prejudice against speculative

thought. Philosophy has always been regarded by them as antagonistic to

Christian faith. They are inspired by a commendable zeal for the honor

of dogmatic theology. Every essay towards a profounder conviction, a

broader faith in the unity of all truth, is branded with the opprobrious

name of "rationalism." Let us not be terrified by a harmless word.

Surely religion and right reason must be found in harmony. The author

believes, with Bacon, that "the foundation of all religion is right

reason." The abnegation of reason is not the evidence of faith, but the

confession of despair. Sustained by these convictions, he submits this

humble contribution to theological science to the thoughtful

consideration of all lovers of Truth, and of Christ, the fountain of

Truth. He can sincerely ask upon it the blessing of Him in whose fear it

has been written, and whose cause it is the purpose of his life to

serve.

The second series, on "Christianity and Modern Thought," is in an

advanced state of preparation for the press.

NOTE.--It has been the aim of the writer, as far as the

nature of the subject would permit, to adapt this work to

general readers. The references to classic authors are,

therefore, in all cases made to accessible English

translations (in Bohn's Classical Library); such changes,

however, have been made in the rendering as shall present

the doctrine of the writers in a clearer and more forcible

manner. For valuable services rendered in this department of

the work, by Martin L. D'Ooge, M. A., Acting Professor of

Greek Language and Literature in the University of Michigan,

the author would here express his grateful acknowledgment.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

ATHENS, AND THE MEN OF ATHENS.

CHAPTER II.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION.

CHAPTER III.

THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS.

CHAPTER IV.

THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS: ITS MYTHOLOGICAL AND SYMBOLICAL

ASPECTS.

CHAPTER V.

THE UNKNOWN GOD.

CHAPTER VI.

THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).

IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON?

CHAPTER VII.

THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).

IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON? (_continued_).

CHAPTER VIII.

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS.

PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOL.

_Sensational_: THALES--ANAXIMENES--HERACLITUS--ANAXIMANDER

LEOCIPPUS--DEMOCRITUS.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).

PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_)

_Idealist_: Pythagoras--Xenophanes--Parmenides--Zeno. _Natural

Realist_: Anaxagoras.

THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL.

Socrates.

CHAPTER X

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).

THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).

Plato.

CHAPTER XI.

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).

THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).

Plato.

CHAPTER XII.

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).

THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).

Aristotle.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).

POST-SOCRATIC SCHOOL.

Epicurus and Zeno.

CHAPTER XIV.

The Propædeutic Office of Greek Philosophy.

CHAPTER XV.

The Propædeutic Office of Greek Philosophy (_continued_).

"_Ye men of Athens_, all things which I behold bear witness to your

carefulness in religion; for, as I passed through your city and beheld

the objects of your worship, I found amongst them an altar with this

inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD; whom, therefore, ye worship, though ye

know; Him not, Him declare I unto you. God who made the world and all

things therein, seeing He is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in

temples made with hands; neither is He served by the hands of men, as

though he needed any thing; for He giveth unto all life, and breath, and

all things. And He made of one blood all the nations of mankind to dwell

upon the face of the whole earth; and ordained to each the appointed

seasons of their existence, and the bounds of their habitation, that

they should seek God, if haply they might feel after Him and find Him,

though he be not far from every one of us: for in Him we live, and move,

and have our being; as certain of your own poets have said, _For we are

also His offspring_. Forasmuch, then, as we are the offspring of God, we

ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or

stone, graven by the art and device of man. Howbeit, those past times of

ignorance God hath overlooked; but now He commandeth all men everywhere

to repent, because He hath appointed a day wherein He will judge the

world in righteousness by that Man whom He hath ordained; whereof He

hath given assurance unto all, in that He hath raised Him from the

dead."--Acts xvii. 22-31.

CHRISTIANITY

AND

GREEK PHILOSOPHY

CHAPTER I.

ATHENS, AND THE MEN OF ATHENS.

"Is it not worth while, for the sake of the history of men and nations,

to study the surface of the globe in its relation to the inhabitants

thereof?"--Goethe.

There is no event recorded in the annals of the early church so replete

with interest to the Christian student, or which takes so deep a hold on

the imagination, and the sympathies of him who is at all familiar with

the history of Ancient Greece, as the one recited above. Here we see the

Apostle Paul standing on the Areopagus at Athens, surrounded by the

temples, statues, and altars, which Grecian art had consecrated to Pagan

worship, and proclaiming to the inquisitive Athenians, "the strangers"

who had come to Athens for business or for pleasure, and the

philosophers and students of the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, and the

Garden, "_the unknown God_."

Whether we dwell in our imagination on the artistic grandeur and

imposing magnificence of the city in which Paul found himself a solitary

stranger, or recall the illustrious names which by their achievements in

arts and philosophy have shed around the city of Athens an immortal

glory,--or whether, fixing our attention on the lonely wanderer amid the

porticoes, and groves, and temples of this classic city, we attempt to

conceive the emotion which stirred his heart as he beheld it "wholly

given to idolatry;" or whether we contrast the sublime, majestic theism

proclaimed by Paul with the degrading polytheism and degenerate

philosophy which then prevailed in Athens, or consider the prudent and

sagacious manner in which the apostle conducts his argument in view of

the religious opinions and prejudices of his audience, we can not but

feel that this event is fraught with lessons of instruction to the

Church in every age.

That the objects which met the eye of Paul on every hand, and the

opinions he heard everywhere expressed in Athens, must have exerted a

powerful influence upon the current of his thoughts, as well as upon the

state of his emotions, is a legitimate and natural presumption. Not only

was "his spirit stirred within him"--his heart deeply moved and agitated

when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry--but his thoughtful,

philosophic mind would be engaged in pondering those deeply interesting

questions which underlie the whole system of Grecian polytheism. The

circumstances of the hour would, no doubt, in a large degree determine

the line of argument, the form of his discourse, and the peculiarities

of his phraseology. The more vividly, therefore, we can represent the

scenes and realize the surrounding incidents; the more thoroughly we can

enter into sympathy with the modes of thought and feeling peculiar to

the Athenians; the more perfectly we can comprehend the spirit and

tendency of the age; the more immediate our acquaintance with the

religious opinions and philosophical ideas then prevalent in Athens, the

more perfect will be our comprehension of the apostle's argument, the

deeper our interest in his theme. Some preliminary notices of Athens and

"the Men of Athens" will therefore be appropriate as introductory to a

series of discourses on Paul's sermon on Mars' Hill.

The peculiar connection that subsists between Geography and History,

between a people and the country they inhabit, will justify the

extension of our survey beyond the mere topography of Athens. The people

of the entire province of Attica were called Athenians (_Athênaioi_) in

their relation to the state, and Attics _(Attikoi_) in regard to their

manners, customs, and dialect.[1] The climate and the scenery, the forms

of contour and relief, the geographical position and relations of

Attica, and, indeed, of the whole peninsula of Greece, must be taken

into our account if we would form a comprehensive judgment of the

character of the Athenian people.

The soil on which a people dwell, the air they breathe, the mountains

and seas by which they are surrounded, the skies that overshadow

them,--all these exert a powerful influence on their pursuits, their

habits, their institutions, their sentiments, and their ideas. So that

could we clearly group, and fully grasp all the characteristics of a

region--its position, configuration, climate, scenery, and natural

products, we could, with tolerable accuracy, determine what are the

characteristics of the people who inhabit it. A comprehensive knowledge

of the physical geography of any country will therefore aid us

materially in elucidating the natural history, and, to some extent, the

moral history of its population. "History does not stand _outside_ of

nature, but in her very heart, so that the historian only grasps a

people's character with true precision when he keeps in full view its

geographical position, and the influences which its surroundings have

wrought upon it."[2]

[Footnote 1: Niebuhr's "Lectures on Ethnography and Geography," p. 91.]

[Footnote 2: Ritter's "Geographical Studies," p. 34.]

It is, however, of the utmost consequence the reader should understand

that there are two widely different methods of treating this deeply

interesting subject--methods which proceed on fundamentally opposite

views of man and of nature. One method is that pursued by Buckle in his

"History of Civilization in England." The tendency of his work is the

assertion of the supremacy of material conditions over the development

of human history, and indeed of every individual mind. Here man is

purely passive in the hands of nature. Exterior conditions are the

chief, if not the _only_ causes of man's intellectual and social

development. So that, such a climate and soil, such aspects of nature

and local circumstances being given, such a nation necessarily

follows.[3] The other method is that of Carl Ritter, Arnold Guyot, and

Cousin.[4] These take account of the freedom of the human will, and the

power of man to control and modify the forces of nature. They also take

account of the original constitution of man, and the primitive type of

nations; and they allow for results arising from the mutual conflict of

geographical conditions. And they, especially, recognize the agency of a

Divine Providence controlling those forces in nature by which the

configuration of the earth's surface is determined, and the distribution

of its oceans, continents, and islands is secured; and a providence,

also, directing the dispersions and migrations of nations--determining

the times of each nation's existence, and fixing the geographical bounds

of their habitation, all in view of the _moral_ history and spiritual

development of the race,--"that they may feel after, and find the living

God." The relation of man and nature is not, in their estimation, a

relation of cause and effect. It is a relation of adjustment, of

harmony, and of reciprocal action and reaction. "Man is not"--says

Cousin--"an effect, and nature the cause, but there is between man and

nature a manifest harmony of general laws."... "Man and nature are two

great effects which, coming from the same cause, bear the same

characteristics; so that the earth, and he who inhabits it, man and

nature, are in perfect harmony."[5] God has created both man and the

universe, and he has established between them a striking harmony. The

earth was made for man; not simply to supply his physical wants, but

also to minister to his intellectual and moral development. The earth is

not a mere dwelling-place of nations, but a school-house, in which God

himself is superintending the education of the race. Hence we must not

only study the _events_ of history in their chronological order, but we

must study the earth itself as the _theatre_ of history. A knowledge of

all the circumstances, both physical and moral, in the midst of which

events take place, is absolutely necessary to a right judgment of the

events themselves. And we can only elucidate properly the character of

the actors by a careful study of all their geographical and ethological

conditions.

