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Title: Sculptured tombs of Hellas
Author: Gardner, Percy
Language: English
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HELLAS ***
SCULPTURED TOMBS OF HELLAS
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
PLATE I
_Frontispiece_
]
SCULPTURED TOMBS
OF HELLAS
BY
PERCY GARDNER, LITT.D.
LINCOLN AND MERTON PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL ARCHAEOLOGY AND ART
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
WITH THIRTY PLATES, AND EIGHTY-SEVEN ENGRAVINGS IN THE TEXT
[Illustration]
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
1896
[_All rights reserved_]
OXFORD: HORACE HART
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
Few griefs and many joys my life has held,
Out-lengthened to the utmost bounds of eld.
My name is Symmachus, in Chios born,
Which rich with grapes the branching vines adorn;
But when I died, my bones were hidden here,
In Attic land, to gods and men most dear.
_Athenian Epitaph._
PREFACE
The monuments erected to the dead belong in every country, like funeral
customs generally, to a deeper stratum of the national consciousness
than do openly expressed beliefs. This is, in fact, a phase of the
general law that in the history of religion cultus is more venerable and
more conservative than doctrine. And as, further, the beliefs which find
an expression in literature are those of the most enlightened and the
least conservative spirits, it is misleading if one attempts to learn
from the higher literature of a people how the masses really think and
feel in regard to death and the life which lies beyond death.
These considerations are certainly applicable in the case of Greece. The
two great literatures of Greece, the Epic and the Attic, belong each to
a class, to an aristocracy whether of birth or of talent, and stand high
above the beliefs of the common people. If we wish to ascertain what the
ordinary Greek citizen, _l’homme sensuel moyen_, thought and felt in the
presence of death, whether his own or that of friends, we must
supplement the study of the poets, the orators, and the philosophers by
an investigation of ritual, of burial customs, and of the lines of tombs
which stretched from the gates of many Greek cities on both sides of the
main roads.
The purpose of the present book may best be accomplished if we proceed
to consider in succession, first the burial customs of the Greeks, next
the ideas as to the future life which prevailed among them, and finally
the monuments of the dead.
It is the last-mentioned memorials which are the principal concern of
this book. For a long while English-speaking scholars, and even
tourists, have felt a special interest in the sepulchral monuments which
form so marked a feature of the great museum at Athens, and in the
Dipylon cemetery, part of which still survives. I have tried to set
forth, for scholars and for lovers of art, a concise account of these
monuments, their periods and classes, their inscriptions and their
reliefs. And as an introduction and supplement to an account of the
tombs of Athens, I have added a still slighter account of the tombs of
the pre-historic age in Greece, of the monuments of Asia Minor, of the
tombs of Sparta, Boeotia, and other districts, and of the magnificent
Greek sarcophagi recently discovered at Sidon.
It would occupy much space if I tried here to detail all my obligations
to previous scholars. The whole success of this work must depend on its
due illustration; and though the nucleus of my illustrations consists of
photographs taken for me during a visit to Athens, I have been obliged
also to borrow from a variety of learned and valuable works. In every
case in which I asked permission to copy a published engraving that
permission was courteously granted. If by mischance I have in any case
copied without permission, I trust that I may be pardoned. References to
the sources of engravings will be found at the foot of my pages.
Special thanks are due to Dr. Conze and the German Archaeological
Institute for allowing me to use the plates of their magnificent work,
_Die Attischen Grabreliefs_, which furnishes representations by
photography or drawing of almost all important Attic tombs. Where the
photographs of this work were better than my own, I have in some cases
used them in preference.
To M. Cavvadias and the Greek Government I am indebted for permission to
photograph freely in the Athenian Museums; and to the Trustees of the
British Museum for leave to reproduce two interesting monuments (Figs.
28 & 35) which are hitherto unpublished.
When I have had occasion to quote from Homer and the poets of the
_Anthology_, I have usually attempted a rendering in English verse. For
Greek elegiacs I have used rhymed heroic verse, and for Greek hexameters
English ballad metre. I have also to thank my colleague, Dr. James
Williams, of Lincoln College, for allowing me to use several of his
excellent versions of poems of the _Anthology_.
After careful consideration, I have decided that in a work of this
kind, which does not attempt completeness, but is methodical in
arrangement, the best form of Index is a detailed table of contents and
list of engravings. By the aid of these, anything included in the book
can be very readily found.
PERCY GARDNER.
OXFORD, _August, 1896_.
PS. Most of the abbreviations used in the notes will explain themselves;
but I should explain the following:--
_C. A. G._ (‘Corpus of Attic Grave-reliefs’) is _Die Attischen
Grabreliefs_, ed. A. Conze.
Kaibel, is G. Kaibel, _Epigrammata Graeca ex Lapidibus conlecta_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS AND INDEX
CHAPTER I.
BURIAL CUSTOMS IN GREECE.
Importance attached to burial, 1. The Prothesis, 2; illustrated by
vases, 3. Presence of ghosts, 4. The Ecphora, on archaic vases, 5;
on later monuments, 6. Sleep and Death, 7. Custom of burning, 9.
Funeral feast and speeches, 11.
CHAPTER II.
THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD.
Primitive beliefs as to needs of dead, 12. Liberality to the dead in
archaic times, 12. Terra-cotta offerings, 13. Sacrifices at tombs, 14.
Evidence of excavations, 16. Classes of heroes, 17. Evidence of
sepulchral lekythi, 18. Presence of the dead in representations, 19.
CHAPTER III.
BELIEFS AS TO THE FUTURE LIFE.
Question what became of the dead, 23. Homeric beliefs; Hades, 25;
visit to Hades of Odysseus, 26; Islands of the Blessed, 27. Influence
of Orphism, 28. Paintings of Polygnotus at Delphi, 30; Charon, 31;
Theseus and Peirithous, 32; Orpheus, 33; the Uninitiated, 34; Eurynomus,
35. Painting on vase of Canusium, 36; Orpheus, 37; Herakles
and Cerberus, 37; Megara, 38; Initiated, 38. Comparison of Greek and
Christian Hades, 39. Development of the Eumenides, 40. Conflict
between ritual and ethics, 42. Hades in the Tragedians, 43. Localization
of ghosts, 44.
CHAPTER IV.
THE PRE-HISTORIC AGE OF GREECE.
So-called treasuries of early Greece, 46; at Mycenae, 47; really
tombs, 51; various forms, 51. Rock-graves at Mycenae, 52; their tombstones,
54; subjects and style of art, 57.
CHAPTER V.
ASIA MINOR: EARLY.
Early Ionian civilization not yet excavated, 59. Tomb of Tantalus
on Sipylus, 60. Geometric tombs of Phrygia, 62; Lion-tombs, 64;
their chronology, 66; relation to Mycenae, 67. Archaic tombs of Lycia,
67; pre-Ionian art, 68; the Harpy Monument, 69; Sirens, 73; other
Lycian tombs, 74.
CHAPTER VI.
SPARTA.
Relief of Chrysapha, 76; its meaning, 77; other similar tombs, 78.
Cultus of ancestors at Sparta, 80. Details of reliefs; honour paid to
women, 81; food of the dead, 82; horse and dog, 83.
CHAPTER VII.
HEROIZING RELIEFS.
Distinction of tombs from commemorative tablets, 87. Lines of
descent from Spartan reliefs, 88. Athenian banqueting reliefs, 88.
Customs of sitting and reclining, 89. Tegean relief, 90. Presence of
votaries, 91. Asklepian tablets, 92. Tablets to heroes and to ancestors,
93. The hero as horseman, 94; accompanied by lady, 98. Votive tablets
from Tarentum, 100. The hero as foot-soldier, 102; unarmed, 103.
CHAPTER VIII.
ATHENS: PERIODS AND FORMS OF MONUMENTS.
Graves of Dipylon style at Athens, 105. Periods of Athenian
monuments, 106. First period, the mound and stele, 108; the table, 109;
the pillar, 110. Early Athenian tombs usually of the young, 111. Second
period; forms of tombs, 112; marble vases, 113. Tombs usually of
families, 116. The use of painting and metal on marble, 116. Determination
of dates of tombs, 117. Third period, 118. Preservation of
part of cemetery at Athens, 118. Architectural decoration of tombs; the
acanthus, 119; the sphinx, 121; the siren, 126; goats butting, 128; the
lion, 130; the bull, 131.
CHAPTER IX.
ATHENS AND GREECE. PORTRAITS.
Portraits of the dead originate in Ionia, 133. Portraits at Athens, 134;
their ideal character, 134. Portrait statues, 135; on horseback or on foot,
136; female figures, 137. The dead as Hermes, 138. Statues of mourning
women, 139. Portraits on stelae, first period, 140; Aristion, Lyseas, 141;
stelae of youths, 143. Second period, stelae of citizens, 145; stelae of
warriors, 146; Dexileos, 147; young athletes, 149; hunters, 152; students,
153; shipwrecked men, 154; children, 154; matrons, 157; girls, 158;
priestesses, 160.
CHAPTER X.
FAMILY GROUPS.
Pathos and charm of Attic groups, 162. Predominance of women, 163.
Women and children in later Greece, 163. Stelae with father and
children, 164; mother and children, 166. Family groups, 167. Series of
groups representing leave-taking, 168; series representing self-adornment,
171. Stele of Phaenarete, 173. Stele of Ameinocleia, 176. Dressing for
a journey or offerings to the dead? 176. Domestic interiors or scenes
at the tomb? 178. Several stone lekythi on one slab, 178. Occasional
appearance of Hermes, 180.
CHAPTER XI.
MEANING AND STYLE OF THE RELIEFS.
Do the Attic reliefs refer to past or future life? 182. Line of
connexion with Spartan stelae, 182; the wine-cup, the pomegranate,
the cock, 183; the dove, the horse, 184; the dog, 185. Reliefs which
clearly refer to past life, 185. The δεξίωσις, 186. We must distinguish
between origin and meaning of reliefs, 187. Oblong reliefs refer to
the future, 188; in them Herakles and Dionysus sometimes present,
189. Style of archaic reliefs, 190; bear name of sculptor, 191. Lower
level of style in fifth-century reliefs, 191. Fourth-century reliefs
connected with the second Attic school of sculpture, 193.
CHAPTER XII.
INSCRIPTIONS.
Simplicity of inscriptions on early stelae, 195. Explicatory character
of inscriptions, 196. Occurrence of χαῖρε, 197. Inscription of Dexileos,
197. Longer inscriptions after the fourth century, 197. Specimens of
public epitaphs over warriors, 198; over others, 201. Specimens of later
inscriptions, 203; sentiments as to life, 204; statements as to the future
life, 204. Orphism in epitaphs, 206. Threats to violators, 207. Epitaphs
of the _Palatine Anthology_, 208.
CHAPTER XIII.
LATER MONUMENTS OF ASIA MINOR.
Splendour of Asiatic Greek tombs, 214. The Lycian Nereid Monument,
215; its sculptures, 216; its occasion, 219; its date, 220. Relation to
Ionian school of historical painting, 221. The heroon of Gyeulbashi, 221;
subjects of sculpture, 223; relation to painters, 224. The Lion-tomb of
Cnidus, 225. Greek graves in the Crimea, 226.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MAUSOLEUM.
Interesting problem of reconstruction, 228. Plans of Pullan and
Oldfield, 230. Testimony of ancient writers, Hyginus, Martial, 232;
Pliny, 233. Account of excavation by Guichard, 236. Analogy of other
buildings, 239. The statues of Mausolus and Artemisia, where placed,
240. Other sculptural remains, 241.
CHAPTER XV.
GREEK SARCOPHAGI.
Discovery of sarcophagi at Sidon, 243. Archaic sarcophagi of
Clazomenae, 243. Sarcophagus of the Satrap at Sidon, 245; its connexion
with history, 246; and with Ionian art, 247. The Lycian
sarcophagus, 248; ideal character, 248. The sarcophagus of the Mourning
Women, 249; variety in expression of grief, 251; likeness to temple, 251;
perhaps belongs to King Strato, 252. The Alexander sarcophagus, 252;
dress of Greeks and Persians, 253; subjects of pediments, 253; the lion-hunt,
255; the battle, 256; perhaps belongs to Abdalonymus, 258; of
uncertain artistic school, 258. The Amazon sarcophagus of Vienna, 258.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
WITH THEIR SOURCES
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
FIG. 1. LYING IN STATE. Benndorf, _Griech. u. Sicil. Vasenb._, pl. i. 3
2. “ “ “ pl. xxxiii. 4
3. FUNERAL PROCESSION. Rayet, _Monum. de l’Art ant._,
pl. lxxv. 6
4. ARRIVAL AT THE TOMB. “ “ pl. lxxv. 6
5. DEPOSITION AT THE TOMB. Dumont, _Céram. de la Grèce
propre_, pl. xxvii. 9
6. PYRE OF PATROCLUS. _Mon. dell’ Inst._ IX, xxxii. 10
CHAPTER II.
7. CHILD’S COFFIN. Stackelberg, _Gräber der Hellenen_, pl. viii. 14
8. OFFERINGS AT A TOMB. _Ephemeris Archaiol._ 1886, pl. iv. 18
9. SPIRIT SEATED ON STELE. Pottier, _Lécythes blancs_, pl. iv. 20
10. TOILET SCENE, SEPULCHRAL. Furtwängler, _Coll. Sabouroff_,
pl. lx. 21
11. GIFTS AT TOMB. _Brit. Mus. Cat. Vases_, IV, pl. iv. 22
CHAPTER III.
12. THE BOAT OF CHARON. _Antike Denkmäler_, I, pl. xxiii. 31
13. THE GREEK UNDERWORLD. _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, Ser. E,
pl. i. 36
CHAPTER IV.
14. SECTIONAL PLAN OF THE SO-CALLED TREASURY OF ATREUS.
Schuchhardt, _Schliemann’s Ausgrabungen_, p. 176 47
15. RESTORATION OF INTERIOR OF TREASURY. Perrot et
Chipiez, _La Grèce Primitive_, p. 638 48
16. PLAN AND FAÇADE OF TREASURY. Perrot et Chipiez, _La
Grèce Primitive_, pl. vi. 49
17. CEILING OF TREASURY, ORCHOMENUS. _Journ. Hell.
Stud._ II, pl. xiii. 50
18. TOMBSTONE, MYCENAE. Schliemann, _Mycenae_, p. 81 54
19. ” ” ” ” p. 86 55
20. ” ” Perrot et Chipiez, _op. cit._, p. 770 56
CHAPTER V.
21. TUMULUS ON SIPYLUS. Texier, _Description de l’Asie M._
pl. cxxx. 61
22. SECTION OF CHAMBER. Weber, _Le Sipyle_, pl. i. 61
23. TOMB OF MIDAS. Perrot et Chipiez, _Phrygie_, p. 83 62
24. GEOMETRICAL FAÇADE OF TOMB. ” ” p. 103 63
25. TOMB FLANKED BY LIONS. ” ” p. 111 64
26. HEAD OF LION. _Journ. Hell. Stud._ pl. xviii. 65
27. NORTH AND WEST SIDES OF HARPY TOMB. E. A. Gardner,
_Handbook of Greek Sculpture_, I, p. 110 71
28. GABLE OF LYCIAN TOMB. Photograph 74
CHAPTER VI.
PL. ii. SPARTAN STELE. Photograph 76
FIG. 29. HADES AND PERSEPHONE. _Ann. dell’ Inst._ XIX, pl. F 79
30. SEATED HERO. _Journ. Hell. Stud._ V, p. 123 83
31. STELE, MAN FEEDING SNAKE. Photograph 85
CHAPTER VII.
PL. iii. SEPULCHRAL BANQUET. Photograph 88
FIG. 32. ASSUR-BANI-PAL AND QUEEN. Perrot et Chipiez, _Chaldée
et Assyrie_, p. 107 89
33. STELE FROM TEGEA. Photograph 90
34. COIN OF BIZYA. _Br. Mus. Cat. Coins, Thrace_, p. 90 92
35. HORSEMAN RELIEF (British Museum). Photograph 96
36. HORSEMAN RELIEF (Berlin). Furtwängler, _Coll. Sabouroff_,
pl. xxix. 97
37. VOTIVE TABLET, TARENTUM. _Mon. dell’ Inst._ XI, pl. lv. 101
38. HERO ON FOOT. _Monum. Grecs de l’Assoc. d’Études
Grecques_, pl. i. 102
39. HERO SEATED. Roscher, _Lexikon_, I, p. 2571 103
CHAPTER VIII.
FIG. 40. ACHILLES AT TOMB OF PATROCLUS. Gerhard, _Auserlesene
Vasenbilder_, pl. cxcix. 108
PL. iv. MARRIAGE-VASE. _Athen. Mittheil._ 1887, pl. ix. 114
v. MARRIAGE-VASE AND LEKYTHI. Photograph 115
i. VIEW IN CEMETERY OF CERAMEICUS. ” 118
FIG. 41. HEAD OF ASSYRIAN STELE. Perrot et Chipiez, _Chaldée et
Assyrie_, p. 270 120
42. HEAD OF GREEK STELE. Brückner, _Ornament u. Formen
der Att. Grabstelen_, pl. i. 120
43. ANTHEMION OF STELE. Photograph 121
43A. ” ” ” 122
43B. ” ” ” 123
44. SPHINX OF SPATA. ” 123
45. TERRA-COTTA: SPHINX AND YOUTH. Stackelberg, _Gräber
der Hellenen_, pl. lvi. 124
46. STELE OF LAMPTRAE, RESTORED. _Athen. Mittheil._ XII,
p. 105 125
47. SIREN FROM TOMB. Photograph 127
48. HEAD OF STELE. ” 128
49. ” ” ” 129
50. STELE OF LEON. ” 130
CHAPTER IX.
51. PORTRAIT FROM TOMB, THERA. _Athen. Mittheil._ IV,
pl. vi. 135
52. HORSEMAN FROM TOMB. ” ” pl. iii. 137
PL. vi. SEATED LADY. Photograph 137
vii. HERMES OF ANDROS. ” 138
viii. MOURNING SLAVE. Furtwängler, _Coll. Sabouroff_, pl. xv. 139
ix. STELE OF ARISTION. Photograph 140
” STELE OF ALXENOR. ” 141
FIG. 53. SEATED HERO. Michaelis, _Anc. Marbles in Gr. Brit._
p. 385 142
54. HEAD OF YOUTH HOLDING DISCUS. _C. A. G._ pl. iv. 143
55. DERMYS AND CITYLUS. _Athen. Mittheil._ III, pl. xiv. 144
PL. x. TYNNIAS SEATED. Photograph 145
xi. STELE OF ARISTONAUTES. Photograph 146
xii. STELE OF DEXILEOS. ” 147
FIG. 56. WARRIOR OF TEGEA. _Bull. de Corresp. hellénique_, IV,
pl. vii. 148
PL. xiii. YOUTH WITH DOG. Photograph 149
FIG. 57. ATHLETE BALANCING STONE. Photograph 150
58. YOUNG HORSEMAN. ” 151
PL. xiv. STELE FROM AEGINA. ” 151
xv. RELIEF FROM ILISSUS. ” 152
FIG. 59. STELE OF DEMOCLEIDES. ” 153
60. HEAD OF OLD MAN. ” 155
61. BOY, FROM STELE. ” 156
PL. xvi. SEATED LADY. _C. A. G._ pl. xv. 156
FIG. 62. PORTRAIT OF MYNNO. _C. A. G._ pl. xvii. 157
PL. xvii. STELE OF AMPHOTTO. Photograph 158
FIG. 63. GIRL WITH DOLL. _Journ. Hell. Stud._ VI, pl. B. 159
64. PRIESTESS OF ISIS. Photograph 159
CHAPTER X.
PL. xviii. EUEMPOLUS AND CHILDREN. Photograph 164
FIG. 65. XANTHIPPUS AND CHILDREN. _Museum Marbles_, X, pl. iii. 165
PL. xix. MOTHER AND FAMILY. Photograph 166
xx. CHAERESTRATA AND LYSANDER. Photograph 167
xxi. MICA AND DION. Photograph 167
xxii. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. Photograph 168
xxiii. DAMASISTRATA. Photograph 169
xxiv. MOTHER AND NURSE. ” 169
FIG. 66. PLANGON FAINTING. _C. A. G._ p. 70 170
PL. xxv. HEGESO. Photograph 172
xxvi. LADY AND ATTENDANT. Photograph 173
xxvii. AMEINICHE. Photograph 173
FIG. 67. PHAENARETE. _C. A. G._ pl. xxxix. 174
PL. xxviii. AMEINOCLEIA. Photograph 175
FIG. 68. SCENE AT TOMB. Benndorf, _Griech. u. Sicil. Vasenb._
pl. xv. 177
69. DOMESTIC SCENE. Heydemann, _Griech. Vasenbilder_, pl. xi. 178
70. FAMILY GROUP. Brückner, _Griech. Grabreliefs_, p. 12 179
71. ” ” ” ” 179
72. STELE OF MYRRHINA. _Gazette Archéol._ I, pl. vii. 180
PL. xxix. ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. Photograph 181
CHAPTER XI.
xxx. STELE OF EUTAMIA. _C. A. G._ pl. xxviii. 185
FIG. 73. DIONYSUS AS GUEST. Roscher, _Lexikon_, I, p. 2539 190
CHAPTER XIII.
FIG. 74. NEREID MONUMENT (Falkener). Overbeck, _Griech.
Plastik_, II, p. 191 216
75. GABLE OF NEREID MONUMENT. _Ann. dell’ Inst._ 1875,
pl. DE. 217
76. HEROON OF GYEULBASHI. Benndorf and Niemann,
_Heroon von Gjölbaschi-Trysa_, pl. i. 222
77. LION-TOMB, CNIDUS. Newton, _Travels and Discov._ II,
pl. xxiii. 225
CHAPTER XIV.
78. MAUSOLEUM (Mr. Pullan). _Archaeologia_, LIV, p. 281 230
79. ” (Mr. Oldfield). Drawing of Mr. Oldfield 231
CHAPTER XV.
80. SARCOPHAGUS OF THE SATRAP: END. Hamdy Bey et
T. Reinach, _Une Nécropole Royale à Sidon_, pl xxi. 246
81. SPHINXES: LYCIAN SARCOPHAGUS. ” ” pl. xv. 248
82. SARCOPHAGUS OF MOURNERS: END. ” ” pl. vii. 250
83. ALEXANDER SARCOPHAGUS: END. ” ” pl. xxvi. 254
84. ” ” LION-HUNT. ” ” pl. xxxi. 255
85. ” ” A LION. ” ” pl. XX. 257
CHAPTER I
BURIAL CUSTOMS IN GREECE
The burial of the dead was a matter as to which the ancient Greeks had
very strong feelings. When a corpse was not committed to earth or fire,
the unfortunate spirit to which it had served as a dwelling-place was
condemned to find no rest either on earth or in the world of shades, but
to wander unhappily around the spot where it had met its fate, or to
flutter on the verge of the river of death, which it was not permitted
to cross. For such reasons, it was the first and most important duty of
an heir to see that the person whom he succeeded met with due burial. In
war, as a rule, each side buried its own dead; and so great was the
horror at neglect of this pious office, that after a drawn battle the
side which was not in possession of the battle-field would commonly ask
for a truce for the purpose of burying the slain, though it thereby
acknowledged defeat. It is well known how bitterly the Athenians accused
their generals, because their dead were not duly buried after the battle
of Arginusae. When Admetus, in the _Alcestis_ of Euripides, wishes
utterly to cast off his filial relation to his father Pheres, he
threatens that he will not bury him. And when in the _Antigone_ of
Sophocles, Creon forbids the burial of his slain enemy Polynices, the
prohibition is represented as an act of barbarous cruelty, bringing with
it the vengeance of the offended gods. In order to perform the last
rites to her brother, Antigone incurs death. The plot of the last half
of the _Ajax_, which seems intolerably tedious to a modern reader, turns
on the question whether the body of the hero shall receive sepulture or
not.
It is true that all the more serious evils of want of burial were
obviated by an inhumation of a merely formal character. The dead man who
in the ode of Horace[1] begs the passer-by to give him formal or
ceremonial burial, tells him that it will be quite sufficient if he
casts over the body three handfuls of dry earth. If the body of a man
was lost at sea, or otherwise had become undiscoverable, an empty tomb
or cenotaph was erected, and his spirit laid with ceremonies.
