dynasty of the Seleucidae, was perhaps, as a whole, more Hellenistic in
culture than either Egypt or Macedon, and united more generally the
refinement of Greece with the luxury and splendor of the Orient.
Unfortunately, we know but little of this important kingdom, except as
to its wars and politics. Though Antiochus, the real founder of the
dynasty, was a patron of letters and maintained learned men at his
court, no literature of importance arose to tell us of its patrons; and,
excepting the story already told of his romantic marriage with
Stratonice, we know nothing of Antiochus's private life and but few
incidents in the lives of his successors. We know that the population of
Syria was manifold in nationality, in politics, and in manners, and that
the Greek cities, which were so profusely established, developed a high
degree of culture and created a general diffusion of knowledge. Juvenal,
in describing the Greek influence on Rome, speaks of the Syrian river
Orontes as flowing into the Tiber, and, doubtless, the Greek of the
Orient was the type most largely represented in the mixed population of
Rome. Antioch became a formidable rival of Alexandria as a social and
commercial centre, and extended Greek influence over a far wider area
than did the Egyptian city. But when we seek to know something of the
social life of this important branch of Hellenism, of the details of
private life and of the condition of women, we have absolutely no source
of information. Outside of the history of the royal family, there is
unbroken silence as to the more intimate story of Syria.
In this concluding chapter, therefore, we shall confine our attention to
Alexandria and the court of the Ptolemies, whither the centre of gravity
of the Greek world trended after the fall of Greek independence and the
decline of Athens. Its great founder seems to have shown prophetic
insight in his selection of the spot on which to build the city that
should bear his name, and the supremacy of that city was assured when
Alexander by his conquests opened up the Orient to Greek commerce; but
the greatest good fortune of Alexandria lay in obtaining a ruler of the
ability and insight and energy of Ptolemy Soter.
Ptolemy, the son of Lagus and Arsinoe, had grown up with Alexander as
one of his playfellows, and later became one of his most trusted, though
not most prominent, generals. There is a story that, before her
marriage, Arsinoe was a mistress of Philip, and that Ptolemy was in
truth the half-brother of Alexander; but there is no testimony to
substantiate the tradition, unless it be found in Ptolemy's likeness to
Philip in intrigue and governing power.
During the stormy years following the death of Alexander, Ptolemy, alone
of the generals, seems to have preserved his mental balance; and
instead of entering into the struggles of his rivals for world-empire,
he preferred to acquire as his secure dominion the province of Egypt, so
easily defensible, and separated from the contestable ground of opposing
nations.
The policy of the first Ptolemy moulded the history of Egypt and the
destinies of Hellenism. He surrounded himself with Greeks, so that they
became the dominant faction in the government and determined the tone of
court society. He gave religious freedom and large liberty in other
respects to the Egyptians, so that they became supporters of the
dynasty. By the foundation of the Museum, or University, of Alexandria,
he made his capital the literary centre of the new era and attracted to
his court learned men from all parts of the world. Greek became the
language of the court, and Greek culture and manners there prevailed.
Mahaffy graphically describes the brilliant court life of Alexandria
under Soter and his successors:
"So it came to pass that Ptolemy Soter gathered into his capital every
kind of splendor.... He established the most brilliant palace and court,
with festivals which were the wonder of the world. He gathered all that
he could command of learning and literary fame, and the city was
adequate to the largeness and splendor of its external appearance. We
have it described in later times as astonishing the beholder not only
with its vastness, but also with the splendor of its colonnades, which
lined the streets for miles and kept the ways cool for passengers; with
the din and bustle of the thoroughfares, of which the principal were
horse and carriage ways, contrary to the usual Greek practice; with the
number and richness of its public buildings, and with the holiday and
happy airs of its vast population, who rested not day and night, but
had their streets so well lighted that Achilles Tatius says the sun did
not set, but was distributed to illumine the gay night. The palace and
other royal buildings and parks were walled off like the palace at
Pekin, and had their own port and seashore, but all the rest of the town
had water near it and ship traffic in all directions. Every costume and
language must have been met in its streets and quays. It had its
fashionable suburbs too, and its bathing resorts to the east, Canopus,
Eleusis, and Nicopolis; to the west, its Necropolis. But of all this
splendor no eye-witness has left us in detail what we are reduced to
infer by conjecture."