[Footnote 3: See chap. ii. "History of Civilization."]

[Footnote 4: Ritter's "Geographical Studies;" Guyot's "Earth and Man;"

Cousin's "History of Philosophy," lec. vii., viii., ix.]

[Footnote 5: Lectures, vol. i. pp. 162, 169.]

It will be readily perceived that, in attempting to estimate the

influence which exterior conditions exert in the determination of

national character, we encounter peculiar difficulties. We can not in

these studies expect the precision and accuracy which is attained in the

mathematical, or the purely physical sciences. We possess no control

over the "materiel" of our inquiry; we have no power of placing it in

new conditions, and submitting it to the test of new experiments, as in

the physical sciences. National character is a _complex_ result--a

product of the action and reaction of primary and secondary causes. It

is a conjoint effect of the action of the primitive elements and laws

originally implanted in humanity by the Creator, of the free causality

and self-determining power of man, and of all the conditions, permanent

and accidental, within which the national life has been developed. And

in cases where _physical_ and _moral_ causes are blended, and

reciprocally conditioned and modified in their operation;--where primary

results undergo endless modifications from the influence of surrounding

circumstances, and the reaction of social and political

institutions;--and where each individual of the great aggregate wields a

causal power that obeys no specific law, and by his own inherent power

sets in motion new trains of causes which can not be reduced to

statistics, we grant that we are in possession of no instrument of exact

analysis by which the complex phenomena of national character may be

reduced to primitive elements. All that we can hope is, to ascertain, by

psychological analysis, what are the fundamental ideas and laws of

humanity; to grasp the exterior conditions which are, on all hands,

recognized as exerting a powerful influence upon national character; to

watch, under these lights, the manifestations of human nature on the

theatre of history, and then apply the principles of a sound historic

criticism to the recorded opinions of contemporaneous historians and

their immediate successors. In this manner we may expect, at least, to

approximate to a true judgment of history.

There are unquestionably fundamental powers and laws in human nature

which have their development in the course of history. There are certain

primitive ideas, imbedded in the constitution of each individual mind,

which are revealed in the universal consciousness of our race, under the

conditions of experience--the exterior conditions of physical nature and

human society. Such are the ideas of cause and substance; of unity and

infinity, which govern all the processes of discursive thought, and lead

us to the recognition of Being _in se_;--such the ideas of right, of

duty, of accountability, and of retribution, which regulate all the

conceptions we form of our relations to all other moral beings, and

constitute _morality_;--such the ideas of order, of proportion, and of

harmony, which preside in the realms of art, and constitute the

beau-ideal of _esthetics_;--such the ideas of God, the soul, and

immortality, which rule in the domains of _religion_, and determine man

a religious being. These constitute the identity of human nature under

all circumstances; these characterize humanity in all conditions. Like

permanent germs in vegetable life, always producing the same species of

plants; or like fundamental types in the animal kingdom, securing the

same homologous structures in all classes and orders; so these

fundamental ideas in human nature constitute its sameness and unity,

under all the varying conditions of life and society. The acorn must

produce an oak, and nothing else. The grain of wheat must always produce

its kind. The offspring of man must always bear his image, and always

exhibit the same fundamental characteristics, not only in his corporeal

nature, but also in his mental constitution.

But the germination of every seed depends on conditions _ab extra_, and

all germs are modified, in their development, by geographical and

climatal surroundings. The development of the acorn into a mature and

perfect oak greatly depends on the exterior conditions of soil, and

moisture, light, and heat. By these it may be rendered luxuriant in its

growth, or it may be stunted in its growth. It may barely exist under

one class of conditions, or it may perish under another. The Brassica

oleracea, in its native habitat on the shore of the sea, is a bitter

plant with wavy sea-green leaves; in the cultivated garden it is the

cauliflower. The single rose, under altered conditions, becomes a double

rose; and creepers rear their stalks and stand erect. Plants, which in a

cold climate are annuals, become perennial when transported to the

torrid zone.[6] And so human nature, fundamentally the same under all

circumstances, may be greatly modified, both physically and mentally, by

geographical, social, and political conditions. The corporeal nature of

man--his complexion, his physiognomy, his stature; the intellectual

nature of man--his religious, ethical, and esthetical ideas are all

modified by his surroundings. These modifications, of which all men

dwelling in the same geographical regions, and under the same social and

political institutions, partake, constitute the _individuality_ of

nations. Thus, whilst there is a fundamental basis of unity in the

corporeal and spiritual nature of man, the causes of diversity are to be

sought in the circumstances in which tribes and nations are placed in

the overruling providence of God.

[Footnote 6: See Carpenter's "Compar. Physiology," p. 625; Lyell's

"Principles of Geology," pp. 588, 589.]

The power which man exerts over material conditions, by virtue of his

intelligence and freedom, is also an important element which, in these

studies, we should not depreciate or ignore. We must accept, with all

its consequences, the dictum of universal consciousness that man is

_free_. He is not absolutely subject to, and moulded by nature. He has

the power to control the circumstances by which he is surrounded--to

originate new social and physical conditions--to determine his own

individual and responsible character--and he can wield a mighty

influence over the character of his fellow-men. Individual men, as

Lycurgus, Solon, Pericles, Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon have left the

impress of their own mind and character upon the political institutions

of nations, and, in indirect manner, upon the character of succeeding

generations of men. Homer, Plato, Cicero, Bacon, Kant, Locke, Newton,

Shakspeare, Milton have left a deep and permanent impression upon the

forms of thought and speech, the language and literature, the science

and philosophy of nations. And inasmuch as a nation is the aggregate of

individual beings endowed with spontaneity and freedom, we must grant

that exterior conditions are not omnipotent in the formation of national

character. Still the free causality of man is exercised within a narrow

field. "There is a strictly necessitative limitation drawing an

impassable boundary-line around the area of volitional freedom." The

human will "however subjectively free" is often "objectively unfree;"

thus a large "uniformity of volitions" is the natural consequence.[7]

The child born in the heart of China, whilst he may, in his personal

freedom, develop such traits of character as constitute his

individuality, must necessarily be conformed in his language, habits,

modes of thought, and religious sentiments to the spirit of his country

and age. We no more expect a development of Christian thought and

character in the centre of Africa, unvisited by Christian teaching, than

we expect to find the climate and vegetation of New England. And we no

more expect that a New England child shall be a Mohammedan, a Parsee, or

a Buddhist, than that he shall have an Oriental physiognomy, and speak

an Oriental language. Indeed it is impossible for a man to exist in

human society without partaking in the spirit and manners of his country

and his age. Thus all the individuals of a nation represent, in a

greater or less degree, the spirit of the nation. They who do this most

perfectly are the _great_ men of that nation, because they are at once

both the product and the impersonation of their country and their age.

"We allow ourselves to think of Shakspeare, or of Raphael, or of Phidias

as having accomplished their work by the power of their individual

genius, but greatness like theirs is never more than the highest degree

of perfection which prevails widely around it, and forms the environment

in which it grows. No such single mind in single contact with the facts

of nature could have created a Pallas, a Madonna, or a Lear; such vast

conceptions are the growth of ages, the creation of a nation's spirit;

and the artist and poet, filled full with the power of that spirit, but

gave it form, and nothing but form. Nor would the form itself have been

attained by any isolated talent. No genius can dispense with

experience.... Noble conceptions already existing, and a noble school of

execution which will launch mind and hand upon their true courses, are

indispensable to transcendent excellence. Shakspeare's plays were as

much the offspring of the long generations who had pioneered the road

for him, as the discoveries of Newton were the offspring of those of

Copernicus."[8] The principles here enounced apply with equal force to

philosophers and men of science. The philosophy of Plato was but the

ripened fruit of the pregnant thoughts and seminal utterances of his

predecessors,--Socrates, Anaxagoras, and Pythagoras; whilst all of them

do but represent the general tendency and spirit of their country and

their times. The principles of Lord Bacon's "Instauratio Magna" were

incipient in the "Opus Majus" of Roger Bacon, the Franciscan friar. The

sixteenth century matured the thought of the thirteenth century. The

inductive method in scientific inquiry was immanent in the British mind,

and the latter Bacon only gave to it a permanent form. It is true that

great men have occasionally appeared on the stage of history who, like

the reformers Luther and Wesley, have seemed to be in conflict with the

prevailing spirit of their age and nation, but these men were the

creations of a providence--that providence which, from time to time, has

_supernaturally_ interposed in the moral history of our race by

corrective and remedial measures. These men were inspired and led by a

spirit which descended from on high. And yet even they had their

precursors and harbingers. Wyckliffe and John Huss, and Jerome of Prague

are but the representatives of numbers whose names do not grace the

historic page, who pioneered the way for Luther and the Reformation. And

no one can read the history of that great movement of the sixteenth

century without being persuaded there were thousands of Luther's

predecessors and contemporaries who, like Staupitz and Erasmus, lamented

the corruptions of the Church of Rome, and only needed the heroic

courage of Luther to make them reformers also. Whilst, therefore, we

recognize a free causal power in man, by which he determines his

individual and responsible character, we are compelled to recognize the

general law, that national character is mainly the result of those

geographical and ethological, and political and religious conditions in

which the nations have been placed in the providence of God.

