The Buddhists reject entirely the authority of the Vedas, and the

religious observances prescribed in them and kept by the Hindus.

They also reject the distinction of castes, and prohibit all

bloody sacrifices, and allow animal food. Their priests are

chosen from all classes; they are expected to procure their

maintenance by perambulation and begging, and, among other

things, it is their duty to endeavor to turn to some use things

thrown aside as useless by others, and to discover the medicinal

power of plants. But in Ceylon three orders of priests are

recognized; those of the highest order are usually men of high

birth and learning, and are supported at the principal temples,

most of which have been richly endowed by the former monarchs of

the country.

For several centuries after the appearance of Buddha, his sect

seems to have been tolerated by the Brahmans, and Buddhism

appears to have penetrated the peninsula of Hindustan in every

direction, and to have been carried to Ceylon, and to the eastern

peninsula. But afterwards it had to endure in India a long

continued persecution, which ultimately had the effect of

entirely abolishing it in the country where it had originated,

but to scatter it widely over adjacent countries. Buddhism

appears to have been introduced into China about the year 65 of

our era. From China it was subsequently extended to Corea,

Japan, and Java.

The charming poem called the Light of Asia, by Mr. Edwin Arnold,

has lately called general attention to Buddhism. The following

is an extract from it:

"Fondly Siddatha drew the proud head down

Patted the shining neck, and said 'Be still,

White Kantaka! Be still, and bear me now

The farthest journey ever rider rode;

For this night take I horse to find the truth,

And where my quest will end yet know I not.

Save that it shall not end until I find.

Therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold!

Let nothing stay thee, though a thousand blades

Deny the road! Let neither wall nor moat

Forbid our flight! Look! If I touch thy flank

And cry, "On, Kantaka!" let whirlwinds lag

Behind thy course! Be fire and air, my horse!

To stead thy lord, so shalt thou share with him

The greatness of this deed which helps the world;

For therefore ride I, not for men alone,

But for all things which, speechless, share our pain,

And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope.

Now, therefore, hear thy master valorously!'"

THE GRAND LAMA

It is a doctrine alike of the Brahminical Hindus and of the

Buddhist sect that the confinement of the human soul, an

emanation of the divine spirit, in a human body, is a state of

misery, and the consequence of frailties and sins committed

during former existences. But they hold that some few

individuals have appeared on this earth from time to time, not

under the necessity of terrestrial existence, but who voluntarily

descend to the earth to promote the welfare of mankind. These

individuals have gradually assumed the character of reappearances

of Buddha himself, in which capacity the line is continued till

the present day in the several Lamas of Thibet, China, and other

countries where Buddhism prevails. In consequence of the

victories of Gengis Khan and his successors, the Lama residing in

Thibet was raised to the dignity of chief pontiff of the sect. A

separate province was assigned to him as his own territory, and

besides his spiritual dignity, he became to a limited extent a

temporal monarch. He is styled the Dalai Lama.

The first Christian missionaries who proceeded to Thibet were

surprised to find there in the heart of Asia a pontifical court

and several other ecclesiastical institutions resembling those of

the Roman Catholic church. They found convents for priests and

nuns; also, processions and forms of religious worship, attended

with much pomp and splendor; and many were induced by these

similarities to consider Lamaism as a sort of degenerated

Christianity. It is not improbable that the Lamas derived some

of these practices from the Nestorial Christians, who were

settled in Tartary when Buddhism was introduced into Thibet.

PRESTER JOHN

An early account, communicated probably by travelling merchants,

of a Lama or spiritual chief among the Tartars, seems to have

occasioned in Europe the report of a Presbyter or Prester John, a

Christian pontiff, resident in Upper Asia. The Pope sent a

mission in search of him, as did also Louis IX of France, some

years later, but both missions were unsuccessful, though the

small communities of Nestorial Christians, which they did find,

served to keep up the belief in Europe that such a personage did

exist somewhere in the East. At last in the fifteenth century, a

Portuguese traveller, Pedro Covilham, happening to hear that

there was a Christian prince in the country of the Abessines

(Abyssinia), not far from the Red Sea, concluded that this must

be the true Prester John. He accordingly went thither, and

penetrated to the court of the king, whom he calls Negus. Milton

alludes to him in Paradise Lost, Book XI, where, describing

Adam's vision of his descendants in their various nations and

cities, scattered over the face of the earth, he says,

"---- Nor did his eyes not ken

The empire of Negus, to his utmost port

Ercoco, and the less maritime kings,

Mombaza and Quiloa and Melind."

Chapter XXXI

Northern Mythology Valhalla The Valkyrior

The stories which have engaged our attention thus far relate to

the mythology of southern regions. But there is another branch

of ancient superstitions which ought not to be entirely

overlooked, especially as it belongs to the nations from which

we, through our English ancestors, derive our origin. It is that

of the northern nations called Scandinavians, who inhabited the

countries now known as Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland.

These mythological records are contained in two collections

called the Eddas, of which the oldest is in poetry and dates back

to the year 1056, the more modern, or prose Edda, being of the

date of 1640.

According to the Eddas there was once no heaven above nor earth

beneath, but only a bottomless deep, and a world of mist in which

flowed a fountain. Twelve rivers issued from this fountain, and

when they had flowed far from their source, they froze into ice,

and one layer accumulating above another, the great deep was

filled up.

Southward from the world of mist was the world of light. From

this flowed a warm wind upon the ice and melted it. The vapors

rose in the air and formed clouds, from which sprang Ymir, the

Frost giant and his progeny, and the cow Audhumbla, whose milk

afforded nourishment and food to the giant. The cow got

nourishment by licking the hoar frost and salt from the ice.

While she was one day licking the salt stones there appeared at

first the hair of a man, on the second day the whole head, and on

the third the entire form endowed with beauty, agility, and

power. This new being was a god, from whom and his wife, a

daughter of the giant race, sprang the three brothers Odin, Vili,

and Ve. They slew the giant Ymir, and out of his body formed the

earth, of his blood the seas, of his bones the mountains, of his

hair the trees, of his skull the heavens, and of his brain

clouds, charged with hail and snow. Of Ymir's eyebrows the gods

formed Midgard (mid earth), destined to become the abode of man.

Odin then regulated the periods of day and night and the seasons

by placing in the heavens the sun and moon, and appointing to

them their respective courses. As soon as the sun began to shed

its rays upon the earth, it caused the vegetable world to bud and

sprout. Shortly after the gods had created the world they walked

by the side of the sea, pleased with their new work, but found

that it was still incomplete, for it was without human beings.

They therefore took an ash-tree and made a man out of it, and

they made a woman out of an alder, and called the man Aske and

the woman Embla. Odin then gave them life and soul, Vili reason

and motion, and Ve bestowed upon them the senses, expressive

features, and speech. Midgard was then given them as their

residence, and they became the progenitors of the human race.

The mighty ash-tree Ygdrasil was supposed to support the whole

universe. It sprang from the body of Ymir, and had three immense

roots, extending one into Asgard (the dwelling of the gods), the

other into Jotunheim (the abode of the giants), and the third to

Niffleheim (the regions of darkness and cold). By the side of

each of these roots is a spring, from which it is watered. The

root that extends into Asgard is carefully tended by the three

Norns, goddesses who are regarded as the dispensers of fate.

They are Urdur (the past), Verdandi (the present), Skuld (the

future). The spring at the Jotunheim side is Ymir's well, in

which wisdom and wit lie hidden, but that of Niffleheim feeds the

adder, Nidhogge (darkness), which perpetually gnaws at the root.

Four harts run across the branches of the tree and bite the buds;

they represent the four winds. Under the tree lies Ymir, and

when he tries to shake off its weight the earth quakes.

Asgard is the name of the abode of the gods, access to which is

only gained by crossing the bridge, Bifrost (the rainbow).

Asgard consists of golden and silver palaces, the dwellings of

the gods, but the most beautiful of these is Valhalla, the

residence of Odin. When seated on his throne he overlooks all

heaven and earth. Upon his shoulders are the ravens Hugin and

Munin, who fly every day over the whole world, and on their

return report to him all they have seen and heard. At his feet

lie his two wolves, Geri, and Freki, to whom Odin gives all the

meat that is set before him, for he himself stands in no need of

food. Mead is for him both food and drink. He invented the

Runic characters, and it is the business of the Norns to engrave

the runes of fate upon a metal shield. From Odin's name, spelt

Wodin, as it sometimes is, came Wednesday, the name of the fourth

day of the week.

Odin is frequently called Alfadur (All-father), but this name is

sometimes used in a way that shows that the Scandinavians had an

idea of a deity superior to Odin, uncreated and eternal.

OF THE JOYS OF VALHALLA

Valhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts with his

chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for

all who die a peaceful death are excluded. The flesh of the boar

Schrimnir is served up to them, and is abundant for all. For

although this boar is cooked every morning, he becomes whole

again every night. For drink the heroes are supplied abundantly

with mead from the she-goat Heidrun. When the heroes are not

feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. Every day they

ride out into the court or field and fight until they cut each

other in pieces. This is their pastime; but when meal-time

comes, they recover from their wounds and return to feast in

Valhalla.

THE VALKYRIOR

The Valkyrior are warlike virgins, mounted upon horses and armed

with helmets, shields, and spears. Odin, who is desirous to

collect a great many heroes in Valhalla, to be able to meet the

giants in a day when the final contest must come, sends down to

every battle-field to make choice of those who shall be slain.

The Valkyrior are his messengers, and their name means "Choosers

of the slain." When they ride forth on their errand their armor

shed a strange flickering light, which flashes up over the

northern skies, making what men call the "Aurora Borealis," or

"Northern Lights." (Gray's ode, The Fatal Sisters, is founded on

this superstition.)

The following is by Matthew Arnold:

"----He crew at dawn a cheerful note,

To wake the gods and heroes to their tasks

And all the gods and all the heroes woke.

And from their beds the heroes rose and donned

Their arms, and led their horses from the stall,

And mounted them, and in Valhalla's court

Were ranged; and then the daily fray began,

And all day long they there are hacked and hewn

'Mid dust and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood;

But all at night return to Odin's hall

Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in heaven.

And the Valkyries on their steeds went forth

Toward earth and fights of men; and at their side

Skulda, the youngest of the Nornies, rode;

And over Bifrost, where is Heimdall's watch,

Past Midgard Fortress, down to Earth they came;

There through some battle-field, where men fall fast,

Their horses fetlock-deep in blood, they ride,

And pick the bravest warriors out for death,

Whom they bring back with them at night to heaven,

To glad the gods, and feast in Odin's hall."

BALDER DEAD

This description of The Funeral of Balder is by William Morris:

"----Guest

Gazed through the cool dusk, till his eyes did rest

Upon the noble stories, painted fair

On the high panelling and roof-boards there;

For over the high sea, in his ship, there lay

The gold-haired Balder, god of the dead day,

The spring-flowers round his high pile, waiting there

Until the gods there to the torch should bear;

And they were wrought on this side and on that,

Drawing on towards him. There was Frey, and sat

On the gold-bristled boar, who first they say

Ploughed the brown earth, and made it green for Frey;

Then came dark-bearded Niod; and after him

Freyia, thin-robed, about her ankles slim

The grey cats playing. In another place

Thor's hammer gleamed o'er Thor's red-bearded face;

And Heimdal, with the old horn slung behind,

That in the god's dusk he shall surely wind,

Sickening all hearts with fear; and last of all,

Was Odin's sorrow wrought upon the wall.

As slow-paced, weary faced, he went along,

Anxious with all the tales of woe and wrong

His ravens, Thought and Memory, bring to him."

THE EARTHLY PARADISE: THE LOVERS OF GODRUN

THOR

OF THOR AND THE OTHER GODS

Thor, the thunderer, Odin's eldest son, is the strongest of gods

and men, and possesses three very precious things. The first is

his hammer, Miolnir, which both the Frost and the Mountain giants

know to their cost, when they see it hurled against them in the

air, for it has split many a skull of their fathers and kindred.

When thrown, it returns to his hand of its own accord. The

second rare thing he possesses is called the belt of strength.

When he girds it about him his divine might is doubled. The

third, also very precious, is his iron gloves, which he puts on

whenever he would use his mallet efficiently. From Thor's name

is derived our word Thursday.

This description of Thor is by Longfellow:

"I am the God Thor,

I am the War God,

I am the Thunderer!