The dynasty of the Ptolemies, so ably founded by Ptolemy Soter and
ending with the reign of the great Cleopatra, presents a series of
monarchs renowned for their culture, their luxury, their lasciviousness,
and their cruelty; and by the side of the kings may be found a series of
queens unrivalled in history for their cleverness, their wickedness, or
their beauty. Woman's place in this dynasty was a most influential one,
and she possessed all the freedom and power that could well fall to her
lot; she knew nothing whatever of the restrictions common in old Greek
life or in the life of the Orient. This was no doubt partly due to the
fact that the Macedonian spirit prevailed, partly that the status of
woman among the Egyptians themselves had its influence on the
conquerors. Papyri found in recent years demonstrate the legal
independence and freedom of women among the ancient Egyptians. A married
woman could make contracts and hold property in her own name and perform
all legal acts, without reference to her husband. Monogamy was the rule,
though in addition to the "dear wife" or "the lady of the house" there
were frequently subordinate wives. So supreme was the position of woman
that there were instances in which the husband settled all his property
on his wife, upon condition that she support him for the rest of his
days and give him a decent burial. There was such a contrast between the
Egyptian and the old Greek conception of woman that the Greek ofttimes
jeered at the Egyptian submission to feminine domination. In Alexandria
under the Ptolemies, accordingly, owing to Macedonian respect for woman
and the old Egyptian idea of feminine worth and capacity, the gentler
sex experienced conditions altogether different from those in ancient
Athens and enjoyed a freedom similar to that of modern times.
Ptolemy Soter, like his successors, was very fond of women, and
recognized fully the influence to be gained by political marriage.
Alexander, at the famous wedding feast, married his general to the
daughter of one of the noblest of the Persians, but we hear nothing
further of this union. His first political marriage was with Eurydice,
daughter of Antipater, the old regent, and some years later he married
Berenice, the grandniece of Antipater. He did not divorce Eurydice, but
openly adopted the practice of polygamy, which was sanctioned in both
Macedon and Egypt. The two wives seem to have lived together amicably,
but Berenice was the favorite. She was a woman of amiable but strong
character, and she maintained unbroken ascendency over her husband. So
skilful was her diplomacy that her son Magas, the fruit of a former
marriage, was appointed King of Cyrene, while her son Ptolemy was made
her husband's successor on the throne of Egypt, to the exclusion of
Eurydice's much older son, Ceraunus.
Ptolemy Philadelphus, son of Berenice, succeeded to the throne of Egypt
in B.C. 285, and for forty years was the most famous monarch in the
world. His court was renowned for its splendor and magnificence, and
may be aptly compared to the courts of Haroun al Raschid and Lorenzo de'
Medici, and here too woman played her part. Philadelphus's first wife
was Arsinoe I., daughter of Lysimachus, King of Thrace, who bore him
several children. It is not known definitely why Philadelphus divorced
her, but there is a story that she was detected plotting against his
life, which resulted in her divorce and banishment. The second wife was
likewise named Arsinoe, Ptolemy's own full sister. This match proved to
be a very happy one. Arsinoe had had an eventful career. Daughter of
Ptolemy and Berenice, she first became the wife of King Lysimachus of
Thrace, and at his untimely death she married Ptolemy Ceraunus, her
half-brother, the banished son of Eurydice. She and her husband caused
the murder of Agathocles, the rightful heir of Lysimachus, and Ceraunus
later murdered the children of Arsinoe by Lysimachus. After such an
experience in crime and misfortune, at the death of her second husband
she retired for a season,--a widow of middle age,--and then emerged to
become the consort of her brother Philadelphus. Arsinoe herself first
assumed the title Philadelphus, "loving her brother," by which the king
came to be known in later generations. As she was childless and was not
likely to have any heirs of her own, Arsinoe adopted her predecessor's
children; and being her husband's sister, she did not disturb him in the
many amours which consumed so large a part of his time.
Arsinoe was a woman of brilliant intellectual gifts, and the union
between her and Philadelphus seems to have been of the intellectual and
spiritual kind. She proved to be an able helper in all the affairs of
government; she assisted him in the financial administration and
particularly in foreign affairs; she encouraged him in his endeavor to
make Alexandria the centre of letters and art, and her name is coupled
with his in all the great events of this period. The two were deified,
and statues were erected to them as Gods Adelphi. The marriage between
brother and sister was quite in accord with Egyptian notions, and in the
public records, for ages past, the queen had been called _sister_ of the
king, whether she was really so or not. The marriage was compared by
court poets with that of Zeus and Hera; and the couple were frequently
lauded by them for their many achievements and the splendor of their
court.