[Footnote 7: See Dr. Wheedon's "Freedom of the Will," pp. 164, 165.]

[Footnote 8: Froude, "Hist. of England," pp. 73, 74.]

Nations, like persons, have an _Individuality_. They present certain

characteristic marks which constitute their proper identity, and

separate them from the surrounding nations of the earth; such, for

example, as complexion, physiognomy, language, pursuits, customs,

institutions, sentiments, ideas. The individuality of a nation is

determined mainly from _without_, and not, like human individuality,

from within. The laws of a man's personal character have their home in

the soul; and the peculiarities and habits, and that conduct of life,

which constitute his responsible character are, in a great degree, the

consequence of his own free choice. But dwelling, as he does, in

society, where he is continually influenced by the example and opinions

of his neighbors; subject, as he is, to the ceaseless influence of

climate, scenery, and other terrestrial conditions, the characteristics

which result from these relations, and which are common to all who dwell

in the same regions, and under the same institutions, constitute a

national individuality. Individual character is _variable_ under the

same general conditions, national character is _uniform_, because it

results from causes which operate alike upon all individuals.

Now, that man's complexion, his pursuits, his habits, his ideas are

greatly modified by his geographical surroundings, is the most obvious

of truths. No one doubts that the complexion of man is greatly affected

by climatic conditions. The appearance, habits, pursuits of the man who

lives within the tropics must, necessarily, differ from those of the man

who dwells within the temperate zone. No one expects that the dweller on

the mountain will have the same characteristics as the man who resides

on the plains; or that he whose home is in the interior of a continent

will have the same habits as the man whose home is on the islands of the

sea. The denizen of the primeval forest will most naturally become a

huntsman. The dweller on the extended plain, or fertile mountain slope,

will lead a pastoral, or an agricultural life. Those who live on the

margin of great rivers, or the borders of the sea, will "do business on

the great waters." Commerce and navigation will be their chief pursuits.

The people whose home is on the margin of the lake, or bay, or inland

sea, or the thickly studded archipelago, are mostly fishermen. And then

it is a no less obvious truth that men's pursuits exert a moulding

influence on their habits, their forms of speech, their sentiments, and

their ideas. Let any one take pains to observe the peculiarities which

characterize the huntsman, the shepherd, the agriculturist, or the

fisherman, and he will be convinced that their occupations stamp the

whole of their thoughts and feelings; color all their conceptions of

things outside their own peculiar field; direct their simple philosophy

of life; and give a tone, even, to their religious emotions.

The general aspects of nature, the climate and the scenery, exert an

appreciable and an acknowledged influence on the _mental_

characteristics of a people. The sprightliness and vivacity of the

Frank, the impetuosity of the Arab, the immobility of the Russ, the

rugged sternness of the Scot, the repose and dreaminess of the Hindoo

are largely due to the country in which they dwell, the air they

breathe, the food they eat, and the landscapes and skies they daily look

upon. The nomadic Arab is not only indebted to the country in which he

dwells for his habit of hunting for daily food, but for that love of a

free, untrammelled life, and for those soaring dreams of fancy in which

he so ardently delights. Not only is the Swiss determined by the

peculiarities of his geographical position to lead a pastoral life, but

the climate, and mountain scenery, and bracing atmosphere inspire him

with the love of liberty. The reserved and meditative Hindoo, accustomed

to the profuse luxuriance of nature, borrows the fantastic ideas of his

mythology from plants, and flowers, and trees. The vastness and infinite

diversity of nature, the colossal magnitude of all the forms of animal

and vegetable life, the broad and massive features of the landscape, the

aspects of beauty and of terror which surround him, and daily pour their

silent influences upon his soul, give vividness, grotesqueness, even, to

his imagination, and repress his active powers. His mental character

bears a peculiar and obvious relation to his geographical

surroundings.[9]

[Footnote 9: Ritter, "Geograph. Studies," p. 287.]

The influence of external nature on the imagination--the _creative_

faculty in man--is obvious and remarkable. It reveals itself in all the

productions of man--his architecture, his sculpture, his painting, and

his poetry. Oriental architecture is characterized by the boldness and

massiveness of all its parts, and the monotonous uniformity of all its

features. This is but the expression, in a material form, of that

shadowy feeling of infinity, and unity, and immobility which an unbroken

continent of vast deserts and continuous lofty mountain chains would

naturally inspire. The simple grandeur and perfect harmony and graceful

blending of light and shade so peculiar to Grecian architecture are the

product of a country whose area is diversified by the harmonious

blending of land and water, mountain and plain, all bathed in purest

light, and canopied with skies of serenest blue. And they are also the

product of a country where man is released from the imprisonment within

the magic circle of surrounding nature, and made conscious of his power

and freedom. In Grecian architecture, therefore, there is less of the

massiveness and immobility of nature, and more of the grace and dignity

of man. It adds to the idea of permanence a _vital_ expression. "The

Doric column," says Vitruvius, "has the proportion, strength, and beauty

of man." The Gothic architecture had its birthplace among a people who

had lived and worshipped for ages amidst the dense forests of the north,

and was no doubt an imitation of the interlacing of the overshadowing

trees. The clustered shaft, and lancet arch, and flowing tracery,

reflect the impression which the surrounding scenery had woven into the

texture of the Teutonic mind.

The history of painting and of sculpture will also show that the varied

"styles of art" are largely the result of the aspects which external

nature presented to the eye of man. Oriental sculpture, like its

architecture, was characterized by massiveness of form and tranquillity

of expression; and its painting was, at best, but colored sculpture. The

most striking objects are colossal figures, in which the human form is

strangely combined with the brute, as in the winged bulls of Nineveh and

the sphinxes of Egypt. Man is regarded simply as a part of nature, he

does not rise above the plane of animal life. The soul has its

immortality only in an eternal metempsychosis--a cycle of life which

sweeps through all the brute creation. But in Grecian sculpture we have

less of nature, more of man; less of massiveness, more of grace and

elegance; less repose, and more of action. Now the connection between

these styles of art, and the countries in which they were developed, is

at once suggested to the thoughtful mind.

And then, finally, the literature of a people equally reveals the

impress of surrounding cosmical conditions. "The poems of Ossian are but

the echo of the wild, rough, cloudy highlands of his Scottish home." The

forest songs of the wild Indian, the negro's plaintive melodies in the

rice-fields of Carolina, the refrains in which the hunter of Kamtchatka

relates his adventures with the polar bear, and in which the South Sea

Islander celebrates his feats and dangers on the deep, all betoken the

influence which the scenes of daily life exert upon the thoughts and

feelings of our race. "To what an extent nature can express herself in,

and modify the culture of the individual, as well as of an entire

people, can be seen on Ionian soil in the verse of Homer, which, called

forth under the most favorable sky, and on the most luxuriant shore of

the Grecian archipelago, not only charms us to-day, but bearing this

impress, has determined what shall be the classic form throughout all

coming time."[10]

[Footnote 10: See Ritter, pp. 288, 289. Poetic art has unquestionably

its _geographical_ distributions like the fauna and flora of the globe.

"If you love the images, not merely of a rich, but of a luxuriant fancy;

if you are pleased with the most daring flights; if you would see a

poetic creation full of wonders, then turn your eye to the poetry of the

_orient_, where all forms appear in purple; where each flower glows like

the morning ray resting on the earth. But if, on the contrary, you

prefer depth of thought, and earnestness of reflection; if you delight

in the colossal, yet pale forms, which float about in mist, and whisper

of the mysteries of the spirit-land, and of the vanity of all things,

except honor, then I must point you to the hoary _north_.... Or if you

sympathize with that deep feeling, that longing of the soul, which does

not linger on the earth, but evermore looks up to the azure tent of the

stars, where happiness dwells, where the unquiet of the beating heart is

still, then you must resort to the romantic poetry of the

_west_."--"_Study of Greek Literature_," Bishop Esaias Tegnér, p. 38.]

In seeking, therefore, to determine correctly what are the

characteristics of a nation, we must endeavor to trace how far the

physical constitution of that people, their temperament, their habits,

their sentiments, and their ideas have been formed, or modified, under

the surrounding geographical conditions, which, as we have seen, greatly

determine a nation's individuality. Guided by these lights, let us

approach the study of "_the men of Athens_."

_Attica_, of which Athens was the capital, and whose entire populations

were called "Athenians," was the most important of all the Hellenic

states. It is a triangular peninsula, the base of which is defined by

the high mountain ranges of Cithæron and Parnes, whilst the two other

sides are washed by the sea, having their vertex at the promontory of

Sunium, or Cape Colonna. The prolongation of the south-western line

towards the north until it reaches the base at the foot of Mount

Cithæron, served as the line of demarkation between the Athenian

territory and the State of Megara. Thus Attica may be generally

described as bounded on the north-east by the channel of the Negropont;

on the south-west by the gulf of Ægina and part of Megara; and on the

north-west by the territory which formed the ancient Boeotia, including

within its limits an area of about 750 miles.[11]

Hills of inferior elevation connect the mountain ranges of Cithæron and

Parnes with the mountainous surface of the south-east of the peninsula.