In the case of an ordinary death, there was a regular order of
ceremonies, which are detailed in Lucian’s _De Luctu_. To the women of
the house belonged the melancholy duty of washing and anointing the
corpse, and preparing it for burial. In the mouth was sometimes placed
an obolus, the fee of Charon. The body was dressed as if for a wedding
rather than a funeral, in rich and clean clothes; the face was painted,
and wreaths were placed on head and breast. Then took place what was
called the πρόθεσις, or exhibition of the corpse, in order that friends
and relatives might take a last farewell of it. Vase-paintings give us
many representations of the scene. Father and mother, or brothers and
sisters, or children, thronged round the bier with expressions of love
and sorrow, while the dirge of the hired wailing-women resounded through
the house. A terra-cotta tablet of the sixth century, engraved in the
text[2] (Fig. I), gives us a quaint and vivid picture of the room of
death. The dead man, whose face appears, while the rest of the painting
is broken away, is evidently a youth in the bloom of his days, who lies
on the bier, clad in an embroidered garment. Close by his head stands
his mother, ΜΕΤΕΡ, at whose feet is his little sister, ΑΔΕΛΦΕ; a
somewhat older sister stands at the foot of the bier. To the left is a
group of men, the father, ΠΑΤΕΡ, a grown-up brother, ΑΔΕΛΦΟΣ, and two
other men. To the extreme right appears the name, though not the figure,
of the grandmother, ΘΕΘΕ, between whom and the group of men are two
other matrons, carefully distinguished as the aunt and the aunt on the
father’s side, ΘΕΘΙΣ and ΘΕΘΙΣ ΠΡΟΣ ΠΑΤΡ[ΟΣ]. A little child also
appears by a stool quite at the foot of the couch. The letters ΟΙΜΟΙ in
the field represent the wailings of the women.
[Illustration: FIG. 1. LYING IN STATE.]
A beautiful Attic vase of the fifth century (Fig. 2) gives us a less
quaint but more graceful representation of the prothesis[3]. In this
case the corpse is that of a woman, who lies on her bier not merely clad
in green garments, but decked with a necklace. The friends grouped about
her are all women, with hair cut short in sign of mourning, clad in
garments of dark brown, green, or blue. The lady who stands at the foot
of the bier and her neighbour place their hands on their heads in sign
of grief; their dress is that of burgher ladies; no doubt they are the
nearest relatives of the dead. The girl who stands at the head of the
bier is a slave or hired attendant. She is more simply clad, and carries
in one hand a flapper or fan to keep off the flies, in the other a
basket containing fillets or ribbons. A wreath hangs against the wall of
the room. Three small, naked, winged idola hover in the air. They are
doubtless spirits of the dead: but the motive for their presence is not
clear. One might at first be disposed to regard them as merely ready to
receive the departed spirit; the figure nearest to the mouth of the
corpse might even be regarded as the soul which has just taken flight.
But these views scarcely account for the attitude, which is clearly in
each of the three idola a recognized sign of grief. In fact, the close
resemblance of gesture between the lady who stands at the foot of the
bier and the winged figure above her seems to show that they share the
same feeling, which is one of sorrow. But why should spirits grieve at
receiving a companion from the land of the living? The question is not
easy to answer. We may observe that in all scenes of this kind, when
these little sprites are introduced, they are in the same attitude. The
lamentations of the living seem always to awake a responsive echo in
their breasts.
[Illustration: FIG. 2. LYING IN STATE.]
After the laying out, πρόθεσις, came the ἐκφορά, or burial. Early in the
morning the body was taken, decked and clad as it was, and laid on a
wagon, or on a bier to be carried on the shoulders of friends. A
procession was formed, including near friends, musicians, hired
wailing-women, and others who carried the vessels needed for the last
sad rites. To the modern visitor in Greece none of the existing customs
is more striking than that of bearing to the grave bodies decked out and
painted, and looking more like wax images from Tussaud’s than the actual
relics of humanity.
Several monuments of the early period present us with representations of
the ἐκφορά so clear that we can judge with certainty even of its
details. Of these the earliest are vases of the eighth century from the
Dipylon cemetery. One engraved in the _Monumenti_ of the Roman
Institute[4] clearly represents the funeral of a distinguished chief.
The body lies on the top of a lofty bier, supported by four columns,
which again is carried on a car drawn by two horses. Immediately behind
the car come the relatives: and it is accompanied by long strings of
mourners, who are depicted in the childish fashion of the art of the
time as alike naked. The women are distinguished by the breast merely,
the men by swords which they carry at the waist. The geese which seem to
follow the procession are only inserted to fill up vacant spaces in the
design; since there is nothing to which the early vase-painter objects
more strongly than leaving any part of the ground without figures. On
another contemporary vase, published on the same plate, is a scene of
πρόθεσις; the corpse on its bier is surrounded by mourners, who seem to
be sprinkling it with lustral water. These glimpses into the daily life
of pre-historic Athens are very attractive; and the life which they
reveal differs but little from that of the historic Athens of the
Persian wars.
An archaic terra-cotta, here engraved (Fig. 3)[5], gives us a vivid
representation of the appearance of the funeral _cortége_.
[Illustration: FIG. 3. FUNERAL PROCESSION.]
[Illustration: FIG. 4. ARRIVAL AT THE TOMB.]
The corpse is placed on a car drawn by two horses. It is accompanied by
a woman who bears on her head a jar of wine for the funeral libations,
and by two wailing-women who tear their hair as they walk. Behind, comes
a bearded flute-player, and two young men, doubtless the next of kin. A
vase of the sixth century, which also we engrave (Fig. 4), represents a
comparatively modest funeral[6]. The arrival at the tomb is depicted.
The dead man, whose face is uncovered, lies on a bier drawn by two
asses. The procession resembles that of the last representation; the
flute-player, who wears a long white robe, and the next of kin follow
the bier; of the wailing-women, two are perched on the funeral wagon,
other two stand in front of the grave, which appears as a square
erection to the right. The cock who is to form part of the offerings to
the dead stands between two trees which mark the graveyard.
Such was the actual prosaic procession to the grave. But the artists who
painted the white Athenian lekythi, vessels especially made to be placed
in the tomb[7], preferred in their representations of funerals to take
refuge in the realm of imagery and fancy. For the actual carriage of the
body to the place of burial they substitute a poetic fiction. When in
the battles before Troy, Sarpedon fell beneath the spear of Patroclus,
we are told in the _Iliad_ that the gods took charge of his body which
the foeman had despoiled[8].
To Phoebus then his Father spake
Who drives the clouds along,
‘Dear Phoebus go, Sarpedon find
Amid the battle throng,
From purple gore his body lave;
Then bear him far away,
And wash him in the flowing stream,
And in ambrosia lay;
With garments clothe that wax not old,
And let the winged pair,
The brethren Sleep and Death, from thence
His body swiftly bear
To wealthy Lycia’s goodly land,
Where kinsmen shall be fain
To heap the mound and set the stone,
The guerdon of the slain.’
It is thoroughly in accord with the spirit of Greek art that it should
have welcomed and dwelt on the idea thus suggested by the epic poet.
Greek painters and sculptors, like Greek dramatists and lyric poets,
loved above all things to escape from the prosaic details of actual life
into the ideal world of myth and fancy, into the language of which they
translated the facts of every-day existence. On a very beautiful
red-figured vase, ascribed to Euphronius, is represented the bearing
away of Sarpedon’s dead body by Sleep and Death, Sleep being a benign
daemon with yellow hair, Death a dark-haired being of more forbidding
aspect[9]. And after the precedent furnished by Sarpedon, Sleep and
Death have been introduced into scenes on other Greek vases, wherein the
body is not that of any ancient hero, but of an ordinary citizen. We
give an example from an Attic white lekythos[10] (Fig. 5). The dead
body, the eyes of which are not closed in death, is that of a girl, who
is borne to the resting-place indicated by a sepulchral stele by two
winged figures, of whom the bearded one is doubtless Death and the
younger, or beardless, Sleep. The god Hermes, as conductor of souls, is
present to preside at the deposition at the tomb.
The twin brethren Sleep and Death belong to poetry rather than to real
belief. And it is the bodies, not the spirits, of the dead which they
bear to the last resting-place. Other Athenian lekythi represent the
journey of the soul to the land of shades, under the guidance of Hermes
or in the boat of Charon. With these pictures I will deal in the third
chapter, which treats of Greek beliefs as to the future life. Meantime
we must follow the funeral procession to the cemetery.
In the Homeric age the bodies of fallen chiefs were burned with much
ceremony, and funeral games celebrated at their tombs. The classical
instance is the burning of the body of
[Illustration: FIG. 5. DEPOSITION AT THE TOMB.]
Patroclus in the _Iliad_. But even at that time it is doubtful whether
so expensive a method of disposing of the body was at all universal. In
historical times, as may be abundantly proved from ancient writers and
from existing remains, the customs of burning and of burying flourished
together. Distinguished and wealthy men commonly had their funeral
pyres, but the bodies of the Kings of Sparta, for example, when they
died abroad, were embalmed and carried home for burial, instead of being
burned. In various cemeteries of Greece we find sometimes the one custom
most prevalent and sometimes the other. It is unnecessary in the present
place to go beyond this general statement. When the body was buried, it
was not, save very rarely, placed in a sarcophagus of stone, but far
more commonly in a hole in the rock; or a grave was dug in the soil and
a small chamber constructed of slabs of stone or terra-cotta. In case of
burning, a pyre of wood was erected in or near the cemetery, and after
the flames had burned themselves out, the human ashes, which are readily
to be distinguished, were carefully and piously collected and placed in
a vessel of bronze or of earthenware, which might either be buried or
preserved in some hallowed spot in the house.
[Illustration: FIG. 6. PYRE OF PATROCLUS.]
A late vase of Canusium[11] furnishes us with a representation of the
pyre of Patroclus, and of the sacrifices which according to Homer were
performed at it (Fig. 6). In the midst is the pyre of great logs, on
which is heaped the armour of Patroclus. This detail shows, we may
observe, how free are even the later vase-painters in their treatment of
Homeric scenes, for Patroclus’ armour, which Hector had carried off, is
not mentioned in the _Iliad_ as being placed on his pyre. While
Agamemnon pours a libation to the soul of the dead hero, Achilles
plunges his sword into the neck of one of the Trojan captives, while the
rest sit by, awaiting their fate. The inscription beneath, ΠΑΤΡΟΚΛΟΥ
ΤΑΦΟΣ makes the identification certain.
It does not appear that among the Greeks there were any regular
ceremonies as an accompaniment of burial, any ritual of prayer or
dedication. When a public funeral took place it is true that an oration
was delivered at the grave; we have record of orations pronounced by
Pericles and Demosthenes over those who had fallen in battle on various
occasions. Sometimes also there was a funeral feast at the tomb. But in
ordinary cases the mourners seem to have returned immediately after the
burial to partake of the funeral feast at the house of a near relative
or heir of the deceased, who was himself regarded as the host on the
occasion. By thus eating and drinking with the dead, the survivors
entered into a kind of sacred communion with him; speeches were made in
his honour, and libations poured from the cups of which in ghostly
fashion he might partake.
CHAPTER II
THE WORSHIP OF THE DEAD
No Greek custom constituted a larger part of religious cultus than did
the offerings to the dead. And no custom is more frequently portrayed on
ancient vases. Such offerings did not begin merely with the funeral, but
even earlier.
According to the beliefs of most barbarous or semi-barbarous races, the
dead have needs and desires as imperious as those of the living. Indeed,
the life of the next world is regarded as in the main a ghostly
continuation of previous existence, a life marked by the same habits and
requirements as that which men live on earth. But, as the dead man is
less materialist in his needs, his wants may be supplied at smaller cost
and in less completeness.
In many primitive countries we find the dead man living in his tomb as
he had lived in his house, the tomb being often a copy of the house.
There he treasures the goods which were buried with him, and there he
receives the constant homage and frequent gifts of his descendants.
In Greece, as far back as we can trace burial customs, it was usual to
deal liberally with chiefs and warriors when they went to their last
resting-place. Indeed, the further back we go, the greater seems to have
been the liberality. The richest graves yet discovered in Greece are
those of the pre-historic rulers of Mycenae, spoiled by Dr. Schliemann
in 1877. In these sepulchres were found treasures sufficient to stock a
great museum--armour and ornaments of gold, swords and arrows,
drinking-cups and sceptres, every kind of object in which the wealth of
semi-barbarous chiefs is commonly displayed. In the historic age the
profusion is less marked, but we yet find abundant proofs of the
survival of the custom of fully equipping the dead for their existence
in the world of shades. Mingled with human bones are sometimes those of
horses and dogs, slain to accompany their master, sometimes those of
flesh and fowl brought to him for food. Vessels for holding food and
wine and oil are among the ordinary equipment of the tomb, lamps are
very common, and jewelry and coins in which the thickness of the gold is
reduced to that of paper shows the gradual growth of the belief that it
is safe to cheat the dead. Ladies take with them to their graves their
mirrors and the vessels which contained rouge and other necessaries of
the toilet.
In later Greek graves terra-cotta plays a large part. Not only are
vessels of this cheap material substituted for the golden or bronze
vases and cups of early graves, but also loaves and animals of
terra-cotta take the place of more genuine food. And terra-cotta images,
sometimes of deities but more often apparently of mere human beings, are
laid up in store by the corpse, each being broken, perhaps to render it
unfit for the possession of the living. An engraving of a child’s coffin
with its contents, which I reproduce from Stackelberg[12] (Fig. 7), will
give some idea of the abundant contents of the richer Greek tombs. The
symmetrical arrangement of the various vases and of the terra-cotta
images is noteworthy; and as parts only of a human skeleton are present,
it seems that in this case the body was not placed complete in the
coffin, but only the skull, the shin-bones, and other parts of a corpse
which had been for the most part disposed of in some other way.
I have been present at excavations at Terranova in Sicily, on which site
the resting-places of the dead are formed of several slabs of
terra-cotta. Around the skeletons are heaped vases, most commonly of the
lekythos form, with occasional coins and other antiquities. But it would
be a long task to give anything like a satisfactory account of the
contents of tombs in various parts of the Greek world. Every district or
city follows its own customs in the matter.
[Illustration: FIG. 7. CHILD’S COFFIN.]
We turn to the sacrifices brought to the tomb. While the burial was
taking place, the friends of the deceased threw into the grave
terra-cotta figures, vases and the like, breaking them as they threw
them. Such at least is the usage traced by Messrs. Pottier and Reinach
at Myrina, and they observe that proofs of the existence of a similar
custom have been found at Tanagra and Kertch[13]. Libations would take
place at the same time from the vessels carried to the tomb for the
purpose, as well as afterwards at the funeral feast.
Thenceforward at set seasons sacrifices were offered at the tomb. These
seasons were, the third day after burial, τρίτα, the ninth day, ἔνατα,
the thirtieth day, which came at the end of the mourning, besides the
νεκύσια or general feast of the dead, corresponding to the All Souls’
Day of the Middle Ages, and the γενέσια or birthday of the deceased[14].
And such sacrifices were also made at irregular times, when any portent
or significant dream made the survivors suppose that their ancestors
were displeased with them. At the beginning of the _Choëphori_ of
Aeschylus, of the _Electra_ of Sophocles, and of the _Electra_ of
Euripides, mention is made of sacrifices at the tomb of Agamemnon,
offered by Clytemnestra in consequence of a dream, which had disturbed
her mind. In the _Iphigeneia in Tauris_ of Euripides, Iphigeneia
prepares, also in obedience to a dream, to sacrifice to the spirit of
her brother Orestes, whom she supposes to be dead.
These passages from the great dramatists exhibit the Athenian custom of
the fifth century B.C. How late this custom lasted in Greece may be
shown from the language of Lucian, in the second century A.D. Speaking
with contempt of the popular beliefs, he writes[15]: ‘People fancy that
souls rising from below dine as they can, flitting about the smell and
the steam, and drink the honeyed draught from the trench.’ Again, in
another place[16], Lucian writes: ‘The shades are nourished by our
libations, and by the offerings at the tomb; so that those who have no
friend or relative left on earth, live foodless and famished among the
rest.’
The offerings brought to the dead were of a simpler and less sumptuous
character than those dedicated to the gods. Through Greek history they
tended to become less costly. In the _Iliad_ Achilles sacrifices to the
spirit of Patroclus not only horses and dogs, oxen and sheep, but also
twelve Trojan prisoners. At the taking of Troy, according to the legend,
Polyxena was sacrificed on the tomb of Achilles. Not only did the custom
of sending slaves to attend a dead chief, and horses for him to ride,
die out, but the food of the dead became much less solid than beef and
mutton. The laws of Solon forbade the sacrifice of oxen to the dead[17].
As late as the sixth century, an inscription of Ceos[18] speaks of
sacrifice at tombs according to the old ritual; but after that time more
serious sacrifices were reserved for actual heroes and exceptional
tombs. A black ox, for example, was annually offered to the heroes of
Plataea down to the time of Plutarch[19], with wreaths and fillets.
Ordinary souls had to be content with something much simpler; cakes and
flowers, with wine, honey, and milk, sometimes a fowl or a few eggs,
sufficed for their somewhat ethereal needs. But in early, and still more
in later times, the survivors would sometimes try to show their respect,
in exceptional cases, by a great display of grief and by costly
sacrifices.
Excavations sometimes reveal to us traces not merely of presents brought
to the dead, but of actual sacrifices made to them. For example, when
the mound which covered the bodies of those who fell at Marathon was
recently excavated[20], traces were found in broken vessels and animals’
bones of the feast held by the survivors at the time of the burial, as
well as a trench cut to receive offerings, and considerable masses of
ashes, dating no doubt from the yearly sacrifices which in the month of
Boedromion the people of Athens offered in gratitude to the heroes who
had first dared to look the Mede in the face.
In historic Greece there were recognized heroes of every grade of
dignity and importance. A few, such as Amphiaraus and Trophonius,
rivalled the gods in their functions, in the number of their
worshippers, and the splendour of their shrines. Others, such as Aeacus
at Aegina, and Jason at Pherae, were venerated as semi-divine
progenitors and supernatural defenders of the cities against all
enemies. Others, such as Pelops at Olympia, and Hyacinthus at Amyclae,
had tombs in close connexion with some of the most frequented and highly
appreciated shrines of the Greek world. But beside these more dignified
members of the clan of heroes there stood many whose influence and whose
worship belonged only to a locality, to a clan, or a family. The Dorians
in particular[21], like all conservative races, carried the worship of
deceased parents and ancestors to the furthest point. But all over
Greece there were small heroa or chapels belonging to families, the
cultus of which was merely an extension of the worship which made sacred
the domestic hearth. In modern cemeteries, and more especially in those
of France, the tombs are frequently adorned with wreaths of real or
artificial flowers, with crosses and designs of beadwork or with
religious pictures. So in Greece it was usual to see in the
neighbourhood of the tombs of those who had recently passed away, or who
had left behind them many friends, the traces of libations, wreaths of
flowers, sashes of various colours, even pieces of armour or other more
solid gifts which were protected against theft by the sacred character
of the spot.
Serious sacrifices to the dead are, as we shall see in a future chapter,
a frequent subject of votive tablets and even of actual sepulchral
reliefs. The lighter and less solemn offerings to the dead are commonly
depicted on white Attic lekythi, which were specially made to be placed
in graves, and which take their subjects from that use.
[Illustration: FIG. 8. OFFERINGS AT A TOMB.]
The simplest of these vase-paintings consist merely of representations
of a gravestone, bound with sashes or with wreaths, on either side of
which stands a survivor, male or female, holding a basket, wreaths, a
sash, or the like. In our example (Fig. 8)[22] from a vase of Eretria in
the Museum of Athens, the stele is truncated by a licence in drawing,
but the relief on it, a woman seated on a chair and holding out a bunch
of grapes to a seated boy, is similar to many of the groups in our
plates. A mirror is represented as hung on the wall: this no doubt
stands for a part of the marble relief. On one side of the stele stands
a young man leaning on a staff, who seems to be directing a maiden who
stands on the other side, where she shall place two wreaths which she
carries. Our engraving makes no attempt to reproduce the brilliant
colouring of the original, in which the dresses of the seated lady of
the relief and the standing girl who ministers at the tomb are bright
red, the garment of the youth brown, and the hair of all the figures a
golden brown. In some of these scenes, the stele is hung with more
serious offerings than flowers: sometimes a lekythos is suspended from
the top or placed on the steps: in some cases, a sword is slung round it
by means of a baldric[23]. Sometimes the attendant girls bring elaborate
toilet-vases and flasks of oil.
By a curious convention, often the dead person is introduced into the
scene, seated on the steps of the basis which supports the sepulchral
slab, between the two ministrants. In one case[24] a lady thus seated
holds on her finger two little birds, perhaps an indication of a
sacrifice, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’ On other vases
she holds an oil-flask or a toilet-vase. Sometimes, especially if the
person represented be a man, he holds a lyre[25]. In our example (Fig.
9) of this curious scheme, a ghost is seen flitting through the air, and
one of the attendants brings a little bird. The precise meaning of the
lyre has been doubted. M. Pottier thinks that it represents music played
before the dead, as part of their cultus. But this, of course, assumes
the seated person to be a survivor, and we shall presently show this
view to be untenable. It is, however, well known that to be able to play
on the lyre as it passed from hand to hand at banquets was part of the
training of the Athenian gentleman. It may well seem then that the
musical employment of the dead man is merely an instance of the general
rule that the Athenians loved to represent their dead in some employment
which had been a favourite and characteristic one when they lived. And
this view is confirmed by the occurrence on an early stele of the figure
in relief of a man carrying a lyre[26].
[Illustration: FIG. 9. SPIRIT SEATED ON STELE.]
That the seated personage who plays the lyre if a man, or who if a woman
holds a tray of offerings or a lekythos, is not a survivor but a dead
person, may be readily shown by a comparison of certain vase-paintings.
For an example we may take two lekythi figured on one plate[27] in the
_Sabouroff Collection_. On one of these is represented a young man
seated beside a stele, playing on a lyre which he holds, while an
attendant girl brings him a sash or fillet. On the other the stele is
absent, and the scene, which is given in the text
[Illustration: FIG. 10. TOILET SCENE, SEPULCHRAL.]
(Fig. 10), seems one taken from daily life. A lady, fully draped, is
seated on a chair; in her lap rests a flat box containing sashes; a
maid-servant comes to her holding a smaller box with open lid, probably
a casket of jewelry. This last scene is closely like many of the Attic
sepulchral reliefs[28], and the artist who painted it can scarcely have
had in his mind any other intention than that of representing a lady who
had died. The former scene must be of parallel significance; and the
man seated with the lyre can scarcely be other than the proprietor of
the stele beside which he sits.
[Illustration: FIG. 11. GIFTS AT TOMB.]
We add, from a late vase in the British Museum[29], a very interesting
sepulchral group (Fig. 11). The tomb is in the form of a pillar with
acanthus ornament at the base, resting on a flat slab or table[30]. This
latter is heaped up with vases and sashes, the gifts of survivors. Among
these gifts stands a female figure in sorrowful attitude, either a
statue of the deceased, or more probably herself in spiritual presence.
On one side a man raises his hand in greeting or adoration, on the other
approaches a girl bearing some offering.
CHAPTER III
BELIEFS AS TO THE FUTURE LIFE
The group of vase-paintings with which we dealt in the last chapter
raises a curious question. In all, or almost all, of them the locality
is clearly implied by the presence of a stele in the background. The
offerings which they represent were made, it seems, at the tomb itself.
Is it not, however, a strange thing that wealthy and educated Athenians
should suppose the souls of the dead to have nothing better to do than
to rest beside the tomb, and there await the offerings of survivors? Did
they not believe in a region of the dead, a kingdom of Hades, where the
bad were punished and the good received the recompense of their merits?
And if so, how could the souls of the departed be at the same time in
Hades, and in the neighbourhood of the graveyard? In order to find a
solution for these difficulties we must give some account of the views
of ordinary Greeks, at different periods of the national history, in
regard to the life after death, and the condition of the departed.
We must begin our examination of Greek belief as to the future life by
turning to the Homeric poems. The outlines of the psychical doctrine
which these contain has been traced with masterly hand by Dr. Erwin
Rohde[31], whose conclusions agree well with all that we have of late
learned from history and archaeology as to the Homeric age and
literature.
It is only superficial theorizing which will find in the Homeric poems
the ordinary barbaric views as to the nature of the soul and the future
life. Primitive elements there may be in the Homeric beliefs on these
subjects; but these primitive elements are mostly of the nature of a
survival. The Homeric poems belong to a race of singular gifts and
remarkable intellectual capacity, a small clan or aristocracy which had
by the force of inborn genius penetrated to views in all matters of
practical wisdom which must be considered decidedly advanced. Like the
_Vedas_ of India and the _Zend Avesta_, the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_
are the flowers of special developments of civilization, of the culture
of pure-blooded clans, which had worked their way forward, amid
surrounding barbarism, to a comparatively civilized survey of the world
and of mankind.
The notion which is the common property of barbarous peoples, that the
dead dwell among the living, and constantly interfere for good and for
evil in their affairs, that they must be appeased by constant sacrifices
and receive their share of all increase,--this notion has indeed left
traces in the Homeric poems, but they are slight. It rather shows
through the psychology of Homer than regulates or inspires it.