Here in my Northland,

My fastness and fortress,

Reign I forever!

"Here amid icebergs

Rule I the nations;

This is my hammer,

Miolner the mighty;

Giants and sorcerers

Cannot withstand it!

"These are the gauntlets

Wherewith I wield it,

And hurl it afar off;

This is my girdle;

Whenever I brace it

Strength is redoubled!

"The light thou beholdest

Stream through the heavens,

In flashes of crimson,

Is but my red beard

Blown by the night wind,

Affrighting the nations!

"Jove is my brother;

Mine eyes are the lightning;

The wheels of my chariot

Roll in the thunder,

The blows of my hammer

Ring in the thunder."

TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN

Frey is one of the most celebrated of the gods. He presides over

rain and sunshine and all the fruits of the earth. His sister

Freya is the most propitious of the goddesses. She loves music,

spring, and flowers, and is particularly fond of the Elves

(fairies). She is very fond of love-ditties, and all lovers

would do well to invoke her.

Bragi is the god of poetry, and his song records the deeds of

warriors. His wife, Iduna, keeps in a box the apples which the

gods, when they feel old age approaching, have only to taste of

to become young again.

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and is therefore placed on

the borders of heaven to prevent the giants from forcing their

way over the bridge Bifrost (the rainbow.) He requires less

sleep than a bird, and sees by night as well as by day a hundred

miles all around him. So acute is his ear that no sound escapes

him, for he can even hear the grass grow and the wool on a

sheep's back.

OF LOKI AND HIS PROGENY

There is another deity who is described as the calumniator of the

gods and the contriver of all fraud and mischief. His name is

Loki. He is handsome and well made, but of a very fickle mood

and most evil disposition. He is of the giant race, but forced

himself into the company of the gods, and seems to take pleasure

in bringing them into difficulties, and in extricating them out

of the danger by his cunning, wit, and skill. Loki has three

children. The first is the wolf Fenris, the second the Midgard

serpent, the third Hela (Death). The gods were not ignorant that

these monsters were growing up, and that they would one day bring

much evil upon gods and men. So Odin deemed it advisable to send

one to bring them to him. When they came he threw the serpent

into that deep ocean by which the earth is surrounded. But the

monster has grown to such an enormous size that holding his tail

in his mouth he encircles the whole earth. Hela he cast into

Niffleheim, and gave her power over nine worlds or regions, into

which she distributes those who are sent to her; that is, all who

die of sickness or old age. Her hall is called Elvidnia. Hunger

is her table, Starvation her knife, Delay her man, Slowness her

maid, Precipice her threshold, Care her bed, and Burning-anguish

forms the hangings of her apartments. She may easily be

recognized for her body is half flesh-color and half blue, and

she has a dreadfully stern and forbidding countenance.

The wolf Fenris gave the gods a great deal of trouble before they

succeeded in chaining him. He broke the strongest fetters as if

they were made of cobwebs. Finally the gods sent a messenger to

the mountain spirits, who made for them the chain called

Gleipnir. It is fashioned of six things, viz., th noise made by

the footfall of a cat, the beards of women, the roots of stones,

the breath of fishes, the nerves (sensibilities) of bears, and

the spittle of birds. When finished it was as smooth and soft as

a silken string. But when the gods asked the wolf to suffer

himself to be bound with this apparently slight ribbon, he

suspected their design, fearing that it was made by enchantment.

But Tyr (the sword god), to quiet his suspicions, placed his hand

in Fenris' mouth. Then the other gods bound the wolf with

Gleipnir. But when the wolf found that he could not break his

fetters, and that the gods would not release him, he bit off

Tyr's hand, and he has ever since remained one-handed.

HOW THOR PAID THE MOUNTAIN GIANT HIS WAGES

Once on a time, when the gods were constructing their abodes and

had already finished Midgard and Valhalla, a certain artificer

came and offered to build them a residence so well fortified that

they should be perfectly safe from the incursions of the Frost

giants and the giants of the mountains. But he demanded for his

reward the goddess Freya, together with the sun and moon. The

gods yielded to his terms provided he would finish the whole work

himself without any one's assistance, and all within the space of

one winter. But if anything remained unfinished on the first day

of summer he should forfeit the recompense agreed on. On being

told these terms the artificer stipulated that he should be

allowed the use of his horse Svadilfari, and this by the advice

of Loki was granted to him. He accordingly set to work on the

first day of winter, and during the night let his horse draw

stone for the building. The enormous size of the stones struck

the gods with astonishment, and they saw clearly that the horse

did one half more of the toilsome work than his mater. Their

bargain, however, had been concluded, and confirmed by solemn

oaths, for without these precautions a giant would not have

thought himself safe among the gods, especially when Thor should

return from an expedition he had then undertaken against the evil

demons.

As the winter drew to a close, the building was far advanced, and

the bulwarks were sufficiently high and massive to render the

place impregnable. In short, when it wanted but three days to

summer the only part that remained to be finished was the

gateway. Then sat the gods on their seats of justice and entered

into consultation, inquiring of one another who among them could

have advised to give Freya away, or to plunge the heavens in

darkness by permitting the giant to carry away the sun and the

moon.

They all agreed that no one but Loki, the author of so many evil

deeds, could have given such bad counsel, and that he should be

put to a cruel death if he did not contrive some way to prevent

the artificer from completing his task and obtaining the

stipulated recompense. They proceeded to lay hands on Loki, who

in his fright promised upon oath that, let it cost what it would,

he would so manage matters that the man should lose his reward.

That very night when the man went with Svadilfari for building-

stone, a mare suddenly ran out of a forest and began to neigh.

The horse thereat broke loose and ran after the mare into the

forest, which obliged the man also to run after his horse, and

thus between one and another the whole night was lost, so that at

dawn the work had not made the usual progress. The man, seeing

that he must fail of completing his task, resumed his own

gigantic stature, and the gods now clearly perceived that it was

in reality a mountain giant who had come amongst them. Feeling

no longer bound by their oaths, they called on Thor, who

immediately ran to their assistance, and lifting up his mallet,

paid the workman his wages, not with the sun and moon, and not

even by sending him back to Jotunheim, for with the first blow he

shattered the giant's skull to pieces and hurled him headlong

into Niffleheim.

THE RECOVERY OF THE HAMMER

Once upon a time it happened that Thor's hammer fell into the

possession of the giant Thrym, who buried it eight fathoms deep

under the rocks of Jotunheim. Thor sent Loki to negotiate with

Thrym, but he could only prevail so far as to get the giant's

promise to restore the weapon if Freya would consent to be his

bride. Loki returned and reported the result of his mission, but

the goddess of love was quite horrified at the idea of bestowing

her charms on the king of the Frost giants. In this emergency

Loki persuaded Thor to dress himself in Freya's clothes and

accompany him to Jotunheim. Thrym received his veiled bride with

due courtesy, but was greatly surprised at seeing her eat for her

supper eight salmon and a full-grown ox, besides other

delicacies, washing the whole down with three tuns of mead.

Loki, however, assured him that she had not tasted anything for

eight long nights, so great was her desire to see her lover, the

renowned ruler or Jotunheim. Thrym had at length the curiosity

to peep under his bride's veil, but started back in affright, and

demanded why Freya's eyeballs glistened with fire. Loki repeated

the same excuse and the giant was satisfied. He ordered the

hammer to be brought in and laid on the maiden's lap. Thereupon

Thor threw off his disguise, grasped his redoubted weapon and

slaughtered Thrum and all his followers.

Frey also possessed a wonderful weapon, a sword which would of

itself spread a field with carnage whenever the owner desired it.

Frey parted with this sword, but was less fortunate than Thor and

never recovered it. It happened in this way: Frey once mounted

Odin's throne, from whence one can see over the whole universe,

and looking round saw far off in the giant's kingdom a beautiful

maid, at the sight of whom he was struck with sudden sadness,

insomuch that from that moment he could neither sleep, nor drink,

nor speak. At last Skirnir, his messenger, drew his secret from

him, and undertook to get him the maiden for his bride, if he

would give him his sword as a reward. Frey consented and gave

him the sword, and Skirnir set off on his journey and obtained

the maiden's promise that within nine nights she would come to a

certain place and there wed Frey. Skirnir having reported the

success of his errand, Frey exclaimed,

"Long is one night,

Long are two nights,

But how shall I hold out three?

Shorter hath seemed

A month to me oft

Than of this longing time the half."

So Frey obtained Gerda, the most beautiful of all women, for his

wife, but he lost his sword.

This story, entitled Skirnir For, and the one immediately

preceding it, Thrym's Quida, will be found poetically told in

Longfellow's Poets and Poetry of Europe.

Chapter XXXII

Thor's Visit to Jotunheim

One day the god Thor, accompanied by his servant Thialfi, and

also by Loki, set out on a journey to the giant's country.

Thialfi was of all men the swiftest of foot. He bore Thor's

wallet, containing their provisions. When night came on they

found themselves in an immense forest, and searched on all sides

for a place where they might pass the night, and at last came to

a very large hall, with an entrance that took the whole breadth

of one end of the building. Here they lay down to sleep, but

towards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the

whole edifice. Thor rising up called on his companion to seek

with him a place of safety. On the right they found an adjoining

chamber, into which the others entered, but Thor remained at the

doorway with his mallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself,

whatever might happen. A terrible groaning was heard during the

night, and at dawn of day Thor went out and found lying near him

a huge giant, who slept and snored in the way that had alarmed

them so. It is said that for once Thor was afraid to use his

mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor contented himself

with simply asking his name.

"My name is Skrymir," said the giant, "but I need not ask thy

name, for I know that thou art the god Tor. But what has become

of my glove?" Thor then perceived that what they had taken

overnight for a hall was the giant's glove and the chamber where

his two companions had sought refuge was the thumb. Skrymir then

proposed that they should travel in company, and Thor consenting,

they sat down to eat their breakfast, and when they had done,

Skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over

his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking such tremendous

strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. So

they travelled the whole day, and at dusk, Skrymir close a place

for them to pass the night in under a large oak-tree. Skrymir

then told them he would lie down to sleep. "But take ye the

wallet," he added, "and prepare your supper."Skrymir soon fell

asleep and began to snore strongly, but when Thor tried to open

the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight he could

not untie a single knot. At last Thor became wroth, and grasping

his mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the

giant's head. Skrymir awakening merely asked whether a leaf had

not fallen on his head, and whether they had supped and were

ready to go to sleep. Thor answered that they were just going to

sleep, and so saying went and laid himself down under another

tree. But sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir

snored again so loud that the forest re-echoed with the noise, he

arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force at the

giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. Skrymir awakening

cried out, "What's the matter? Are there any birds perched on

this tree? I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head.

How fares it with thee, Thor?" But Thor went away hastily,

saying that he had just then awoke, and that as it was only

midnight, there was still time for sleep. He however resolved

that if he had an opportunity of striking a third blow, it should

settle all matters between them. A little before daybreak he

perceived that Skrymir was again fast asleep, and again grasping

his mallet, he dashed it with such violence that it forced its

way into the giant's skull up to the handle. But Skrymir sat

up, and stroking his cheek, said, "An acorn fell on my head.

What! Art thou awake, Thor? Methinks it is time for us to get

up and dress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before

you to the city called Utgard. I have heard you whispering to

one another that I am not a man of small dimensions; but if you

come to Utgard you will see there many men much taller than I.

Wherefore I advise you, when you come there, not to make too much

of yourselves, for the followers of Utgard-Loki will not brook

the boasting of such little fellows as you are. You must take

the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, so we must

part here."

Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders, and turned away

from them into the forest, and Thor had no wish to stop him or to

ask for any more of his company.

Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noon

descried a city standing in the middle of a plain. It was so

lofty that they were obliged to bend their necks quite back on

their shoulders in order to see to the top of it. On arriving

they entered the city, and seeing a large palace before them with

the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of

prodigious stature, sitting on benches in the hall. Going

further, they came before the king Utgard-Loki, whom they saluted

with great respect. The king, regarding them with a scornful

smile, said, "If I do not mistake me, that stripling yonder must

be the god Thor." Then addressing himself to Thor, he said,

"Perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. What are

the feats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in,

for no one is permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat

or other, excel all other men?"

"The feat that I know," said Loki, "is to eat quicker than any

one else, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one

here who may choose to compete with me."

"That will indeed be a feat," said Utgard-Loki, "if thou

performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith."