These hills, commencing with the promontory of Sunium itself, which

forms the vertex of the triangle, rise gradually on the south-east to

the round summit of Hymettus, and onward to the higher peak of

Pentelicus, near Marathon, on the east. The rest of Attica is all a

plain, one reach of which comes down to the sea on the south, at the

very base of Hymettus. Here, about five miles from the shore, an abrupt

rock rises from the plain, about 200 feet high, bordered on the south by

lower eminences. That rock is the Acropolis. Those lower eminences are

the Areopagus, the Pmyx, and the Museum. In the valley formed by these

four hills we have the Agora, and the varied undulations of these hills

determine the features of the city of Athens.[12]

[Footnote 11: See art. "Attica," _Encyc. Brit._]

[Footnote 12: See Conybeare and Howson's "Life and Epistles of St.

Paul," vol. i. p. 346.]

Nearly all writers on the topography of Athens derive their materials

from Pausanias, who visited the city in the early part of the second

century, and whose "Itinerary of Greece" is still extant.[13] He entered

the city by the Peiraic gate, the same gate at which Paul entered some

sixty years before. We shall place ourselves under his guidance, and, so

far as we are able, follow the same course, supplying some omissions, as

we go along, from other sources. On entering the city, the first

building which arrested the attention of Pausanias was the Pompeium, so

called because it was the depository of the sacred vessels, and also of

the garments used in the annual procession in honor of Athena (Minerva),

the tutelary deity of Athens, from whom the city derived its name. Near

this edifice stood a temple of Demeter (Ceres), containing statues of

that goddess, of her daughter Persephone, and of Iacchus, all executed

by Praxiteles; and beyond were several porticoes leading from the city

gates to the outer Ceramicus, while the intervening space was occupied

by various temples, the Gymnasium of Hermes, and the house of Polytion,

the most magnificent private residence in Athens.

[Footnote 13: The account here given of the topography of Athens is

derived mainly from the article on "Athens" in the _Encyc. Brit._]

There were two places in Athens known by the name of Ceramicus, one

without the walls, forming part of the suburbs; and the other within the

walls, embracing a very important section of the city. The outer

Ceramicus was covered with the sepulchres of the Athenians who had been

slain in battle, and buried at the public expense; it communicated with

the inner Ceramicus by the gate Dipylum. The Ceramicus within the city

probably included the Agora, the Stoa Basileios, and the Stoa Poecile,

besides various other temples and public buildings.

Having fairly passed the city gates, a long street is before us with a

colonnade or cloister on either hand; and at the end of this street, by

turning to the left, we might go through the whole Ceramicus to the open

country, and the groves of the Academy. But we turn to the right, and

enter the Agora,--the market-place, as it is called in the English

translation of the sacred narrative.

We are not, however, to conceive of the market-place at Athens as

bearing any resemblance to the bare, undecorated spaces appropriated to

business in our modern towns; but rather as a magnificent public square,

closed in by grand historic buildings, of the highest style of

architecture; planted with palm-trees in graceful distribution, and

adorned with statues of the great men of Athens and the deified heroes

of her mythology, from the hands of the immortal masters of the plastic

art. This "market-place" was the great centre of the public life of the

Athenians,--the meeting-place of poets, orators, statesmen, warriors,

and philosophers,--a grand resort for leisure, for conversation, for

business, and for news. Standing in the Agora, and looking towards the

south, is the _Museum,_ so called because it was believed that _Musæus_,

the father of poetry, was buried there. Towards the north-west is the

_Pnyx,_ a sloping hill, partially levelled into an open area for

political assemblies. To the north is seen the craggy eminence of the

_Areopagus_, and on the north-east is the _Acropolis_ towering high

above the scene, "the crown and glory of the whole."

The most important buildings of the Agora are the Porticoes or

cloisters, the most remarkable of which are the Stoa Basileios, or

Portico of the king; the Stoa Eleutherius, or Portico of the Jupiter of

Freedom; and the Stoa Poecile, or Painted Porch. These Porticoes were

covered walks, the roof being supported by columns, at least on one

side, and by solid masonry on the other. Such shaded walks are almost

indispensable in the south of Europe, where the people live much in the

open air, and they afford a grateful protection from the heat of the

sun, as well as a shelter from the rain. Seats were also provided where

the loungers might rest, and the philosophers and rhetoricians sit down

for intellectual conversation. The "Stoic" school of philosophy derived

its name from the circumstance that its founder, Zeno, used to meet and

converse with his disciples under one of these porticoes,--the Stoa

Poecile. These porticoes were not only built in the most magnificent

style of architecture, but adorned with paintings and statuary by the

best masters. On the roof of the Stoa Basileios were statues of Theseus

and the Day. In front of the Stoa Eleutherius was placed the divinity to

whom it was dedicated; and within were allegorical paintings,

celebrating the rise of "the fierce democracy." The Stoa Poecile derived

its name from the celebrated paintings which adorned its walls, and

which were almost exclusively devoted to the representation of national

subjects, as the contest of Theseus with the Amazons, the more glorious

struggle at Marathon, and the other achievements of the Athenians; here

also were suspended the shields of the Scionæans of Thrace, together

with those of the Lacedemonians, taken at the island of Sphacteria.

It is beyond our purpose to describe all the public edifices,--the

temples, gymnasia, and theatres which crowd the Ceramic area, and that

portion of the city lying to the west and south of the Acropolis. Our

object is, if possible, to convey to the reader some conception of the

ancient splendor and magnificence of Athens; to revive the scenes amidst

which the Athenians daily moved, and which may be presumed to have

exerted a powerful influence upon the manners, the taste, the habits of

thought, and the entire character of the Athenian people. To secure this

object we need only direct attention to the Acropolis, which was crowded

with the monuments of Athenian glory, and exhibited an amazing

concentration of all that was most perfect in art, unsurpassed in

excellence, and unrivalled in richness and splendor. It was "the

peerless gem of Greece, the glory and pride of art, the wonder and envy

of the world."

The western side of the Acropolis, which furnished the only access to

the summit of the hill, was about 168 feet in breadth; an opening so

narrow that, to the artists of Pericles, it appeared practicable to fill

up the space with a single building, which, in serving the purpose of a

gateway to the Acropolis, should also contribute to adorn, as well as

fortify the citadel. This work, the greatest achievement of civil

architecture in Athens, which rivalled the Parthenon in felicity of

execution, and surpassed it in boldness and originality of design,

consisted of a grand central colonnade closed by projecting wings. This

incomparable edifice, built of Pentelic marble, received the name of

Propylæa from its forming the vestibule to the five-fold gates by which

the citadel was entered. In front of the right wing there stood a small

Ionic temple of pure white marble, dedicated to Niké Apteros (Wingless

Victory).

A gigantic flight of steps conducted from the five-fold gates to the

platform of the Acropolis, which was, in fact, one vast composition of

architecture and sculpture dedicated to the national glory. Here stood

the Parthenon, or temple of the Virgin Goddess, the glorious temple

which rose in the proudest period of Athenian history to the honor of

Minerva, and which ages have only partially effaced. This magnificent

temple, "by its united excellences of materials, design, and decoration,

internal as well as external, has been universally considered the most

perfect which human genius ever planned and executed. Its dimensions

were sufficiently large to produce an impression of grandeur and

sublimity, which was not disturbed by any obtrusive subdivision of

parts; and, whether viewed at a small or greater distance, there was

nothing to divert the mind of the spectator from contemplating the unity

as well as majesty of mass and outline; circumstances which form the

first and most remarkable characteristic of every Greek temple erected

during the purer ages of Grecian taste and genius."[14]

[Footnote 14: Leake's "Topography of Athens," p. 209 et seq.]

It would be impossible to convey any just and adequate conception of the

artistic decorations of this wonderful edifice. The two pediments of the

temple were decorated with magnificent compositions of statuary, each

consisting of about twenty entire figures of colossal size; the one on

the western pediment representing the birth of Minerva, and the other,

on the eastern pediment, the contest between that goddess and Neptune

for the possession of Attica. Under the outer cornice were ninety-two

groups, raised in high relief from tablets about four feet square,

representing the victories achieved by her companions. Round the inner

frieze was presented the procession of the Parthenon on the grand

quinquennial festival of the Panathenæa. The procession is represented

as advancing in two parallel columns from west to east; one proceeding

along the northern, the other along the southern side of the temple;

part facing inward after turning the angle of the eastern front, and

part meeting towards the centre of that front.

The statue of the virgin goddess, the work of Phidias, stood in the

eastern chamber of the cella, and was composed of ivory and gold. It had

but one rival in the world, the Jupiter Olympus of the same famous

artist. On the summit or apex of the helmet was placed a sphinx, with

griffins on either side. The figure of the goddess was represented in an

erect martial attitude, and clothed in a robe reaching to the feet. On

the breast was a head of Medusa, wrought in ivory, and a figure of

Victory about four cubits high. The goddess held a spear in her hand,

and an ægis lay at her feet, while on her right, and near the spear, was

a figure of a serpent, believed to represent that of Erichthonius.

According to Pliny, the entire height of the statue was twenty-six

cubits (about forty feet), and the artist, Phidias, had ingeniously

contrived that the gold with which the statue was encrusted might be

removed at pleasure. The battle of the Centaurs and Lapithæ was carved

upon the sandals; the battle of the Amazons was represented on the ægis

which lay at her feet, and on the pedestal was sculptured the birth of

Pandora.