The intellectual aristocracy of Homer has in this matter a strong bias
towards scepticism. It is really remarkable how nearly the Homeric
theories of the soul correspond with the facts recorded by that cautious
and sceptical body of inquirers, the Psychical Society.
The psyche to Homer is not in the least like the Christian soul, but is
a shadowy double of the man, wanting alike in force and in wisdom. It
has no midriff, but lives as dreams live; appearing to the living in
visions, sleeping or waking, but without power. While the body of a dead
man remains unburnt or unburied, his ghost wanders about the place of
death: when the body has received due meed of funeral rites, the spirit
departs to the land of shades, never to return, nor to vex the
survivors.
The realm of Hades appears in the more antique parts of the poems of
Homer as a land where shades dwell under the rulership of King Hades and
august Persephone, living a life which is a sort of reflex and corollary
of the past. Orion, the mighty hunter, still pursues in that land the
spectres of wild beasts over the meadows of asphodel. Agamemnon still
deplores his sad fate, Ajax will not be reconciled to his enemy
Odysseus, Achilles lives on the memory of his past exploits, and rates
the life of the greatest heroes in Hades as beneath that of the meanest
serving-man on earth. Even these shadowy passions do not stir the hearts
of the dead until they have drunk of the blood of the sacrifice, and
their vital force is thus in some degree renewed. To Teiresias alone,
says Circe, has Persephone granted that even after death he shall have
living sense, while the rest flit like shadows.
It is quite clear that this view, which removes the dead to Hades, and
deprives them of all sense and power, is not to be reconciled with some
of the customs of Homeric cultus, especially with the offering of
victims, animal and human, at the tombs of heroes. This, however, is not
strange: cultus has infinitely greater power of persistence among men
than mere speculative beliefs; and among peoples of all religions we
find a want of harmony between the religious belief and the religious
custom which needs explanation. Homer does not fear the dead; but the
burial customs described in his poems must have arisen at a time when
the dead were greatly feared, and regarded as meddlesome in human
affairs.
And this marked inconsistency which we find in the Homeric age persists
throughout Greek history. The customs of the cultus of the dead are, as
we have seen, persistent among all Greek tribes, though more fully
appreciated by some than others, and remain in force down to the very
decline of Paganism. But at the same time speculation as to the world of
spirits and the condition of the departed went on, on lines almost
independent of custom and cultus. If the dead were safe in Hades they
could not also live in their tombs; why then take offerings thither? If
their life was the life of dreams and of shadows, why did they need
food, both animal and vegetable, and abundant drink? This is
sufficiently obvious to us. Yet Greek belief in all ages must have found
some means of reconciling theory and cultus, and of preventing the
course of speculation as to the state of the departed from interfering
with the practical piety of the worship of ancestors.
We are able to follow, at all events in outline, the gradual development
of the belief in Hades among the Greeks. The voyage of Odysseus to Hades
in the _Odyssey_, whatever may be its date (a somewhat doubtful point),
shows us that belief at a very early and incomplete stage. The main
interest of the author of the _Odyssey_ is evidently to give a glimpse
at the later fortunes of some of the principal personages of the
_Iliad_; though with this he includes a curious vision of fair women,
Tyro, Alcmena, and Leda and the like. He accomplishes his purpose by
taking the widely wandering Odysseus to Hades under the pretext that he
will there learn how best he may win back to his native Ithaca. To Homer
Hades is not, as in later belief, situated beneath our feet. Odysseus
has to reach it by sailing to the confines of the ocean, to the land of
the Cimmerians, enveloped in mist and cloud, where the bright rays of
the sun do not shine. When he reaches the groves of poplar and willow,
amid which flow the rivers Acheron and Pyriphlegethon and Cocytus, he
digs a trench, and makes sacrifices to the dead, offering libations and
barley-cakes, and slaying a ram in honour of Teiresias. No sooner is
this done than the spirits of the dead begin to flock about him, and
those whom he permits to drink of the blood of his sacrifice can answer
his questions and inform him of their fate. The only class of persons
whom Homer represents as punished in Hades are perjurers, perhaps
because their punishment on earth was so problematic. But a few noted
criminals of legend, such as Tityus and Tantalus, are also represented
as undergoing a chronic punishment.
Hades, however, is by no means the only dwelling-place of souls known to
the authors of the Homeric poems. Every scholar is familiar with the
beautiful lines in which Proteus foretells the future destiny of
Menelaus[32].
In Argos’ horse-abounding plain
To die is not thy fate,
O Menelaus, there for thee
No mortal chances wait.
Thee shall the immortals far away
To earth’s remotest end,
Where fair-haired Rhadamanthys dwells
In Plains Elysian, send.
There life flows on in easy course,
There never snow nor rain
Nor winter tempests vex the land;
But Ocean sends amain
Fresh Zephyr breezes breathing shrill
To cool the untroubled life.
There dwell, since thou art kin to Zeus,
And Helen is thy wife.
In dealing with the Homeric poems we can never escape the difficulties
as to chronology and genuineness which at present envelop the whole
Homeric question, on its literary side, like a thick mist. Dr. Rohde
thinks that this passage is of later date than that which describes the
voyage to Hades of Odysseus. The last line has a curious ring. Menelaus
is to be rescued from the common fate, not for any virtue or merit of
his own, but because he is the son-in-law of Zeus. We are reminded of
the still more aristocratic belief of certain existing races of
barbarians, who think that a happy state in the future life is reserved
for the chiefs and those of high lineage.
According to the Cyclic Poets, the Islands of the Blessed were destined
not for Menelaus only, but for others of the heroes who fought at Troy.
In the _Aethiopis_, Eos (the Dawn) is allowed not merely to bear away
her dead son Memnon, as Sarpedon had been borne away by Sleep and Death,
but to awake him again to an immortal life. In the same poem, Thetis is
represented as carrying off the body of Achilles from the funeral pyre,
and transporting it over the sea to a new life in the island of Leuce,
the white island, which popular fancy placed in the Euxine sea. In the
_Works and Days_ of Hesiod all the godlike heroes who fought at Troy are
said to dwell still in the Islands of the Blessed. Odysseus after his
death was said to have been translated to the island of Aeaea. And an
Athenian drinking-song of about B.C. 500 tells how Harmodius and
Aristogeiton, who slew the Tyrant and restored liberty to the Athenians,
are not dead but dwell in the Happy Isles with Diomedes and swift-footed
Achilles.
It may be doubted how far the Islands of the Blessed, the Elysian
Fields, and the Realm of Hades are really distinct in Homeric geography.
All seem to be reached by a voyage across the sea in the direction of
the setting sun. Subsequent poets, however, gradually determine and map
out the land of the dead. It is a conjecture, the truth of which is more
than probable, that the great teacher of the lore of the future world
was Orphism.
Orphism is one of the most important, but at the same time one of the
most obscure phases of ancient religion. The original documents of the
sect have perished, and forgeries have taken their place. It is only by
putting together a number of occurrences, and collecting phenomena from
all quarters, that we are able even to conjecture the tenets and
observances of the Orphists; yet it seems certain that they exercised a
deep and long-continued influence on the development of religion in
Greece. We first clearly trace their activity in the sixth century B.C.,
when Onomacritus, a contemporary of Peisistratus at Athens, committed to
writing much of their lore, and when Pythagoras attempted to found among
the Greek cities of Southern Italy something like an Orphic church. Yet
from what we learn as to Orphism, we see that it must contain elements
handed down from a barbaric and primitive state of religion. It was
essentially mystic and ecstatic in character. Zagreus, who was a form of
Dionysus, was the principal object of Orphic worship,--the young god who
was torn to pieces by the wicked hands of Titans, but restored to life
by the favour of Zeus and Athena. By mystic communion with Zagreus, who
was regarded as the ruler of the dead, the votary escaped from the
trammels of the flesh, became pure and chaste, and fit for a nobler
existence hereafter. Of course, in this religion, as in all, mere ritual
tended to encroach on the religion of conduct; it was supposed by many
that a mere partaking in mysterious rites would secure for them a
favourable reception in the world of shades, and a verdict of acquittal
from the stern judges of the dead.
It is certain, as I have already observed, that this ecstatic form of
religion contains primitive elements. Anthropology has informed us that
the wizard or medicine-man among savage tribes commonly acquires and
retains his influence by means of trances or ecstasies, in which he
professes to be inspired by the spirits of the dead. This is the
original germ whence all ecstatic religion takes its rise; though, of
course, it may reach a high moral level under some circumstances, and
tend greatly to the help and elevation of mankind. What was the precise
ethical level of the Orphic religion it is very hard to say.
However, we are at present concerned only with one aspect of
Orphism--its lore as to the world of spirits. It is believed that this
lore gradually works its way into current literature and art. After we
leave the Homeric age, the next important landmark in the history of
Hades is to be found in the great painting of Polygnotus in the Leschè
or arcade of Delphi. Of this picture we possess so careful and detailed
a description from the pen of Pausanias[33] that a skilled
archaeologist, Professor Robert, has succeeded, with the help of certain
vase-paintings of Polygnotan style, in restoring, figure for figure, the
whole composition, with a sureness of hand which may well surprise those
who do not realize the degree in which the scientific methods of
archaeology have been developed in recent years.
In the upper part of the picture is a group which is almost a transcript
from the _Odyssey_: Odysseus sword in hand over his trench, the unburied
Elpenor behind him in sailor’s dress, and Teiresias and Anticleia
approaching to hold converse with him. But this group seems somewhat
apart from the rest of the scene, which is composed of elements mostly
foreign to the Homeric circle of ideas. On the left is the river
Acheron, full of reeds and peopled with shadowy fish; on which floats
the bark of the ferryman Charon, who is taking to their last home the
spirits of a man and a girl. Pausanias observes that Polygnotus has
borrowed Charon from the epic poem called the _Minyas_, in which the
voyage to Hades of Theseus and Peirithous was narrated. Whencesoever
Charon may have originally come, he certainly held a great place in the
beliefs of the later Greeks. The obol, his fee, was sometimes placed in
the mouth of the dead. In later writers, such as Virgil and Lucian, he
is very prominent. Some of the sepulchral lekythi, of which I have
spoken already, furnish us with a representation of the River of Death
and the boat of Charon. One here
[Illustration: FIG. 12. THE BOAT OF CHARON.]
copied (Fig. 12) from a vase at Athens[34], presents a most curious
scene. Charon, a being of traditional ugliness, clad in sailor’s cap and
short chiton, drives his boat to the bank by means of a pole. He is
awaited by a girl who bears in her hands her favourite bird, a goose,
while a box for the toilet rests on a rock, and near it sits a young
child. This flitting to the world of shades has quite a domestic aspect:
it seems that Charon was expected to convey not only passengers, but
also as baggage the offerings brought to them at the tomb. Sometimes the
boat of Charon appears in these vase-paintings in close proximity to the
stele of the grave; and the dead wait for him on the steps of the
stele[35]. On another vase, Hermes, with herald’s staff, leads the soul
down to the edge of the river[36].
It is a well-known fact, though one not easy to explain, that Charon,
under the form Charuns, figures as the messenger of death in several of
the mural paintings of Etruscan tombs. He is there depicted as a hideous
monster, with hooked nose, sometimes winged, wielding an axe, and
entwined with serpents. That the mild and quiet Charon of the Greeks
should have his counterpart in a fierce and deformed daemon in the more
monstrous pantheon of Etruria is quite natural; but it is less clear
whence the Greeks and Etruscans originally borrowed their respective
divinities.
We must, however, resume our description of the picture of Polygnotus.
About the entrance of Hades cluster the transgressors whose punishment
is eternal. They are very few in number: the parricide, the
temple-robber, and such noted personages of legend as Tityus, who is
devoured by a vulture after the fashion of Prometheus. Next we reach a
group of fair women, who must indeed have been delightful creations
under the hands of the most dignified and majestic of all
painters--Ariadne and Tyro, Procris and Chloris. For some who had to be
punished a most gentle meed of punishment is provided. Phaedra in her
lifetime, as is well known, was inspired with a disastrous passion for
her stepson Hippolytus, and after his death she went and hanged herself.
In the painting of Polygnotus, as Pausanias observes, ‘Phaedra is borne
through the air on a swing, and holds the ropes on each side in her
hands: this attitude, in spite of the extreme gentleness of the
allusion, refers to the manner of her death.’ Near the group of women
Theseus and Peirithous are seated. They had dared, with overweening
impiety, to make their way into Hades, in order to carry off Persephone,
Queen of the Shades. But they were made prisoners by the nether powers
and kept in chains. Such a fate for heroes of the race of the gods
naturally seemed to Polygnotus too harsh. In his picture they merely
keep their seats. So Virgil writes, ‘Sedet aeternumque sedebit infelix
Theseus.’ Pausanias quotes Panyasis, a late Epic poet, to the effect
that Theseus and Peirithous on their seats did not appear to be
prisoners, but really the rock grew to their flesh in the place of
bonds. But Polygnotus was content with a mere hint: in his painting
nothing indicated either bondage or torture. Near by are Cameiro and
Clytie, daughters of Pandareus. In the _Odyssey_ Penelope tells how they
were carried away by the fierce storm-winds and given to the hateful
Erinnyes. But Polygnotus will know nothing of the Erinnyes. He merely
represents the girls as crowned with flowers and playing with astragali
or knuckle-bones. The storm-winds seem to have done them little harm.
Presently we come to the central part of the picture. It is occupied by
the grove of Persephone, represented in the sparing fashion of Greek
painting by a single tree, under which sits Orpheus, his lyre in his
hands. No doubt we have here the key to the picture. Orpheus is the
central figure of the whole. To Polygnotus he is not merely a departed
hero, but priest and hierophant. The song which he sings is the mystic
song of immortality. About him there cluster the heroes who fought at
Troy: on the one side Agamemnon, Protesilaus, Achilles, Patroclus; on
the other, Hector, Paris, Memnon, Sarpedon, and Penthesileia, queen of
the Amazons. Paris makes love to Penthesileia, who looks back at him
with contempt. The Greek and Trojan heroes may fight again their battles
in memory; but peace has fallen on them, and they no longer wish to
wield the lance. We need not dwell on other groups: Palamedes and
Thersites busy with the dice; Thamyris, who had once challenged the
Muses, seated in dejection over his broken lyre; the strange apparition
of Marsyas, who teaches the boy Olympus to play the flute; and many
others.
Towards the right end of the painting we again find punishments of a
kind going forward. Sisyphus heaves his rock up the hill. Tantalus
stands up to the chest in water which he may not drink, and clutches at
fruit which eludes his grasp. These punishments had already been
mentioned in the _Odyssey_; Polygnotus adds a rock, which hangs over the
head of the sufferer, ever threatening to fall, but never falling. There
appears also a great cask set in the earth, which it is the fate of an
approaching train ever to try to fill with water from broken
water-vessels. This was, according to tradition, the allotted task of
the fifty daughters of Danaus, who had all save one in one night slain
their husbands. But Polygnotus followed a different account: he calls
the approaching men and women merely ἀμύητοι, uninitiated. Pausanias
observes that they must be those who held in contempt the sacred
mysteries of Eleusis; but this does not seem to be the meaning. They are
ordinary persons, men and women who did not necessarily sin overtly
against the Mysteries, but merely neglected to avail themselves of the
‘means of grace’ offered them by the hierophants of Eleusis, and suffer
in the next world for their carelessness or obstinacy.
The general tone of the painting of Polygnotus bears a close resemblance
to that of the sepulchral reliefs which we shall describe in this book.
This is the less curious, when we consider that the sculptors of the
reliefs were of that Attic school of sculpture which took so much of its
character from Polygnotus. In spirit also the painting is like the
Homeric poems, when they deal with the future life. The cultivated Greek
mind looked for little bliss in the world to come, except such as could
come from the reunion of friends and families, and the memory of past
deeds. Still less did it look for future punishments. These were
ordinarily reserved for the noted criminals of legend. The only classes
which Polygnotus seems to have thought in any peril were the parricides,
the temple-robbers, and the uninitiated. He seems to have thought that
spirits were of the stuff of which dreams are made, and passed an
existence of quiet and gentle melancholy, of which the worst feature was
its exposure to tedium.
There do not appear in the picture of Polygnotus, as in some paintings
which we must presently consider, any malignant beings to act as the
police of the under-world. Not even Cerberus appears. The only spirit of
inauspicious type who is seen is Eurynomus. Pausanias says[37]: ‘The
interpreters at Delphi say that Eurynomus is one of the spirits that
dwell in Hades, and that his office is to devour the bodies of the dead,
leaving only their bones.’ Eurynomus does not appear, adds Pausanias, in
Homer nor in the Cyclic poets. The daemon shows his teeth, and is seated
on the skin of a vulture. Probably it was from the facts just mentioned
that the interpreters at Delphi deduced the function of Eurynomus. But
their opinion goes for little, and the name Eurynomus has nothing to do
with the decay of the flesh. In the time of Polygnotus it was usually
fire rather than decay which made away with the bodies of the dead. This
daemon, who was possibly an archaic form of Hades himself, remains then
unexplained. At any rate, we have no right to regard him as a punisher
of souls. The punishments of Hades, according to Polygnotus, seem to go
on by some law, without present enforcement.
With the Hades of Polygnotus we must compare that which is depicted on a
class of large amphorae which come to us from Apulia in Italy. I have
engraved (Fig. 13) a fair specimen of these vase-paintings, which are
all closely alike, from a vase of Canusium[38].
Here in the centre we have, in place of the sacred grove of Persephone,
the palace of Hades and his Queen. He is seated, and holds a long
sceptre; she carries a torch. The palace has not unnaturally taken the
form of a chapel of the deities; the wheels hung up in the background
seem to be votive offerings. The motive of the whole picture is
curiously twofold. Two visits to Hades, which really took place at quite
different times, are depicted as going on together, the quest of Orpheus
for his lost Eurydice, and the attempt of Herakles to carry off the dog
Cerberus and to rescue his friend Theseus.
[Illustration: FIG. 13. THE GREEK UNDER-WORLD.]
Orpheus stands, lyre in hand, before the chapel of the nether deities.
He is clad in the variegated embroidered robes of the Orientals, with
sleeves down to the wrists and a Phrygian tiara. In the painting of
Polygnotus Orpheus was, as Pausanias expressly states, clad in the
ordinary Greek dress. Later art rejoiced in the picturesque costume of
the Persians and Phrygians: and the Thracian home of Orpheus allowed
artists to consider him as belonging to a semi-Greek, Anatolian race.
Orpheus is evidently using his art to persuade Hades to restore
Eurydice, and that dread deity seems, from the position of his uplifted
right hand, to be addressing him; but Eurydice, in this as in most of
the vase-paintings, is wanting; a curious fact, which may indicate that
the motive of the quest of Orpheus was originally something different.
It seems indeed, as will appear clearly later, that the vase-painter
combines without much skill or purpose groups taken from the works of
older and more thoughtful artists.
In the lowest line Herakles struggles with Cerberus, around whose three
necks he has fastened a chain. Hermes, who carries a herald’s staff,
points out to his brother the road to the upper air, and urges
departure. A more terrifying figure behind Herakles also gives cause for
haste. One of the Poenae or Furies, a female servant of Hades, wearing
hunting-boots and holding over her arm a leopard’s skin, advances with a
torch to defend the realm of the dead against rash invaders. In the
upper line, on the right, a similar figure, with drawn sword, guards the
captives whom Herakles has come to release. Peirithous sits and cannot
rise, but Theseus is standing; so far as he is concerned, the attempt of
the invincible Herakles is successful, and he is allowed to return to
earth.
The other groups which make up the picture have no special connexion
either with Orpheus or with Herakles, and are introduced merely to
complete the picture of Hades. On some of these under-world vases the
names are written over the various persons, so that we can identify them
with ease and certainty. In the upper line to the left is Megara, the
wife of Herakles, and the two children of hers whom their father slew in
a fit of madness. They stand near a spring-house, where water flows from
a lion’s-head fountain. Drops of blood still stand on their breasts. Why
they alone should thus bear in Hades the marks of mortal calamity we
cannot say; nor indeed why they should appear at all as prominent
inhabitants of the land of shades. One is inclined to fancy that some
tale or legend may have connected them with the voyage of their father
to Hades.
Beneath them is a curious domestic group: a young husband who is in the
act of crowning himself with a wreath, a wife, and their little son, who
drags behind him a plaything. It is a veritable scene of the
reconstitution, in the land of shades, of a family endued with perpetual
youth and leisure. Who these people may be is quite uncertain; but it is
reasonable to think that they are such as have undergone initiation, and
whose future life is thus assured. Opposite are the three judges of the
dead, Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthys, or, as some give the name,
Triptolemus. Bearded and venerable figures, they carry long sceptres,
but do not look so stern as one would expect from their terrible
function.
The other scenes, in the two corners below, are of not much more than
geographical import. They show the place to be Hades by introducing some
of the well-known inhabitants of that region. On the left is Sisyphus
uprearing his rock; and lest he should loiter at the task, one of the
Poenae with snakes in her hair urges him with a double-thonged whip; in
her other hand she carries a javelin and leopard’s skin. On the right is
Tantalus, in the dress of an Oriental prince, and still carrying his
sceptre. The Homeric pains have ceased to trouble him; he no longer
stands in water, nor reaches after fruit. But he is still threatened by
the hanging rock.
On other vases of the class, while the general arrangement is the same,
the groups are varied. Peleus and Myrtilus, the faithless charioteer who
arranged his victory at Olympia, sometimes take the place of Theseus and
Peirithous. In the place of Tantalus we have a group of women ever
drawing water, whether they be the Danaides or women who died
uninitiated.
It is likely that all these Apulian vase-paintings go back to some
original of a great painter which was known throughout the Greek world.
An original by Polygnotus it cannot be; the composition is quite unlike
his, and the Oriental garments worn by some of the personages indicate a
different and a later school than his. We know that Nicias, a
contemporary of Praxiteles, made a great picture of the under-world; but
as we know nothing of its details, the inquiry whether this was the
original copied in Italy has no certain basis.
Singularly instructive and suggestive is the comparison of these
Hellenic pictures of the under-world with those which our ancestors of
the Middle Ages painted on the walls and in the windows of their
churches. There we see the ecstatic bliss of the saved, conducted by
angels to the abode of God and the saints, and the fearful tortures
inflicted upon the damned by hosts of hideous and malignant demons, who
bind, burn, tear, and outrage them with fiendish ingenuity. In the
Christian paintings there is no mean, everything is extreme. The destiny
to eternal life or eternal torment seems to hang upon a decision by no
means easy: angels and devils dispute the possession of souls, and the
latter are at least as successful as the former in their raids. Our
ancestors can scarcely have taken these representations as seriously as
we are disposed to take them, or life shadowed by such a terrific future
would have been unendurable. But still they embodied the teaching of the
Church, which few dared dispute, at all events openly. They give us a
glimpse at the terrible moral pressure necessary in order that the
realities of the moral and spiritual life should be burned into the
heart of the European peoples.
In the Greek pictures, on the other hand, nothing is extreme, but
everything is in moderation. Setting aside the torments of a few
legendary heroes, like Tityus and Tantalus, which had little relation to
actual life, there was no torture, as there was certainly no bliss, in
Hades. Between the punishment of the uninitiated and the reward of the
initiated there is not very much difference. Whether Megara and her
children belong to the class of the happy or the wretched we do not
know. They bear the marks of suffering, but as one of the boys carries
the oil-flask and strigil of the athlete, he would seem to pass his time
in Hades as suitably as the little boy of the initiated pair who
trundles his toy. The only unpleasant feeling which is roused by our
vase-painting or the more exquisite Hades of Polygnotus is that its
tenants must suffer from infinite ennui, and the same reproach has been
brought sometimes against the heaven of the Middle Ages. But probably
only highly civilized people learn to realize that ennui may become a
torment.
In particular, we may compare the swarms of black and hideous devils,
with horn and hoof of the mediaeval pictures, with the Greek Poenae. We
can trace the genealogy of these latter from early times. The Oriental
imagination had from very early times delighted in depicting evil
spirits in the form of monsters and winged beasts, who are overcome and
slain by the gods in human form. For winged monsters the Greek artists
of the sixth century had tended to substitute winged human beings of
hideous aspect, Gorgons and Harpies, Eris and Phobos, and the like. It
was Aeschylus who, wishing to bring on the stage in bodily form in his
_Eumenides_ the powers that avenge kindred blood, transformed the
Erinnyes, who had hitherto been worshipped at Athens as the Eumenides
or gentle goddesses, in beautiful and dignified form[39]. He took as his
models the Gorgons and Harpies of earlier art. So he himself tells us in
the _Eumenides_[40], where his priestess thus describes the sleeping
visitors: ‘I call them not women, but Gorgons; yet cannot I quite liken
them to the forms of Gorgons. In a picture once I saw Harpies painted
bearing off the food of Phineus: these, however, are unwinged in aspect,
but black and utterly abominable.’