The reign of Philadelphus and Arsinoe was the brilliant epoch of
Alexandrian literature, and we may well pause at this point to see what
glimpses the poets of Alexandria give us into the feminine life of the
day. Theocritus, the famous pastoral poet, lays the scene of his
fifteenth idyl in Alexandria, and presents one of the most charming bits
of feminine life that literature affords us. The feast of Adonis,
described in an earlier chapter, was about to be celebrated at the
palace of King Ptolemy, and two ladies of Alexandria had agreed to go
together to see the image of Adonis which Queen Arsinoe "had decorated
with great magnificence, and to hear a celebrated prima donna sing the
Adonis song." The household details, the toilettes, the complaints of
the two cronies about their husbands, the admiration of a new dress and
its cost, the rough treatment of an unknown servant; then the crowd in
the streets, the terrors of the passing cavalry, the squeeze at the
entrance, the saucy rejoinder to a stranger who protests against their
incessant jabber--these and many other comic and picturesque details
have made this poem the best known among the so-called _Idyls_, and
indicate that the everyday life of woman in Ptolemaic Alexandria was
much the same as her life to-day. Gorgo, one of the ladies, goes by
appointment to the house of her friend Praxinoe, where the dialogue
begins:
* * * * *
GORGO.--Is Praxinoe at home?
PRAXINOE.--Dear Gorgo, how long it is since you have been here! She _is_
at home. The wonder is that you have got here at last! Eunoe, see that
she has a chair. Throw a cushion on it, too.
GORGO.--It does most charmingly as it is.
PRAXINOE.--Do sit down.
GORGO.--Oh, what a thing spirit is! I have scarcely got to you alive,
Praxinoe! What a huge crowd, what hosts of four-in-hands! Everywhere
cavalry boots, everywhere men in uniform! And the road is endless; yes,
you really live _too_ far away!
PRAXINOE.--It is all the fault of that madman of mine. Here he came to
the ends of the earth and took--a hole, not a house, and all that we
might not be neighbors. The jealous wretch, always the same, ever for
spite!
GORGO.--Don't talk of your husband Dinon like that, my dear girl, before
the little boy--look how he is staring at you! Never mind, Zopyrion,
sweet child, she is not speaking about papa.
PRAXINOE.--Our Lady! the child takes notice,
GORGO.--Nice papa!
PRAXINOE.--That papa of his the other day--we call every day "the other
day"--went to get soap and rouge at the shop, and back he came to me
with salt--the great big endless fellow!
GORGO.--Mine has the same trick, too, a perfect
spend-thrift--Diocleides! Yesterday he got what he meant for five
fleeces, and paid seven shillings apiece for--what do you
suppose?--dogskins, shreds of old leather wallets, mere trash--trouble
on trouble! But come, take your cloak and shawl. Let us be off to the
palace of rich Ptolemy, the king, to see the _Adonis_; I hear the queen
has provided something splendid!
PRAXINOE.--Fine folks do everything finely.
GORGO.--What a tale you will have to tell about the things you have
seen, to anyone who has not seen them! It seems nearly time to go.
PRAXINOE.--Idlers have always holiday. Eunoe, bring the water and put it
down in the middle of the room, lazy creature that you are. Cats like
always to sleep soft! Come, bustle, bring the water; quicker! I want
water first, and how she carries it! give it me, all the same; don't
pour out so much, you extravagant thing! Stupid girl! Why are you
wetting my dress? There, stop, I have washed my hands, as heaven would
have it. Where is the key of the big chest? Bring it here.
GORGO.--Praxinoe, that full bodice becomes you wonderfully. Tell me, how
much did the stuff cost you just off the loom?
PRAXINOE.--Don't speak of it, Gotgo! More than eight pounds in good
silver money,--and the work on it! I nearly slaved my soul out over it!
GORGO.--Well, it is _most_ successful; all you could wish.
PRAXINOE,--Thanks for the pretty speech! Bring my shawl, and set my hat
on my head, the fashionable way. No, child, I don't mean to take you.
Boo! Bogies! There's a horse that bites! Cry as much as you please, but
I cannot have you lamed. Let us be moving. Phrygia, take the child and
keep him amused, call in the dog, and shut the street door.
(_They go into the street_.)
Ye gods, what a crowd! How on earth are we ever to get through this
coil? They are like ants that no one can measure or number. Many a good
deed have you done, Ptolemy; since your father joined the Immortals,
there's never a malefactor to spoil the passer-by, creeping on him in
Egyptian fashion--oh! the tricks those perfect rascals used to play.