The temple of Erechtheus, the most ancient structure in Athens, stood on

the northern side of the Acropolis. The statue of Zeus Polieus stood

between the Propylæa and the Parthenon. The brazen colossus of Minerva,

cast from the spoils of Marathon, appears to have occupied the space

between the Erechtheium and the Propylæa, near the Pelasgic or northern

wall. This statue of the tutelary divinity of Athens and Attica rose in

gigantic proportions above all the buildings of the Acropolis, the

flashing of whose helmet plumes met the sailor's eye as he approached

from the Sunian promontory. And the remaining space of the wide area was

literally crowded with statuary, amongst which were Theseus contending

with the Minotaur; Hercules strangling the serpents; the Earth imploring

showers from Jupiter; and Minerva causing the olive to sprout, while

Neptune raises the waves. After these works of art, it is needless to

speak of others. It may be sufficient to state that Pausanias mentions

by name towards three hundred remarkable statues which adorned this part

of the city even after it had been robbed and despoiled by its several

conquerors.

The Areopagus, or hill of Ares (Mars), so called, it is said, in

consequence of that god having been the first person tried there for the

crime of murder, was, beyond all doubt, the rocky height which is

separated from the western end of the Acropolis by a hollow, forming a

communication between the northern and southern divisions of the city.

The court of the Areopagus was simply an open space on the highest

summit of the hill, the judges sitting in the open air, on rude seats of

stone, hewn out of the solid rock. Near to the spot on which the court

was held was the sanctuary of the Furies, the avenging deities of

Grecian mythology, whose presence gave additional solemnity to the

scene. The place and the court were regarded by the people with

superstitious reverence.

This completes, our survey of the principal buildings, monuments, and

localities within the city of Athens. We do not imagine we have

succeeded in conveying any adequate idea of the ancient splendor and

glory of this city, which was not only the capital of Attica, but also

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

We trust, however, that we have contributed somewhat towards awakening

in the reader's mind a deeper interest in these classic scenes, and

enabling him to appreciate, more vividly, the allusions we may hereafter

make to them.

The mere dry recital of geographical details, and topographical notices

is, however, of little interest in itself, and by itself. A tract of

country derives its chief interest from its historic _associations_--its

immediate relations to man. The events which have transpired therein,

the noble or ignoble deeds, the grand achievements, or the great

disasters of which it has been the theatre, these constitute the living

heart of its geography. Palestine has been rendered forever memorable,

not by any remarkable peculiarities in its climate or scenery, but by

the fact that it was the home of God's ancient people--the Hebrews and

still more, because the ardent imagination of the modern traveller still

sees upon its mountains and plains the lingering footprints of the Son

of God. And so Attica will always be regarded as a classic land, because

it was the theatre of the most illustrious period of ancient

history--_the period of youthful vigor in the life of humanity, when

viewed as a grand organic whole_.

Here on a narrow spot of less superficies than the little State of Rhode

Island there flourished a republic which, in the grandeur of her

military and naval achievements, at Marathon, Thermopylæ, Platæa, and

Salamis, in the sublime creations of her painters, sculptors, and

architects, and the unrivalled productions of her poets, orators, and

philosophers, has left a lingering glory on the historic page, which

twenty centuries have not been able to eclipse or dim. The names of

Solon and Pericles; of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle; of Isocrates and

Demosthenes; of Myron, Phidias, and Praxiteles; of Herodotus, Xenophon,

and Thucydides; of Sophocles and Euripides, have shed an undying lustre

on Athens and Attica.

How much of this universal renown, this imperishable glory attained by

the Athenian people, is to be ascribed to their geographical position

and surroundings, and to the elastic, bracing air, the enchanting

scenery, the glorious skies, which poured their daily inspiration on the

Athenian mind, is a problem we may scarcely hope to solve.

Of this, at least, we may be sure, that all these geographical and

cosmical conditions were ordained by God, and ordained, also, for some

noble and worthy end. That God, "the Father of all the families of the

earth," cared for the Athenian people as much as for Jewish and

Christian nations, we can not doubt. That they were the subjects of a

Providence, and that, in God's great plan of human history, they had an

important part to fulfill, we must believe. That God "determined the

time of each nation's existence, and fixed the geographical bounds of

its habitation," is affirmed by Paul. And that the _specific_ end for

which the nation had its existence was fulfilled, we have the fullest

confidence. _So far, therefore, as we can trace the relation that

subsists between the geographical position and surroundings of that

nation, and its national characteristics and actual history, so far are

we able to solve the problem of its destiny; and by so much do we

enlarge our comprehension of the plan of God in the history of our

race_.

The geographical position of Greece was favorable to the freest

commercial and maritime intercourse with the great historic

nations--those nations most advanced in science, literature, and art.

Bounded on the west by the Adriatic and Ionian seas, by the

Mediterranean on the south, and on the east by the Ægean Sea, her

populations enjoyed a free intercommunication with the Egyptians,

Hebrews, Persians, Phoenicians, Romans, and Carthaginians. This

peculiarity in the geographical position of the Grecian peninsula could

not fail to awaken in its people a taste for navigation, and lead them

to active commercial intercourse with foreign nations.[15] The boundless

oceans on the south and east, the almost impassable mountains on the

west and north of Asia, presented insurmountable obstacles to commercial

intercourse. But the extended border-lands and narrow inland seas of

Southern Europe allured man, in presence of their opposite shores, to

the perpetual exchange of his productions. An arm of the sea is not a

barrier, but rather a tie between the nations. Appearing to separate, it

in reality draws them together without confounding them.[16] On such a

theatre we may expect that commerce will be developed on an extensive

scale.[17] And, along with commerce, there will be increased activity in

all departments of productive industry, and an enlarged diffusion of

knowledge. "Commerce," says Ritter, "is the great mover and combiner of

the world's activities." And it also furnishes the channels through

which flow the world's ideas. Commerce, both in a material and moral

point of view, is the life of nations. Along with the ivory and ebony,

the fabrics and purple dyes, the wines and spices of the Syrian

merchant, there flowed into Greece the science of numbers and of

navigation, and the art of alphabetical writing from Phoenicia. Along

with the fine wheat, and embroidered linen, and riches of the farther

Indias which came from Egypt, there came, also, into Greece some

knowledge of the sciences of astronomy and geometry, of architecture and

mechanics, of medicine and chemistry; together with the mystic wisdom of

the distant Orient. The scattered rays of light which gleamed in the

eastern skies were thus converged in Greece, as on a focal point, to be

rendered more brilliant by contact with the powerful Grecian intellect,

and then diffused throughout the western world. Thus intercourse with

surrounding nations, by commerce and travel, contact therewith by

immigrations and colonizations, even collisions and invasions also,

became, in the hands of a presiding Providence, the means of diffusing

knowledge, of quickening and enlarging the active powers of man, and

thus, ultimately, of a higher civilization.

[Footnote 15: Humboldt's "Cosmos," vol. ii. p. 143.]

[Footnote 16: Cousin, vol. i. pp. 169, 170.]

[Footnote 17: The advantageous situation of Britain for commerce, and

the nature of the climate have powerfully contributed to the perfection

of industry among her population. Had she occupied a central, internal

station, like that of Switzerland, the facilities of her people for

dealing with others being so much the less, their progress would have

been comparatively slow, and, instead of being highly improved, their

manufactures would have been still in infancy. But being surrounded on

all sides by the sea, that "great highway of nations," they have been

able to maintain an intercourse with the most remote as well as the

nearest countries, to supply them on the easiest terms with their

manufactures, and to profit by the peculiar products and capacities of

production possessed by other nations. To the geographical position and

climate of Great Britain, her people are mainly indebted for their

position as the first commercial nation on earth.--See art.

"Manufactrues," p. 277, _Encyc. Brit_.]

Then further, the peculiar configuration of Greece, the wonderful

complexity of its coast-line, its peninsular forms, the number of its

islands, and the singular distribution of its mountains, all seem to

mark it as the theatre of activity, of movement, of individuality, and

of freedom. An extensive continent, unbroken by lakes and inland seas,

as Asia, where vast deserts and high mountain chains separate the

populations, is the seat of immobility.[18] Commerce is limited to the

bare necessities of life, and there are no inducements to movement, to

travel, and to enterprise. There are no conditions prompting man to

attempt the conquest of nature. Society is therefore stationary as in

China and India. Enfolded and imprisoned within the overpowering

vastness and illimitable sweep of nature, man is almost unconscious of

his freedom and his personality. He surrenders himself to the disposal

of a mysterious "_fate_" and yields readily to the despotic sway of

superhuman powers. The State is consequently the reign of a single

despotic will. The laws of the Medes and Persians are unalterable. But

in Greece we have extended border-lands on the coast of navigable seas;