Pausanias too says, when speaking of the shrine of the Eumenides at
Athens[41]: ‘It was Aeschylus who first wreathed snakes in their hair;
but in their statues there is nothing terrible, nor in the other statues
set up in honour of the nether gods.’ In a series of vase-paintings
which represent the flight to Delphi and the purification of Orestes,
the Erinnyes appear sometimes in Aeschylean guise as women, unwinged,
but with snakes in their hair and of terrible aspect. With these the
Poenae of our vase-painting are almost identical in dress, though the
ugliness is softened down. And as Polygnotus knows not the Poenae, it
seems likely that it was in part the influence of Aeschylus which
introduced them as ministrants of evil in the realm of Hades. But the
Poenae certainly fill very inefficiently the place of the Christian
demons. Greek art loved to soften, to generalize, while mediaeval art
rejoiced, like Dante, in exact detail. Greek art was always ready to
sacrifice precise meaning to beauty and grace, while mediaeval art had
little sense of beauty, but tried to work on the emotions of fear and
horror.
Side by side with the evidence derived from the works of ancient
painters we must place that derived from ancient poets and other
writers. The philosophers are outside our scope, except so far as they
testify to the opinions of ordinary men: to regard the views of Plato
and Epicurus as ordinary Greek opinions would of course be as absurd as
to regard John Stuart Mill or Herbert Spencer as representatives of the
ordinary Englishman.
In ordinary Greek belief, then, we find abundant traces of the eternal
conflict between the priest and the prophet, between ritual and ethics.
There was a general feeling that those who died nobly or after a
well-spent life were sure of a friendly reception in Hades. Xenophon
says of Agesilaus[42], ‘He ever feared the gods, being of opinion that
those who lived nobly were not yet happy, but that those who had died
with good name were at once among the blessed.’ The chorus in the
_Alcestis_ speak of their mistress immediately after her death as a
blessed spirit. And a multitude of epitaphs[43] express the conviction
that those who had lived nobly were sure of a favourable reception from
Persephone. Beside this ethical view we find the opinion of the
sacerdotal party that initiation in the Mysteries or attachment to the
cultus of some deity was necessary for the attainment of future bliss.
This was especially the view of the Orphists, and as such it is
ridiculed by Plato in the _Republic_[44]: ‘They persuade not individuals
merely, but whole cities also, that men may be absolved and purified
from crimes, both while they are still alive and even after their
decease, by means of certain sacrifices and pleasureable amusements
which they call Mysteries: which deliver us from the torments of the
other world, while the neglect of them is punished by an awful doom.’ We
have seen that Polygnotus gives some countenance to those who regarded
the Mysteries as the gate of future happiness. And there was certainly
in Greece a generally spread conviction, which may be well traced in the
_Frogs_ of Aristophanes, that initiation was, if not a passport to
future happiness, at least a safeguard amid the dangers which surround
the soul from the moment of its departure from the body until its final
doom is fixed.
In the mentions of Hades to be found in the Tragedians, it appears more
especially as the place of the reassembling of families. Sophocles’
Antigone expresses a hope of being well received in Hades by the
relations to whom at her peril she has performed the rites of burial.
The Oedipus of Sophocles wants to blind himself in order that in Hades
he may not see the father and mother whom he has so deeply though
ignorantly injured. In the _Agamemnon_ of Aeschylus, Clytemnestra
anticipates the meeting of Agamemnon in Hades with his daughter
Iphigeneia. Hyperides, in his Funeral Oration, takes a somewhat wider
view. He imagines the fallen heroes of the Lamian War as received in
friendly fashion in Hades not merely by their kinsfolk, but by the
worthies of Troy and of Marathon, and by the tyrannicides Harmodius and
Aristogeiton.
As regards the imagery and geography of Hades the ordinary Greeks do not
seem to have greatly troubled themselves. There were the views of poets
and painters, and there were the more definite and dogmatic views of the
professors of Orphic lore. These the people received or neglected as
suited the bent of the mind of each. Hades was a realm of the
imagination, as to the nature of which each man might innocently indulge
his own hopes and aspirations.
In the epitaphs of later times we find, as will be shown in a future
chapter[45], numerous allusions to the realm of Hades and Persephone.
But they do not strike the reader as embodying strong belief; often they
are of an epideictic or rhetorical character, like the statements which
also occur that the soul of the dead has made its way to the Islands of
the Blest or to the abodes of the gods. The beliefs which confined the
spirits of the dead to the tomb and its neighbourhood belong to a lower
and worse-educated stratum of the population, but have more vitality.
Greek religion and tradition knew of many mortals who had gone down
alive into the earth, and there abode, giving for the most part oracles
from their hiding-places. Such was Amphiaraus, the Argive hero, who
after the bootless siege of Thebes went down with chariot and horses
into the ground, and whose shrine was in later times a great oracular
seat. Such was Trophonius of Lebadeia, whose cave is described for us by
Pausanias. Caeneus, when overwhelmed with rocks by the Centaurs,
vanished alive into the earth, and there lived on. It is, in fact, a
marked feature of the cultus of heroes that their power is exercised
only at the place where they disappeared or where their bodies were
laid. They are intensely local, earth-daemons who possess a piece of
land, and whose favour must be conciliated by any one who expects that
land to yield him increase. Pelopidas, in the course of a campaign
against the Spartans[46], unwittingly slept near the graves of some
virgins of Leuctra, who had in old time been violated and slain by the
Spartans. They appeared at night to the Theban general, and promised him
victory if he made them the sacrifice of a foal. This is but one among a
hundred instances of the fact that a hero had power only at his spot of
burial: elsewhere he was helpless.
It is remarkable that this tendency to localization has been in all ages
a mark of the ghost, and still marks him in the cases investigated by
the Psychical Society. Yet the local character of ghosts has not become
an impediment in the way of the acceptance of the Christian doctrines of
Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Among our ancestors, just as among the
Greeks, beliefs could lie in strata, and inconsistencies between a
belief of one stratum and a belief of another stratum had little
disturbing power. When Campbell writes in his noble address to the
Mariners of England, ‘The spirits of your fathers shall start from every
wave,’ he can scarcely be supposed to deny that the souls of British
naval heroes had found a heavenly resting-place.
Sometimes, however, the Greek mind was disturbed by inconsistencies of
this kind, and evolved a theory for their explanation. Thus a later
interpolator of the _Odyssey_, being scandalized by the assertion of
Odysseus that he saw in Hades the mighty Herakles, adds[47], ‘his ghost
(εἴδωλον) only; since he himself joys amid the delights of the immortal
gods.’ Others supposed that it was only the spirits of the unburied
which hovered around their bodies: and it is an ingenious modern theory
that the custom of burning the bodies of the dead arose out of the
desire to prevent them from disturbing the living. But in spite of
everything, the Greek dead retained to the last their right to levy
tribute on their descendants and friends.
CHAPTER IV
THE PRE-HISTORIC AGE OF GREECE
When we turn from the facts of Greek cult and belief as to a future life
to the monuments of the dead, and set them in chronological order, the
first group which commands our attention is that which belongs to the
pre-historic city of Mycenae. We cannot here speak of the wealth of gold
and silver, of bronze and ivory, which the fortunate spade of Dr.
Schliemann brought to light within the sacred circle in the Acropolis of
the city[48]. We must pass by the contents of the graves of the wealthy
pre-historic monarchs of Mycenae, and confine our survey to the outward
and sculptural adornments of their tombs. These fall into two
well-marked and clearly distinguished classes. First, we have the
conical so-called treasuries, of which several exist in the
neighbourhood of Mycenae, as well as at Orchomenus, Menidi and other
spots of Greece; secondly, we have the carved tombstones which were set
up over the graves in the Mycenaean Acropolis.
The larger and more elaborate of the so-called treasuries of
pre-historic Greece, such as the Treasury of Atreus at Mycenae, and the
Treasury of Minyas at Orchomenus, consist of two chambers, a larger
outer chamber, which is circular in plan and of conical form, resembling
in fact the beehive to which it has often been compared, and a cubical
inner chamber, of much smaller dimensions. The accompanying engraving
will make this clear (Fig. 14). The architect of the Mycenaean tomb had
no small skill. The colossal size of the stones, especially of that over
the door and of some in the dromos or approach, arouses the astonishment
of the modern visitor, who wonders by what machinery and appliances
blocks so colossal were transported from the quarries and placed in
position. The gradual inward slope of the walls, each course of which
somewhat overlaps the course below, is managed with great skill and
accuracy. Rows of nails, some remains of which are still to be seen in
the inner walls, supported, not indeed as some have supposed, a complete
bronze lining to the conical chamber, but rows of stars or other
ornaments, on which would glitter the light of the torches (Fig. 15).
Perhaps the most expressive characteristic of all is the lavish
expenditure of labour on a building which was entirely buried with
earth, and on the magnificent approach built of hewn stones, when
something far simpler and more effective might have been arranged.
Evidently the builders of these monuments thought no trouble and no
expense wasted, if only the dead were honoured and gratified.
[Illustration: FIG. 14. SECTIONAL PLAN OF THE SO-CALLED TREASURY OF
ATREUS[49].]
A simpler form of tomb of the same age and style dispensed with the
square side-chamber, and consisted of a beehive building only. The
engraving (Fig. 16) gives the plan of such a tomb near the Lion Gate of
Mycenae.
[Illustration: FIG. 15. RESTORATION OF INTERIOR OF TREASURY, BY C.
CHIPIEZ[50].]
The excavations of recent years have given us abundant information on
three important points, first as to the architectural decoration of
these splendid memorials of the dead, second as to their purpose, and
third as to their date. On each of these subjects I must briefly touch.
There have been for a long time in the British Museum interesting
fragments from the doorway of the Treasury of
[Illustration: FIG. 16. PLAN AND FAÇADE OF TREASURY[51].]
Atreus, and attempts have been made, on the ground of these fragments
and others once known which have disappeared, to reconstruct the
entrance of the building. Such attempt has best succeeded in the hand of
M. Chipiez[52], who has produced a design at once faithful to the data,
and of noble architectural effect. A more recent discovery is that of
the decoration, in relief, of the ceiling of the side-chamber of the
tomb of Orchomenus, which was excavated by Dr. Schliemann in 1880[53]
(Fig. 17). The pattern of this ceiling bears a close resemblance to some
of the Egyptian patterns in use for painted ceilings, thus giving us a
valuable suggestion as to the origin of the art of the Mycenaean age.
[Illustration: FIG. 17. CEILING OF TREASURY, ORCHOMENUS.]
That the conical underground buildings of early Greece were really
erected as burial-places of the kings and nobles is now certain.
Pausanias, in whose times less was known as to primitive Greece than is
now known, calls the beehive tomb at Orchomenus the treasury of Minyas,
and those at Mycenae the treasuries of Atreus and his sons. And
doubtless they were in a sense treasuries, since in them were stored all
the rich spoils which at that time were so freely bestowed on the great
dead. But primarily they were burial-places, and the use as
treasure-houses was only a derivative one. A few years ago this was a
matter of dispute among the learned, K. O. Müller taking one side and
Welcker the other. But in this case, as in so many others, the spade has
cut the Gordian knot which the wit of man could not untie. Excavation
has brought to light within the beehive grave of Menidi, in Attica, six
skeletons; and at Vaphio, though the bodies which had been buried in the
conical chamber had passed into dust, yet the disposition of the rich
booty which was found buried beneath the floor showed that it was
certainly a sepulchral deposit.
In the case of the more elaborate tombs with two chambers, there can be
little doubt that the smaller side-chamber was that wherein the corpses
were laid, while the outer chamber served for the purposes of the cultus
with which the dead were honoured: thither was brought the tribute of
sacrifice and offering which the dead demanded from the living. But in
those cases where there is a single chamber, the dead rested beneath the
floor of that chamber in the midst of their wealth, their arms and
ornaments and vessels of silver and gold.
A number of recent discoveries, a full account of which would take us
too far from our immediate subject, have helped us to determine the date
of the beehive tombs of early Greece. The earliest date indicated for
them seems to be about the fifteenth, and the latest the tenth, century
before our aera. They belong to the age of the eighteenth, nineteenth
and twentieth dynasties of Egypt, when the land of the Pharaohs was more
than once exposed to invasion by the powerful chiefs of the islands of
the north. As the mists of the past are lifting, we gain a clearer and
clearer view of a somewhat highly developed civilization in Hellenic
lands at a time long before the Greece which is known to us came into
being, of kings before Agamemnon, and palaces older and more splendid
than those described in the Homeric poems. We may venture, though
perhaps not without some trepidation, to ascribe the tombs of which we
have spoken to the Achaean heroes whose fame still echoes in the
earliest poetry of Greece; though it is certain that after their
erection great changes had taken place in the country before the Homeric
poems acquired anything like their present form. Our trepidation arises
from the fact that the last word is certainly not said, nor the last
theory put forth in this matter. The claims of the Carians and the
Pelasgi to the remains of the Mycenaean age find adherents. Mr. Helbig,
in an able recent work[54], has tried to prove that the contents of the
Mycenaean tombs are almost entirely Phoenician. But the verdict of the
majority of archaeologists goes in favour of the Achaeans, and the sober
judgement of M. Perrot has accepted their claims in his great work on
_La Grèce primitive_.
It is supposed by many archaeologists that the graves which were dug in
the rock just within the Lion-gate of Mycenae, those tombs the rich
spoil of which dazzled Europe a few years ago, are of older period than
the beehive tombs. It is not unusual to recognize in the graves of
prehistoric Greece two periods, an older period of rock-cut graves, and
a later of beehive graves. But this distinction rests on no solid proof.
There is no reason for deciding that the contents of the beehive tomb at
Vaphio belonged to a later age than the contents of the Mycenaean
rock-tombs. In the opinion of Professor Petrie, an opinion eminently
worthy of consideration, they belong to an earlier time. Mr. Evans,
another excellent authority, has accepted a view, first put forward by
myself, that the bodies and the treasures found in the rock-graves at
Mycenae had been moved thither, on some alarm of invasion, from an
earlier resting-place in the beehive tombs which lie outside the
acropolis walls of that city. In any case we are justified, in the
present state of knowledge, in declining to recognize the line of
division of which we have spoken. And so we may persist in regarding the
sculptural decorations of the rock-tombs as not earlier than the
architectural decorations of the beehive tombs. Very probably they may
be later, but in any case they belong to the same race and the same age.
Over several of the rock-cut fosses in which the wealth of the early
kings of Mycenae lay mingled with their bones, there was erected, either
at the time of burial or later, an upright slab to mark the spot. Some
of these slabs were plain, but others were carved with reliefs, of which
some account must here be given, as it is desirable to compare them with
the sepulchral reliefs of later Greece.
These slabs were made of the calcareous stone of the district: with time
their surface has naturally suffered, but we can still trace on them the
scenes sculptured by hands evidently quite unaccustomed to dealing with
such materials. The designs are in many cases mere patterns, such as
appear with far greater appropriateness on the gold plates used for the
adornment of the dead. But in a few cases we have transcripts from the
life of the period. Fig. 18[55] represents part of one tombstone. We
here see a warrior charging the foe in a chariot, the horse of which
gallops with an almost preternatural energy. The driver holds with his
right hand the reins, while the left hand grasps the hilt of a sword
slung to his side by a sword-belt. In front of him flies an enemy who
brandishes a leaf-shaped sword. The whole field is occupied by spiral
designs. Fig. 19[56] presents
[Illustration: FIG. 18. TOMBSTONE, MYCENAE.]
a scene still ruder in execution, but similar in design, save that the
enemy is still defiant, instead of in flight, though
[Illustration: FIG. 19. TOMBSTONE, MYCENAE.]
the lance of the charioteer has already pierced him. A third stele (Fig.
20[57]) represents a mixed scene of war and the chase. In the background
a warrior charges in his chariot as before; the enemy has fallen before
him, and lies under the horse’s feet, endeavouring vainly to shelter
himself under his huge shield. In the foreground a lion pursues a stag.
Here it may be doubted whether the lion stands in a close relation to
the charioteer or not. When Rameses II, on the monuments of Egypt,
charges his foes, a lion gallops beside him, and shares in the fray.
Have we some such scene here in imitation of Egyptian art? Or is the
lion merely seeking his own prey? Or is he, as is not impossible, only a
dog?
[Illustration: FIG. 20. TOMBSTONE, MYCENAE.]
All three of these scenes come from slabs erected over one grave at
Mycenae, the fifth. The other slabs with reliefs are in too fragmentary
a condition to be studied to much purpose; and in fact it is to be
feared that the reader may accuse us of somewhat straining evidence in
interpreting these more complete scenes, though in reality none of our
statements is open to much doubt.
We need but carry our thoughts for a minute to the sculptures which
adorned the walls of the palaces of the kings of Assyria, which are full
of the triumphs of those powerful monarchs alike over human foes and the
beasts of the field, in order fully to recognize the meaning of the
Mycenaean reliefs. Here also we doubtless have a court chronicle, though
material and style will not bear for a moment any comparison with the
magnificent records of Nimroud. Here also we may discern the king, in
whose honour the slab was set up, slaying and pursuing his enemies. And
although at Mycenae we are in a time of comparative barbarism, yet at
least for the choice of subject we may find parallels in the later age
of Greece. Dexileos riding down his foe on horseback on the splendid
monument of the Cerameicus (Pl. XII) may be considered a parallel to the
nameless chief of Mycenae who pursues his enemy in the chariot of an
earlier age. But a still closer resemblance of subject is to be found in
monuments of Asia Minor, in the paintings of the sarcophagi of
Clazomenae, which date from the sixth century[58]. On these we have
frequent battle scenes, and chiefs riding in two-horse chariots occur.
The graves of Lycia and the sarcophagi of Sidon also preserve in their
reliefs extracts from the lives of the chiefs buried in them, of their
military expeditions, hunting exploits and domestic enjoyments.
The extraordinary inferiority of the sculpture of Mycenae in comparison
either with the architecture of walls and gates, or with the working of
the gold and silver cups and ornaments found in the tombs, may at first
surprise us. But in spite of this inferiority, there are touches of
similarity between the representations on the stone and those in the
metal plates which show them to belong to one age. We may account best
for the curious discrepancy by reflecting how very closely art is
dependent on material. The artists of Mycenae were evidently used to
gold and metal work. They had learned to adapt their devices perfectly
to a material which could be engraved and hammered. But to making
reliefs in stone they were clearly quite unaccustomed. No mason who
thought as a mason would attempt so absurd a task as the working out on
stone of these spiral and interlaced patterns. They are taken straight
from metal to limestone. And complete ignorance of the art of working in
relief is shown also in the way in which the scenes are executed, each
figure being quite flat, and the outlines only made clear against the
ground of the relief. A distant report of reliefs in stone to be found
in the lands of the far east and the south seems to have reached the
workmen of Mycenae, and set them to work, when they naturally carried
with them into the new branch of art the style of the _repoussé_
metalwork which was familiar to them. Even the Lion Gate of Mycenae,
though a work of a character very superior to that of the tombstones, is
very weak on the side of technique.
CHAPTER V
ASIA MINOR: EARLY
After the heroic or Achaean age we find in all branches of Greek history
a marked break. Some great cataclysm in Greece, in all likelihood the
Dorian conquest of Peloponnesus in the eleventh and tenth centuries,
separates the age which is called Mycenaean from historic times. The
young tree of Hellenic civilization had produced a few flowers, but a
long period of comparative barbarism had to pass before it obeyed a
second time the call of the season and brought forth mature fruit. This
course of events is clearly mirrored in the graves of Greece Proper. The
tombs of the later Mycenaean age, which have been discovered in great
abundance, especially at Mycenae itself, are far less rich than those of
the earlier period. And not only are their contents less plentiful and
less interesting, but they present us with no external adornment which
should justify us in here dwelling upon them. As our subject is the
outsides rather than the insides of sepulchral monuments in Greece, we
must pass almost in silence over a long period of time, and begin again,
amid quite different surroundings, on the threshold of the Olympiads,
and of Greek history as opened to us by Herodotus.
There can be little doubt that if excavations were carried out on a
large scale on the coast of Asia Minor, amid the early Aeolic and Ionic
settlements, we should be able to bridge the gap now existing between
pre-historic and historic Greece. Doubtless by degrees the lacuna in
our knowledge will be filled up. But at present it remains a lacuna.
Before however we proceed to an account of the cemeteries of the great
cities of Greece Proper, of Sparta and Athens and Thebes, we must glance
at the tombs erected in semi-Greek districts of Asia, such as Phrygia
and Lycia, in honour of the wealthy kings who there bore sway. Greek
history may, in a sense, be said to begin with the Mermnadae of Lydia,
and all our histories of Greek art contain a chapter on the archaic
monuments of Lycia.
A great part of the interior of Asia Minor is full of rock-sculptures,
carved partly in the service of religion, partly as a record of the
dead. Much of this sculpture is of great but unknown antiquity, and less
closely related to any Hellenic work than to that of the races of Syria
and Mesopotamia. The best general account of these remains will be found
in the fifth volume of Perrot and Chipiez’ _Histoire de l’Art dans
l’Antiquité_. It is only necessary in the present work to mention a few
groups of monuments of a later time, which may be advantageously
compared with early Greek monuments.
Pausanias, who was well acquainted with the Ionian coast, tells us that
he had seen[59] on Mount Sipylus a notable tomb ascribed by tradition to
Tantalus, son of Zeus and Pluto (Πλούτω), and father of Pelops, who gave
his name to the Peloponnesus. This monument has been identified[60] in a
tumulus of which the remains still stand on a spur of Sipylus. It was
excavated, and partly destroyed, by M. Texier, whose drawings, which are
here repeated, give us a notion of its original form and disposition
(Fig. 21).
Save for the fact that it was not covered with earth, but stood free,
this tumulus bears a striking resemblance to the tombs at Mycenae and
Orchomenus. And the chamber within
[Illustration: FIG. 21. TUMULUS ON SIPYLUS.]
[Illustration: FIG. 22. SECTION OF CHAMBER[61].]
(Fig. 22) in many points of construction recalls the chamber of the
beehive tombs, though its ground plan is not circular like theirs, but
oblong. It is certainly remarkable to find, in the very district whence,
according to the legends, Pelops came, a tomb so closely resembling
those said to have been erected in Greece by his sons and grandsons.
This however leads us to historical questions into which we must not at
present enter.
[Illustration: FIG. 23. TOMB OF MIDAS.]
The inner lands of Phrygia also furnish monuments parallel to those of
Mycenae. In the neighbourhood of Kumbet, Leake found a large necropolis
containing many tombs of ancient Phrygian kings and notables, some of
which are remarkable for their architecture, and some for their
sculpture. And here we are not dependent upon mere tradition, for the
most notable tomb of the group bears an inscription in Phrygian, stating
that it was set up by Atys in honour of Midas the king (Fig. 23). M.
Perrot has allowed me to reproduce here a drawing of this tomb, made by
M. Tomaszkievicz from a photograph taken by Mr. Blunt[62].
[Illustration: FIG. 24. GEOMETRICAL FAÇADE OF TOMB.]
Several other façades adorned with patterns of a similar character have
been found in the same district by recent travellers, especially Mr. W.
M. Ramsay. These also in most cases adorned tombs, though perhaps in
some cases the tombs were but cenotaphs and did not contain actual
remains. We repeat an engraving (Fig. 24) of a carved front, which seems
of a somewhat later date than the Midas Tomb[63].
[Illustration: FIG. 25. TOMB FLANKED BY LIONS.]
If the geometric decorations of these early Phrygian monuments remind us
of the carving of pillar and lintel at Mycenae, a still closer parallel
to the Gate of the Lions is furnished by
[Illustration: FIG. 26. HEAD OF LION.]
other Phrygian tombs of which Mr. Ramsay was the fortunate discoverer.
At Ayazinn he found a tomb entrance surmounted by a tall column on
either side of which ramped a colossal lion (Fig. 25), rudely executed
it is true, but by no means wanting in vigour. Under each of the lions
is a small cub. We reproduce the drawing of this monument made by M. St.
Elme Gautier[64]. Fragments also of colossal lions of a far nobler type,
which had in like heraldic pose served to decorate a tomb, were found
in the same district: an engraving of a fragment of one of these (Fig.
26)[65] will give us, so to speak, the high-water mark of Phrygian art,
and we must confess that it is a level which the Greeks themselves
scarcely reached before the end of the sixth century.
For the sake of completeness I have reproduced some of the most clearly
marked types of Phrygian tombs. But it is impossible here to enter into
the historic questions which they suggest, and which have given rise to
much discussion[66]. Almost the only fact which we know as to the
history of Phrygia is that recorded by Strabo[67], who tells of a
Phrygian king Midas, who, when his kingdom was devastated about B.C. 680
by an invasion of the Cimmerians, committed suicide by drinking bull’s
blood. After the Cimmerians had retired, the kingdom of the Lydians
arose to a great height of power and splendour, but that of the
Phrygians did not fully recover, remaining a dependency of Lydia.