Birds of a feather, ill jesters, scoundrels all! Dear Gorgo, what will
become of us? Here come the king's war horses! My dear man, don't
trample on me. Look, the bay's rearing; see, what temper! Eunoe, you
foolhardy girl, will you never keep out of the way? The beast will kill
the man that's leading him. What a good thing it is for me that my brat
stays safe at home!
GORGO.--Courage, Praxinoe. We are safe behind them now, and they have
gone to their station.
PRAXINOE.--There! I begin to be myself again. Ever since I was a child,
I have feared nothing so much as horses and the chilly snake. Come
along, the huge mob is overflowing us.
GORGO (_to an old woman_).--Are you from the Court, mother?
OLD WOMAN.--I am, my child.
PRAXINOE.--Is it easy to get there?
OLD WOMAN.--The Achaeans got into Troy by trying, my prettiest of ladies.
Trying will do everything in the long run.
GORGO.--The old wife has spoken her oracles, and off she goes.
PRAXINOE.--Women know everything; yes, and how Zeus married Hera!
GORGO.--See, Praxinoe, what a crowd there is about the doors!
PRAXINOE.--Monstrous, Gorgo! Give me your hand; and you, Eunoe, catch
hold of Eutychis; never lose hold of her, for fear lest you get lost.
Let us all go in together; Eunoe, clutch tight to me. Oh, how tiresome,
Gorgo, my muslin veil is torn in two already! For heaven's sake, sir,
if you ever wish to be fortunate, take care of my shawl!
STRANGER.--I can hardly help myself, but, for all that, I will be as
careful as I can.
PRAXINOE.--How close-packed the mob is, they hustle like a herd of
swine!
STRANGER.--Courage, lady; all is well with us now.
PRAXINOE.--Both this year and forever may all be well with you, my dear
sir, for your care of us. A good, kind man! We're letting Eunoe get
squeezed--come, wretched girl, push your way through. That is the way.
We are all on the right side of the door, quoth the bridegroom, when he
had shut himself in with his bride.
GORGO.--Do come here, Praxinoe. Look first at these embroideries. How
light and how lovely! You will call them the garments of the gods.
PRAXINOE.--Lady Athena! what spinning women wrought them, what painters
designed those drawings, so true they are? How naturally they stand and
move, like living creatures, not patterns woven! What a clever thing is
man! Ah, and himself--Adonis--how beautiful to behold he lies on his
silver couch, with the first down on his cheeks, the thrice-beloved
Adonis,--Adonis beloved even among the dead!
A STRANGER.--You weariful women, do cease your endless cooing talk! They
bore one to death with their eternal broad vowels!
GORGO.--Indeed! And where may this person come from? What is it to you
if we _are_ chatterboxes! Give orders to your own servants, sir. Do you
pretend to command ladies of Syracuse? If you must know, we are
Corinthians by descent, like Bellerophon himself, and we speak
Peloponnesian. Dorian women may lawfully speak Doric, I presume?
PRAXINOE.--Lady Persephone!--never may we have more than one master! I
am not afraid of _your_ putting me on short commons.
GORGO.--Hush, hush, Praxinoe! the Argive woman's daughter, the great
singer, is beginning the _Adonis_; she that won the prize last year for
dirge singing. I am sure she will give us something lovely; see, she is
preluding with her airs and graces.
* * * * *
THE PSALM OF ADONIS
O Queen that lovest Golgi, and Idalium, and the steep of Eryx, O
Aphrodite, that playest with gold, Io, from the stream eternal of
Acheron they have brought back to thee Adonis--even in the twelfth month
they have brought him, the dainty-footed Hours. Tardiest of the
Immortals are the beloved Hours, but dear and desired they come, for
always, to all mortals, they bring some gift with them. O Cypris,
daughter of Dione, from mortal to immortal, so men tell, thou hast
changed Berenice, dropping softly in the woman's breast the stuff of
immortality.
Therefore, for thy delight, O thou of many names and many temples, doth
the daughter of Berenice, even Arsinoe, lovely as Helen, cherish Adonis
with all things beautiful.
Before him lie all ripe fruits that the tall trees' branches bear, and
the delicate gardens, arrayed in baskets of silver, and the golden
vessels are full of incense of Syria. And all the dainty cakes that
women fashion in the kneading tray, mingling blossoms manifold with the
white wheaten flour, all that is wrought of honey sweet, and in soft
olive oil, all cakes fashioned in the semblance of things that fly, and
of things that creep, Io, here they are set before him.