peninsulas elaborately articulated, and easy of access. We have

mountains sufficiently elevated to shade the land and diversify the

scenery, and yet of such a form as not to impede communication. They are

usually placed neither in parallel chains nor in massive groups, but are

so disposed as to inclose extensive tracts of land admirably adapted to

become the seats of small and independent communities, separated by

natural boundaries, sometimes impossible to overleap. The face of the

interior country,--its forms of relief, seemed as though Providence

designed, from the beginning, to keep its populations socially and

politically disunited. These difficulties of internal transit by land

were, however, counteracted by the large proportion of coast, and the

accessibility of the country by sea. The promontories and indentations

in the line of the Grecian coast are hardly less remarkable than the

peculiar elevations and depressions of the surface. "The shape of

Peloponnesus, with its three southern gulfs, the Argolic, Laconian, and

Messenian, was compared by the ancient geographers to the leaf of a

plane-tree: the Pagasæan gulf on the eastern side of Greece, and the

Ambrakian gulf on the western, with their narrow entrances and

considerable area, are equivalent to internal lakes: Xenophon boasts of

the double sea which embraces so large a portion of Attica; Ephorus, of

the triple sea by which Boeotia was accessible from west, north, and

south--the Euboean strait, opening a long line of country on both sides

to coasting navigation. But the most important of all Grecian gulfs are

the Corinthian and Saronic, washing the northern and north-eastern

shores of Peloponnesus, and separated by the narrow barrier of the

Isthmus of Corinth. The former, especially, lays open Ætolia, Phokis,

and Boeotia, as the whole northern coast of Peloponnesus, to water

approach.... It will thus appear that there was no part of Greece proper

which could be considered as out of the reach of the sea, whilst most

parts of it were easy of access. The sea was thus the sole channel for

transmitting improvements and ideas as well as for maintaining

sympathies" between the Hellenic tribes.[19] The sea is not only the

grand highway of commercial intercourse, but the empire of movement, of

progress, and of freedom. Here man is set free from the bondage imposed

by the overpowering magnitude and vastness of continental and oceanic

forms. The boisterous and, apparently, lawless winds are made to obey

his will. He mounts the sea as on a fiery steed and "lays his hand upon

her mane." And whilst thus he succeeds, in any measure, to triumph over

nature, he wakes to conscious power and freedom. It is in this region of

contact and commingling of sea and land where man attains the highest

superiority. Refreshing our historic recollections, and casting our eyes

upon the map of the world, we can not fail to see that all the most

highly civilized nations have lived, or still live, on the margin of the

sea.

[Footnote 18: Cousin, vol. i. pp. 151, 170.]

[Footnote 19: Grote's "Hist, of Greece," vol. ii. pp. 221, 225.]

The peculiar configuration of the territory of Greece, its forms of

relief, "so like, in many respects, to Switzerland," could not fail to

exert a powerful influence on the character and destiny of its people.

Its inclosing mountains materially increased their defensive power, and,

at the same time, inspired them with the love of liberty. Those

mountains, as we have seen, so unique in their distribution, were

natural barriers against the invasion of foreign nations, and they

rendered each separate community secure against the encroachments of the

rest. The pass of Thermopylæ, between Thessaly and Phocis, that of

Cithæron, between Boeotia and Attica; and the mountain ranges of Oneion

and Geraneia, along the Isthmus of Corinth, were positions which could

be defended against any force of invaders. This signal peculiarity in

the forms of relief protected each section of the Greeks from being

conquered, and at the same time maintained their separate autonomy. The

separate states of Greece lived, as it were, in the presence of each

other, and at the same time resisted all influences and all efforts

towards a coalescence with each other, until the time of Alexander.

Their country, a word of indefinite meaning to the Asiatic, conveyed to

them as definite an idea as that of their own homes. Its whole

landscape, with all its historic associations, its glorious monuments of

heroic deeds, were perpetually present to their eyes. Thus their

patriotism, concentrated within a narrow sphere, and kept alive by the

sense of their individual importance, their democratic spirit, and their

struggles with surrounding communities to maintain their independence,

became a strong and ruling passion. Their geographical surroundings had,

therefore, a powerful influence upon their political institutions.

Conquest, which forces nations of different habits, characters, and

languages into unity, is at last the parent of degrading servitude.

These nations are only held together, as in the Roman empire, by the

iron hand of military power. The despot, surrounded by a foreign

soldiery, appears in the conquered provinces, simply to enforce tribute,

and compel obedience to his arbitrary will. But the small Greek

communities, protected by the barriers of their seas and gulfs and

mountains, escaped, for centuries, this evil destiny. The people, united

by identity of language and manners and religion, by common interest and

facile intercommunication, could readily combine to resist the invasions

of foreign nations, as well as the encroachments of their own rulers.

And they were able to easily model their own government according to

their own necessities and circumstances and common interests, and to

make the end for which it existed the sole measure of the powers it was

permitted to wield.[20]

[Footnote 20: _Encyc. Brit_, art. "Greece."]

The soil of Attica was not the most favorable to agricultural pursuits.

In many places it was stony and uneven, and a considerable proportion

was bare rock, on which nothing could be grown. Not half the surface was

capable of cultivation. In this respect it may be fitly compared to some

of the New England States. The light, dry soil produced excellent

barley, but not enough of wheat for their own consumption. Demosthenes

informs us that Athens brought every year, from Byzantium, four hundred

thousand _medimni_ of wheat. The alluvial plains, under industrious

cultivation, would furnish a frugal subsistence for a large population,

and the mildness of the climate allowed all the more valuable products

to ripen early, and go out of season last. Such conditions, of course,

would furnish motives for skill and industry, and demand of the people

frugal and temperate habits. The luxuriance of a tropical climate tends

to improvidence and indolence. Where nature pours her fullness into the

lap of ease, forethought and providence are little needed. There is none

of that struggle for existence which awakens sagacity, and calls into

exercise the active powers of man. But in a country where nature only

yields her fruits as the reward of toil, and yet enough to the

intelligent culture of the soil, there habits of patient industry must

be formed. The alternations of summer and winter excite to forethought

and providence, and the comparative poverty of the soil will prompt to

frugality. Man naturally aspires to improve his condition by all the

means within his power. He becomes a careful observer of nature, he

treasures up the results of observation, he compares one fact with

another and notes their relations, and he makes new experiments to test

his conclusions, and thus he awakes to the vigorous exercise of all his

powers. These physical conditions must develop a hardy, vigorous,

prudent, and temperate race; and such, unquestionably, were the Greeks.

"Theophrastus, and other authors, amply attest the observant and

industrious agriculture prevalent in Greece. The culture of the vine and

olive appears to have been particularly elaborate and the many different

accidents of soil, level, and exposure which were to be found, afforded

to observant planters materials for study and comparison."[21] The

Greeks were frugal in their habits and simple in their modes of life.

The barley loaf seems to have been more generally eaten than the wheaten

loaf; this, with salt fish and vegetables, was the common food of the

population. Economy in domestic life was universal. In their manners,

their dress, their private dwellings, they were little disposed to

ostentation or display.

[Footnote 21: Grote, "Hist. of Greece," vol. ii. p. 230.]

The climate of Attica is what, in physical geography, would be called

_maritime_. "Here are allied the continental vigor and oceanic softness,

in a fortunate union, mutually tempering each other."[22] The climate of

the whole peninsula of Greece seems to be distinguished from that of

Spain and Italy, by having more of the character of an inland region.

The diversity of local temperature is greater; the extremes of summer

and winter more severe. In Arcadia the snow has been found eighteen

inches thick in January, with the thermometer at 16° Fahrenheit, and it

sometimes lies on the ground for six weeks. The summits of the central

chains of Pindus and most of the Albanian mountains are covered with

snow from the beginning of November to the end of March. In Attica,

which, being freely exposed to the sea, has in some measure an insular

climate, the winter sets in about the beginning of January. About the

middle of that month the snow begins to fall, but seldom remains upon

the plain for more than a few days, though it lies on the summit of the

mountain for a month.[23] And then, whilst Boeotia, which joins to

Attica, is higher and colder, and often covered with dense fogs, Attica

is remarkable for the wonderful transparency, dryness, and elasticity of

its atmosphere. All these climatal conditions exerted, no doubt, a

modifying influence upon the character of the inhabitants.[24] In a

tropical climate man is enfeebled by excessive heat. His natural

tendency is to inaction and repose. His life is passed in a "strenuous

idleness." His intellectual, his reflective faculties are overmastered

by his physical instincts. Passion, sentiment, imagination prevail over

the sober exercises of his reasoning powers. Poetry universally

predominates over philosophy. The whole character of Oriental language,

religion, literature is intensely imaginative. In the frozen regions of

the frigid zone, where a perpetual winter reigns, and where lichens and

mosses are the only forms of vegetable life, man is condemned to the

life of a huntsman, and depends mainly for his subsistence on the

precarious chances of the chase. He is consequently nomadic in his

habits, and barbarous withal. His whole life is spent in the bare

process of procuring a living. He consumes a large amount of oleaginous

food, and breathes a damp heavy atmosphere, and is, consequently, of a

dull phlegmatic temperament. Notwithstanding his uncertain supplies of

food, he is recklessly improvident, and indifferent to all the lessons

of experience. Intellectual pursuits are all precluded. There is no

motive, no opportunity, and indeed no disposition for mental culture.

But in a temperate climate man is stimulated to high mental activity.

The alternations of heat and cold, of summer and of winter, an elastic,

fresh, and bracing atmosphere, a diversity in the aspects of nature,

these develop a vivacity of temperament, a quickness of sensibility as

well as apprehension, and a versatility of feeling as well as genius.

History marks out the temperate zone as the seat of the refined and

cultivated nations.

[Footnote 22: Guyot, "Earth and Man," p. 181.]

[Footnote 23: _Encyc. Brit._, art. "Greece."]