He then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end

of the bench, and whose name was Logi, to come forward and try

his skill with Loki. A trough filled with meat having been set

on the hall floor, Loki placed himself at one end, and Logi at

the other, and each of them began to eat as fast as he could,

until they met in the middle of the trough. But it was found

that Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversary had

devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. All the

company therefore adjudged that Loki was vanquished.

Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied

Thor could perform. Thialfi answered that he would run a race

with any one who might be matched against him. The king observed

that skill in running was something to boast of, but if the youth

would win the match he must display great agility. He then arose

and went with all who were present to a plain where there was

good ground for running on, and calling a young man named Hugi,

bade him run a match with Thialfi. In the first course Hugi so

much outstripped his competitor that he turned back and met him

not far from the starting-place. Then they ran a second and a

third time, but Thialfi met with no better success. Utgard-Loki

then asked Thor in what feats he would choose to give proofs of

that prowess for which he was so famous. Thor answered that he

would try a drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade his

cupbearer bring the large horn which his followers were obliged

to empty when they had trespassed in any way against the law of

the feast. The cupbearer having presented it to Thor, Utgard-

Loki said, "Whoever is a good drinker will empty that horn at a

single draught, though most men make two of it, but the most puny

drinker can do it in three."

Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size

though somewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it

to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as

deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second

draught of it; but when he set the horn down and looked in, he

could scarcely perceive that the liquor was diminished.

After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all his might,

but when he took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that

he had drunk rather less than before, although the horn could now

be carried without spilling.

"How now, Thor," said Utgard-Loki, "thou must not spare thyself;

if thou meanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must

pull deeply; and I must needs say that thou wilt not be called so

mighty a man here as thou art at home if thou showest no greater

prowess in other feats than methinks will be shown in this."

Thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips, and did his

best to empty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a

little lower, so he resolved to make no further attempt, but gave

back the horn to the cupbearer.

"I now see plainly," said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art not quite

so stout as we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat,

though methinks thou art not likely to bear any prize away with

thee hence."

"What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor.

"We have a very trifling game here," answered Utgard-Loki, "in

which we exercise none but children. It consists in merely

lifting my cat from the ground; nor should I have dared to

mention such a feat to the great Thor if I had not already

observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for."

As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall

floor. Thor put his hand under the cat's belly and did his

utmost to raise him from the floor, but the cat, bending his

back, had, notwithstanding all Thor's efforts, only one of his

feet lifted up, seeing which Thor made no further attempt.

"This trial has turned out," said Utgard-Loki, "just as I

imagined it would. The cat is large, but Thor is little in

comparison to our men."

"Little as ye call me," answered Thor, "let me see who among you

will come hither now I am in wrath and wrestle with me."

"I see no one here," said Utgard-Loki, looking at the men sitting

on the benches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle

with thee; let somebody, however, call hither that old crone, my

nurse Elli, and let Thor wrestle with her if he will. She has

thrown to the ground many a man not less strong than this Thor

is."

A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by

Utgard-Loki to take hold of Thor. The tale is shortly told. The

more Thor tightened his hold on the crone the firmer she stood.

At length, after a very violent struggle, Thor began to lose his

footing, and was finally brought down upon one knee. Utgard-Loki

then told them to desist, adding that Thor had now no occasion to

ask any one else in the hall to wrestle with him, and it was also

getting late; so he showed Thor and his companions to their

seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer.

The next morning at break of day, Thor and his companions dressed

themselves and prepared for their departure. Utgard-Loki ordered

a table to be set for them, on which there was no lack of

victuals or drink. After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the

gate of the city, and on parting asked Thor how he thought his

journey had turned out, and whether he had met with any men

stronger than himself. Thor told him that he could not deny but

that he had brought great shame on himself. "And what grieves me

most," he added, is that ye will call me a person of little

worth."

"Nay," said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth,

now thou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have my

way thou shalt never enter again. And, by my troth, had I known

beforehand that thou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst

have brought me so near to a great mishap, I would not have

suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have all

along deceived thee by my illusions; first in the forest where I

tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thou couldst not untie

it. After this thou gavest me three blows with the mallet; the

first, though the least, would have ended my days had it fallen

on me, but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain

where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep.

These are the dints made by thy mallet. I have made use of

similar illusions in the contests you have had with my followers.

In the first, Loki, like hunger itself, devoured all that was set

before him, but Logi was in reality nothing else than Fire, and

therefore consumed not only the meat, but the trough which held

it. Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended in running, was Thought,

and it was impossible for Thialfi to keep pace with that. When

thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thou didst

perform, by my troth, a deed so marvellous, that had I not seen

it myself, I should never have believed it. For one end of that

horn reached the sea, which thou was not aware of, but when thou

comest to the shore thou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk

by thy draughts. Thou didst perform a feat no less wonderful by

lifting up the cat, and to tell thee the truth, when we saw that

one of his paws was off the floor, we were all of us terror-

stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was in reality the

Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was so

stretched by thee, that he was barely long enough to enclose it

between his head and tail. Thy wrestling with Elli was also a

most astonishing feat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever

will be, whom Old Age, for such in fact was Elli, will not sooner

or later lay low. But now, as we are going to part, let me tell

thee that it will be better for both of us if thou never come

near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shall again defend

myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thy labor

and get no fame from the contest with me."

On hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and

would have launched it at him, but Utgard-Loki had disappeared,

and when Thor would have returned to the city to destroy it, he

found nothing around him but a verdant plain.

On another occasion Thor was more successful in an encounter with

the giants. It happened that Thor met with a giant, Hrungnir by

name, who was disputing with Odin as to the merits of their

respective horses, Gullfaxi and Sleipnir, the eight-legged. Thor

and the giant made an agreement to fight together on a certain

day. But as the day approached, the giant, becoming frightened

at the thought of encountering Thor alone, manufactured, with the

assistance of his fellow-giants, a great giant of clay. He was

nine miles high and three miles about the chest, and in his heart

he had the heart of a mare. Accompanied by the clay giant,

Hrungnir awaited Thor on the appointed day. Thor approached

preceded by Thialfi, his servant, who, running ahead, shouted out

to Hrungnir that it was useless to hold his shield before him,

for the god Thor would attack him out of the ground. Hrungnir at

this flung his shield on the ground, and, standing upon it, made

ready. As Thor approached Hrungnir flung at him an immense club

of stone. Thor flung his hammer. Miolnir met the club half way,

broke it in pieces, and burying itself in the stone skull of

Hrungnir, felled him to the ground. Meanwhile Thialfi had

despatched the clay giant with a spade. Thor himself received

but a slight wound from a fragment of the giant's hammer.

Chapter XXXIII

The Death of Baldur The Elves -- Runic Letters -- Scalds --

Iceland

Baldur, the Good, having been tormented with terrible dreams

indicating that his life was in peril, told them to the assembled

gods, who resolved to conjure all things to avert from him the

threatened danger. Then Frigga, the wife of Odin, exacted an

oath from fire and water, from iron and all other metals, from

stones, trees, diseases, beasts, birds, poisons, and creeping

things, that none of them would do any harm to Baldur. Odin, not

satisfied with all this, and feeling alarmed for the fate of his

son, determined to consult the prophetess Angerbode, a giantess,

mother of Fenris, Hela, and the Midgard serpent. She was dead,

and Odin was forced to seek her in Hela's dominions. This

descent of Odin forms the subject of Gray's fine ode beginning,

"Up rose the king of men with speed

And saddled straight his coal-black steed."

But the other gods, feeling that what Frigga had done was quite

sufficient, amused themselves with using Baldur as a mark, some

hurling darts at him, some stones, while others hewed at him with

their swords and battle-axes, for do what they would none of them

could harm him. And this became a favorite pastime with them and

was regarded as an honor shown to Baldur. But when Loki beheld

the scene he was sorely vexed that Baldur was not hurt.

Assuming, therefore, the shape of a woman, he went to Fensalir,

the mansion of Frigga. That goddess, when she saw the pretended

woman, inquired of her if she knew what the gods were doing at

their meetings. She replied that they were throwing darts and

stones at Baldur, without being able to hurt him. "Ay," said

Frigga, "neither stones, nor sticks, nor anything else can hurt

Baldur, for I have exacted an oath from all of them. " "What,"

exclaimed the woman, "have all things sworn to spare Baldur?"

"All things," replied Frigga, "except one little shrub that grows

on the eastern side of Valhalla, and is called Mistletoe, and

which I thought too young and feeble to crave an oath from."

As soon as Loki heard this he went away, and resuming his natural

shape, cut off the mistletoe, and repaired to the place where the

gods were assembled. There he found Hodur standing apart,

without partaking of the sports, on account of his blindness, and

going up to him, said, "Why dost thou not also throw something at

Baldur?"

"Because I am blind," answered Hodur, "and see not where Baldur

is, and have moreover nothing to throw."

"Come, then," said Loki, "do like the rest and show honor to

Baldur by throwing this twig at him, and I will direct thy arm

towards the place where he stands."

Hodur then took the mistletoe, and under the guidance of Loki,

darted it at Baldur, who, pierced through and through, fell down

lifeless. Surely never was there witnessed, either among gods or

men, a more atrocious deed than this. When Baldur fell, the gods

were struck speechless with horror, and then they looked at each

other, and all were of one mind to lay hands on him who had done

the deed, but they were obliged to delay their vengeance out of

respect for the sacred place where they were assembled. They

gave vent to their grief by loud lamentations. When the gods

came to themselves, Frigga asked who among them wished to gain

all her love and good will. "For this," said she, "shall he have

who will ride to Hel and offer Hela a ransom if she will let

Baldur return to Asgard." Whereupon Hermod, surnamed the Nimble,

the son of Odin, offered to undertake the journey. Odin's horse,

Sleipnir, which has eight legs, and can outrun the wind, was then

led forth, on which Hermod mounted and galloped away on his

mission. For the space of nine days and as many nights he rode

through deep glens so dark that he could not discern anything

until he arrived at the river Gyoll, which he passed over on a

bridge covered with glittering gold. The maiden who kept the

bridge asked him his name and lineage, telling him that the day

before five bands of dead persons had ridden over the bridge, and

did not shake it as much as he alone. "But," she added, "thou

hast not death's hue on thee; why then ridest thou here on the

way to Hel?"

"I ride to Hel," answered Hermod, "to seek Baldur. Hast thou

perchance seen him pass this way?"

She replied, "Baldur hath ridden over Gyoll's bridge, and yonder

lieth the way he took to the abodes of death."

Hermod pursued his journey until he came to the barred gates of

Hel. Here he alighted, girthed his saddle tighter, and

remounting clapped both spurs to his horse, who cleared the gate

by a tremendous leap without touching it. Hermod then rode on to

the palace where he found his brother Baldur occupying the most

distinguished seat in the hall, and passed the night in his

company. The next morning he besought Hela to let Baldur ride

home with him, assuring her that nothing but lamentations were to

be heard among the gods. Hela answered that it should now be

tried whether Baldur was so beloved as he was said to be. "If,

therefore," she added, "all things in the world, both living and

lifeless, weep for him, then shall he return to life; but if any

one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall be kept

in Hel."

Hermod then rode back to Asgard and gave an account of all he had

heard and witnessed.

The gods upon this despatched messengers throughout the world to

beg every thing to weep in order that Baldur might be delivered

from Hel. All things very willingly complied with this request,

both men and every other living being, as well as earths, and

stones, and trees, and metals, just as we have all seen these

things weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot

one. As the messengers were returning, they found an old hag

named Thaukt sitting in a cavern, and begged her to weep Baldur

out of Hel. But she answered,

"Thaukt will wail

With dry tears

Baldur's bale-fire.

Let Hela keep her own."

It was strongly suspected that this hag was no other than Loki

himself, who never ceased to work evil among gods and men. So

Baldur was prevented from coming back to Asgard. (In

Longfellow's Poems, vol. 1, page 379, will be found a poem

entitled Tegner's Drapa, upon the subject of Baldur's death.)

Among Matthew Arnold's Poems is one called "Balder Death"

beginning thus:

"So on the floor lay Balder dead; and round

Lay thickly strewn swords, axes, darts and spears,

Which all the Gods in sport had idly thrown

At Balder, whom no weapon pierced or clave;

But in his breast stood fixt the fatal bough

Of mistletoe, which Lok the Accuser gave

To Hoder, and unwitting Hoder threw;

"Gainst that alone had Balder's life no charm.