The Midas of the Midas Tomb can scarcely be the monarch who fell in the
darkest hour of his country’s history. Are we to suppose that the king
Midas of the tomb was a predecessor of Strabo’s monarch, or a successor?
Or are we to suppose with M. Perrot that he was no historic monarch, but
a deity, and that the supposed tomb is really rather a shrine? That the
monument was really a tomb Mr. Ramsay argues with great force. But its
date is more problematic, and we cannot venture in this matter to
express an opinion.
According to Mr. Ramsay the tombs guarded by lions are more ancient than
those with geometric façades, and go back to quite a remote antiquity.
But the opposite opinion, that the geometrical tombs are the older, has
found advocates. Between them, the two classes of monuments seem to
occupy the period between the eighth century, or earlier, and the age of
Croesus and Cyrus.
That there was some not distant relation between the sepulchral art of
Phrygia and that of Mycenae cannot be denied. It would however be a
mistake hence to leap to the conclusion that the art of Mycenae was of
Phrygian origin. It appears that the remains which come to us from
Mycenae are earlier by several centuries than those which we find in
Phrygia. It might even be suggested that the stream of art flowed rather
in the opposite direction, from Mycenae to Phrygia. A more reasonable
view, however, is that the art of Phrygia and that of Mycenae were not
mother and daughter, but rather cousins, derived alike from some stem of
Asiatic art which has yet to be traced out.
More interesting, because more full of human meaning, are the sculptural
adornments of the early tombs of the district of Lycia in southern Asia
Minor. Early Greek tradition shows a close relation subsisting between
Lycia and Peloponnesus. There is a well-known Homeric story which tells
how Bellerophon, the descendant of Aeolus, was sent to Lycia by Proetus,
who desired that he should there be slain at the hands of the Lycian
king, his father-in-law; and how nevertheless Bellerophon prospered in
Lycia in all that he undertook, slaying the Chimaera, and overcoming the
hosts of Solymi and Amazons. Glaucus, the grandson of Bellerophon, and
Diomedes of Argos meet under the walls of Ilium as cousins. And
tradition connected the name of the Lycian Cyclopes with the mighty
walls of Tiryns and of Mycenae. The genealogies of the legends are no
doubt quite untrustworthy, yet they are often confirmed as indications
of race by other evidence. And there is, as we shall see, so near an
analogy between the monuments of Lycia and those of Peloponnesus that we
are obliged to assume between the two countries also some connexion.
When we consider the series of Lycian tombs, which may be studied better
in the British Museum than in any other museum of Europe, we find a most
interesting blending of Oriental and Greek elements[68]. Their
architecture is local; the main feature of it being that it renders
directly, in stone and in rock, forms which are clearly in origin
wooden. Everywhere we see the square beam as it were petrified. In the
roof of the ordinary Greek temple we see that the forms were thought out
while the building material was still wood, and only modified when stone
took the place of beams. In the Lycian tombs this feature is still more
notable, because the Lycian architects lacked the nimbleness of the
Greek intellect, and were more conservative of settled forms. The
sculptures which adorn these curious constructions have also local
elements, but in this field the art of Ionia comes in as a controlling
force in the sixth century, rendering the native customs and beliefs in
forms to which the student of Greek art is accustomed. It may be that
our familiarity with the forms and style of the sculpture in some degree
misleads us. When we know the words of a language we sometimes too
hastily think that we are masters of its thought. The religion and the
customs of Lycia may resemble those of Greece less closely than the
monuments would lead us to think. But in ancient times art influenced
custom as well as custom art. In the present state of our knowledge we
cannot regard the early monuments of Lycia as outside the pale of Greek
art.
There are indeed, as M. Perrot has well shown, among Lycian archaic
monuments a few which seem to precede the Ionic influence. Such is the
square chest of the British Museum[69], on one side of which is a lion
strangling an ox, on another side a lioness with her cubs, on the third
a man slaying a lion, and on the fourth a group of horsemen and
warriors on foot. The lion-slayer in particular takes our thoughts not
to Greece but to Egypt and Assyria. Many of the tombs which do show
Ionic influence are not suggestive in the present connexion. Their
sculptural adornment is such as we might expect to find as soon on a
temple as on a tomb; satyrs, animals, sphinxes and the like. We will
here consider only a few monuments, the sculpture of which seems to be
really sepulchral in character.
Incomparably the most interesting of the archaic grave-monuments of the
Xanthus valley is the beautiful tomb called the Harpy Monument, the
reliefs of which now adorn the British Museum, having been brought
thither by Sir Charles Fellows. When complete the tomb was in the form
of a square tower of masonry about twenty feet high, which was
surmounted by a small chamber, wherein doubtless in ancient times lay
the bodies of those to whose honour the whole was erected, together with
the riches heaped around their biers. This chamber reminds us of the
tomb of Cyrus, as described by Arrian[70]. ‘Below,’ writes Arrian, ‘it
was built of squared masonry in the form of a four-sided tower, on which
was a chamber roofed with stone, having a narrow door to it, through
which a man of no great stature could with pain and difficulty pass. In
the chamber stood a golden coffin wherein was buried the body of Cyrus,
and beside the coffin a couch with feet of beaten gold, whereon was laid
a coverlet of Babylonian carpets, and below purple rugs. On these was
placed a candys and other garments of Babylonian workmanship: also
Median trousers and robes of hyacinth dye, some of purple, some of other
colours; and torques and swords, and gold earrings set with stones.’
Similar, though no doubt less splendid, may have been the contents of
the Harpy Tomb; and it is noteworthy that in it also there is a small
opening at the side, intended not for the entrance of men, but either
for admission of dues of food and drink, or more probably to give free
ingress and egress to the ghosts of the dead. The Persians and the
Lycians must have been of kindred stocks; and we may well suppose that
their burial customs would be similar.
The reliefs which decorate the outer faces of the Harpy Tomb are among
the most charming memorials of antiquity. In spite of a certain crudity
and poverty in design, which is discovered on a close inspection, the
style in its elegant and graceful conventionality is very attractive.
And the difficulty which exists in the identification of the figures of
the reliefs, and the determination of their meaning, adds an
intellectual fascination to that which is aesthetic. (See Fig. 27.)
On the side which faces the west we find the door already mentioned,
over which is a figure of a cow suckling her calf. At the two ends sit,
face to face, two dignified female figures. They are clad alike in the
Ionian dress with long sleeves, but in attributes they differ. The
figure to the left holds a vessel of offerings; a sphinx supports the
arm of her chair; she is severe in type and solitary. The figure to the
right holds in her two hands flower and fruit; the bar of her chair ends
in a ram’s head. Three votaries approach her, whereof the first is busy
with her drapery, the second carries flower and fruit, the third bears
an egg. It is clear that the lady on the right is more approachable; her
flower and fruit, and the ram’s head, all symbolize the genial abundance
of life in nature. The libation-vessel of the lady to the left, and her
sphinx, seem to belong to the grave rather than to life.
Let us pass to the other three sides of the tomb. The central group of
each of them represents a seated male figure receiving offerings from a
votary, also male. But the motive of the groups and the age of the
votaries varies. On the east, a young boy brings an egg and a cock to
an elderly man who holds a flower and a sceptre: a Triton supports the
arm of his chair. On the south, a youth carries a dove to a clumsy
figure who holds fruits. On the north, a warrior brings armour to a
bearded personage, beneath whose throne is a bear. The flanking figures
on the east side are merely more votaries with offerings. But on the
north and south sides we find the remarkable beings from whom the tomb
takes its name, strange monsters having the head, arms, and breasts of
women, but the tails and feet of birds, who carry each in her arms a
young girl clad in long drapery. In the corner of the north side is a
woman, who sits in an attitude of grief.
[Illustration: FIG. 27. NORTH AND WEST SIDES OF HARPY TOMB.]
Such are the details of reliefs, the precise import of which will
probably never be recovered, unless a new light dawns on Lycian customs
and religion. Earlier explanations saw in the winged figures the Harpies
or storm-winds bearing away the daughters of Pandareus, according to a
well-known tale of the _Odyssey_[71]. But an objection to this
interpretation at once arises from the fact that the girls who are being
borne away cling lovingly to their captors, and show neither dread nor
anger. Hence it has appeared more reasonable to find in them souls of
women gently carried by guardian spirits to the land of the future. In
the seated male and female figures, it has been proposed to find the
deities of the Lycian race, though who these were is not clear. If the
seated ladies be goddesses, it seems clear that they must preside
respectively over life and death. Yet it would be very bold so far to
Hellenize them as to call them Demeter, the impersonation of the
fruitful earth, and Persephone, queen of the shades below.
The most recent explanation of the reliefs, first propounded by
Milchhoefer, regards them as memorials of the worship, not of the gods,
but of the heroized dead. Certainly they in some points nearly resemble
the Spartan reliefs, of which we shall treat in the next chapter, and
which do beyond doubt belong to the hero-worship of Lacedaemonian
families. The offerings, too, in the hands of the votaries, the flower,
the fruit, the egg, and the cock, are such as were brought in Greece to
the tomb, and such as are figured in the Spartan monuments. No offering
could be more appropriately offered to a deceased ancestor, in an
artistic representation, than the armour which was sometimes in early
days placed, in Greek and Asiatic graves, on the head and the breast of
him who had worn it during his life; and in later days was sometimes
attached to his tomb. And however we interpret the winged figures, we
can hardly make them other than the ministers of death, a fact which
seems to strike a keynote with which all the rest of the explanation
must harmonize.
Yet when we try to explain the sculptures as memorials of Lycian
ancestor-worship we soon come to difficulties. On the stelae of Sparta
we find a pair, ancestor and ancestress, or the ancestor alone. On Attic
tombs we do not find more than a family group. But here, on the monument
of Xanthus, there are five detached seated figures, three men and two
women. What kind of a group of ancestors will these form, and why are
they separate? In the little seated lady of the north side one is
tempted, on the analogy of mediaeval paintings, to see the dedicator of
the whole tomb. But this again is uncertain. In the whole matter we walk
like the Mystae at Eleusis in the dark, seeing only vague forms and
hearing words which we cannot interpret.
To the winged figures with their prey we may certainly find an analogy
in the Sirens of the Athenian monuments (see below, Chap. VIII). The
Siren was with the Greeks a sepulchral figure, and signified a death
gentle rather than violent. The small beings in their arms on the
Xanthian monument are almost certainly souls, which Greek art often
represents as of very small size.
The Siren, in her ordinary Greek form, is found on another Lycian
monument, which has not hitherto been engraved. In the British
Museum[72] only the gable end of this tomb is preserved. In the midst of
it is a column of Ionic type, though not of the ordinary form, on which
stands the Siren of whom we speak. She is clad in a short chiton, girt
at the waist, with loose sleeves. Though the wings and legs are those of
a bird, she has human arms, outstretched. On either side of the column
sits a figure: on the left a beardless elderly man, on the right a
bearded man; each holds a staff, and extends the unoccupied hand. These
two dignified men appear to be the heroes to whom the tomb belongs; and
the Siren represents the mourning of the survivors. Here, even more than
in the Harpy Tomb, we seem within the range of Greek conceptions and
Ionic art.
[Illustration: FIG. 28. GABLE OF LYCIAN TOMB.]
Another monument[73], probably not much later than 500 B.C., was adorned
with what appears to be a funeral procession--old men in chariots, young
horsemen, and armed men marching. One of the venerable figures in the
chariots holds in one hand a flower, in the other apparently a cup,
symbols which we shall presently see to have a decidedly sepulchral
signification. Another fragment of archaic Lycian work in the British
Museum[74] represents a woman standing at the foot of a couch, whereon
it appears that a man reclined, for one of his feet is visible; but
whether alive or dead we cannot be sure. But we must not linger over
these fragments, though they might repay a more careful and detailed
study. The threads which we are now obliged to drop, we shall regather
when we treat of the tombs of Athens, and of the monuments erected by
Attic artists on the coast of Asia Minor.
CHAPTER VI
SPARTA
The group of grave reliefs which constitutes our record of the customs
and beliefs of the Lacedaemonians in regard to the tomb, a group which
is inferior to few sets of ancient monuments in historical interest, has
not very long been known to the world. Attention was first called to it
in 1877 by Drs. Dressel and Milchhoefer, and it has since then found a
place in all the histories of sculpture.
Of these reliefs the most important and the best preserved is now in the
Museum of Berlin. It was found at Chrysapha near Sparta. It is
represented in one of our plates (II), from which representation it is
possible to gain some notion of the fashion of its carving, which is
remarkable, and has been generally considered to indicate a hand or a
school more versed in the carving of wood than in the sculpturing of
marble. As in the carving of an onyx, we find several distinct planes
one behind the other, on which are respectively projected the different
parts of the relief, the outlines of each part being slightly rounded,
and the inner markings graven in shallow lines with a tool. The face and
arm of the nearest figure project most from the background; next, his
body; and so on, layer beyond layer, to the ground of the relief. The
style is rude, hard, and vigorous; though the capacity of the artist is
narrowly limited, he moves within his limits with
[Illustration:
PLATE II
_Page 76_
]
firm steps. The date of the work is probably the latter part of the
sixth century.
Perhaps even more striking than the style of the relief is its subject.
Seated side by side, no doubt on two chairs, though one only can be made
out, are a pair, a bearded man who faces outwards and who holds in his
right hand a winecup, and a woman, who bears a pomegranate in her right
hand, while with the left she draws forward her veil. Both figures are
fully clad. Behind the pair is erect a bearded snake; before their knees
we see advancing two smaller figures, male and female, bringing as
offerings a cock and an egg, a flower, and a fruit.
In the same volume of the Athenian _Mittheilungen_ (ii), in which this
relief was originally published, may be found photographs of other
reliefs which closely resemble it in character, but show small
differences in period and detail. On Plate 24 is a relief wherein the
snake is wholly wanting: on Plate 23 the snake is transposed, being
erect in front of the wine-cup, and the style of the work is decidedly
more advanced: on Plate 22 a dog appears beside the seated pair.
These four reliefs then make up a strongly defined group; and before we
turn to other reliefs of the Spartan class, it may be well to determine
what meaning may be assigned to the representations which they exhibit.
We may begin by rejecting without hesitation some of the theories on the
subject which might naturally be suggested by a first impression. The
wine-cup in the hands of the male figure might dispose one to think of
Dionysus and his consort Ariadne; but this explanation would leave the
serpent and other features unexplained, nor have we reason to think that
the cultus of Dionysus had struck deep roots at Sparta in early times.
Again, the serpent might suggest Asklepius with his daughter Hygieia,
since the healing deity commonly carries a staff round which a serpent
twines. But to this explanation the winecup offers difficulties; and,
again, the evidence for a local cult at Sparta is insufficient.
Far nearer to the mark is the view which Dr. Milchhoefer accepted, that
in the dignified seated pair we have embodied the deities of the world
of shades. The wine-cup would in that case refer to the frequent
offerings of wine made to the shades below; and the serpent is the
well-known companion and friend of the dead. We are not well informed as
to the names borne at Sparta by the king and queen of the world of the
dead. At Argos they were not so well known by the Homeric names of Hades
and Persephone, which they commonly bore in Greece, as by the names of
Klymenos and Chthonia. But in fact the pair were known by many names in
various places.
An interesting terra-cotta (Fig. 29) from Locri in Italy[75] presents a
group at first sight nearly resembling the seated pair of Sparta. We
find on it Hades and his Queen seated side by side: he is wreathed and
holds flowers; she carries a cock and ears of corn. This is valuable
evidence, and shows that in southern Italy monuments of the class we are
considering might well belong to the worship of the recognized deities
of the nether world. But a closer consideration shows that at Sparta the
worship took another and a less generalized form, natural to a race
among whom ancestors were held in special and unusual honour.
Though Hades and his Queen are frequently mentioned in sepulchral
inscriptions, they are but rarely figured together in sculpture. A
comparison of two or three other stelae of Sparta will suggest at all
events a modification of the view that the seated pair of the reliefs
already mentioned are merely the rulers of the world below. In the
fourth volume of the Athenian _Mittheilungen_ are published two reliefs
which beat
[Illustration: FIG. 29. HADES AND PERSEPHONE.]
important inscriptions. On one is represented a man wrapped in a cloak
seated: in his left hand is a pomegranate; in his right a wine-cup, out
of which a coiled serpent drinks. The stone bears the name ΤΙΜΟΚΛΗϹ. If
this inscription were of the same date as the relief it would of course
at once prove that the stone is a memorial of an individual, and not a
dedication to Hades. But in the opinion at least of Prof. Furtwängler
the inscription is decidedly the later; it cannot therefore be regarded
as conclusive evidence. But such evidence is afforded us by the next
monument. Here we have a bearded man seated, in a decidedly later and
more finished style of art, holding in his right hand a wine-cup, from
which a serpent feeds. The inscription here is ΑΡΙΣΤΟΚΛΗϹ Ο ΚΑΙ ΖΗΘΟϹ;
and it seems not merely to show that the memorial belongs to a man,
Aristocles, but also that this Aristocles received a second name after
his death in the quality of hero or demi-god. We learn from other
sources of several such heroic names bestowed on distinguished men after
their death. The rarity of names on the Spartan tombs may be readily
accounted for by the existence of a stern law of Lycurgus[76], that
names were not to be recorded on the tombs except in the case of
priestesses, or of warriors who had fallen in battle. Another regulation
of the great lawgiver ordained that bodies might be buried within the
city, and memorials of the dead set up in the neighbourhood of the
temples. Such monuments were not always gravestones, but sometimes
memorials of those who were buried in a different place, or had fallen
on foreign service.
In view of such facts as these we cannot hesitate to see in the
sepulchral reliefs of Sparta reference to individuals, the ancestor, or
the ancestor and his wife. They are the shrines of the family worship of
the Laconians. But yet in a sense the dead man is identical with Hades.
In Egypt each of the virtuous dead became part of Osiris. According to
Herodotus the Getae thought that their dead returned to their deity
Zalmoxis. In Greece, by dying, men put away the individual accidents of
the flesh and became in a sense united with Hades. This no doubt is one
reason why down to the second century B.C. we scarcely ever find
individual portraits on tombs, a fact to which we shall hereafter
return.
The cultus of ancestors was closely parallel to that of the gods. To
both, sacrifices of food and of drink were constantly brought. To the
temple of the gods corresponded the family heroum or shrine. To the
statues of the gods corresponded the representation of the human dead in
an ideal or heroized form. And gods and ancestors alike partook with
their votaries of food at stated times, becoming the guest-friends of
the worshipper.
Regarding the relation of the Spartan stelae to the cultus of ancestors
as certain, we may proceed to consider in the light of that connexion
the meaning of various details of the reliefs. The thing that is perhaps
of the highest interest in them is the high honour paid to women.
Ancestor and ancestress sit in state side by side, and are approached by
their descendants, the smallness of whose figures is intended to portray
the humility of their approach to their heroic progenitors. That
ancestor-worship should find a special home at Sparta need not surprise
us. We know that respect for elders and for parents was almost as
strongly rooted among the conservative Laconians as it is in our days
among the Chinese and Japanese. An exhortation to be worthy of their
predecessors was the appeal which most readily stirred the hearts of the
Spartan spearmen. They lived under the shadow of the past to an extent
which we can hardly realize. But it is scarcely so familiar a fact that
Sparta was the city in all Greece where women were held in highest
honour. The Athenians inherited something of the Ionian desire for the
seclusion of women, and to the contemporaries and countrymen of
Thucydides it seemed high praise of a woman to say that she was never
talked of. At Sparta, on the other hand, in some of the great crises of
history, women are prominent in the foreground, from the days when
little Gorgo saved her father Cleomenes from being bribed, to the days
when Agiatis stirred up a later Cleomenes to his projects of political
reform. The Spartan education, which seemed to regard women as only of
use for bearing children to uphold the State, can scarcely have aimed at
a high intellectual ideal. Modern German writers are fully convinced
that sharing the exercises and games of the men must have rendered
Laconian women coarse and masculine. Yet the Spartan ladies had a great
share in the ownership of land; Spartan nurses were sought for in all
Greece for the rearing of boys; and we learn from Plutarch that in all
matters the Spartans were ready to take the advice of their women, and
looked on their approval as the highest of rewards. On this regard for
women among the Laconians, the treatment of women in their sepulchral
reliefs is an excellent commentary.
The offerings brought to the seated pair in the relief first cited are
such as belonged in a special way to the dead. The pomegranate was the
food of the Shades, which, when Persephone had tasted in the palace of
Hades, she belonged to him beyond recall. The cock and the egg are the
simplest meat-offerings which were brought to the dead and enjoyed by
the living. Flowers in all countries and in all ages have been laid on
the tomb; and the Greeks who loved to deck their banquets with them were
not an exception to the general rule. The winecup in the hand of the
seated hero may be characterized as a very broad hint to his descendants
that at the tomb were due the libations which were grateful alike to the
gods and to the spirits of the dead. The serpent who is sometimes
represented as drinking from the cup is either the companion of the dead
or even his spirit in another form. The way in which a serpent
disappears into the ground marks him out as essentially a chthonic
being.
A few more characteristic specimens of this class of monuments must be
cited. On a stele from Chrysapha (Fig. 30) we see a man, depicted in an
archaic style of art, seated, holding winecup and pomegranate; at his
feet leaps a dog, while a horse is depicted in relief in the background.
In discussing this relief Dr. Furtwängler[77] advocates the view that
horse and dog have a symbolical reference, the horse being
[Illustration: FIG. 30. SEATED HERO.]
nearly connected with Hades and the dog with Hecate, both mythologic
beings closely connected with the dead. I have proposed[78] a somewhat
bolder view, that these animals sculptured on the stone bear the same
relation to the mortal horse and dog which had belonged to the hero that
the portrait bears to himself, and that they are really a survival of an
ancient custom, whereof we find traces in the graves of Greece and
Italy, by which the horse and dog of a deceased warrior were slain and
buried in the same place with him. Whether their bones were mingled with
their master’s, or whether they are merely figured on his gravestone,
the meaning is much the same, that wherever the lord is, there are his
faithful attendants: ‘Admitted to that equal sky, his faithful dog shall
bear him company,’ as Pope says. In any case, horse and dog on a tomb
are certainly a mark of knightly rank.
Among many proofs that the animal companions of the hero had reference
rather to his occupations and necessities than to any symbolism, the
evidence afforded by a grave at Tanagra[79] seems worth citing. Although
that grave is of a period later than Alexander the Great, it seems to
preserve early Greek ways of looking at death and what lies beyond. The
interior of this grave contained paintings of the head and neck of a
horse, a sword and a loom, besides a house and various articles of
furniture. Here the paintings seem closely to represent what might at an
earlier time have been the contents of the grave. The horse and the
sword belong to the husband, the loom to the wife, whether we are to
consider these as reflections of the past life of the pair or as an
accompaniment of their ghostly existence. The furniture and the house
are provision for their spiritual need of a domicile, just as in the
graves of Egypt we find paintings of the life of the house and farm,
there placed to break the shock of death, and provide for the shadow of
a departed landlord a shadow of his past employments[80].
We pass to the representations which serve to bridge the gap between the
grave-monuments of Sparta and those of other districts. Among the
Spartan reliefs published by Milchhoefer, the following occupy one
plate[81]:--
A female figure, seen from the waist upwards, clad in a chiton, holding
in her left hand a tall flower.
A youth, standing, clad in a chlamys; he holds a staff in one hand, in
the other a cake or fruit; before him a snake erect.
Both of these are of quite early style: with the latter of them we may
compare the following in the Museum at Athens[82]:--
[Illustration: FIG. 31. STELE, MAN FEEDING SNAKE.]
Man standing wrapped in a mantle; in his left hand a pomegranate, in the
right a winecup, out of which feeds a serpent coiled and erect.
In these instances we approach the ordinary representation of the dead
as standing, so common on the tombs alike of Athens and of Northern
Greece, numerous instances of which will be found in the ninth chapter.
Yet the snake, the flower, the pomegranate, all belong to the special
cultus of the dead; and there is not in these cases a reference to the
past life, as is probably the case with the great majority of Attic
stelae.
CHAPTER VII
HEROIZING RELIEFS
Before we proceed further, one distinction of importance has to be made.
It will be found that all the sepulchral monuments of Greece belong to
one of two classes:--
1. Actual tombs, whether temples, or tables, or slabs hewn to be let
into the ground.