[Footnote 24: The influence of climatic conditions did not escape the

attention of the Greeks. Herodotus, Hippocrates, and Aristotle speak of

the climate of Asia as more enervating than that of Greece. They

regarded the changeful character and diversity of local temperature in

Greece as highly stimulating to the energies of the populations. The

marked contrast between the Athenians and the Boeotians was supposed to

be represented in the light and heavy atmosphere which they respectively

breathed.--_Grote_, vol. ii. pp. 232-3.]

The natural scenery of Greece was of unrivalled grandeur--surpassing

Italy, perhaps every country in the world. It combined in the highest

degree every feature essential to the highest beauty of a landscape

except, perhaps, large rivers. But this was more than compensated for by

the proximity of the sea, which, by its numerous arms, seemed to embrace

the land on nearly every side. Its mountains, encircled with zones of

wood, and capped with snow, though much lower than the Alps, are as

imposing by the suddenness of their elevation--"pillars of heaven, the

fosterers of enduring snows."[25] Rich sheltered plains lie at their

feet, covered with an unequally woven mantle of trees, and shrubs, and

flowers,--"the verdant gloom of the thickly-mantling ivy, the narcissus

steeped in heavenly dew, the golden-beaming crocus, the hardy and

ever-fresh-sprouting olive-tree,"[26] and the luxuriant palm, which

nourishes amid its branches the grape swelling with juice. But it is the

combination of these features, in the most diversified manner, with

beautiful inland bays and seas, broken by headlands, inclosed by

mountains, and studded with islands of every form and magnitude, which

gives to the scenery of Greece its proud pre-eminence. "Greek scenery,"

says Humboldt, "presents the peculiar charm of an intimate blending of

sea and land, of shores adorned with vegetation, or picturesquely girt

with rocks gleaming in the light of aerial tints, and an ocean beautiful

in the play of the ever-changing brightness of its deep-toned wave."[27]

And over all the serene, deep azure skies, occasionally veiled by light

fleecy clouds, with vapory purple mists resting on the distant mountain

tops. This glorious scenery of Greece is evermore the admiration of the

modern traveller. "In wandering about Athens on a sunny day in March,

when the asphodels are blooming on Colones, when the immortal mountains

are folded in a transparent haze, and the Ægean slumbers afar among his

isles," he is reminded of the lines of Byron penned amid these scenes--

[Footnote 25: Pindar.]

[Footnote 26: Sophocles, "oedipus at Colonna."]

[Footnote 27: "Cosmos," vol. ii. p. 25.]

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

Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,

Thine olives ripe as when Minerva smiled,

And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields;

There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,

The freeborn wanderer of the mountain air;

Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,

Still in his beams Mendeli's marbles glare;

Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but nature still is fair."[28]

[Footnote 28: Canto ii., v. lxxxvi., "Childe Harold."]

The effect of this scenery upon the character, the imagination, the

taste of the Athenians must have been immense. Under the influence of

such sublime objects, the human mind becomes gifted as with inspiration,

and is by nature filled with poetic images. "Greece became the

birth-place of taste, of art, and eloquence, the chosen sanctuary of the

muses, the prototype of all that is graceful, and dignified, and grand

in sentiment and action."

And now, if we have succeeded in clearly presenting and properly

grouping the facts, and in estimating the influence of geographical

position and surroundings on national character, we have secured the

natural _criteria_ by which we examine, and even correct the portraiture

of the Athenian character usually presented by the historian.

The character of the Athenians has been sketched by Plutarch[29] with

considerable minuteness, and his representations have been permitted,

until of late years, to pass unchallenged. He has described them as at

once passionate and placable, easily moved to anger, and as easily

appeased; fond of pleasantry and repartee, and heartily enjoying a

laugh; pleased to hear themselves praised, and yet not annoyed by

criticism and censure; naturally generous towards those who were poor

and in humble circumstances, and humane even towards their enemies;

jealous of their liberties, and keeping even their rulers in awe. In

regard to their intellectual traits, he affirms their minds were not

formed for laborious research, and though they seized a subject as it

were by intuition, yet wanted patience and perseverance for a thorough

examination of all its bearings. "An observation," says the writer of

the article on "_Attica_," in the Encyclopædia Britannica, "more

superficial in itself, and arguing a greater ignorance of the Athenians,

can not easily be imagined." Plutarch lived more than three hundred

years after the palmy days of the Athenian Demos had passed away. He was

a Boeotian by birth, not an Attic, and more of a Roman than a Greek in

all his sympathies. We are tempted to regard him as writing under the

influence of prejudice, if not of envy. He was scarcely reliable as a

biographer, and as materials for history his "Parallel Lives" have been

pronounced "not altogether trustworthy."[30]

[Footnote 29: "De Præcept."]

[Footnote 30: _Encyc. of Biography_, art. "Plutarch."]

That the Athenians were remarkable for the ardor and vivacity of their

temperament,--that they were liable to sudden gusts of passion,--that

they were inconstant in their affections, intolerant of dictation,

impatient of control, and hasty to resent every assumption of

superiority,--that they were pleased with flattery, and too ready to

lend a willing ear to the adulation of the demagogue,--and that they

were impetuous and brave, yet liable to be excessively elated by

success, and depressed by misfortune, we may readily believe, because

such traits of character are in perfect harmony with all the facts and

conclusions already presented. Such characteristics were the natural

product of the warm and genial sunlight, the elastic bracing air, the

ethereal skies, the glorious mountain scenery, and the elaborate

blending of sea and land, so peculiar to Greece and the whole of

Southern Europe.[31] These characteristics were shared in a greater or

less degree by all the nations of Southern Europe in ancient times, and

they are still distinctive traits in the Frenchman, the Italian, and the

modern Greek.[32]

[Footnote 31: "As the skies of Hellas surpassed nearly all other

climates in brightness and elasticity, so, also, had nature dealt most

lovingly with the inhabitants of this land. Throughout the whole being

of the Greek there reigned supreme a quick susceptibility, out of which

sprang a gladsome serenity of temper, and a keen enjoyment of life;

acute sense, and nimbleness of apprehension; a guileless and child-like

feeling, full of trust and faith, combined with prudence and forecast.

These peculiarities lay so deeply imbedded in the inmost nature of the

Greeks that no revolutions of time and circumstances have yet been able

to destroy them; nay, it may be asserted that even now, after centuries

of degradation, they have not been wholly extinguished in the

inhabitants of ancient Hellas."--"_Education of the Moral Sentiment

amongst the Ancient Greeks_." By FREDERICK JACOBS, p. 320.]

[Footnote 32: These are described by the modern historian and traveller

as lively, versatile, and witty. "The love of liberty and independence

does not seem to be rooted out of the national character by centuries of

subjugation. They love to command; but though they are loyal to a good

government, they are apt readily to rise when their rights and liberties

are infringed. As there is little love of obedience among them, so

neither is there any toleration of aristocratic pretensions."--_Encyc.

Brit._, art. "Greece."]

The consciousness of power, the feeling of independence, the ardent love

of freedom induced in the Athenian mind by the objective freedom of

movement which his geographical position afforded, and that

subordination and subserviency of physical nature to man so peculiar to

Greece, determined the democratic character of all their political

institutions. And these institutions reacted upon the character of the

people and intensified their love of liberty. This passionate love of

personal freedom, amounting almost to disease, excited them to a

constant and almost distressing vigilance. And it is not to be wondered

at if it displayed itself in an extreme jealousy of their rulers, an

incessant supervision and criticism of all their proceedings, and an

intense and passionate hatred of tyrants and of tyranny. The popular

legislator or the successful soldier might dare to encroach upon their

liberties in the moment when the nation was intoxicated and dazzled with

their genius, their prowess, and success; but a sudden revulsion of

popular feeling, and an explosion of popular indignation, would overturn

the one, and ostracism expel the other. Thus while inconstancy, and

turbulence, and faction seem to have been inseparable from the

democratic spirit, the Athenians were certainly constant in their love

of liberty, faithful in their affection for their country,[33] and

invariable in their sympathy and admiration for that genius which shed

glory upon their native land. And then they were ever ready to repair

the errors, and make amends for the injustice committed under the

influence of passionate excitement, or the headlong impetuosity of their

too ardent temperament. The history of Greece supplies numerous

illustrations of this spirit. The sentence of death which had been

hastily passed on the inhabitants of Mytilene was, on sober reflection,

revoked the following day. The immediate repentance and general sorrow

which followed the condemnation of the ten generals, as also of

Socrates, are notable instances.

[Footnote 33: When immense bribes were offered by the king of Persia to

induce the Athenians to detach themselves from the alliance with the

rest of the Hellenic States, she answered by the mouth of Aristides

"that it was impossible for all the gold in the world to tempt the

Republic of Athens, or prevail with it to sell its liberty and that of

Greece!"]

In their private life the Athenians were courteous, generous, and

humane. Whilst bold and free in the expression of their opinions, they

paid the greatest attention to rules of politeness, and were nicely

delicate on points of decorum. They had a natural sense of what was

becoming and appropriate, and an innate aversion to all extravagance. A

graceful demeanor and a quiet dignity were distinguishing traits of

Athenian character. They were temperate and frugal[34] in their habits,

and little addicted to ostentation and display. Even after their

victories had brought them into contact with Oriental luxury and

extravagance, and their wealth enabled them to rival, in costliness and

splendor, the nations they had conquered, they still maintained a

republican simplicity. The private dwellings of the principal citizens

were small, and usually built of clay; their interior embellishments

also were insignificant--the house of Polytion alone formed an

exception.[35] All their sumptuousness and magnificence were reserved

for and lavished on their public edifices and monuments of art, which

made Athens the pride of Greece and the wonder of the world.