And all the Gods and all the heroes came

And stood round Balder on the bloody floor

Weeping and wailing; and Valhalla rang

Up to its golden roof with sobs and cries;

And on the table stood the untasted meats,

And in the horns and gold-rimmed skulls the wine;

And now would night have fallen and found them yet

Wailing; but otherwise was Odin's will."

THE FUNERAL OF BALDUR

The gods took up the dead body and bore it to the sea-shore where

stood Baldur's ship Hringham, which passed for the largest in the

world. Baldur's dead body was put on the funeral pile, on board

the ship, and his wife Nanna was so struck with grief at the

sight that she broke her heart, and her body was burned on the

same pile with her husband's. There was a vast concourse of

various kinds of people at Baldur's obsequies. First came Odin

accompanied by Frigga, the Valkyrior, and his ravens; then Frey

in his car drawn by Gullinbursti, the boar; Heimdall rode his

horse Gulltopp, and Freya drove in her chariot drawn by cats.

There were also a great many Frost giants and giants of the

mountain present. Baldur's horse was led to the pile fully

caparisoned and consumed in the same flames with his master.

But Loki did not escape his deserved punishment. When he saw how

angry the gods were, he fled to the mountain, and there built

himself a hut with four doors, so that he could see every

approaching danger. He invented a net to catch the fishes, such

as fishermen have used since his time. But Odin found out his

hiding-place and the gods assembled to take him. He, seeing

this, changed himself into a salmon, and lay hid among the stones

of the brook. But the gods took his net and dragged the brook,

and Loki finding he must be caught, tried to leap over the net;

but Thor caught him by the tail and compressed it so, that

salmons every since have had that part remarkably fine and thin.

They bound him with chains and suspended a serpent over his head,

whose venom falls upon his face drop by drop. His wife Siguna

sits by his side and catches the drops as they fall, in a cup;

but when she carries it away to empty it, the venom falls upon

Loki, which makes him howl with horror, and twist his body about

so violently that the whole earth shakes, and this produces what

men call earthquakes.

THE ELVES

The Edda mentions another class of beings, inferior to the gods,

but still possessed of great power; these were called Elves. The

white spirits, or Elves of Light, were exceedingly fair, more

brilliant than the sun, and clad in garments of delicate and

transparent texture. They loved the light, were kindly disposed

to mankind, and generally appeared as fair and lovely children.

Their country was called Alfheim, and was the domain of Freyr,

the god of the sun, in whose light they were always sporting.

The black of Night Elves were a different kind of creatures.

Ugly, long-nosed dwarfs, of a dirty brown color, they appeared

only at night, for they avoided the sun as their most deadly

enemy, because whenever his beams fell upon any of them they

changed them immediately into stones. Their language was the

echo of solitudes, and their dwelling-places subterranean caves

and clefts. They were supposed to have come into existence as

maggots, produced by the decaying flesh of Ymir's body, and were

afterwards endowed by the gods with a human form and great

understanding. They were particularly distinguished for a

knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, and for the runes

which they carved and explained. They were the most skilful

artificers of all created beings, and worked in metals and in

wood. Among their most noted works were Thor's hammer, and the

ship Skidbladnir, which they gave to Freyr, and which was so

large that it could contain all the deities with their war and

household implements, but so skilfully was it wrought that when

folded together it could be put into a side pocket.

RAGNABOK, THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS

It was a firm belief of the northern nations that a time would

come when all the visible creation, the gods of Valhalla and

Niffleheim, the inhabitants of Jotunheim, Alfheim, and Midgard,

together with their habitations, would be destroyed. The fearful

day of destruction will not, however, be without its forerunners.

First will come a triple winter, during which snow will fall from

the four corners of the heavens, the frost be very severe, the

wind piercing, the weather tempestuous, and the sun impart no

gladness. Three such winters will pass away without being

tempered by a single summer. Three other similar winters will

then follow, during which war and discord will spread over the

universe. The earth itself will be frightened and begin to

tremble, the sea leave its basin, the heavens tear asunder, and

men perish in great numbers, and the eagles of the air feast upon

their still quivering bodies. The wolf Fenris will now break his

bands, the Midgard serpent rise out of her bed in the sea, and

Loki, released from his bonds, will join the enemies of the gods.

Amidst the general devastation the sons of Muspelheim will rush

forth under their leader Surtur, before and behind whom are

flames and burning fire. Onward they ride over Bifrost, the

rainbow bridge, which breaks under the horses' hoofs. But they,

disregarding its fall, direct their course to the battle-field

called Vigrid. Thither also repair the wolf Fenris, the Midgard

serpent, Loki with all the followers of Hela, and the Frost

giants.

Heimdall now stands up and sounds the Giallar horn to assemble

the gods and heroes for the contest. The gods advance, led on by

Odin, who engages the wolf Fenris, but falls a victim to the

monster, who is, however, slain by Vidar, Odin's son. Thor gains

great renown by killing the Midgard serpent, but recoils and

falls dead, suffocated with the venom which the dying monster

vomits over him. Loki and Heimdall meet and fight till they are

both slain. The Gods and their enemies having fallen in battle,

Surtur, who has killed Dreyr, darts fire and flames over the

world, and the whole universe is burned up. The sun becomes dim,

the earth sinks into the ocean, the stars fall from heaven, and

time is no more.

After this Alfadur (the almighty) will cause a new heaven and a

new earth to arise out of the sea. The new earth, filled with

abundant supplies, will spontaneously produce its fruits without

labor or care. Wickedness and misery will no more be known, but

the gods and men will live happily together.

RUNIC LETTERS

One cannot travel far in Denmark, Norway, or Sweden, without

meeting with great stones, of different forms, engraven with

characters called Runic, which appear at first sight very

different from all we know. The letters consist almost

invariably of straight lines, in the shape of little sticks

either singly or put together. Such sticks were in early times

used by the northern nations for the purpose of ascertaining

future events. The sticks were shaken up, and from the figures

that they formed a kind of divination was derived.

The Runic characters were of various kinds. They were chiefly

used for magical purposes. The noxious, or, as they called them,

the BITTER runes, were employed to bring various evils on their

enemies; the favorable averted misfortune. Some were medicinal,

others employed to win love, etc. In later times they were

frequently used for inscriptions, of which more than a thousand

have been found. The language is a dialect of the Gothic, called

Norse, still in use in Iceland. The inscriptions may therefore

be read with certainty, but hitherto very few have been found

which throw the least light on history. They are mostly epitaphs

on tombstones.

Gray's ode on the Descent of Odin contains an allusion to the use

of Runic letters for incantation:

"Facing to the northern clime,

Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme;

Thrice pronounced, in accents dread,

The thrilling verse that wakes the dead,

Till from out the hollow ground

Slowly breathed a sullen sound."

THE SKALDS

The Skalds were the bards and poets of the nation, a very

important class of men in all communities in an early stage of

civilization. They are the depositaries of whatever historic

lore there is, and it is their office to mingle something of

intellectual gratification with the rude feasts of the warriors,

by rehearsing, with such accompaniments of poetry and music as

their skill can afford, the exploits of their heroes living or

dead. The compositions of the Skalds were called Sagas, many of

which have come down to us, and contain valuable materials of

history, and a faithful picture of the state of society at the

time to which they relate.

ICELAND

The Eddas and Sagas have come to us from Iceland. The following

extract from Carlyle's Lectures on Heroes and Hero worship gives

an animated account of the region where the strange stories we

have been reading had their origin. Let the reader contrast it

for a moment with Greece, the parent of classical mythology.

"In that strange island, Iceland, burst up, the geologists say,

by fire from the bottom of the sea, a wild land of barrenness and

lava, swallowed many months of every year in black tempests, yet

with a wild, gleaming beauty in summer time, towering up there

stern and grim in the North Ocean, with its snow yokuls

(mountains), roaring geysers (boiling springs), sulphur pools,

and horrid volcanic chasms, like the vast, chaotic battle-field

of Frost and Fire, where, of all places, we least looked for

literature or written memorials, the record of these things was

written down. On the seaboard of this wild land is a rim of

grassy country, where cattle can subsist, and men by means of

them and of what the sea yields; and it seems they were poetic

men these, men who had deep thoughts in them and uttered

musically their thoughts. Much would be lost had Iceland not

been burst up from the sea, not been discovered by the Northmen!"

Chapter XXXIV

The Druids Iona

The Druids were the priests or ministers of religion among the

ancient Celtic nations in Gaul, Britain, and Germany. Our

information respecting them is borrowed from notices in the Greek

and Roman writers, compared with the remains of Welsh and Gaelic

poetry still extant.

The Druids combined the functions of the priest, the magistrate,

the scholar, and the physician. They stood to the people of the

Celtic tribes in a relation closely analogous to that in which

the Brahmans of India, the Magi of Persia, and the priests of the

Egyptians stood to the people respectively by whom they were

revered.

The Druids taught the existence of one God, to whom they gave a

name "Be'al," which Celtic antiquaries tell us means "the life of

everything," or "the source of all beings,:" and which seems to

have affinity with the Phoenician Baal. What renders this

affinity more striking is that the Druids as well as the

Phoenicians identified this, their supreme deity, with the Sun.

Fire was regarded as a symbol of the divinity. The Latin writers

assert that the Druids also worshipped numerous inferior Gods.

They used no images to represent the object of their worship, nor

did they meet in temples or buildings of any kind for the

performance of their sacred rites. A circle of stones (each

stone generally of vast size) enclosing an area of from twenty

feet to thirty yards in diameter, constituted their sacred place.

The most celebrated of these now remaining is Stonehenge, on

Salisbury Plain, England.

These sacred circles were generally situated near some stream, or

under the shadow of a grove or wide-spreading oak. In the centre

of the circle stood the Cromlech or altar, which was a large

stone, placed in the manner of a table upon other stones set up

on end. The Druids had also their high places, which were large

stones or piles of stones on the summits of hills. These were

called Cairns, and were used in the worship of the deity under

the symbol of the sun.

That the Druids offered sacrifices to their deity there can be no

doubt. But there is some uncertainty as to what they offered,

and of the ceremonies connected with their religious services we

know almost nothing. The classical (Roman) writers affirm that

they offered on great occasions human sacrifices; as for success

in war or for relief from dangerous diseases. Caesar has given a

detailed account of the manner in which this was done. "They

have images of immense size, the limbs of which are framed with

twisted twigs and filled with living persons. These being set on

fire, those within are encompassed by the flames." Many attempts

have been made by Celtic writers to shake the testimony of the

Roman historians to this fact, but without success.

The Druids observed two festivals in each year. The former took

place in the beginning of May, and was called Beltane or "fire of

God." On this occasion a large fire was kindled on some elevated

spot, in honor of the sun, whose returning beneficence they thus

welcomed after the gloom and desolation of winter. Of this

custom a trace remains in the name given to Whitsunday in parts

of Scotland to this day. Sir Walter Scott uses the word in the

Boat Song in the Lady of the Lake:

"Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,

Blooming at Beltane in winter to fade."

The other great festival of the Druids was called "Samh'in," or

"fire of peace," and was held on Hallow-eve (first of November),

which still retains this designation in the Highlands of

Scotland. On this occasion the Druids assembled in solemn

conclave, in the most central part of the district, to discharge

the judicial functions of their order. All questions, whether

public or private, all crimes against person or property, were at

this time brought before them for adjudication. With these

judicial acts were combined certain superstitious usages,

especially the kindling of the sacred fire, from which all the

fires in the district which had been beforehand scrupulously

extinguished, might be relighted. This usage of kindling fires

on Hallow-eve lingered in the British Islands long after the

establishment of Christianity.

Besides these two great annual festivals, the Druids were in the

habit of observing the full moon, and especially the sixth day of

the moon. On the latter they sought the mistletoe, which grew on

their favorite oaks, and to which, as well as to the oak itself,

they ascribed a peculiar virtue and sacredness. The discovery of

it was an occasion of rejoicing and solemn worship. "They call

it," says Pliny, "by a word in their language which means 'heal-

all,' and having made solemn preparation for feasting and

sacrifice under the tree, they drive thither two milk-white

bulls, whose horns are then for the first time bound. The priest

then, robed in white, ascends the tree, and cuts off the

mistletoe with a golden sickle. It is caught in a white mantle,

after which they proceed to slay the victims, at the same time

praying that god would render his gift prosperous to those to

whom he had given it. They drink the water in which it has been

infused, and think it a remedy for all diseases. The mistletoe

is a parasitic plant, and is not always nor often found on the

oak, so that when it is found it is the more precious."