2. Commemorative tablets. These may readily be distinguished in form,
because their width is greater than their height, whereas in the true
grave-stele, the height is greater than the width. They were made
usually not to be fixed into the ground of the cemetery, but to be set
up in chapels or mounted on walls in its neighbourhood. An example will
be found in Pl. III. These slabs have a closer relation to actual cultus
than have the gravestones. Their likeness in shape and in composition to
tablets dedicated to the deities is obvious. In fact they belonged to
the chapels and shrines sacred to the worship of heroes and exalted
ancestors, rather than to the ordinary dead.
When we proceed to trace down the lines of descent of the memorials of
ancestor-worship from Sparta in various districts of Greece, we shall
find that some of these lines lead us to groups of actual tombstones,
but more usually they lead to dedicatory reliefs, closely connected with
the cultus of the dead, but not usually coming from actual cemeteries.
One line takes us to the so-called sepulchral banquets of Athens. The
best specimen of these reliefs, found at the Piraeus, and dating from
the end of the fifth century, is represented in our plates (Pl. III). It
has passed by the absurd name, The Death of Socrates. On a couch,
supported by cushions, reclines a bearded citizen, holding in his hand a
cup, and apparently pouring the libation with which the Greeks preluded
their feasts. At his feet sits his wife, occupied, like many of the
ladies represented on Athenian tombs, in admiring a necklace, which she
holds in both hands, or possibly a wreath, for the object itself, having
been represented in colour and not in the marble, has disappeared. A
young slave as cup-bearer is occupied in fetching wine in a jug from the
huge _crater_ or mixing bowl which appears on the left of the relief;
beneath the couch a dog is occupied with a bone. On the right of the
scene there enters a bearded man, of smaller stature than the reclining
hero, who raises his hand out of the folds of his himation in a fashion
which to the Greeks implied adoration.
At the first glance there seems but small likeness between this scene of
domestic feasting and the stiff Spartan reliefs. Yet when we compare the
two in detail, we find that the differences between them lie in the
different customs of varying ages, and in the artistic rendering, rather
than in the signification. Let us make the comparison.
In the Spartan relief the hero is seated, in the Athenian reclining.
Here we have an illustration of the well-known fact that during the
historic age the Greeks changed their custom from sitting at meals, as
do the Homeric heroes, for a reclining posture. The habit of lying at
meals, awkward as it seems to us, was a result of growing luxury. It had
long, as we know from the reliefs of the Assyrian palaces, been
customary in the East. Fig. 32[83] shows King Assur-bani-pal and his
Queen
[Illustration:
PLATE III
_Page 88_
]
feasting in their palace, in the seventh century B.C. From the East, the
custom spread to the Ionians of Asia Minor, and thence to Greece itself,
with other traits of Ionian luxury.
An archaic relief from Tegea (Fig. 33)[84] seems to mark the point of
transition in Hellas from the seated to the reclining position. Although
only the feet of the hero are seen, yet these feet sufficiently prove
that he was extended on a couch. His wife draws forward her veil;
between husband and wife is a youth holding a wreath, in regard to whom
it is not easy to say whether he is the child of the pair, or merely a
cup-bearer, or an adorer.
[Illustration: FIG. 32. ASSUR-BANI-PAL AND QUEEN.]
It is a consequence of the assumption of a reclining position by the man
in the reliefs, that the woman must be separated from him. In the
somewhat unrestrained vase-paintings of Euphronius and his
contemporaries we frequently find women reclining at table with men and
sharing their cups. But these, as the disorder of the scenes clearly
shows, were hetaerae, slaves of abandoned character. No wife, and no
self-respecting concubine would even be present at a Greek banquet. When
a husband dined at home, his wife might be present, but would probably
not take a share in the repast. She would sit opposite her husband, to
cheer him with her talk. But for a Greek wife to sit like the Queen of
Assur-bani-pal drinking wine, and pledging her lord in a cup, would be
an impossibility. Alike on the Tegean and the Athenian relief she is
wholly occupied with her dress, like a true daughter of Greece. The
Spartan wife had more in common with her husband.
[Illustration: FIG. 33. STELE FROM TEGEA.]
Another marked divergence between the Spartan and the Athenian relief
lies, so to speak, in its tense. In the former, the past is set aside,
and we find allusion only to the life beyond the grave. The snake, the
pomegranate, the offerings, all have reference to the status of the dead
as hero and as an associate of the nether gods. But the Athenian relief
might at first sight be supposed to be an excerpt out of daily domestic
life. There is no symbolism, no exaltation. Husband, wife, and slave may
have met thus a hundred times in their ordinary life on earth. In this
we find the influence of the ordinary spirit of grave-reliefs at Athens,
which, as we shall see in a future chapter, dwells on and draws from the
past daily life rather than the more ghostly life of the future.
Yet a clear indication which unites the two classes of representation is
furnished by the votaries who appear in both alike. They are in the
Spartan relief very small in stature; a naive way of indicating how far
below the hero they rank. The votary of the Athenian relief is scarcely
smaller than his ancestral hero. Yet his presence is an undoubted proof
of the connexion of the monument with actual worship. On many of the
later representations of banquets, this is further emphasized by the
introduction of the well-known symbolism of ancestor-worship. In some a
snake is depicted in the foreground. In others a horse’s head appears in
the background. In others the superhuman character of the hero is
indicated by the lofty crown, which belongs to the god of the lower
world, Hades or Sarapis, and which appears on the head of the reclining
hero[85].
The Spartan monuments were probably in many cases set up as tombstones
over the actual graves of ancestors. But the Athenian banqueting reliefs
were not usually on tombstones, more often on memorial tablets preserved
in chapels devoted to the cultus of the dead. This their shape clearly
indicates. All tombstones are almost of necessity higher than they are
broad, usually tall and narrow. But the banqueting reliefs are oblong in
the opposite direction, broader than they are high. This difference
indicates a different use and destination. In fact they come rather into
line with the reliefs which belong to the worship of civic or local
heroes, or those set up by grateful votaries in the shrines of Asklepius
and other healing deities, than with the immediate memorials of the
dead.
[Illustration: FIG. 34. COIN OF BIZYA.]
The likeness between some of the votive monuments of Asklepius and the
ordinary sepulchral banquets is so close as to have caused considerable
confusion. The Asklepian reliefs appear to borrow of set purpose much of
the symbolism which belongs to ancestor-worship. As an instance we
engrave (Fig. 34) a coin of Bizya, a Greek city of Thrace[86], struck in
the reign of Philip the Arab. On the reverse of the coin we see
Asklepius reclining on a couch, against which rests his serpent-twined
rod. His daughter or wife Hygieia is seated beside him; a human
attendant brings in a wine-jar. The accessories, a coat of mail hung on
a tree, a shield suspended from the wall, a horse who trots in from the
right, are among the ordinary features of sepulchral banqueting reliefs,
and seem inappropriate to a peaceful and non-equestrian deity like
Asklepius. Such contamination of one class of monuments by another, such
transfer of symbols from one artistic field to another, is among the
common phenomena offered by Greek art.
We have now reached phenomena which require careful consideration. We
have found that there is no clear line of distinction to be drawn
between banqueting reliefs which were set up in honour of dead persons
and reliefs which belong to the cultus of heroes, and even of deities
who partake of the nature of heroes, such as Asklepius. It is always
difficult in dealing with ancient monuments to separate the particular
class of which we propose to treat from other classes which are akin to
it in origin and in meaning. It is always necessary at last to draw a
somewhat arbitrary line, and to adhere to it for the sake of order and
method.
In Greek cultus and belief there is no broad distinction to be made
between the veneration paid to the more noteworthy of those who were
recently dead, and the worship accorded to local and national heroes,
Theseus and Orestes, the Dioscuri and Asklepius. In a sense, all the
dead were heroes, and any of them might become a worthy object of
periodic sacrifice, proprietor of a sacred domain, and lord of a
priesthood. I have already (Chap. II) dwelt on these facts from the
point of view of custom and cultus; it remains to show their working in
the field of art.
In dealing, not with actual gravestones, but with the oblong reliefs
which had a closer relation to cultus, and were dedicated only to the
more distinguished of the dead, it is quite impossible to distinguish
clearly those which were set up in honour of recognized mythic heroes,
from those which belonged strictly to the cult of ancestors. Sometimes
the inscription may help us to a decision, or sometimes we may find
direction in the place where the relief is found. Apart from these
external indications, those offered by the relief itself are usually
ambiguous.
That some of the banqueting reliefs were set up in honour of persons
recently dead may be proved[87]. Indeed, in later times, such scenes not
unfrequently decorate actual tombstones. This being the case, it is
reasonable to assume that the great majority of them belong to tribal
and family worship. They were set up, not usually at the tomb, but in
shrines and heroa in the neighbourhood of the cemetery, or in the
chapels of deities or heroes; sometimes, perhaps, in private houses, to
be a constant reminder to the survivors.
In an early and interesting sepulchral relief in the British Museum[88]
we have an unusual group. On a couch there recline an old man and a
young, doubtless father and son, while a second son leads in a horse.
This relief may serve as a transition to another class of oblong
cultus-reliefs. The cult of heroized ancestors does not find its only
memorials in Greece in the reliefs in which they are represented as
seated or reclining. There is another group of monuments in which they
appear as horsemen, or as leading horses.
The connexion of the horse with the heroic dead, whencesoever the notion
may have arisen, was certainly in some districts of Greece very close.
Milchhoefer has shown[89] how the sculptural evidence indicates that
this connexion was closest in Thrace and Northern Greece. And this is
but natural. The aristocracies of Thessaly, of Boeotia, and other
northern parts of Greece were essentially equestrian; whereas in
Peloponnesus the horse, being unsuited to the rugged mountain paths, was
comparatively rare. The strength of a Thessalian army lay in its
cavalry; the strength of a Spartan army in its array of spearmen. To a
horse-loving race it was natural to think of the mighty dead as
horsemen. Even at Sparta the national heroes, the sons of Zeus, Castor
and Pollux, were essentially riders; and on monuments they seldom appear
without their steeds. Still more close is the connexion between heroes
of Northern Greece and their horses.
A great deal of learning has been expended by a variety of
archaeologists to prove that the horse, when he appears in the
sepulchral banquets and the present class of reliefs, is of chthonic
signification; that he belongs mythologically to the gods of the world
below, and to mortals assimilated to them[90]. It may be doubted whether
they have proved their case. Hades is in Homer κλυτόπωλος, in allusion
to the dread chariot in which he bore away Persephone[91]; but he does
not appear as a rider. The wild rider or hunting ghost is familiar in
northern lands, but not in ancient Greece. It seems preferable to take
the simpler explanation, that a chief accustomed all his life to riding
would scarcely be supposed to lack a horse in the fields of Hades. We
have ancient evidence that the presence of a sculptured horse beside a
sculptured man showed his knightly rank in the _Athenian Constitution_
of Aristotle[92], where we are told that a statue of one Diphilas on the
Athenian Acropolis, which was set up to mark his rise to the knightly
rank, had a horse standing beside it.
Several extant monuments show how the god-like heroes of Northern Hellas
came as horsemen to receive the tribute of the living. And this kind of
monument spread from the north into other parts of the Greek world.
One of the earliest and most typical of these reliefs is in the British
Museum[93] (Fig. 35). It comes from Rhodes, and may be dated about 400
B.C. In it we have a combination in three figures of the three elements
which in this class of monuments are almost universally mingled. First,
there is the hero himself on horseback. Next, there is a female figure
of stature equal to or greater than his own[94], who meets him and pours
him a cup of wine. Thirdly, there is a worshipper on a somewhat smaller
scale, who does homage.
[Illustration: FIG. 35. HORSEMAN RELIEF, BRITISH MUSEUM.]
Another relief of about the same period, from Tanagra, (Fig. 36), shows
us a varied group[95]. Beside his horse the hero stands, clad in chiton
and mantle, holding out a flat cup or patera, which a lady standing in
front of him fills from a wine-jug. A square altar stands between the
two, towards which, in attitude of adoration, approaches a man,
represented on a smaller scale, with his wife and two children. The
inscription above is Καλλιτέλης Ἀλεξιμάχῳ ἀνέθηκεν. Dedicated by
Calliteles to Aleximachus. Whether Aleximachus was a recognized local
hero, or only an ordinary dead man raised by Calliteles to heroic rank,
cannot be decided with certainty.
[Illustration: FIG. 36. HORSEMAN RELIEF, BERLIN.]
Another very similar relief is figured in the fourth volume of the
Athenian _Mittheilungen_[96]. It is from Thebes. The hero stands,
holding a lance in one hand, and in the other the usual flat cup, the
patera. From the right seven figures approach. The first is the lady who
pours wine, and behind her are six worshippers, who bring in a pig and a
fowl for sacrifice. The sepulchral character of the relief is emphasized
by placing a tumulus just in front of the horse, and in fact under his
forefoot.
Another relief, in the Museum of Berlin[97], is similar in most
respects; but the lady of tall stature here stands behind the horseman,
and instead of paying him homage, seems to receive it in common with him
from a train of approaching votaries. A large serpent erect in the
background is the friend and companion of the hero.
There can be no question as to the association of these reliefs with
worship, since the preparations for sacrifice are actually represented
on them. But in many directions they offer us a series of interesting
problems.
Firstly, is the hero who is thus honoured merely an ordinary dead person
raised at death to heroic rank, or is he one of the local heroes who
were everywhere in Greece held in honour, mythic founders of cities or
ancestors of tribes, or healing and oracular demigods like Amphiaraus
and Trophonius? No doubt, in many instances, the heroic horseman of the
reliefs is of this latter class. Yet that a man recently deceased is
sometimes the recipient of honour is proved by the inscriptions in some
cases, and may be almost with certainty inferred from the presence of
the tumulus on the relief last described. On the monuments the hero is
represented in the bloom of early manhood; but of course it does not
follow that he died young: immortal bloom belongs to the hero after
death, however worn and wrinkled age may have left him.
Secondly, who and what is the lady who on the reliefs pours wine? Her
stature, which is equal to that of the hero himself, and far greater
than that of the worshippers, shows at once that she is no living mortal
or descendant, but a person of equal rank with the horseman. As a matter
of artistic tradition we can trace her genesis quite clearly, as has
been well shown by Furtwängler[98]. On the Spartan stelae we found
ancestor and ancestress seated side by side. When the reclining position
supersedes that of sitting, the wife necessarily moves from her
husband’s side and sits opposite to him. It is a variety of the same
motive when the husband sits or stands and the wife pours him wine, a
group found on several stelae[99], one as early as the Persian wars, and
very commonly in the paintings of Greek vases, from quite an early
period. The motive of wine-pouring being thus thoroughly established in
Greek art, could easily be transferred from one kind of group to
another. It may have been that in some cases the hero had no wife, or he
may have had several successively: that would make no great difference,
as the idea of the group is fixed. As Furtwängler expresses it: ‘Il
importe d’insister sur le fait que nous sommes ici en face d’une forme
artistique, qui avait pour objet d’exprimer une conception de ces
puissances souterraines dérivée d’un des principaux usages de leur
culte.’ This is a far more reasonable explanation than that of some
writers, who fancy that the wine-pouring lady is a kind of Houri, or
nymph of Paradise, who awaits the hero in the next world to recompense
him with her embraces for the pains which he has in this world undergone
for the good of mankind.
Thirdly, what is the relation between these heroic reliefs and the
numerous reliefs and paintings on Attic stelae in which the deceased is
represented as riding on a horse? Several of these we cite below in
Chapter IX. Some points of difference between the two classes of
monuments are obvious. The heroic reliefs are broad, shaped like votive
tablets: the Attic reliefs are tombstones of upright shape. In the
votive reliefs the wine-pouring consort is seldom absent, and votaries
are usually present. In the Attic reliefs the horse is merely one of the
adjuncts of daily life, and the rider is represented in the guise of his
ordinary existence. In fact, as we shall see when we reach the ordinary
Attic reliefs, the figure of the horseman, when it occurs on them, is
merely a characteristic portrait of a man who in his life had been fond
of horses, and perhaps won victories with them at the great sacred
festivals.
Nevertheless, it would be very rash to say that the heroic and the
ordinary horseman reliefs had no influence on one another. For example,
a relief at Tanagra[100] seems to fall exactly between the two classes.
On it a horseman in armour rides, followed by an attendant who holds the
tail of the horse, as was the way of Greek body-servants. A female
figure meets the pair with wine-jug and cup. Here, if the relief belongs
to the one class, the servant is out of place; if to the other class,
the pourer of wine. Probably, being oblong in form, it is really of the
heroic class, but contaminated by the influence of the other. On an
ordinary sepulchral slab in the British Museum[101], the horseman and
servant recur, but the lady is absent.
In recent years an immense quantity of votive terra-cottas has been
discovered on the site of the Dorian colony of Tarentum. These
illustrate in a striking fashion the monuments of the Spartan
mother-city. They consist mainly of two groups.
In the first group we see a man, bearded or beardless, wearing a tall
crown, reclining on a couch, often holding a wine-cup. Beside him is
seated a woman, sometimes bearing in her arms a child, who stretches out
his arms towards the man. We engrave (Fig. 37) a specimen of the
class[102], in which, however, the child does not appear, but instead,
in the background, a horse, who seems to be drinking from the flat cup.
And this horse connects the first group with the second, which consists
of figures of riding horsemen.
[Illustration: FIG. 37. VOTIVE TABLET, TARENTUM.]
Mr. Arthur Evans, who has had the advantage of studying these
terracottas at Tarentum[103], is disposed to maintain that the group
represents, not deceased persons, but rather the deities of the lower
world, Dionysus, Cora, and Iacchus. ‘The terracotta representations here
found must be rather regarded as primarily connected with the cult of
chthonic deities and national heroes, than with that of departed human
spirits,’ though ‘the starting-point may be regarded as purely
sepulchral.’ Dr. Wolters, on the other hand[104], connects the
representations far more closely with the worship of the dead. But after
all, the opposition between these two opinions is not fundamental.
Probably at Tarentum, as at Sparta, the dead ancestor and ancestress
were regarded as scarcely distinguishable from the king and queen of the
world of shades, into whose being they passed at death. Thus the last
note struck in the monuments of Dorian hero-worship is in complete
harmony with the first.
[Illustration: FIG. 38. HERO ON FOOT.]
There are also reliefs in which the heroic character of the deceased is
indicated, not by the horse, but by the presence of armour and arms. In
some states wealthy and well-born citizens were content to fight on
foot, and the position which had seemed to them dignified during life
was preserved by them in the unseen world. A good example from Attica
(Fig. 38) is given in the text[105]. The hero stands on the right,
helmeted; his shield rests against the wall. A dignified lady of the
same stature as the hero pours him wine; between the two is an altar: on
the left is a votary of small size. These groups may serve to remind us
how often in Greece, in the hour of stress and danger, ancestral and
local heroes appeared amid the ranks of the fighting men, and turned the
tide of battle in favour of their descendants or townsfolk.
[Illustration: FIG. 39. HERO SEATED.]
Finally, the hero may even appear in the reliefs unarmed, as an ordinary
citizen. On a relief from Patras[106] (Fig. 39) he is seated on a throne
almost with the dignity of Zeus, a sceptre in his raised hand, a shield
hung on the wall above him. His consort stands behind the seat, while
from the left there advances a train, men, women, and children, making
the well-known gesture with the raised hand which implies adoration, and
bringing a ram for sacrifice. A horse’s head appears above through a
square opening, the part standing, as so often in these monuments, for
the whole. This relief bears a very close likeness to those found in the
sanctuary of Asklepius on the side of the Acropolis hill at Athens;
indeed, if the hero had held a staff entwined by a serpent we should not
have hesitated to identify him as Asklepius. But in the absence of that
attribute we are probably justified in considering him to be some local
hero of Patras, either mythical or historical.
CHAPTER VIII
ATHENS: PERIODS AND FORMS OF MONUMENTS
In regard to the laws which regulated the erection of monuments of the
dead, and the forms which those monuments assumed in successive ages,
under the influence of custom and belief, our information does not reach
far beyond Athens. At Athens alone have we been so fortunate as to find,
beneath the soil, a considerable part of an ancient burying-ground,
where not the graves only, but also the monuments erected over them, are
untouched by the spoiler, and almost as fresh as they were when Athens
was a powerful city. It will therefore be well worth our while to
consider the history of the Athenian monumental customs, which have been
carefully studied on the spot by several able archaeologists.
Graves of the Mycenaean age have been discovered in Attica, at Sparta,
and at Menidi. Of such graves we have already spoken. At an uncertain
period, probably about the eighth century, there succeeded, in place of
these, the graves found in such numbers just outside the Dipylon gate of
Athens, and so called Dipylon graves. The pottery found in these
burying-places is very interesting, although the devices are rude,
because there are painted upon it representations from the contemporary
life of Greece, the prehistoric Greece of the age of Homer and of
Hesiod. The most ordinary pictures are sea-fights, or else the burial
of the dead. Of the representations of Greek obsequies which these
vases bear we have had occasion to speak above[107]. The reason for the
selection of the subject belongs to the present connexion.
The time appears to have been one of poverty and of depression in art.
The rich treasures and the admirable talent for decoration which
belonged to the Mycenaean age lay buried in the past. The Greece which
we know, the historic Greece of art and poetry, of philosophy and
history, had not yet come into being. The moon had set and the sun had
not risen, and men moved in the dimmest twilight. Thus it can scarcely
surprise us that the graves of the Dipylon class, with their poor and
scanty contents, were surmounted by no sculptured monuments. In place of
a column or a slab, there stood on the graves one of the large amphorae
of the period, enriched with adornment of geometric patterns and lines
of stiff animals. Into these vessels were poured, almost beyond doubt,
the offerings of food and drink brought by survivors and descendants.
The choice of a sepulchral subject for the vases is thus readily
accounted for. The vessel rested probably on a mound of earth, such as
the χῶμα, of which we shall presently speak, or on a simple pedestal of
stone.
As we approach the historic age of Athens, the stone monument with its
painting and reliefs makes its appearance. It is not difficult to divide
into periods the history of the production at Athens of monuments of the
dead. It falls quite naturally into three sections:--
(1) The time before the Persian wars, 550-480.
(2) The time of perfected art, 480-300.
(3) The Hellenistic and Roman age.
The epic custom of Greece was to erect over the dead a τύμβος or mound,
with a στήλη or gravestone[108] placed upon or beside it. Such a custom
was continued in later Greece in the case of great graves made after a
battle to contain the bodies of the slain. The tumulus at Marathon is
well known to visitors to Greece, and the lion set up to crown the mound
at Chaeroneia, where the Theban sacred band was cut to pieces by the
phalanx of Philip, still exists in fragmentary condition. But for the
graves of private persons the lavish customs of the heroic age in Greece
gave place to more modest ways.
A passage in Cicero’s _De Legibus_[109] gives us some interesting
information in regard to Athenian customs. Solon, Cicero tells us,
legislated only against the violation of tombs, not against their
sumptuousness. But some time after, in consequence of the growth of
splendid tombs in the Cerameicus, a law was passed, forbidding tombs
more elaborate than could be made by ten men in three days. Nor were
they to be decorated with plaster[110], nor were Hermae to be set on
them. Notwithstanding, after a time, the luxury of tombs again
increased; until Demetrius Phalereus (B.C. 317-307) carried a law that
no monument should be erected save a column not more than three cubits
in height, or a flat slab, or a water-vessel[111]. A magistrate was
appointed to see that the decree was complied with.
The legislation of Demetrius does appear, as we shall presently see, to
have been successful. If the earlier legislation mentioned by Cicero was
effectual, it must be placed in the days of the democracy which
succeeded the expulsion of the Tyrants or in the stirring times of the
Persian wars. For there is a decided dearth of sepulchral monuments at
Athens in the first half of the fifth century. In the latter half of the
sixth, and again in the latter half of the fifth century, they are
numerous and elaborate. Whether Cicero’s words, ‘aliquanto post
Solonem,’ can be stretched to cover a period of nearly a century may,
however, be doubted.
[Illustration: FIG. 40. ACHILLES AT TOMB OF PATROCLUS.]
We have evidence that during the latter part of the sixth century, the
τύμβος the στήλη, the mound and the slab, persisted side by side. Often
a grave would be marked by both; sometimes one or the other would be
wanting. In the course of time the mound has usually disappeared, while
the slab often remains. But it is easy to prove that the mound was
common to early periods. Not only do we find mention of it in a variety
of authors[112], Herodotus, Plato, Lucian, Pausanias, but its form is
depicted upon black-figured vases. We give an instance (Fig. 40) in
which Achilles is represented as dragging the body of Hector tied to his
chariot beside the mound which represents the grave of Patroclus[113]:
a serpent and the shade of Patroclus appear. Here the tomb is a white
mound of oval form, whence it may be judged that in place of a mere
mound of earth sometimes an artificial structure was built, and a recent
discovery at Athens fully confirms this view. In the Piraeus street were
found in 1891[114] remains of an erection about two yards in diameter,
which consisted of a framework of tiles overlaid with fine stucco, and
which seemed originally to have been in the shape of the upper half of
an egg. This was clearly just such a tomb as is figured in the
vase-painting: and doubtless in antiquity such mounds were common, but
they perished easily, or might very commonly be destroyed by careless
workers in the course of excavation. At Myrina Messrs. Pottier and
Reinach found the contents of tombs in many cases lying on the surface
of the ancient soil; a fact for which they account by saying that these
objects must originally have been covered by a mound.