Intellectually, the Athenians were remarkable for their quickness of

apprehension, their nice and delicate perception, their intuitional

power, and their versatile genius. Nor were they at all incapable of

pursuing laborious researches, or wanting in persevering application and

industry, notwithstanding Plutarch's assertion to the contrary. The

circumstances of every-day life in Attica, the conditions which

surrounded the Athenian from childhood to age, were such as to call for

the exercise of these qualities of mind in the highest degree. Habits of

patient industry were induced in the Athenian character by the poverty

and comparative barrenness of the soil, demanding greater exertion to

supply their natural wants. And an annual period of dormancy, though

unaccompanied by the rigors of a northern winter, called for prudence in

husbanding, and forethought and skill in endeavoring to increase their

natural resources. The aspects of nature were less massive and

awe-inspiring, her features more subdued, and her areas more

circumscribed and broken, inviting and emboldening man to attempt her

conquest. The whole tendency of natural phenomena in Greece was to

restrain the imagination, and discipline the observing and reasoning

faculties in man. Thus was man inspired with confidence in his own

resources, and allured to cherish an inquisitive, analytic, and

scientific spirit. "The French, in point of national character, hold

nearly the same relative place amongst the nations of Europe that the

Athenians held amongst the States of Ancient Greece." And whilst it is

admitted the French are quick, sprightly, vivacious, perhaps sometimes

light even to frivolity, it must be conceded they have cultivated the

natural and exact sciences with a patience, and perseverance, and

success unsurpassed by any of the nations of Europe. And so the

Athenians were the Frenchmen of Greece. Whilst they spent their "leisure

time"[36] in the place of public resort, the porticoes and groves,

"hearing and telling the latest news" (no undignified or improper mode

of recreation in a city where newspapers were unknown), whilst they are

condemned as "garrulous," "frivolous," "full of curiosity," and

"restlessly fond of novelties," we must insist that a love of study, of

patient thought and profound research, was congenial to their natural

temperament, and that an inquisitive and analytic spirit, as well as a

taste for subtile and abstract speculation, were inherent in the

national character. The affluence, and fullness, and flexibility, and

sculpture-like finish of the language of the Attics, which leaves far

behind not only the languages of antiquity, but also the most cultivated

of modern times, is an enduring monument of the patient industry of the

Athenians.[37] Language is unquestionably the highest creation of

reason, and in the language of a nation we can see reflected as in a

mirror the amount of culture to which it has attained. The rare balance

of the imagination and the reasoning powers, in which the perfection of

the human intellect is regarded as consisting, the exact correspondence

between the thought and the expression, "the free music of prosaic

numbers in the most diversified forms of style," the calmness, and

perspicuity, and order, even in the stormiest moments of inspiration,

revealed in every department of Greek literature, were not a mere happy

stroke of chance, but a product of unwearied effort--and effort too

which was directed by the criteria which reason supplied. The plastic

art of Greece, which after the lapse of ages still stands forth in

unrivalled beauty, so that, in presence of the eternal models it

created, the modern artist feels the painful lack of progress was not a

spontaneous outburst of genius, but the result of intense application

and unwearied discipline. The achievements of the philosophic spirit,

the ethical and political systems of the Academy, the Lyceum, the Stoa,

and the Garden, the anticipations, scattered here and there like

prophetic hints, of some of the profoundest discoveries of "inductive

science" in more modern days,--all these are an enduring protest against

the strange misrepresentations of Plutarch.

[Footnote 34: These are still characteristics of the Greeks. "They are

an exceedingly temperate people; drunkenness is a vice remarkably rare

amongst them; their food also is spare and simple; even the richest are

content with a dish of vegetables for each meal, and the poor with a

handful of olives or a piece of salt fish.... All other pleasures are

indulged with similar propriety; their passions are moderate, and

insanity is almost unknown amongst them."--_Encyc. Brit._, art.

"Greece."]

[Footnote 35: Niebuhr's Lectures, vol. i. p. 101.]

[Footnote 36: Eukaireô corresponds exactly to the Latin _vacare_, "to be

at leisure."]

[Footnote 37: Frederick Jacobs, on "Study of Classic Antiquity," p. 57.]

In Athens there existed a providential collocation of the most favorable

conditions in which humanity can be placed for securing its highest

natural development. Athenian civilization is the solution, on the

theatre of history, of the problem--What degree of perfection can

humanity, under the most favorable conditions, attain, without the

supernatural light, and guidance, and grace of Christianity?[38] "Like

their own goddess Athene the people of Athens seem to spring full-armed

into the arena of history, and we look in vain to Egypt, Syria, and

India, for more than a few seeds that burst into such marvellous growth

on the soil of Attica."[39]

[Footnote 38: It has been asserted by some theological writers, Watson

for example, that no society of civilized men has been, or can be

constituted without the aid of a religion directly communicated by

revelation, and transmitted by oral tradition;--"that it is possible to

raise a body of men into that degree of civil improvement which would

excite the passion for philosophic investigation, without the aid of

religion... can have no proof, and is contradicted by every fact and

analogy with which we are acquainted." (_Institutes_, vol. i. p. 271;

see also Archbishop Whately, "Dissertation," etc., vol. i. _Encyc.

Brit._, p. 449-455).

The fallacy of the reasoning by which this doctrine is sought to be

sustained is found in the assumption "that to all our race the existence

of a First Cause is a question of philosophy," and that the idea of God

lies at the end of "a gradual process of inquiry" and induction, for

which a high degree of "scientific culture" is needed. Whereas the idea

of a First Cause lies at the beginning, not at the end of philosophy;

and philosophy is simply the analysis of our natural consciousness of

God, and the presentation of the idea in a logical form. Faith in the

existence of God is not the result of a conscious process of reflection;

it is the spontaneous and instinctive logic of the human mind, which, in

view of phenomena presented to sense, by a necessary law of thought

immediately and intuitively affirms a personal Power, an intelligent

Mind as the author. In this regard, there is no difference between men

except the clearness with which they apprehend, and the logical account

they can render to themselves, of this instinctive belief. Spontaneous

intuition, says Cousin, is the genius of all men; reflection the genius

of few men. "But Leibnitz had no more confidence in the principle of

causality, and even in his favorite principle of sufficient reason, than

the most ignorant of men;" the latter have this principle within them,

as a law of thought, controlling their conception of the universe, and

doing this almost unconsciously; the former, by an analysis of thought,

succeeded in defining and formulating the ideas and laws which

necessitate the cognition of a God. The function of philosophy is simply

to transform alêthês doxa into itistêmê--right opinion into science,--to

elucidate and logically present the immanent thought which lies in the

universal consciousness of man.

That the possession of the idea of God is essential to the social and

moral elevation of man,--that is, to the civilization of our race, is

most cheerfully conceded. That humanity has an end and destination which

can only be secured by the true knowledge of God, and by a participation

of the nature of God, is equally the doctrine of Plato and of Christ.

Now, if humanity has a special end and destination, it must have some

instinctive tendings, some spermatic ideas, some original forces or

laws, which determine it towards that end. All development supposes some

original elements to be unfolded or developed. Civilization is but the

development of humanity according to its primal idea and law, and under

the best exterior conditions. That the original elements of humanity

were unfolded in some noble degree under the influence of philosophy is

clear from the history of Greece; there the most favorable natural

conditions for that development existed, and Christianity alone was

needed to crown the result with ideal perfection.]

[Footnote 39: Max Muller, "Science of Language," p. 404, 2d series.]

Here the most perfect ideals of beauty and excellence in physical

development, in manners, in plastic art, in literary creations, were

realized. The songs of Homer, the dialogues of Plato, the speeches of

Demosthenes, and the statues of Phidias, if not unrivalled, are at least

unsurpassed by any thing that has been achieved by their successors.

Literature in its most flourishing periods has rekindled its torch at

her altars, and art has looked back to the age of Pericles for her

purest models. Here the ideas of personal liberty, of individual rights,

of freedom in thought and action, had a wonderful expansion. Here the

lasting foundations of the principal arts and sciences were laid, and in

some of them triumphs were achieved which have not been eclipsed. Here

the sun of human reason attained a meridian splendor, and illuminated

every field in the domain of moral truth. And here humanity reached the

highest degree of civilization of which it is capable under purely

_natural_ conditions.

And now, the question with which we are more immediately concerned is,

what were the specific and valuable results attained by the Athenian

mind in _religion_ and _philosophy_, the two momenta of the human mind?

This will be the subject of discussion in subsequent chapters.

The order in which the discussion shall proceed is determined for us by

the natural development of thought. The two fundamental momenta of

thought and its development are spontaneity and reflection, and the two

essential forms they assume are religion and philosophy. In the natural

order of thought spontaneity is first, and reflection succeeds

spontaneous thought. And so religion is first developed, and

subsequently comes philosophy. As religion supposes spontaneous

intuition, so philosophy has religion for its basis, but upon this basis

it is developed in an original manner. "Turn your attention to history,

that living image of thought: everywhere you perceive religions and

philosophies: everywhere you see them produced in an invariable order.

Everywhere religion appears with new societies, and everywhere, just so

far as societies advance, from religion springs philosophy."[40] This

was pre-eminently the case in Athens, and we shall therefore direct our

attention first to the Religion of the Athenians.

[Footnote 40: Cousin, "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 302.]