The Druids were the teachers of morality as well as of religion.

Of their ethical teaching a valuable specimen is preserved in the

Triads of the Welsh Bards, and from this we may gather that their

views of moral rectitude were on the whole just, and that they

held and inculcated many very noble and valuable principles of

conduct. They were also the men of science and learning of their

age and people. Whether they were acquainted with letters or not

has been disputed, though the probability is strong that they

were, to some extent. But it is certain that they committed

nothing of their doctrine, their history, or their poetry to

writing. Their teaching was oral, and their literature (if such

a word may be used in such a case) was preserved solely by

tradition. But the Roman writers admit that "they paid much

attention to the order and laws of nature, and investigated and

taught to the youth under their charge many things concerning the

stars and their motions, the size of the world and the lands ,

and concerning the might and power of the immortal gods."

Their history consisted in traditional tales, in which the heroic

deeds of their forefathers were celebrated. These were

apparently in verse, and thus constituted part of the poetry as

well as the history of the Druids. In the poems of Ossian we

have, if not the actual productions of Druidical times, what may

be considered faithful representations of the songs of the Bards.

The Bards were an essential part of the Druidical hierarchy. One

author, Pennant, says, "The bards were supposed to be endowed

with powers equal to inspiration. They were the oral historians

of all past transactions, public and private. They were also

accomplished genealogists."

Pennant gives a minute account of the Eisteddfods or sessions of

the bards and minstrels, which were held in Wales for many

centuries, long after the Druidical priesthood in its other

departments became extinct. At these meetings none but bards of

merit were suffered to rehearse their pieces, and minstrels of

skill to perform. Judges were appointed to decide on their

respective abilities, and suitable degrees were conferred. In

the earlier period the judges were appointed by the Welsh

princes, and after the conquest of Wales, by commission from the

kings of England. Yet the tradition is that Edward I., in

revenge for the influence of the bards, in animating the

resistance of the people to his sway, persecuted them with great

cruelty. This tradition has furnished the poet Gray with the

subject of his celebrated ode, the Bard.

There are still occasional meetings of the lovers of Welsh poetry

and music, held under the ancient name. Among Mrs. Heman's poems

is one written for an Eisteddfod, or meeting of Welsh Bards, held

in London May 22, 1822. It begins with a description of the

ancient meeting, of which the following lines are a part:

"---- midst the eternal cliffs, whose strength defied

The crested Roman in his hour of pride;

And where the Druid's ancient cromlech frowned,

And the oaks breathed mysterious murmurs round,

There thronged the inspired of yore! On plain or height,

In the sun's face, beneath the eye of light,

And baring unto heaven each noble head,

Stood in the circle, where none else might tread."

The Druidical system was at its height at the time of the Roman

invasion under Julius Caesar. Against the Druids, as their chief

enemies, these conquerors of the world directed their unsparing

fury. The Druids, harassed at all points on the main-land,

retreated to Anglesey and Iona, where for a season they found

shelter, and continued their now-dishonored rites.

The Druids retained their predominance in Iona and over the

adjacent islands and main-land until they were supplanted and

their superstitions overturned by the arrival of St. Columba, the

apostle of the Highlands, by whom the inhabitants of that

district were first led to profess Christianity.

IONA

One of the smallest of the British Isles, situated near a ragged

and barren coast, surrounded by dangerous seas, and possessing no

sources of internal wealth, Iona has obtained an imperishable

place in history as the seat of civilization and religion at a

time when the darkness of heathenism hung over almost the whole

of Northern Europe. Iona or Icolmkill is situated at the

extremity of the island of Mull, from which it is separated by a

strait of half a mile in breadth, its distance from the main-land

of Scotland being thirty-six miles.

Columba was a native of Ireland, and connected by birth with the

princes of the land. Ireland was at that time a land of gospel

light, while the western and northern parts of Scotland were

still immersed in the darkness of heathenism. Columba, with

twelve friends landed on the island of Iona in the year of our

Lord 563, having made the passage in a wicker boat covered with

hides. The Druids who occupied the island endeavored to prevent

his settling there, and the savage nations on the adjoining

shores incommoded him with their hostility, and on several

occasions endangered his life by their attacks. Yet by his

perseverance and zeal he surmounted all opposition, procured from

the king a gift of the island, and established there a monastery

of which he was the abbot. He was unwearied in his labors to

disseminate a knowledge of the Scriptures throughout the

Highlands and Islands of Scotland, and such was the reverence

paid him that though not a bishop, but merely a presbyter and

monk, the entire province with its bishops was subject to him and

his successors. The Pictish monarch was so impressed with a

sense of his wisdom and worth that he held him in the highest

honor, and the neighboring chiefs and princes sought his counsel

and availed themselves of his judgment in settling their

disputes.

When Columba landed on Iona he was attended by twelve followers

whom he had formed into a religious body, of which he was the

head. To these, as occasion required, others were from time to

time added, so that the original number was always kept up.

Their institution was called a monastery, and the superior an

abbot, but the system had little in common with the monastic

institutions of later times. The name by which those who

submitted to the rule were known was that of Culdees, probably

from the Latin "cultores Dei" worshippers of God. They were a

body of religious persons associated together for the purpose of

aiding each other in the common work of preaching the gospel and

teaching youth, as well as maintaining in themselves the fervor

of devotion by united exercises of worship. On entering the

order certain vows were taken by the members, but they were not

those which were usually imposed by monastic orders, for of

these, which are three, celibacy, poverty, and obedience, the

Culdees were bound to none except the third. To poverty they did

not bind themselves; on the contrary, they seem to have labored

diligently to procure for themselves and those dependent on them

the comforts of life. Marriage also was allowed them, and most

of them seem to have entered into that state. True, their wives

were not permitted to reside with them at the institution, but

they had a residence assigned to them in an adjacent locality.

Near Iona there is an island which still bears the name of "Eilen

nam ban," women's island, where their husbands seem to have

resided with them, except when duty required their presence in

the school or the sanctuary.

Campbell, in his poem of Reullura, alludes to the married monks

of Iona:

"----The pure Culdees

Were Albyn's earliest priests of God,

Ere yet an island of her seas

By foot of Saxon monk was trod,

Long ere her churchmen by bigotry

Were barred from holy wedlock's tie.

'Twas then that Aodh, famed afar,

In Iona preached the word with power.

And Reullura, beauty's star,

Was the partner of his bower."

In one of his Irish Melodies, Moore gives the legend of St.

Senanus and the lady who sought shelter on the island, but was

repulsed:

"Oh, haste and leave this sacred isle,

Unholy bark, ere morning smile;

For on thy deck, though dark it be,

A female form I see;

And I have sworn this sainted sod

Shall ne'er by woman's foot be trod.

In these respects and in others the Culdees departed from the

established rules of the Romish Church, and consequently were

deemed heretical. The consequence was that as the power of the

latter advanced, that of the Culdees was enfeebled. It was not,

however, till the thirteenth century that the communities of the

Culdees were suppressed and the members dispersed. They still

continued to labor as individuals, and resisted the inroads of

Papa usurpation as they best might till the light of the

Reformation dawned on the world.

Ionia, from its position in the western seas, was exposed to the

assaults of the Norwegian and Danish rovers by whom those seas

were infested, and by them it was repeatedly pillaged, its

dwellings burned, and its peaceful inhabitants put to the sword.

These unfavorable circumstances led to its gradual decline, which

was expedited by the supervision of the Culdees throughout

Scotland. Under the reign of Popery the island became the seat

of a nunnery, the ruins of which are still seen. At the

Reformation, the nuns were allowed to remain, living in

community, when the abbey was dismantled.

Ionia is now chiefly resorted to by travellers on account of the

numerous ecclesiastical and sepulchral remains which are found

upon it. The principal of these are the Cathedral or Abbey

Church, and the Chapel of the Nunnery. Besides these remains of

ecclesiastical antiquity, there are some of an earlier date, and

pointing to the existence on the island of forms of worship and

belief different from those of Christianity. These are the

circular Cairns which are found in various parts, and which seem

to have been of Druidical origin. It is in reference to all

these remains of ancient religion that Johnson exclaims, "That

man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force

upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer

amid the ruins of Iona."

In the Lord of the Isles, Scott beautifully contrasts the church

on Iona with the Cave of Staffa, opposite:

"Nature herself, it seemed, would raise

A minister to her Maker's praise!

Not for a meaner use ascend

Her columns or her arches bend;

Nor of a theme less solemn tells

The mighty surge that ebbs and swells,

And still between each awful pause,

From the high vault an answer draws,

In varied tone, prolonged and high,

That mocks the organ's melody;

Nor doth its entrance front in vain

To old Iona's holy fane,

That Nature's voice might seem to say,

Well hast thou done, frail child of clay,

Thy humble powers that stately shrine

Tasked high and hard but witness mine."

SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF GREEK SCULPTURE

We have seen throughout the course of this book how the Greek and

Norse myths have furnished material for the poets, not only of

Greece and Scandinavia, but also of modern times. In the same

way these stories have been found capable of artistic treatment

by painters, sculptors, and even by musicians. The story of

Cupid and Psyche has not only been retold by poets from Apuleius

to William Morris, but also drawn out in a series of frescoes by

Raphael, and sculptured in marble by Canova. Even to enumerate

the works of art of the modern and ancient world which depend for

their subject-matter upon mythology would be a task for a book by

itself. As we have been able to give only a few illustrations of

the poetic treatment of some of the principal myths, so we shall

have to content ourselves with a similarly limited view of the

part played by them in other fields of art.

Of the statues made by the ancients themselves to represent their

greater deities, a few have been already commented on. But it

must not be thought that these splendid examples of plastic art,

the Olympian Jupiter and the Athene of the Parthenon, represent

the earliest attempts of the Greeks to give form to their myths

in sculpture. Our most primitive sources of knowledge of much of

Greek mythology are the Homeric poems, where the stories of

Achilles and Ulysses have already taken on a poetic form, almost

the highest conceivable. But in the other arts, Greek genius

lagged behind. At the time when the Homeric poems were written,

we find no traces of columned temples or magnificent statues.

Scarcely were the domestic arts sufficiently advanced to allow

the poet to describe dwellings glorious enough for his heroes to

live in, or articles of common utility fit for their use. Of the

two most famous works of art mentioned in the Iliad we must think

of the statue of Athene at Troy (the Palladium) as a rude carving

perhaps of wood, the arms of the goddess separated from the body

only enough to allow her to hold the lance and spindle, which

were the signs of her divinity. The splendor of the shield of

Achilles must be attributed largely to the rich imagination of

the poet.

Other works of art of this primitive age we know from

descriptions in later classical writers. They attributed the

rude statues which had come down to them to Daedalus and his

pupils, and beheld them with wonder at their uncouth ugliness.

It was long thought that these beginnings of Greek sculpture were

to be traced to Egypt, but now-a-days scholars are inclined to

take a different view. Egyptian sculpture was closely allied to

architecture; the statues were frequently used for the columns of

temples. Thus sculpture was subordinated to purely mechanical

principles, and human figures were represented altogether in

accordance with established conventions. Greek sculpture, on the

contrary, even in its primitive forms was eminently natural,

capable of developing a high degree of realism. From the first

it was decorative in character, and this left the artist free to

execute in his own way, provided only that the result should be

in accordance with the highest type of beauty which he could

conceive. An example of this early decorative art was the chest

of Kypselos, on which stories from Homer were depicted in

successive bands, the reliefs being partly inlaid with gold and

ivory.

From the sixth century before Christ date three processes of

great importance in the development of sculpture; the art of

casting in bronze, the chiselling of marble, and the inlaying of

gold and ivory on wood (chryselephantine work). As early Greek

literature developed first among the island Greeks, so the

invention of these three methods of art must br attributed to the

colonists away from the original Hellas. To the Samians is

probably due the invention of bronze casting, to the Chians the

beginning of sculpture in marble. This latter development opened

to Greek sculpture its great future. Marble work was carried on

by a race of artists beginning with Melas in the seventh century

and coming down to Boupalos and Athenis, the sons of Achermos,

whose works survived to the time of Augustus. Chryselephantine

sculpture began in Crete.