Here are built for him shadowy bowers of green, all laden with tender
anise, and children flit overhead--the little Loves--as the young
nightingales perched upon the trees fly forth and try their wings from
bough to bough.
O the ebony, O the gold, O the twin eagles of white ivory that carry to
Zeus, the son of Cronos, his darling, his cupbearer! O the purple
coverlet strewn above, more soft than sleep! So Miletus will say, and
whoso feeds sheep in Samos.
Another bed is strewn for beautiful Adonis, one bed Cypris keeps, and
one the rosy-armed Adonis. A bridegroom of eighteen or nineteen years is
he, his kisses are not rough, the golden down being yet upon his lips!
And now, good-night to Cypris, in the arms of her lover! But Io, in the
morning we will all of us gather with the dew, and carry him forth among
the waves that break upon the beach, and with locks unloosed, and ungirt
raiment falling to the ankles, and bosom bare, will we begin our shrill,
sweet song.
Thou only, dear Adonis, so men tell, thou only of the demigods, dost
visit both this world and the stream of Acheron. For Agamemnon had no
such lot, nor Aias, that mighty, lord of the terrible anger, nor Hector,
the eldest born of the twenty sons of Hecuba, nor Patroclus, nor
Pyrrhus, that returned out of Troy land, nor the heroes of yet more
ancient days, the Lapithae and Deucalion's sons, nor the sons of Pelops,
and the chiefs of Pelasgian Argos. Be gracious now, dear Adonis, and
propitious even in the coming year. Dear to us has thine advent been,
Adonis, and dear shall it be when thou comest again.
GORGO.--Praxinoe, the woman is cleverer than we fancied! Happy woman to
know so much, thrice happy to have so sweet a voice! Well, all the same,
it is time to be making for home. Diocleides has not had his dinner,
and the man is all vinegar--don't venture near him when he is kept
waiting for dinner.--Farewell, beloved Adonis, may you find us glad at
your next coming!
This idyl of Theocritus suggests the freedom of movement and the
ordinary pursuits of the Alexandrian lady in the days of Arsinoe. A lost
work of Callimachus, the AEtia, has also an importance in our quest,
since it contained one of the earliest love stories in literature,
showing the ideals of feminine character which were popular at that
time. As the literary original of that sort of tale which makes love and
marriage the beginning and end of the plot, and which emphasizes the
constancy and purity of female love, this story, which was the model for
the Greek novel of later generations, is evidence that in an age
infamous for the wickedness of those in high places the people yet
delighted in stories of domestic affection and innocence. The tale of
Callimachus, according to Mahaffy, ran in this wise:
"There were once upon a time two young people of marvellous beauty,
called Acontius and Cydippe. All previous attempts on the part of any
youth or maiden to gain their affections had been fruitless; and the one
went about, a modern Achilles in manly splendor; the other, with the
roses and lilies of her cheeks, added a fourth to the number of the
Graces. But the god Eros,--now already the winged urchin of the
Anacreontics,--angry at this contumacy, determined to assert his power.
They met at a feast of Delos, she from Athens, he from Ceos.... Seized
with violent love at first sight, the youth inscribes on a quince, which
was a fruit used at this particular feast, 'I swear by Artemis that
Acontius shall be my husband,' and this he throws at the girl's feet.
Her nurse picks it up and reads the words to the girl, who blushed 'in
plots of roses' at the oath which she had never taken. But she too is
seized with an absorbing passion, and the situation is complicated by
the ignorance or hardness of heart of her parents, who had determined to
marry her to another man. Her grief prostrates her with sore sickness,
and the marriage is postponed. Meanwhile, Acontius flees the city and
his parents, and wanders disconsolate through the woods, telling to
trees and streams his love, writing 'Cydippe' upon every bark, and
filling all the groves with his sighs. Thrice the parents of the maiden
prepared the wedding, and thrice her illness rendered their preparation
vain. At last the father determined to consult the oracle at Delphi,
which revealed to him the facts and ordered him no longer to thwart the
lovers. Acontius arrives at Athens. The young couple are married, and
the tale ends with an explicit description of their happiness."
Though there were in Alexandrian literature shocking stories of
unnatural passion, as found later in Ovid, among Roman poets, yet the
type of the Acontius and Cydippe tale fascinated the age and held its
ground, and its moral elevation in contrast to the prevailing corruption
shows how the men and women of the times prized "the original purity of
the maiden, and the importance of its preservation until the happy
conclusion of marriage."