On the mound would in some cases be set the commemorative stone. In
other cases in this period also, as we learn from vase-paintings[115],
an earthenware vessel was set on it to receive offerings. Sometimes we
find in the representations mound and stele set side by side. And
sometimes there is a third feature of the tomb, a τράπεζα, or table,
that is, a horizontal stone. In one remarkable vase-painting[116] we see
clearly mound, stele, and table. More commonly we find the stele and the
table only; the latter being used as a seat by the dead person, or
sometimes serving as a place of deposit for baskets of wreaths and other
offerings. See, for example, Fig. 11, p. 22.
The ordinary stele was in shape a tall and tapering slab, surmounted by
an acanthus pattern. On the face of it were commonly the names of those
buried, and, as a rule, two rosettes. In our frontispiece, which
represents a part of the cemetery of the Cerameicus in its present form,
may be seen several stelae; and one is figured in the text (below, Fig.
43) as an example. The rosettes seem to represent the two breasts, and
we may here see a hint that the stele takes the place of a
portrait-figure, just as does the turban which commonly surmounts modern
Turkish tombs.
In the sixth century the stele is commonly adorned with a portrait of
the deceased in low relief; but sometimes a painted portrait takes the
place of one in relief.
Not all stelae, however, were of tall and narrow form, nor was the
device on them always limited to a single figure: groups sometimes make
their appearance, and to accommodate them the stele has to be made
broader. This development we will trace in the next period. Meantime we
must say a few words as to the pillar (κίων) which is frequently
mentioned as well as the stele in ancient epigrams. The small round
pillar, carved with a simple inscription, which is so abundant at
Athens, belongs to the later age of the city. But in early times pillars
were frequently set up on graves, and surmounted with a portrait or
figure of some kind. As examples we may cite the supposed grave of
Orpheus in Pieria, which was marked, according to Pausanias[117], by a
pillar surmounted by a hydria; and the grave attributed to the sons of
Oedipus, Eteocles and Polynices, on which stood a pillar supporting a
shield[118]. On the grave of Aristomenes at Messene also was a pillar to
which the ox, annually destined to be sacrificed to the hero, was
tied[119]. At a later time the grave of Epaminondas was marked, like
that of the sons of Oedipus, by a pillar supporting a shield, and that
of Isocrates by the figure of a siren, standing on a pillar 30 cubits
high. The oldest existing specimen of a sepulchral pillar is from the
tomb of Xenares in Corfu.
The terms σῆμα and μνῆμα, which are frequently applied to the tomb both
in existing epitaphs and in the epigrams of the _Anthology_, do not seem
to refer to any special form of monument, but rather to the purpose of
the tomb as a significant monument (σῆμα) or as a memorial (μνῆμα).
Every one who examines the early graves of Attica must be struck with
the fact that whereas it would seem natural that tombs should be set up
by children for their parents, at Athens the opposite rule seems to
prevail. Commonly tombs profess to be erected for those who died young
by their sorrowing relatives. Not only were young men who fell in battle
honoured with fine monuments, but young men who died of disease, and
unmarried girls. A large proportion of the women whose tombs we find
seem either to have died unmarried or else to have perished in
childbirth. It would seem that ordinary citizens, who died in the course
of nature, were buried in great family vaults; but that separate tombs
with fine sculptural decoration were erected in special cases, when a
father lost a promising and beloved boy or girl, or a young husband lost
at one blow his wife and his hope of a progeny to carry on his name and
tend his old age. The erection of a tomb to relative or friend was no
matter of course, but an exceptional proceeding, adopted when feeling
ran strongly, and required some satisfaction in outward act. The stern
law of Sparta allowed only the names of men who fell in battle or women
who were priestesses to be publicly set up. At Athens feeling took the
place of law; and while those who died for their country were sure of
honourable burial, ornate tombs were the gifts of special affection. We
are told that the effeminate people of Agrigentum erected special tombs
to their horses and pet birds. Here, as in so many cases, the Athenians
maintained the human mean, between harsh rigour on the one hand, and
luxurious effusiveness on the other.
To the second period, B.C. 480-300, belongs the great mass of the fine
sepulchral monuments of Athens. In the age of Pheidias, the custom comes
in of flanking the sculptural group of stelae with a pair of pilasters
supporting a small gable, as seen in several of our plates, and by
degrees the ground between the pilasters recedes, and a deep interior is
seen, as in Plates XI, XXVI, &c. By this recessing is produced the
monument in the form of a small and shallow temple, within which we see
in very high relief some scene from the daily and domestic life of
Athens. These are the most splendid of the Athenian tombs, in date
almost confined to the fourth century. They are the monuments of which
Cicero writes; ‘amplitudines sepulcrorum quas nunc in Ceramico videmus’:
even in Cicero’s time they were evidently one of the great sights of
Greece; how much more notable are they now, when we have but a wreck of
the artistic wealth and splendour of Greece with which to compare them!
It has been sometimes supposed that the temple-like form of these tombs,
whence they are called ναἰσκοι, indicates special veneration for those
to whom they are erected. If houses in form like those of the gods are
given to mortals, surely, it may be said, the mortals are raised almost
to the rank of the gods. This view, however, is mistaken. The
architectural forms which we associate with Greek temples are not
originally peculiar to them. It is only because the temples of Greece
have survived the secular buildings that we are disposed to look on
pillars and gables as belonging specially to the gods. We have, however,
still a few secular Greek buildings, such as the Propylaea of Athens;
and we see them to be constructed on similar architectural principles
to the temples. The Ionic and Doric styles of architecture were no more
exclusively religious in use or origin than was Gothic architecture in
England. The ναἰσκοι were not temples, but merely a framing for a
domestic interior, such as is often represented on vases. They are rooms
of the women’s apartments in Greek houses. A dead lady in the
_Anthology_ calls her tomb οἰκία λάϊνα[120].
About contemporary with the introduction of the ναἰσκοι was the custom
of shaping the tomb after the fashion of a vase. These stone vases are
extremely common in the Museum of Athens. Perhaps the earliest of them
is one published by Köhler[121]. In the relief of it we see two men hand
in hand, and it bears an inscription which Köhler on epigraphic grounds
assigns to the period B.C. 450-430. It is painted like a real Greek vase
with palmettes and maeander patterns. It was probably at the time when
the custom of placing terra-cotta vases on the tombs was dying out, that
it occurred to the sculptors to replace them by making the stele itself
in the form of a vase, adorned like the ordinary stelae with inscription
and relief. The marble vases were of two kinds. First, we have the
lekythos or unguent vase, of the same shape as the red-figured and white
ground vases very commonly placed in Athenian graves. These latter are
mentioned by Aristophanes[122] as the work of the inferior artist: ὃς
τοῖς νεκροῖσι ζωγραφεῖ τὰς ληκύθους, and in another passage he speaks of
them as sometimes let into the tomb and fastened there with lead[123].
To imitate them in marble was therefore natural. For an instance of the
lekythos tomb see figures 70 to 72, below. In the case of those who died
unmarried, a vase of another form was used as the model. Here again we
have only an imitation in stone of a terra-cotta vase often placed on
the tomb. At Athens it was a custom, when a marriage was about to take
place, for a girl to bring to the bride a vessel of water from the
spring Callirrhoe for a bridal bath. The water was fetched in a
two-handled vessel of peculiar form, the λουτροφόρος, such as seems not
to have been used on any other occasion. The Athenian Museum contains
several imitations in terra-cotta of the marriage vase; and in every
case the scenes painted on these vases are taken either from the
ceremonies of marriage or those of mourning. When a girl was married the
marriage vase was used in the pomp and jollity of the wedding: when she
died unwedded, it was placed on her tomb as a memorial. As Athenian
epitaphs put it, in that case she was wedded to Hades. On the tombs also
of youths who died before the marriage-day, the λουτροφόρος of
terra-cotta was regarded as an appropriate decoration. A well-known
passage of Demosthenes[124] gives us explicit authority for this usage.
‘What is the proof,’ he asks, ‘that Archiades died unmarried? A marriage
vase is set up on his tomb.’ Sometimes the marriage vase thus set on the
tomb was an ordinary vessel of terra-cotta. Sometimes it was represented
in relief on the stele. And sometimes the stele itself was fashioned in
the form of a marriage vase.
The usage is well illustrated by a stele from Kalyvia, now at
Athens[125], of which we give an engraving (Pl. IV). The whole field of
the stele is occupied by a great marriage vase in relief. On the top of
it, on a basis, stands a Siren, tearing her hair and beating her breast
in sign of sympathy with the mourners. On the body of the vase is
depicted a scene from the funeral rites. A marriage vase stands erect in
the midst of three mourners, all apparently women, one of whom is tying
to the handle of the vase (this vase has but one handle)
[Illustration:
PLATE IV
_Page 114_
]
a wreath. Twice over, on this curious stele, we have the symbolism of
the vase employed to indicate the unmarried condition of the defunct.
On another stele (Pl. V) three vases are represented in relief, a
marriage vase and two sepulchral lekythi[126]. The central vase bears a
relief, a young horseman armed, standing beside his horse, and giving
his hand to an elderly man who is wrapped in a cloak. The relief on the
vase to left shows us a boy, of somewhat manly form, running with a
hoop. It is likely that in the grave to which this monument belonged a
father had buried three sons, one of military age and almost
marriageable, the other two still young.
No sentiment is more often expressed in epitaphs, none more strongly
affected the Greek heart, than the sadness of the fate of those young
men and women to whom death came in the place of that marriage which was
regarded as the consummation of earthly happiness. When the marriage
vase was used for funeral libations, then indeed the bitterness of fate
was felt by every bystander. The poets have embodied this feeling in
many an epigram; one of these by the poet Meleager[127] I must
endeavour, though the task is a hard one, to reproduce in English:--
When Clearista doffed her virgin tire,
No bridal but a tomb did she require.
The flutes before her door but yesternight
To merry household clatter answered bright;
The morrow found them wailing, and the lay
Of Hymen in lament died sad away.
And torches bright that in her bower did glow
Illume the passage to the realm below.[128]
It is not, however, most usual to find the tombs of the later fifth and
the fourth centuries thus adapted to the circumstances of a special
tenant. Some of the stelae of this period, such as those of Tynnias (Pl.
X), Aristonautes (Pl. XI), and Amphotto (Pl. XVII) belong especially to
individuals; but the great majority of the graves between B.C. 450 and
300 are of eminently domestic character. The reliefs which they bear
represent not one person but many, and the inscriptions contain several
names. The simple burial customs of the Athenians made great vaults
unnecessary; a handful of ashes could be easily disposed of.
In looking at the sculpture of Attic tombs, we must not forget this
domestic and family destination. And there is another point, one of
technique, which we must also bear in mind. All decorative reliefs in
Greece, whether they belonged to the temple, the public building, or the
tomb, depended in a great degree for effect on the colour which was
freely used to help out the sculpture. Few traces of colouring now
remain on the sepulchral reliefs, but there can be no doubt that
originally they were coloured, not perhaps all over, but in many parts.
The background would be filled in with blue or other strong colour. The
hair of the persons sculptured would be, according to the almost
universal custom of Greek sculpture, red. Eyes and eyebrows would be
indicated with the brush as well as with the chisel. The garments would
commonly be at all events tinted, and in some cases they would bear
designs painted to represent embroidery, as is the case with the votive
archaic female figures recently discovered at Athens[129]. On our plate,
which represents the stele of Aristion (Pl. IX), considerable traces of
colour may be observed. And besides colour, metal accessories were in
many cases added. In the stele of Dexileos (Pl. XII), reins, sword, and
lance were added in metal.
[Illustration:
PLATE V
_Page 116_
]
Thus when we see on our reliefs a lady holding out empty hands (cf. Pl.
XXVI), we may be sure that originally those hands had borne a necklace
or other jewelry, added in colour. The handles of the marriage vase on
Pl. IV must have been marked with colour. The ornaments of the helmet of
Aristonautes (Pl. XI) were added in metal, and so on in other cases. To
the modern eye the pure white of Greek reliefs as they now are, seems
classical and appropriate. And we may be right. Greek life has passed
away, and looks upon us as if from another world in the ghostly
reflection of Greek art. We see it not in a realistic but in a softened
and ideal light. But the Greeks themselves loved strong colour, and in
any purely artistic question their eyes are far more to be trusted than
ours, which are perverted by the ugly surroundings of our daily life.
The date of Greek sepulchral monuments may be determined by a variety of
considerations. The inscriptions which they bear may help us in some
cases. We know that the old Attic alphabet, which did not distinguish
short from long vowels, confusing O with Ω, and E with H, and which used
the form [**shape] for Λ and Λ for Γ, was officially superseded by the
alphabet of Asia Minor in the archonship of Euclides 403 B.C. But long
before this date the Ionian letters had been in frequent use for private
documents. Thus any tomb bearing an inscription in the Ionian character
can scarcely be later than 400 B.C.; but may be considerably earlier.
The evidence of date furnished by inscriptions being thus rather vague,
we return to the evidence offered by the forms of the stelae and the
style of the reliefs.
A certain roughness and want of elaboration in the acroteria, the
architectural adornments of the tops of the stelae, indicates
fifth-century work. For example, the stelae of Lysander (Pl. XX) and of
Mica (Pl. XXI), with their somewhat clumsy ending above, are typical of
the fifth century, while a somewhat more elegant top, as in the stele of
Damasistrata (Pl. XXIII), is usually an indication of the more
luxurious fourth century. But style of sculpture is a safer criterion.
Those who are familiar with the style of the Parthenon frieze, and with
that of Praxitelean art, will find little difficulty in determining to
which of these two very different styles that of any given relief most
closely approximates. To the question of the relation of sepulchral
reliefs to the works of the great Athenian artists we will return in a
later chapter (XI).
The effects of the sumptuary laws of Demetrius Phalereus are clearly
visible in the Athenian cemeteries. After 300 B.C. we find no more lofty
stelae, no more temple-like tombs of great size and beauty. As might be
expected from the statement of Cicero above cited, henceforward we find
only small and mean monuments, the low stele with reliefs, the stone
lekythos, the short pillar, inscribed only with a name. Such tombs are
found in extraordinary abundance in the neighbourhood of Athens; but
their interest, whether from the point of view of the historian or the
artist, is but slight, and we shall be but little concerned with them in
these pages.
We must imagine most of the roads leading to great cities as flanked on
both sides by the sculptured memorials of the dead. Those who have
visited Rome and Pompeii will be familiar with this custom, which seems
to us rather depressing. But we must remember that the tombs of the
Greeks and Romans had not that air of uniform melancholy which tombs
bear among us. The frontispiece shows a part of the great Athenian
cemetery of the Cerameicus, which lay just outside the Dipylon Gate. It
shows us the line of tombs of various ages and of many forms, which
flanked the sacred way leading to Eleusis, the line of which is visible
in the foreground. On the left is the relief of Dexileos, which belonged
to a sort of shrine, of which the foundations still exist. Close to it
is a table or τράπεζα; below it, a tall stele with rosettes on the face
of it, and surmounted by an acanthus. Then come more tables and a flat
stele adorned with reliefs. Further are two shrines, ναΐσκοι, and a
lofty basis supporting a bull. One or two short pillars of the later age
are visible in the background. In some cases stone lekythi, such as that
lying broken at the foot of the pedestal of the bull, were inserted,
sometimes one and sometimes two, in the flat upper surface of the
tables.
To what events this section of the cemetery owes its remarkable
preservation is a matter of conjecture. Francis Lenormant suggested that
it was covered by the earthen _agger_ set up against the walls of Athens
by Sulla when he attacked the city from this side, and so preserved from
the ruin which time brings. Dr. Brückner, however, rejects this view,
thinking that the spot was buried with earth by the Athenians themselves
on some occasion[130]. Whatever explanation be accepted, it is certainly
a great gain to us thus to find preserved, like a fly in amber, a
section of a great cemetery of Greece.
The architectural features and decoration of the tombs of Athens may
best be spoken of in this place.
First, of the acanthus. The gradual growth of this ornament in
complication and variety may be traced in the stelae of successive
periods[131]. The general form is always two Ionic volutes, surmounted
by a palmette. To this is commonly added, after the fifth century B.C.,
some kind of pattern derived from the leaf of the acanthus, which
Callimachus, the inventor or improver of the Corinthian column, at the
same period introduced into temple architecture.
The acanthus is said by some to be introduced into tomb decoration
because it grew on the rocky spurs which the Greeks generally used as
burying-places. And in favour of this view may be cited the curious fact
that in the vase-paintings we often see on the top of a tomb, in place
of a sculptured acanthus,
[Illustration: FIG. 41.
HEAD OF ASSYRIAN STELE.]
[Illustration: FIG. 42. HEAD OF GREEK STELE.]
one growing naturally. But there is, on the other side, a piece of
evidence the value of which must be acknowledged. At Khorsabad in
Assyria[132], M. Place discovered a tall square stele, fluted on all
four sides, and surmounted by a device which is really a palmette, but
which bears a strong resemblance to the so-called acanthus pattern of
Greek art. The meaning and purpose of this pillar are obscure; but
whatever they may be, it is scarcely open to doubt that in an artistic
sense it lies in the line of descent of the Hellenic stele. And it
naturally suggests the question whether the finial ornament of Greek
gravestones was originally meant for an acanthus at all, or whether it
is only a variety of the Ionic scroll and the Assyrian palmette. We
engrave side by side the top of this column (Fig. 41), and for
comparison with it, an archaic anthemion from a Greek stele[133] (Fig.
42).
After the archaic period the anthemion on the top of the Attic stele
goes on developing in complexity as well as in beauty. We give three
characteristic treatments of the fourth century, which may be compared
with the example already figured. Of these monuments, one (43)[134] is
adorned with rosettes only; the second (43 A)[135] with a group of three
persons, father, mother, and daughter; the third (43 B)[136] with a
marriage vase.
[Illustration: FIG. 43. ANTHEMION OF STELE.]
The acanthus is not the only ornament used as a finial for Greek stelae:
other devices sometimes appear in the same place; and their meaning is a
matter worthy of consideration.
On some of the early monuments of Attica there stood a sphinx. The
instance figured (44) is from an early tomb at Spata, near Athens[137].
The monster is archaic in form: her hair falls in long formal curls, her
breast is covered with
[Illustration: FIG. 43 A. ANTHEMION.]
feathers: on her head is a round crown. The history of the sphinx has
been traced by Milchhoefer[138] and other writers. Its origin is
certainly to be sought in Egypt, in which country sphinxes were set up
in lines as guardians of the temples. The Egyptian sphinx is unwinged
and male, as the beard which it commonly wears clearly shows; but when
the people of Asia Minor and Syria imitated the form, they added wings.
The significance of the monster was in Egypt quite vague; and it was
probably even more vague in Asia. Thus when the Greeks adopted the
strange form, it cannot have brought with it much meaning. They had to
give it a meaning of their own. In fact, it was quite characteristic in
the Greeks that they
[Illustration: FIG. 43 B. ANTHEMION.]
[Illustration: FIG. 44. SPHINX OF SPATA.]
[Illustration: FIG. 45. TERRA-COTTA: SPHINX AND YOUTH.]
borrowed forms and gave to them their own meaning. They took the forms
and sounds of the letters of the alphabet from the Phoenicians, but used
those letters to express their own thoughts, and the same thing took
place when they received from the East an established pattern or form in
art. To the Greeks, then, the sphinx is a monster, sometimes fierce and
hostile, sometimes more kindly and gentle, who brings men and women to
an early death; a spiritual force, like the Siren, which bears away
souls. On a terra-cotta (Fig. 45) published by Stackelberg[139], a
sphinx, this time with human arms, is represented as standing on the
body of a dead youth. Some such group must have been before the mind of
Aeschylus when he describes the shield of Parthenopaeus as adorned with
a sphinx bearing in her claws a man of Thebes[140]. But in the sphinx
of our engraving there is no sign of fierceness or ravening.
[Illustration: FIG. 46. STELE OF LAMPTRAE, RESTORED.]
A sphinx probably stood on the top of one of the most interesting of
early Athenian monuments, the stele of Lamptrae, of which I give a
restoration (Fig. 46) by Dr. Winter[141]. It consisted of a thick slab
with elegantly adorned cornice. On the top is a deep cutting, made to
hold either the sphinx of the engraving, or, possibly, a portrait. Three
sides of the slab bear low reliefs which are much injured, but the
subjects of which are of interest. On the front is a young horseman,
evidently the denizen of the tomb, who rides to the right on a horse,
holding spear and shield: a second horse is represented by a mere
doubling of the outlines. On one of the narrower sides stands the father
of the horseman, in an attitude of grief: on the other side are two
mourning women, no doubt his near relatives. To these mourning relatives
we may find abundant parallels among the vases which represent the lying
in state of the corpse and its removal to the place of burial[142].
It will be observed that the sphinx of the terra-cotta has human arms.
This, and her female sex, bring her into close connexion with other
female monsters, who also are winged and have the arms of women, the
Harpies and the Sirens. Harpy and Siren are, in fact, not clearly
distinguished in art; both are human-headed birds. And both are daemons
destructive to human life, since, according to the legends, the Harpies
were notable for foul and ravenous habits, the Sirens for a passion for
the blood of the sailors whom they drew to them by the sweetness of
their singing. As sphinx and Siren were thus both alike the ministers of
early or untimely death, it will not greatly surprise us to find that on
later monuments Sirens appear in the place of sphinxes. An instance from
the museum at Athens is figured (Fig. 47)[143]; the woman-bird is human
from head to waist, and is occupied with playing on her lyre. The tomb
on which she stood perhaps belonged to some young girl or boy who
perished by an untimely death.
Yet this is by no means certain. For the Siren of Attic tombs has
greatly modified her nature under the kindly influence of Attic poetry
and art. She came from the East, almost certainly as a malicious and
devouring daemon. But in the ordinary custom of Attic tombs of the fifth
and fourth centuries she becomes friendly and sympathetic. Sometimes, as
in our example, she plays on a musical instrument. Sometimes she seems
to express grief by the movements of her arms, beating her breast, or
tearing her hair (see Pl. IV). A passage in the _Helena_[144] of
Euripides represents the Sirens quite in the same sympathetic light.
Helen, when wailing over the calamities at Troy calls on the Sirens,
winged maidens, daughters of the earth, to come and join to her
lamentations the music in which they were skilled.
[Illustration: FIG. 47. SIREN, FROM TOMB.]
The sphinx and the Siren may have originally found their place on tombs
as ἀποτρόπαια, stone images of daemons to drive away the real daemons.
But they retain their place on the tombs of a more refined age to
express sympathy with the mourners, and to add a gentle touch of sorrow
to the delightful domestic scenes which usually occupy the front of the
monuments. Sophocles calls the Sirens the daughters of Phorcys, who sing
the ways of Hades; it cannot therefore seem inappropriate that the tomb
of Sophocles himself was adorned with the figure of one of these
spirits.
[Illustration: FIG. 48. HEAD OF STELE.]
More obscure devices are sometimes mingled with the acanthus over the
tomb. In a few cases (Fig. 48) we find a pair of goats butting one
another over a drinking-cup[145]. The cup seems to show that there must
be here some Dionysiac reference or meaning, though what it is we
cannot say. In one case a female figure (Fig. 49), the import of which
is hard to determine[146], stands over a tomb, with the acanthus-leaves
for a background.
[Illustration: FIG. 49. HEAD OF STELE.]
It is not rare in most periods of Greek art to place on a tomb, instead
of a portrait, the image of an animal, or some other device, the meaning
of which has to be discovered by the spectator. Sometimes it contains
an allusion, usually to his name. We engrave (Fig. 50) a stele on which
is represented a lion in relief[147], and as the name of the person whom
the tomb commemorates is Leon, the allusion is clear. We may compare an
epigram of Simonides[148], written for a tomb, which runs thus:--
Most brave of beasts am I; of men most brave
He whom I guard, reclining on his grave.
Leon his name, yet save he had possessed
The lion nature, here I should not rest.
[Illustration: FIG. 50. STELE OF LEON.]
The traditional character of the lion, which was known to the Greeks
rather from the _Iliad_ than from personal experience, made his figure
a fitting adornment for the tombs of those who had died in battle for
their country. Two gigantic lions still survive which adorned Greek
tombs of historical celebrity. One stood over the remains of the Theban
band which fell at Chaeroneia. The other, brought by Sir Charles Newton
from Cnidus, probably marked the burial-place of the Athenians who fell
in the battle of Cnidus, 394 B.C. The lioness on tombs seems to have
scarcely had such dignified associations. On the tomb of Lais at Corinth
stood a lioness, holding in her paws a ram[149], a symbol of the
destructive force of the charms of the courtezan. A lioness without a
tongue is said also to have stood on the tomb of Leaena, the Athenian
courtezan who was a friend of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, and refused to
betray the conspirators against the Tyrants.