Among the earliest of the Greek sculptors whose names have come

down to us was Canachos, the Sicyonian. His masterpiece was the

Apollo Philesios, in bronze, made for the temple of Didymas. The

statue no longer exists, but there are a number of ancient

monuments which may be taken as fairly close copies of it, or at

least as strongly suggestive of the style of Canachos, among

which are the Payne-Knight Apollo at the British Museum, and the

Piombino Apollo at the Louvre. In this latter statue the god

stands erect with the left foot slightly advanced, and the hands

outstretched. The socket of the eye is hollow and was probably

filled with some bright substance. Canachos was undoubtedly an

innovator, and in the stronger modelling of the head and neck,

the more vigorous posture of the body of his statue, he shows an

advance on the more conventional and limited art of his

generation.

As Greek sculpture progressed, schools of artists arose in

various cities, dependent usually for their fame on the ability

of some individual sculptor. "Among these schools, those of

Aegina and Athens are the most important. Of the former school

the works of Onatus are by far the most notable.

Onatus was a contemporary of Canachos, and reached the height of

his fame in the middle of the fifth century before Christ. His

most famous work was the scene where the Greek heroes draw lots

for an opponent to Hector. It is not certain whether Onatus

sculptured the groups which adorned the pediments of the temple

of Athena at Aegina, groups now in the Glyptothek at Munich, but

certainly these famous statues are decidedly in his style. Both

pediments represent the battle over the body of Patroclus. The

east pediment shows the struggle between Heracles and Laomedon.

In each group a fallen warrior lies at the feet of the goddess,

over whom she extends her protection. The Aeginetan marbles show

the traces of dying archaism. The figures of the warriors are

strongly moulded, muscular, but without grace. The same type is

reproduced again and again among them. Even the wounded scarcely

depart from it. The statues of the eastern pediment are probably

later in date than those of the western, and in the former the

dying warrior exhibits actual weakness and pain. In the western

pediment the statue of the goddess is thoroughly archaic, stiff,

uncompromisingly harsh, the features frozen into a conventional

smile. In the eastern group the goddess, though still

ungraceful, is more distinctly in action, and seems about to take

part in the struggle. The Heracles of the eastern pediment, a

warrior supported on one knee and drawing his bow, is, for the

time, wonderfully vivid and strong. All of these statues are

evidence of the rapid progress which Greek sculpture was making

in the fifth century against the demands of hieratic

conventionality.

The contemporary Athenian school boasted the names of Hegias,

Critios, and Nesiotes. Their works have all perished, but a copy

of one of the most famous works of Critios and Nesiotes, the

statue of the Tyrannicides, is to be found in the Museum of

Naples. Harmodius and Aristogeiton killed, in 514 B.C., the

tyrant-ruler of Athens, Hipparchus. In consequence of this

Athens soon became a republic, and the names of the first rebels

were held in great honor. Their statues were set up on the

Acropolis, first a group by Antenor, then the group in question

by Critios and Nesiotes after the first had been carried away by

Xerxes. The heroes, as we learn from the copies in Naples, were

represented as rushing forward, one with a naked sword flashing

above his head, the other with a mantle for defence thrown over

his left arm. They differ in every detail of action and pose,

yet they exemplify the same emotion, a common impulse to perform

the same deed.

At Argus, contemporary with these early schools of Athens and

Aegina, was a school of artists depending on the fame of the

great sculptor Ageladas. He was distinguished for his statues in

bronze of Zeus and Heracles, but his great distinction is not

through works of his own, but is due to the fact that he was the

teacher of Myron, Polycleitos, and Pheidias. These names with

those of Pythagoras and Calamis bring us to the glorious

flowering time of Greek sculpture.

Calamis, somewhat older than the others, was an Athenian, at

least by residence. He carried on the measure of perfection

which Athenian sculpture had already attained, and added grace

and charm to the already powerful model which earlier workers had

left him. None of his works survive, but from notices of critics

we know that he excelled especially in modelling horses and other

animals. His two race-horses in memory of the victory of Hiero

of Syracuse at Olympia in 468 were considered unsurpassable.

However, it is related that Praxiteles removed the charioteer

from one of the groups of Calamis and replaced it by one of his

own statues "that the men of Calamis might not be inferior to his

horses." Thus it would appear that Calamis was less successful

in dealing with the human body, though a statue of Aphrodite from

his hand was proverbial, under the name Sosandra, for its grace

and grave beauty.

Pythagoras of Rhegium carried on the realism, truth to nature,

which was beginning to appear as an ideal of artistic

representation. He is said to have been the first sculptor to

mark the veins and sinews on the body.

In this vivid naturalness Pythagoras was himself far surpassed by

Myron. Pythagoras had seen the importance of showing the effect

of action in every portion of the body. Myron carried the

minuteness of representation so far that his Statue of Ladas, the

runner, was spoken of not as a runner, but as a BREATHER. This

statue represented the victor of the foot-race falling,

overstrained and dying, at the goal, the last breath from the

tired lungs yet hovering upon the lips. More famous than the

Ladas is the Discobolos , or disc-thrower, of which copies exist

at Rome, one being at the Vatican, the other at the Palazzo

Massimi alle Colonne. These, though doubtless far behind the

original, serve to show the marvellous power of portraying

intense action which the sculptor possessed. The athlete is

represented at the precise instant when he has brought the

greatest possible bodily strength into play in order to give to

the disc its highest force. The body is bent forward, the toes

of one foot cling to the ground, the muscles of the torso are

strained, the whole body is in an attitude of violent tension

which can endure only for an instant. Yet the face is free from

contortion, free from any trace of effort, calm and beautiful.

This shows that Myron, intent as he was upon reproducing nature,

could yet depart from his realistic formulae when the

requirements of beautiful art demanded it.

The same delight in rapid momentary action which characterized

the two statues of Myron already mentioned appears in a third,

the statue of Marsyas astonished at the flute which Athene had

thrown away, and which was to lead its finder into his fatal

contest with Apollo. A copy of this work at the Lateran Museum

represents the satyr starting back in a rapid mingling of desire

and fear, which is stamped on his heavy face, as well as

indicated in the movement of his body.

Myron's realism again found expression in the bronze cow,

celebrated by the epigrams of contemporary poets for its striking

naturalness. "Shepherd, pasture thy flock at a little distance,

lest thinking thou seest the cow of Myron breathe, thou shouldst

wish to lead it away with thine oxen," was one of them.

The value and originality of Myron's contributions to the

progress of Greek sculpture were so great that he left behind him

a considerable number of artists devoted to his methods. His son

Lykios followed his father closely. In statues on the Acropolis

representing two boys, one bearing a basin, one blowing the coals

in a censer into a flame, he reminds one of the Ladas, especially

in the second, where the action of breathing is exemplified in

every movement of the body. Another famous work by a follower of

Myron was the boy plucking a thorn from his foot, a copy of which

is in the Rothschild collection.

The frieze of the Temple of Apollo at Phigales has also been

attributed to the school of Myron. The remnants of this frieze,

now in the British Museum, show the battle of the Centaurs and

Amazons. The figures have not the calm stateliness of bearing

which characterizes those of the Parthenon frieze, but instead

exhibit a wild vehemence of action which is, perhaps, directly

due to the influence of Myron.

Another pupil of Ageladas, a somewhat younger contemporary of

Pheidias, was Polycleitos. He excelled in representations of

human, bodily beauty. Perfection of form was his aim, and so

nearly did he seem to the ancients to have attained this object

that his Doryphoros was taken by them as a model of the human

figure. A copy of this statue exists in the Museum of Naples

and represents a youth in the attitude of bearing a lance, quiet

and reserved. The figure is rather heavily built, firm,

powerful, and yet graceful, though hardly light enough to justify

the praise of perfection which has been lavished upon it.

A companion statue to the Doryphorus of Polycleitos was his

statue of the Diadumenos, or boy binding his head with a fillet.

A supposed copy of this exists in the British Museum. It

presents the same general characteristics as the Doryphorus, a

well-modelled but thick-set figure standing in an attitude of

repose.

What Polycleitos did for the male form in these two statues he

did for the female form in his Amazon, which, according to a

doubtful story, was adjudged in competition superior to a work by

Pheidias. A statue supposed to be a copy of this masterpiece of

Polycleitos is now in the Berlin Museum. It represents a woman

standing in a graceful attitude beside a pillar, her left arm

thrown above her head to free her wounded breast. The sculptor

has succeeded admirably in catching the muscular force and firm

hard flesh beneath the graceful curves of the woman warrior.

Polycleitos won his chief successes in portraying human figures.

His statues of divinities are not numerous: a Zeus at Argos, an

Aphrodite at Amyclae, and, more famous than either, the

chryselephantine Hera for a temple between Argos and Mycenae.

The goddess was represented as seated on a throne of gold, with

bare head and arms. In her right hand was the sceptre crowned

with the cuckoo, symbol of conjugal fidelity; in her left, the

pomegranate. There exists no certain copy of the Hera of

Polycleitos. The head of Hera in Naples may, perhaps, give us

some idea of the type of divine beauty preferred by the sculptor

who was preeminent for his devotion to human beauty.

Polycleitos was much praised by the Romans Quintilian and Cicero,

who nevertheless, held that though he surpassed the beauty of man

in nature, yet he did not approach the beauty of the gods. It

was reserved for Pheidias to portray the highest conceptions of

divinity of which the Greek mind was capable in his statues of

Athene in the Parthenon at Athens, and the Zeus of Olympus.

Pheidias lived in the golden age of Athenian art. The victory of

Greece against Persia had been due in large measure to Athens,

and the results of the political success fell largely to her. It

is true the Persians had held the ground of Athens for weeks, and

when, after the victory of Salamis, the people returned to their

city, they found it in ruins. But the spirit of the Athenians

had been stirred, and in spite of the hostility of Persia, the

jealousy of neighboring states, and the ruin of the city, the

people felt new confidence in themselves and their divinity, and

were more than ever ready to strive for the leadership of Greece.

Religious feeling, gratitude to the gods who had preserved them,

and civic pride in the glory of their own victorious city, all

inspired the Athenians. After the winter in which the Persians

were finally beaten at Plataea, the Athenians began to rebuild.

For a while their efforts were confined to rendering the city

habitable and defensible, since the activity of the little state

was largely political. But when th leadership of Athens in

Greece had become firmly established under Theistocles and Cimon,

the third president of the democracy, Pericles, found leisure to

turn to the artistic development of the city. The time was ripe,

for the artistic progress of the people had been no less marked

than their political. The same long training in valor and

temperance which gave Athens her statesmen, Aristides and

Pericles, gave her her artists and poets also. Pericles became

president of the city in 444 B.C., just at the time when the

decorative arts were approaching perfection under Pheidias.

Pheidias was an Athenian by birth, the son of Charmides. He

studied first under Hegias, then under Ageladas the Argive. He

became the most famous sculptor of his time, and when Pericles

wanted a director for his great monumental works at Athens, he

summoned Pheidias. Artists from all over Hellas put themselves

at his disposal, and under his direction the Parthenon was built

and adorned with the most splendid statuary the world has ever

known.

The Parthenon was fashioned in honor of Athene or Minerva, the

guardian deity of Athens, the preserver of Hellas, whom the

Athenians in their gratitude sought to make the sovereign goddess

of the land which she had saved. The eastern gable of the temple

was adorned with a group representing the appearance of Minerva

before the gods of Olympus. In the left angle of the gable

appeared Helios, the dawn, rising from the sea. In the right

angle Selene, evening, sank from sight. Next to Helios was a

figure representing either Dionysus or Olympus, and beside were

seated two figures, perhaps Persephone and Demeter, perhaps two

Horae. Approaching these as a messenger was Iris. Balancing

these figures on the side next Selene were two figures,

representing Aphrodite in the arms of Peitho, or perhaps

Thalassa, goddess of the sea, leaning against Gaia, the earth.

Nearer the centre on this side was Hestia, to whom Hermes brought

the tidings. The central group is totally lost, but must have

been made up of Zeus, Athene, and Vulcan, with, perhaps, others

of the greater divinities.

The group of the western pediment represented Athene and

Poseidon, contesting for the supremacy of Athens. Athene's

chariot is driven by Victory, Poseidon's by Amphitrite. Although

the greater part of the attendant deities have disappeared, we

know the gods of the rivers of Athens, Eridanas and Ilissos, in

reclining postures filled the corners of the pediment. One of

these has survived, and remains in its perfection of grace and

immortal beauty to attest the wonderful skill that directed the

chiselling of the whole group.

Although the gable groups have suffered terribly in the historic

vicissitudes of the Parthenon, still enough remains of them to

show the dignity of their conception, the rhythm of composition,

and the splendid freedom of their workmanship. The fragments

were purchased by Lord Elgin early in this century and are now in

the British Museum.

The frieze of the Parthenon, executed under the supervision of

Pheidias, represented one of the most glorious religious

ceremonies of the Greek, the Pan-Athenaic procession. The

deities surround Zeus as spectators of the scene, and toward them

winds the long line of virgins bearing incense, herds of animals

for sacrifice, players upon the lute and lyre, chariots and

riders. On the western front the movement has not yet begun, and

the youths and men stand in disorder, some binding their mantles,

some mounting their horses. The frieze is noteworthy for its

expression of physical and intellectual beauty which marked the

highest conceptions of Greek art, and for the studied mingling of

forcible action and gracious repose. The larger part of this

frieze has been preserved and is to be seen at the British

Museum.

The third group of Parthenon sculptures, the ornaments of the

metope, represents the contest between centaurs and the Lapithae

with some scenes interspersed of which the subjects cannot now be

determined. The frieze is in low relief, the figures scarcely

starting from the background. The sculptures of the metope, on

the contrary, are in high relief, frequently giving the

impression of marbles detached from the background altogether.

They were, moreover, colored. Or course, Pheidias himself cannot

have had more than the share of general director in the

sculptures of the metope; many of them are manifestly executed by

inferior hands. Nevertheless, the mind of a great designer is

evident in the wonderful variety of posture and action which the

figures show. Indeed, when we consider the immense number of

figures employed, it becomes evident that not even all the

sculptures of the pediments can have been executed entirely by

Pheidias, who was already probably well advanced in life when he

began the Parthenon decorations; yet all the sculptures were the

work of Pheidias or of pupils working under him, and although

traces may be found of the influence of other artists, of

Myron, for example, in the freedom and naturalness of the action

in the figures of the frieze, yet all the decorations of the

Parthenon may fairly be said to belong to the Pheidian school of

sculpture.

The fame of Pheidias himself, however, rested very largely on

three great pieces of art work: The Athene Promachos, the Athene

Parthenos, and the Olympian Zeus. The first of these was a work

of Pheidias's youth. It represented the goddess standing gazing

toward Athens lovingly and protectingly. She held a spear in one

hand, the other supported a buckler. The statue was nine feet

high. It was dignified and noble, but at the time of its

conception Pheidias had not freed himself from the convention and

traditions of the earlier school, and the stiff folds of the

tunic, the cold demeanor of the goddess, recall the masters whom

Pheidias was destined to supersede. No copy of this statue

survives, and hence a description of it must be largely

conjectural, made up from hints gleaned from Athenian coins.

Pheidias sculptured other statues of Athene, but none so

wonderful as the Athene Parthenos, which, with the Olympian Zeus,

was the wonder and admiration of the Greek world. The Athene

Parthenos was designed to stand as an outward symbol of the

divinity in whose protecting might the city had conquered and

grown strong, in whose honor the temple had been built in which

this statue was to shine as queen. The Olympian Zeus was the

representative of that greater divinity which all Hellas united

in honoring. We may gain from the words of Pausanias some idea

of the magnificence of this statue, but of its unutterable

majesty we can only form faint images in the mind, remembering

the strength and grace of the figures of the pediments of the

temple at Athens. "Zeus," says Pausanias, "is seated on a throne

of ivory and gold; upon his head is laced a garland made in

imitation of olive leaves. He bears a Victory in his right hand,

also crowned and made in gold and ivory, and holding in her right

hand a little fillet. In his left hand the god holds a sceptre,

made of all kinds of metals; the bird perched on the tip of the

sceptre is an eagle. The shoes of Zeus are also of gold, and of

gold his mantle, and underneath this mantle are figures and

lilies inlaid."

Both the Olympian Zeus and the Athene were of chryselephantine

work offering enormous technical difficulties, but in spite of

this both showed almost absolute perfection of form united with

beauty of intellectual character to represent the godhead

incarnate in human substance. These two statues may be taken as

the noblest creations of the Greek imagination when directed to

the highest objects of its contemplation. The beauty of the

Olympian Zeus, according to Quintilian, "added a new element to

religion."

In the works of art just mentioned the creative force of the

Greeks attained its highest success. After the death of Pheidias

his methods were carried on in a way by the sculptors who had

worked under him and become subject to his influence; but as

years went on, with less and less to remind us of the supreme

perfection of the master. Among these pupils of Pheidias were

Agoracritos and Colotes in Athens, Paionios, and Alcamenes. Of

Paionios fortunately one statue survives in regard to which there

can be no doubt. The Victory erected to the Olympian Zeus shows

a tall goddess, strongly yet gracefully carved, posed forward

with her drapery flattened closely against her body in front as

if by the wind, and streaming freely behind. The masterpiece of

Alcamenes, an Aphrodite, is known only by descriptions. The

pediments of the temple at Olympia have been assigned, by

tradition, one to Alcamenes, one to Paionios. They are, however,

so thoroughly archaic in style that it seems impossible to

reconcile them with what we know of the work of the men to whom

they are attributed. The group of the eastern front represented

the chariot races of Oinomaos and Pelops; that of the western,

the struggle of the Centaurs and Lapithae. In the latter the

action is extremely violent, only the Apollo in the midst is calm

and commanding. In both pediments there are decided approaches

to realism.

In Athens, after Pheidias, the greatest sculptures were those

used to adorn the Erechtheion. The group of Caryatids, maidens

who stand erect and firm, bearing upon their heads the weight of

the porch, is justly celebrated as an architectural device. At

the same time, the maidens, though thus performing the work of

columns, do not lose the grace and charm which naturally belongs

to them.

Another post-Pheidian work at Athens was the temple of Nike

Apteros, the wingless Victory. The bas-reliefs from this temple,

now in the Acropolis Museum at Athens, one representing the

Victory stooping to tie her sandal, another, the Victory crowning

a trophy, recall the consummate grace of the art of Pheidias, the

greatest Greek art.

Agoracritos left behind him works at Athens which in their

perfection could scarcely be distinguished from the works of

Pheidias himself, none of which have come down to us. But from

the time of the Peloponnesian war, the seeds of decay were in the

art of Hellas, and they ripened fast. In one direction

Callimachus carried refined delicacy and formal perfection to

excess; and in the other Demetrios, the portrait sculptor, put by

ideal beauty for the striking characteristics of realism. Thus

the strict reserve, the earnest simplicity of Pheidias and his

contemporaries, were sacrificed sacrificed partly, it is true,

to the requirements of a fuller spiritual life, partly to the

demands of a wider knowledge and deeper passion. The legitimate

effects of sculpture are strictly limited. Sculpture is fitted

to express not temporary, accidental feeling, but permanent

character; not violent action, but repose. In the great work of

the golden age the thought of the artist was happily limited so

that the form was adequate to its expression. One single motive

was all that he tried to express a motive uncomplicated by

details of specific situation, a type of general beauty unmixed

with the peculiar suggestions of special and individual emotion.

When the onward impulse led the artist to pass over the severe

limits which bounded the thought of the earlier school, he found

his medium becoming less adequate to the demands of his more

detailed and circumstantial mental conception. The later

sculpture, therefore, lacks in some measure the repose and entire

assurance of the earlier. The earlier sculpture confines itself

to broad, central lines of heroic and divine character, as in the

two masterpieces of Pheidias. The latter dealt in great

elaboration with the details and elements of the stories and

characters that formed its subjects, as in the Niobe group, or

the Laocoon, to be mentioned later.

These modern tendencies produced as the greatest artists of the

later Greek type Scopas and Praxiteles.

Between these, however, and the earlier school which they

superseded came the Athenian Kephisodotos, the father, it may be

supposed of Praxiteles. His fame rests upon a single work, a

copy of which has been discovered, the Eirene and Ploutos. In

this, while the simplicity and strictness of the Pheidian ideal

have been largely preserved, it has been used as the vehicle of

deeper feeling and more spiritual life.

Scopas was born at Paros, and lived during the fist half of the

fourth century. He did much decorative work including the

pediments of the temple of Athena at Tegea. He participated also

in the decoration of the Mausoleum erected by Artemisia to the

memory of her husband. In this latter, the battle of the

Amazons, though probably not the work of Scopas himself, shows in

the violence of its attitudes and the pathos of its action the

new elements of interest in Greek art with the introduction of

which Scopas is connected. The fame of Scopas rests principally

on the Niobe group which is attributed to him. The sculpture

represents the wife of Amphion at the moment when the curse of

Apollo and Diana falls upon her, and her children are slain

before her eyes. The children, already feeling the arrows of the

gods, are flying to her for protection. She tries in vain to

shield her youngest born beneath her mantle, and turns as if to

hide her face with its motherly pride just giving place to

despair and agony. The whole group is free from contortion and

grandly tragic. The original exists no longer, but copies of

parts of the group are found in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence.

The Niobe group shows the distinction between Scopas and

Praxiteles and the earlier artists in choice of subject and mode

of treatment. The same distinction is shown by the Raging

Bacchante of Scopas. The head is thrown back, the hair loosened,

the garments floating in the wind, an ecstacy of wild, torrent-

like action.

Of the work of Praxiteles we know more directly than of the work

of any other Greek sculptor of the same remoteness, for one

statue has come down to us actually from the master's own hand,

and we possess good copies of several others. His statues of

Aphrodite, of which there were at least five, are known to us by

the figures on coins and by two works in the same style, the

Aphrodite in the Glyptothek, and that of the Vatican. The most

famous of all was the Aphrodite of Cnidos, which was ranked with

the Olympian Zeus and was called one of the wonders of te world.

King Nicomedes of Bithynia offered vainly to the people of Cnidos

the entire amount of their state debt for its possession. Lucian

described the goddess as having a smile somewhat proud and

disdainful; yet the eyes, moist and kindly, glowed with

tenderness and passion, and the graceful lines of the shoulders,

the voluptuous curves of the thighs, are full of sensuous

feeling. The goddess, as represented in coins, stood beside a

vase, over which her drapery is falling, while with her right

hand she shields herself modestly. The head of Aphrodite in the

British Museum, with its pure brows, its delicate, voluptuous

lips, and sweet, soft skin, is, perhaps, the nearest approach

which we possess to the glorious beauty of the original.

Other Aphrodites, the draped statue of Cos among them, and

several statues of Eros, representing tender, effeminate youths,

illustrate further the departure which Praxiteles marks from the

restraint of Pheidias. Another of his masculine figures is the

graceful Apollo with the Lizard. The god, strong in his youthful

suppleness, is leaning against a tree threatening with his darts

a small lizard which is seeking to climb up. Still another type

of masculine grace left us by Praxiteles is his statue of the

Satyr, of which a copy exists in the Capitoline Museum. The

Satyr, in the hands of Praxiteles, lost all his ancient

uncouthness, and became a strong, graceful youth, with soft, full

form. In the Capitoline representation the boy is leaning easily

against a tree, throwing his body into the most indolent posture,

which brings out the soft, feminine curves of hips and legs. In

fact, so thoroughly is the feminine principle worked into the

statues of the Apollo, the Eros, and the Satyr, that this

characteristic became considered typical of Praxiteles, and when,

in 1877, was discovered the one authentic work which we possess

of this artist, the great Hermes of Olympia, critics were at a

loss to reconcile this figure with what was already known of the

sculptor's work, some holding that it must be a work of his

youth, when, through his father, Kephisodotos, he felt the force

of the Pheidian tradition, others that there must have been two

sculptors bearing the great name of Praxiteles.

The Hermes was found lacking the right arm and both legs below

the knees, but the marvellous head and torso are perfectly

preserved. The god is without the traditional symbols of his

divinity. He is merely a beautiful man. He stands leaning

easily against a tree, supporting on one arm the child Dionysus,

to whom he turns his gracious head with the devotion and love of

a protector. The face, in its expression of sweet majesty, is

distinctly a personal conception. The low forehead, the eyes far

apart, the small, playful mouth, the round, dimpled chin, all

bear evidence to the individual quality which Praxiteles infused

into the ideal thought of the god. The body, though at rest, is

instinct with life and activity, in spite of its grace. In

short, the form of the god has the superb perfection, as the face

has the dignity, which was attributed to Pheidias. Nevertheless,

the Hermes illustrates sensual loveliness of the later school.

The freedom with which the god is conceived belongs to an age

when the chains of religious belief sat lightly upon the artist.

The gds of Praxiteles are the gods of human experience, and in

his treatment of them he does not always escape the tendency of

the age of decline to put pathos and passion in the place of

eternal majesty.

The influence of Scopas and Praxiteles continued to be felt

through a number of artists who worked in sufficient harmony with

them to be properly called of their school. To one of these

followers of Praxiteles, some say as a copy of a work of the

master himself, we must attribute the Demeter now in the British

Museum. This is a pathetic illustration of suffering

motherhood. There is no exaggeration in the grief, only the calm

dignity of a sorrow which in spite of hope refuses to be

comforted.

Another work of an unknown artist, probably a follower of Scopas,

is the splendid Victory of Samothrace, now in the Louvre. The

goddess, with her great wings outspread behind her, is being

carried forward, her firm rounded limbs striking through the

draperies which flutter behind her, and fall about her in soft

folds. Vigorous and stately, the goddess poises herself on the

prow of the ship, swaying with the impulse of conquering daring

and strength.

Another statue which belongs, so far as artistic reasoning may

carry us, to the period and school of Praxiteles, is the so-

called Venus of Milo. The proper title to be given to this

statue is doubtful, for the drapery corresponds to that of the

Roman type of Victory, and if we could be sure that the goddess

once held the shield of conquest in her now broken arms we should

be forced to call the figure a Victory and place its date no

earlier than the second century B.C. However this may be, the

statue is justly one of the most famous in the world. It

represents an ideal of purity and sweetness. There is not a

trace of coarseness or immodesty in the half-naked woman who

stands perfect in the maidenly dignity of her own conquering

fairness. Her serious yet smiling face, her graceful form, the

delicacy of feeling in attitude and gaze, the tender moulding of

breast and limbs, make it a worthy companion of the Hermes or

Praxiteles. It seems scarcely possible that it should not have

sprung from the inspiration of his example.

The last of the great sculptors of Greece was Lysippos of Sikyou.

He differed from Pheidias on the one hand and from Polycleitos on

the other. Pheidias strove to make his gods all god-like;

Lysippos was content to represent them merely as exaggerated

human beings; but therein he differed also from Polycleitos, who

aimed to model the human body with the beauty only which actually

existed in it. Lysippos felt that he must set the standard of

human perfection higher than it appears in the average of human

examples. Hence we have from him the statues of Heracles, in

which the ideal of manly strength was carried far beyond the

range of human possibility. A reminiscence of this conception of

Lysippos may be found in the Farnese Heracles of Glycon, now in

the Museum of Naples. Lysippos also sculptured four statues of

Zeus, which depended for their interest largely on their heroic

size.

Lysippos won much fame by his statues of Alexander the Great, but

he is chiefly known to us by his statue of the athlete scraping

himself with a strigil, of which an authentic copy is in the

Vatican. The figure differs decidedly from the thick-set, rather

heavy figures of Polycleitos, being tall, and slender in spite of

its robustness. The head is small, the torso is small at the

waist, but strong, and the whole body is splendidly active.

The changes in the models of earlier sculptors made by Lysippos

were of sufficient importance to give rise to a school which was

carried on by his sons and others, producing among many famous

works the Barberini Faun, now at the Glyptothek, Munich. The

enormous Colossus of Rhodes was also the work of a disciple of

Lysippos.

But from this time the downward tendency in Greek art is only too

apparent, and very rapid. The spread of Greek influence over

Asia, and later, in consequence of the conquest of Greece by

Rome, over Europe, had the effect of widening the market for

Greek production, but of drying up the sources of what was vital

in that production. Athens and Sikyou became mere provincial

cities, and were shorn thenceforth of all artistic significance;

and Greek art, thus deprived of the roots of its life, continued

to grow for a while with a rank luxuriance of production, but

soon became normal and conventional. The artists who followed

Lysippos contented themselves chiefly with seeking a merely

technical perfection in reproducing the creations of the earlier

and more original age.

At Pergamon under Attalus, in the last years of the third

century, there was something of an artistic revival. This

Attalus successfully defended his country against an overwhelming

attack of the Gauls from the north. To celebrate this victory,

an altar was erected to Zeus on the Acropolis of Pergamon, of

which the frieze represented the contest between Zeus and the

giants. These sculptures are now to be found in Berlin. They

are carved in high relief; the giants with muscles strained and

distended, their bodies writhing in the contortions of effort and

suffering; the gods, no longer calm and restrained, but

themselves overcome with the ardor of battle. Zeus stretches his

arms over the battle-field hurling destruction everywhere.

Athene turns from the field, dragging at her heels a young giant

whom she has conquered, and reaches forward to the crown of

victory. The wild, passionate action of the whole work remove it

far from the firm, orderly work of Pheidias, and carry it almost

to the extreme of pathetic representation in sculpture shown by

the Laocoon.

The contests with the Gauls, the fear inspired by the huge forms

of the barbarians, seem to have influenced powerfully the

imaginative conceptions of the sculptors of the school of

Pergamon. One of the most famous works which they have left is

the figure long known as the Dying Gladiator, of which a copy

exists in the Capitoline Museum. This represents a Gaul sinking

wounded to the ground, supporting himself on his right arm. It

is remarkable for its stern realism. The pain and sense of

defeat comes out in every feature. Moreover, the nationality of

the fallen warrior is clearly expressed in the deep indentation

between the heavy brow and the prominent nose, in the face,

shaven, except the upper lip, in the uncouth, fleshy body, in the

rough hands and feet. Usually the artist preferred to hint at

the race by some peculiarities of costume. Here nothing but

uncompromising realism of feature will satisfy the sculptor. A

companion piece to the Wounded Gaul, though less famous, is the

group of the Villa Ludovisi, which represents a Gaul, who has

slain his wife, in the act of stabbing himself in the neck.

In addition to inspiring the sculptures at Pergamon, Attalus

dedicated to the gods of Athens a votive offering in return for

the help which they had given him. This was placed on the

Acropolis at Athens. It consisted of four groups, representing

the gigantomachia or giant combat, the battle of the Amazons, the

battle of Marathon, and the victory of Attalus. Figures from

these survive, a dead Amazon at Naples and a kneeling Persian at

the Vatican being the best known.

Another state which became famous in the declining days of Greek

art was the republic of Rhodes. The Rhodian sculptors learned

their anatomy from Lysippos, and caught their dramatic instinct

from the artists of Pergamon. Two of the most famous sculpture

groups in the world were produced at Rhodes, the Laocoon, now

at the Vatican, and the Farnese Bull, now at Naples. The former

was the work of three artists, given by Pliny as Agesandros,

Athanodorus, and Polydorus. It has been accepted as one of the

masterpieces of the world, but as we shall see, it is manifestly

a work of a time of decadence.

The Laocoon illustrates excellently the extreme results of the

pathetic tendency. The priest Laocoon is represented at the

moment when the serpents of Apollo surround him and his two sons,

born through their father's sin, and bear them all three down to

destruction. The younger son, fatally bitten, falls back in

death agony. The father yields slowly, his desperation giving

way before the merciless strength of the serpents. The elder son

shrinks away in horror though bound fast by the inevitable coils.

The Laocoon shows the pathetic tendency at its utmost. The

technical difficulties have been overcome with astonishing

success, and though the combination of figures is impossible in

life, it is marvellously effective in art. But the group

depends for its interest purely on the accidental horror of the

situation. There is no hint in the sculpture of the motive of

the tragedy, no suggestion of ethical significance in the

suffering portrayed. It does not connect itself with any

principle of life. In this way the work became a superb piece of

display, a TOUR DE FORCE of surprising composition but with

little serious meaning.

The same judgment may be extended to the Farnese Bull, the work

of Apollonius and Tauriscos, artists from Tralles who lived at

Rhodes. This group represents the punishment of the cruel Dirke

at the hands of the sons of Antiope. The beautiful queen clasps

the knee of one of the sons praying for grace, while the other

boy is about to throw over her the noose which is to bind her to

the bull. Antiope stands in the background, a mere lay figure,

and scattered about are numerous small symbolical figures. Like

the Laocoon the Farnese Bull exhibits surprising mastery of

technical obstacles, but, like the Laocoon, it falls short of

true tragic grandeur. In a greater degree than the Laocoon it

trenches upon the province of painting. It is more complicated

in its subject-matter; and the appearance in the group of many

small subsidiary figures, which in a painting might have been

given their proper value, being in the marble of the same relief

and distinction as the major characters, give a somewhat absurd

effect. The little goddess who sits in the foreground, for

instance, is smaller than the dog. Again, there is less of the

motive shown than in the Laocoon. The group is seized at the

moment preceding the frightful catastrophe, but that moment is as

full of agony as the succeeding ones, and in addition there is

the feeling of suspense and oppression that comes from the

unfinished tragedy. Altogether, the group, in spite of the

marvellous technical skill shown in details, is a failure when

judged on general lines. Its interest lies in momentary and

apparently ummotived suffering, not in any truly serious

conception of life.

With the conquest of Greece by Rome, the final stage of Greek art

begins. But the vigor and originality had departed. The

sculptors aimed at and attained technical correctness, academic

beauty of form, sensuous feeling, perfection of details, but they

lost all imaginative power. A good example of the work of this

period is found in the Apollo Belvidere now in the Vatican. This

famous statue is an early Roman copy of a Greek original. It

represents the god advancing easily, full of vigor and grace. It

is marvellously correct in drawing, but quite without feeling of

any kind.

Another work of this period is the sleeping Ariadne of the

Vatican. This represents a woman reclining in a studied

sentimental attitude, her arms thrown about her head, her body

swathed in its protecting drapery. To the same period also

belongs almost the last notable work of Greek art, the degenerate

and sensuous conception of the Venus de Medici. In this statue

the goddess stands as if rising from the sea, her attitude

reserved, yet coquettish and self-conscious. The form is

technically perfect, graceful, and soft in its refinement, but

compared with the earlier Aphrodites it is an unworthy successor.

Still another famous statue is the Borghese Gladiator, of Agasius

of Ephesus, now in the Louvre. The statue is merely a bit of

display, an effort to parade technical skill and anatomical

knowledge. The gladiator throws his weight strongly on his right

leg, and holds one arm high above his head, giving to his whole

body an effect of straining. The figure is strong and wiry.

Agasius was distinctly an imitator, as were most of the artists

of this age, among whom must be reckoned the skilful sculptor of

the crouching Venus, also in the Louvre. The goddess is shown as

bending down in graceful curves until her body is supported on

the right leg, which is bent double. The form is strong and

healthy, graceful and easy in its somewhat constrained posture.

During all of this final period Greek art was very largely

influenced by the relations which existed between Greece and

Rome. About the year 200 B.C. the Roman conquest of Greece led

to an important traffic in works of art between Rome and the

Greek cities. For a time, indeed, statues formed a recognized

part of the booty which graced every Roman triumph. M. Fulvius

Nobilior carried away not less than five hundred and fifteen.

After the period of conquest the importation of Greek statues

continued at Rome, and in time Greek artists also began to remove

thither, so that Rome became not only the centre for the

collection of Greek works of art, but the chief seat of their

production. At this time the Roman religious conceptions were

identified with those of Greece, and the Greek gods received the

Latin names by which we now know them. The influence of the

Greeks upon Rome was very marked, but the reflex influence of the

material civilization of Italy upon Greek art was altogether bad,

and thus the splendor of classical art went out in

dilletantism and weakness.

The destruction of the Roman Empire by the barbarians makes a

break in the artistic history of the world. Not for many

centuries was there a vestige of artistic production. Even when

in Italy and France the monks began to make crude attempts to

reach out for and represent in painting and sculpture imaginative

conceptions of things beautiful, they took their material

exclusively from Christian sources. The tradition of classical

stories had nearly vanished from the mind of Europe. Not until

the Renaissance restored the knowledge of classical culture to

Europe do we find artists making any use of the wealth of

imaginative material stored up in the myths of Greece. Then,

indeed, by the discovery and circulation of the poets of

mythology, the Greek stories and conceptions of characters,

divine and human, became known once more and were used freely,

remaining until the present day one chief source of material and

subject-matter for the use of the painter and sculptor.