A bull or cow sometimes also stood on a grave. In the British Museum is
a bull of this class[150]. A heifer is said to have stood on the tomb of
Boidion, concubine of Chares, who followed him in his expedition against
Philip of Macedon[151]. On the grave of Diogenes of Sinope was a dog, to
mark his cynic nature. But the dog which appears on the summit of a tomb
in the Athenian cemetery need not have anything to do with cynicism. He
may have his place as a trusty watcher and guardian; or he may be
connected with the cultus of the dead, as we have already suggested. On
the grave of Philager his teacher, Metellus Nepos, set a raven, which
Cicero declared to be most appropriate to a master who taught how to fly
better than how to speak[152]. Of course the raven, as the bird sacred
to Apollo, was very appropriate on the tombs of learned men. In an
epitaph in the _Anthology_[153] it is said that the grave of the poet
Sophocles was surmounted by a satyr, holding in his hand a female mask.
As, however, we are told by other authorities that a Siren stood on his
tomb, we must suppose the satyr to have surmounted a cenotaph erected to
the poet by his admirers in some other city than Athens. From another
epigram[154] we learn that on the grave of Plato an eagle was
sculptured: here we are clearly in the realm of poetic symbolism.
CHAPTER IX
ATHENS AND GREECE. PORTRAITS
In the Spartan group of sepulchral monuments we found one of the two
fountain-heads of Greek sepulchral reliefs, springing directly out of
the ancestor-worship of the Dorian race. For the other main source,
which is much less religious and more artistic in origin, we turn to
Athens and to Ionia. It arises out of the custom of setting up portraits
of the dead.
The earliest sepulchral monuments which reach us from Attica, setting
aside the merely decorative or symbolical sphinx, are portraits of the
dead. In these portraits there is something of artistic and something of
religious purpose. As we shall presently see, no hard and fast line can
be drawn between the image used in ancestor-worship and the portrait
which is merely a memorial. In fact we may see two lines of tendency
taking their rise in the mere image of the dead. The one tendency is to
bring it nearer to the images of the gods; to identify the departed
ancestor or friend with Hades, the ruler of the world of shades. The
other tendency is to render the portrait a characteristic memorial of
the life which is past. In almost all existing sculptural remains we may
see something of both tendencies, and it is by no means easy to
determine what features in them properly belong to the past life, and
what features to the life which begins with death. At Sparta, as we have
seen, there is almost no reference to the past. In Lycia, past and
future are closely blended. At Athens, and in several districts of
Greece, the past has a tendency to eclipse the future. Yet at least in
the earlier stelae the religious, the human, and the artistic are all
actively working elements.
From the middle of the sixth century onwards the custom prevailed of
placing upon the tomb a portrait of the occupant, who is represented in
characteristic attitude and employment[155]. A man in middle life is
commonly represented in arms; a youth appears as an athlete holding
strigil or discus. A married woman appears with the basket of wool,
which signifies her most usual employment to be spinning; a young girl
carries a doll, or plays with a pet bird or dog. Sometimes this portrait
is sculptured in the round; sometimes it appears in relief, on a larger
or a smaller scale.
But no one at all well acquainted with the religious feelings and
artistic tendencies of the Greeks will expect that portraits thus
erected will be portraits in any modern or naturalistic sense, at all
events until after the fourth century. When an honorary statue was
erected in the neighbourhood of a temple or set up in a market-place in
the likeness of some statesman or poet or athlete, it would represent
the actual features of the person so commemorated, in the manner in
which the sculptors of the time understood the art of portraiture.
Greater vagueness and generality always in Greece characterized the
sepulchral portrait. It was a radical feeling of the Greek mind that he
who died put away the accidents of his personal individuality, and
became in some degree a mere phase of the deity of the lower world.
Thus, though he would not lose what was most essential in his
personality, sex, youth or age, warlike or peaceful character, and the
like, he would become typical of a class rather than individual, _the_
warrior, the athlete, or the girl, rather than a particular man or
woman. Besides this deep-seated tendency, it must often have happened
that the sculptor who made the effigy had scarcely seen the person to
be represented, and was quite incapable of making from memory a
life-like portrait, whereas taking a mould from the dead face was a
process invented, we are told[156], by Lysistratus, brother of Lysippus,
the contemporary of Alexander the Great, and unknown at an earlier
period.
[Illustration: FIG. 51. PORTRAIT FROM TOMB, THERA[157].]
We find in Greece proper as early as the sixth century portrait statues
from tombs. Male figures stand naked, female figures are closely wrapped
in archaic drapery. It is very probable that some of the stiff archaic
statues of men which figure in the earlier chapters of the histories of
Greek sculpture really come from tombs. They commonly pass under the
name of Apollo, as the Apollo of Thera, of Orchomenus, of Tenea, and so
forth. But at the very early stage of Greek art to which they belong,
the figures of gods and men were distinguished one from the other rather
by circumstance and attribute than by any marked feature of the statues
themselves. And thus some writers[158] have maintained that these
so-called Apollos are really portraits of athletes. In regard to one of
them, the Apollo of Thera, Professor Loeschcke has argued from its
find-spot, in the neighbourhood of the rocky cemetery of that island,
that it probably stood on a tomb. To bring before the eyes of the reader
the character of these early portrait-statues I have given an engraving
of the head of this statue (Fig. 51). The long locks fall over the
shoulders, and the hair over the forehead is close curled in the
decorative Ionian fashion. The upturned corners of the mouth, and the
almost Chinese obliquity of the eyes, are well-known features of the
most primitive art of Greece.
In the same paper Professor Loeschcke publishes[159] a fragment of an
archaic equestrian statue (Fig. 52), which comes from the graveyard of
Vari in Attica, and was probably a memorial of a cavalier buried there.
The equestrian figure on Greek tombs had, as we have found in an earlier
chapter, usually a special meaning; but here it seems to be a mere
portrait of one who had served in the cavalry, or perhaps had won a
victory at the great games of Greece with a racehorse. Noteworthy are
the long rigidly cut figure of the horse, and the seat of the rider,
whose legs stretch along the flanks of the horse. This may result from
the greater sculptural difficulty of carving the legs in a detached
attitude.
We possess also certain seated female figures of the same
[Illustration:
PLATE VI
_Page 136_
]
[Illustration: FIG. 52. HORSEMAN FROM TOMB.]
early age which appear to have adorned tombs. A fragment of one of these
was found built into the wall which Themistocles constructed round
Athens soon after the battle of Salamis, a wall erected, as
Thucydides[160] tells us, in such haste that men spared neither public
nor private edifice in its construction. But the best evidence as to the
character of the early sepulchral portraits of Athenian ladies reaches
us by a less direct route. Many people are familiar with the charming
seated figure in the Vatican which goes by the name of Penelope, a
veiled woman seated in pensive attitude, with her head resting on one
hand, while the other hand lies on the rock on which she sits (Pl. VI).
This rock, however, is a restoration[161], and replicas prove that in
place of it we must suppose a chair, under which stood a large
work-basket, to have supported the lady. She is, in all likelihood, no
mythic heroine, but an ordinary Greek mistress of the house, resting for
a while from the active toils of the loom in an attitude which gives the
impression that the thought of approaching death has come over her with
saddening power. Both the attitude and the basket of work recur
frequently in the reliefs of early stelae[162], and there is good reason
to suppose that the so-called Penelope is an excerpt from some Greek
cemetery, though the statue itself dates only from the Roman age. The
original from which it is copied would date from the early part of the
fifth century.
Before going on to speak of the stelae with reliefs, which are our main
business, it may be well to follow down to a later time the lines which
start with figures like the ‘Apollo’ of Tenea and the ‘Penelope’ of the
Vatican.
It is by no means unlikely that in later days tombs in Greece may
sometimes have been adorned with life-like portraits of their occupants,
executed by some of the great sculptors of the day, such as the noble
figures of Mausolus and Artemisia, which stood in the Mausoleum at
Halicarnassus. But certainly this was not the only, probably not the
usual, line followed in memorial statues. The idea of generalization and
of deification of the dead, of which I have already spoken, was by no
means inoperative in this province.
Pl. VII represents one of two figures found in the island of Andros, and
now placed in the museum at Athens[163]. This male figure obviously
appears in the guise of Hermes, and indeed bears a resemblance which is
more than superficial to the celebrated Olympian Hermes of Praxiteles.
Very probably it may have grasped the herald’s staff of Hermes. But the
snake which twines round the tree-trunk, which is a necessary support to
the marble statue, has no connexion with Hermes, but seems to indicate
rather a connexion with
[Illustration:
PLATE VII
_Page 138_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE VIII
_Page 138_
]
the grave, that in fact the statue is rather of a mortal in the
similitude of Hermes than of the god himself. And this suspicion becomes
a certainty when we consider other facts. Close to it was found its
companion, a female figure, which does not seem to stand for a goddess,
but for an ordinary woman[164]; and as male and female were thus found
together, they had probably both stood on one tomb. There are other
pairs of figures, of later and ruder work, at Athens, which in general
character resemble the pair from Andros. Thus we seem to be on the track
of a clear and defined sepulchral custom prevailing from the fourth
century onwards. The successors of Alexander in Egypt, Syria, and
Macedon appear on their coins in the guise of various deities, Hermes,
Apollo, and Dionysus particularly; and it can scarcely surprise us that
a distinguished private person should by the ennobling touch of death be
raised to the same level, and take the form of Hermes, the messenger of
the world of shades. We find that in Thessaly tombstones quite usually
are inscribed, not only with the name of the occupant of the grave, but
also with a formula dedicating them to Hermes Chthonius[165].
The Museum of Berlin has acquired, from the Sabouroff Collection, two
interesting statues of women, seated in an attitude of grief, which
almost certainly belong to tombs, and challenge comparison with the
‘Penelope.’ One is figured in Pl. VIII. Their date is probably the
fourth century; but they certainly do not come from the hands of the
great sculptors of that century; the work of them is poor, and their
style has been well termed that of domestic art. Their dress is not that
of the Athenian lady, but that of the maidservants who so often appear
on the stelae in attendance on their mistress[166], a dress of coarse
material with long sleeves reaching to the wrist. They are clearly
mourning slave-girls, who were placed on the grave of their mistress to
commemorate her wealth and her kindness to her dependants.
We next approach the rich series of sepulchral reliefs, in which, as we
have already shown, three periods are to be distinguished: first, that
before the Persian War; second, the fifth and fourth centuries; and
third, the later age. In this chapter we deal with the representations
which are primarily portraits, leaving more complicated scenes for the
next chapter.
Among the best-known of the works of early Athenian art is the stele of
Aristion, which was found in 1838 in the midst of a tumulus at
Velanideza in Attica. Simple and in details clumsy, the figure of the
warrior (Pl. IX A) on that stele is singularly pleasing as a whole, and
the unrivalled eye of Brunn saw in it, at a time when very little was
known as to the early art of Athens, the whole promise of the Attic art
of the future, more especially in the way in which it occupied the field
of the relief, and was wrought into a composition which showed in all
its _naïveté_ a fine sense of proportion and of the relation of the part
to the whole. As if on a parade, the soldier stands in helmet and
cuirass, grasping his spear, and waiting the word of command. The hair
and the right hand especially show the limitations imposed on the artist
by the undeveloped character of his technique. Yet the relief is justly
a favourite with lovers of art. One of its charms our plate imperfectly
reproduces, the delicate remains of colouring, which may still be traced
on the marble, and which are repeated on the casts in our cast
collections.
From the same cemetery as this work of the sculptor Aristocles comes
another stele adorned, not with relief, but
[Illustration:
PLATE IX
_Page 140_
]
with painting[167], and bearing the inscription, Λυσὲᾳ ἐνθάδε σῆμα πατὴρ
Σήμων ἐπέθηκεν. The colour has indeed disappeared with time, but the
patience of Mr. Thiersch and of Dr. Loeschcke has succeeded in proving
its former presence from the variety of preservation of the surface of
the marble, the parts of it which were protected by colour having
retained the original surface, while those which were not so protected
suffered from corrosion. We can clearly trace the outlines of the figure
of Lyseas, a bearded man, who stands, holding in one hand a winecup, in
the other a bough for lustration. Below is a jockey, seated on a
galloping horse, doubtless a memorial of some victory won in the great
games.
Lyseas is clad in civic dress, and in this respect he resembles another
person of distinction whose stele reaches us from Boeotia, and was
executed by the artist Alxenor of Naxos (Pl. IX B). This delightful
monument represents a worthy Greek citizen in one of his lighter moods.
Standing in a position of ease, he rests his weight on a staff which
supports his shoulder, and holds out in sport a grasshopper to a
favourite dog, who leaps up in an attitude somewhat constrained, and
clearly resulting from the narrow limits of the monument. The
inscription added by the artist is as delightfully simple as the
representation itself: ‘Alxenor of Naxos fashioned me: only look!’
Alxenor was a native of Naxos, Aristocles probably of a Parian family;
these are facts, among others, which confirm the view put forth by
Loeschcke and Furtwängler, that the stele with portrait is of Ionian
origin, and imported into Greece together with the marble of the islands
of the Asiatic coast, and with the sculptors who came to exercise their
hereditary skill in carving that marble. It is difficult to prove to
demonstration any assertion in regard to the art of Ionia, as the
remains which will finally establish or condemn such assertions still
lie beneath the soil of Miletus, Ephesus, Phocaea, and the other great
Ionian settlements of the coast. But we can assert with reasonable
confidence, that as Greece owed conservatism and ancestor-worship to the
rigid Dorians, so she owed progress in art and all the delights of life
to the joyous Ionian strain; and portraiture has in it the human and
individual character which belongs especially to the Ionians.
[Illustration: FIG. 53. SEATED HERO.]
Another relief, now preserved at Ince Blundell Hall[168] (Fig. 53), sets
before us a typical Greek citizen, seated in dignified fashion. From the
artistic point of view it is interesting to see how completely, even in
the archaic period, the sculptor has attained the art of displaying
rather than concealing the bodily forms by means of the drapery. Whence
this relief may have come we know not. But it is of Parian marble, and
the comparison of other reliefs indicates for it an Ionian origin,
perhaps on one of the islands of the Aegean. We miss the attributes
which in the stelae of Sparta refer to the cultus of ancestors. It is,
however, impossible to be sure that they were originally wanting. For it
seems clear that on the right hand, which lies palm upwards, some
attribute rested which was indicated in colour, perhaps a flat cup,
while the raised left hand may have held a flower.
[Illustration: FIG. 54. HEAD OF YOUTH HOLDING DISCUS.]
The stelae of youths are in the early age more common than those of
grown men. As we might expect, the portraits of young men, even from
their tombs, are marked by an athletic tinge. In the wall of
Themistocles, already mentioned, near the Dipylon gate of Athens, was
found the head of a young man, who had probably been a winner in the
pentathlon, a combination of five contests--hurling the spear, throwing
the discus, leaping, running, and wrestling[169]. The victors in this
complicated sport appear in their statues holding either spear or discus
or the weights (άλτῆρες) used in leaping. In the present case it is the
discus which has the preference (Fig. 54). Held up in the left hand, the
discus forms a sort of background or frame to the remarkable head, with
its long arched nose, its wide-open archaic eye, and the long mass of
its hair falling down the neck.
[Illustration: FIG. 55. DERMYS AND CITYLUS.]
To this work, which is, for the time, of finished style and execution, a
strong contrast is presented by an extraordinary monument of Boeotia
(Fig. 55), from the tomb of two brothers,
[Illustration:
PLATE X
_Page 144_
]
Dermys and Citylus[170]. The artist certainly meant rightly, and he has
succeeded in conveying to future times the impression of the mutual
affection of the pair, who stand with the arm of each thrown round the
other’s neck, in a fashion peculiar to lovers and schoolboys. But
unfortunately his ambition was beyond his skill, and the extraordinary
rigidity and helplessness of the group are even more conspicuous than
its good motive. It is hard to see whence the arms come and whither they
go; and it is quite clear that unless the sculptor had added the name of
each brother in the marble, their best friends would have been unable to
discern which was which. The inscription further records the name of the
person who erected the tomb: ‘Set up by Amphalces in memory of Dermys
and Citylus.’
Coming down to a somewhat later time, we are compelled by the abundance
of the material to select a few portraits of men as typical, and to pass
over the great majority of them in silence.
A thoroughly typical portrait of an Athenian citizen of the fifth
century is found in the stele of Tynnias, the son of Tynnon (Pl. X).
Tynnias is seated holding a long staff, his garment thrown loosely over
his shoulders but leaving his breast bare. The work is not very careful,
yet it would not be easy to find in art a figure of greater grace and
dignity. This mere mortal would sit undisgraced among the seated gods of
the frieze of the Parthenon. He might almost stand for Zeus, the father
of gods and men, instead of for the father of ordinary Athenian girls
and boys. Only in one point does his humanity come out clearly. The
chair on which he is seated is not such a square high-backed throne as
would suit a deity, or such as commonly appears on tombs, but a
thoroughly domestic chair, such as we see in the domestic interiors of
vases (see Figs. 10 and 69). The back slopes at a comfortable angle,
and the legs diverge so far apart that it could only with great
difficulty be overturned. Since the Chippendale reaction we have
accepted the notion that chairs with bent legs are not artistic, but it
is clear that some skilful Greek sculptors were of another opinion. The
boots of Tynnias also are not the sandals of ordinary Greek art, but
leather boots not unlike ours.
The simple form of this monument with its shallow pediment contrasts
with the more highly developed and elegant stelae of the fourth century;
the rough surface below shows where it was let into a socket. It is in
fact an ordinary roadside tomb; can we wonder that the nation which had
such perfect taste in common things attained so perfect a sense of
beauty in form and dignity in deportment?
To the peaceful Tynnias a striking contrast is offered by the figures of
citizens who fell in battle, and whose graves are a memorial of their
warlike prowess. We give three examples.
First, the tomb of Aristonautes, son of Archenautes (Pl. XI). This is
almost the only example which has come down to us of a complete ναῗδιον
or temple. The letters of the inscription indicate the earlier part of
the fourth century. Aristonautes is represented in the act of charging
the enemy; he wears a conical helmet adorned with ornaments of
gilt-bronze[171], and a cuirass; in his hands were sword or spear and
shield. The relief is so high that the figure is almost in the round, to
which circumstance we must attribute the loss of the left leg, which is
now replaced in plaster. A chlamys lies on the left shoulder. The ground
on which the hero charges is the rocky soil of some battlefield; the
background was painted blue to bring out strongly the manly lines of the
form. This monument comes from the Cerameicus at Athens.
[Illustration:
PLATE XI
_Page 146_
]
It would not be easy to imagine a more vigorous and lifelike image of a
fallen warrior than this. Drapery and bodily forms alike are of the
noblest. The face, with its square form, overhanging eyebrows, and
parted lips, breathes the very spirit of military ardour. Such as every
friend of Aristonautes would wish him to look when he sprang forward in
his last fatal rush upon the foe, such he stands in imperishable marble.
A grave in Westminster Abbey is supposed to recompense the English
soldier for pain and untimely death, but surely the idea of living in
marble under the eyes of all his fellow-citizens might furnish at least
as strong an impulse to valiant deeds as the thought of a modern
cathedral with its tasteless monuments and inanimate likenesses. It
would, however, be a mistake to suppose that this figure, for all its
lifelikeness, is an individual portrait. It is too strongly marked by
the style of one of the noblest of Attic sculptors, Scopas, to allow us
to doubt that there is in it a strong ideal element.
Another monument of the same school is the well-known relief (Pl. XII)
in which we see Dexileos of the Athenian cavalry riding down and
transfixing an overthrown foe, who vainly tries to strike back[172]. The
inscription beneath this relief, which comes from a small chapel near
the Dipylon gate of Athens, proves that it was executed in memory of a
horseman who fell in the Corinthian War of 394 B.C. History records that
in the battle the Athenians were defeated, and one is tempted to pause
for a moment to consider how a modern sculptor would have represented
Dexileos. An artist such as those who have modelled the tombs of St.
Paul’s and Westminster would probably have sculptured him smitten to
death, falling back in the arms of a grateful country; perhaps would
have added above an angel crowning him with a wreath of celestial
reward. But the Greek artists of the good period could not find in
defeat and death any elements worthy of their art: they must represent
those whom they portrayed in the moment of success and victory, not in
that of overthrow. The difference is very suggestive. Infinitely
inferior to Greek art in charm, in simplicity and dignity, modern art
introduces higher elements than were usually taken into account in
Hellas. From the artistic point of view the ancients were right; but
from the ethical point of view there may be more to be said for the
moderns.
[Illustration: FIG 56. WARRIOR OF TEGEA.]
A more modest memorial of a warrior comes from Tegea[173] (Fig. 56). In
the relief we see a man named Lisas in the
[Illustration:
PLATE XII
_Page 148_
]
guise not of a hoplite but of a peltast or auxiliary. His defensive
armour consists only of a conical helmet and a shield. His chiton is
girt only on the left shoulder, so as to leave the right arm perfectly
free. What he carried in the right hand we cannot be sure. It was filled
in in colour, and has disappeared. The attitude makes us at first think
of a sling. But it is more likely that the weapon was a light javelin
for throwing. Lisas is evidently advancing over rocky ground to the
attack.
From monuments of warriors we pass to those of young athletes; and in
Greece almost every man who died before coming to full maturity appears
on his tomb in athletic guise. The exercises of the palaestra were not
reserved, as among us, for a certain number of the most robust young
men, but were, like the military service with which they were nearly
connected, a part of the life of every man not given up to sloth and
luxury. On Pl. XIII is a noble figure of an athletic ephebus. He stands
solidly on flat feet, naked but for a chlamys which he holds with the
right hand, while the left grasps strigil and oil-flask, the necessaries
of the life of the athlete. The bare body is treated with utmost
simplicity and without a trace of self-consciousness. A dog sits at his
master’s feet with nose upturned. This monument is from Thespiae in
Boeotia, and must date from the middle of the fifth century: the letters
over the head, Ἀγαθόκλη χαῖρε, are, it need scarcely be said, of much
later times, proving that this stele, like so many at Athens, was used
again in Roman times to mark a fresh tomb.
Of somewhat later date is the relief on an Attic lekythos (Fig. 57), in
which we find an athlete exercising himself[174]. Stark naked, according
to the invariable custom of the Greek palaestra, he rests his weight on
one leg, while on the other he balances a heavy stone ball, such a ball
as was actually found in the gymnasium of Pompeii. This was doubtless
an exercise of the class used for training special muscles and producing
a perfect physical development. In front of the athlete stands a
slave-boy, holding his oil-flask, and behind him is a pillar on which is
his garment.
[Illustration: FIG. 57. ATHLETE BALANCING STONE.]
A stele from Thespiae, of the middle of the fifth century[175] (Fig.
58), presents us with the figure of a young horseman, seated on a
galloping horse. He wears the chiton and the Thessalian horseman’s
cloak, the chlamys. The reins were filled in in bronze; the holes for
fixing the metal being still visible in the horse’s mouth and neck. The
easy and masterly
[Illustration:
PLATE XIII
_Page 150_
]
seat of the rider, and the noble forms of the horse, place this relief
among the most pleasing which we possess.
[Illustration: FIG. 58. YOUNG HORSEMAN.]
A fine monument of the age and style of Pheidias comes from Aegina (Pl.
XIV). Carved on it is the beautiful figure of a young man clad in a
mantle, who holds in his left hand a bird, and extends the right without
obvious purpose[176]. By this hand is a bird-cage; under it is a
sepulchral monument, against which a boy leans, and on the top of which
is a sculptured cat. The cat was well known in Egypt in antiquity, but
the Greeks were unfamiliar with it, and its presence in this connexion
is curious. The young man reminds us by the form of his head and his
garment of the youths of the Parthenon frieze, who are his
contemporaries and may come from the same chisel. The beautiful
ornament which surmounts the group forms in its extreme gracefulness a
fitting boundary to it.
Another striking group (Pl. XV) comes from the bed of the Ilissus. It is
nearly a century later in date than the last-mentioned. We see in it a
youth of magnificent proportions, half sitting on and half leaning
against a sepulchral column. In the left hand he grasps a short staff,
which rests on his knee. At his feet is a dog scenting the quarry; on
the steps of the stele is seated in an attitude of dejection a young
boy, while an old man, no doubt the father of him to whom the tomb
belongs, gazes earnestly into his face. No doubt this vigorous young man
was a hunter of hares, the short staff being such as hunters used to
throw at the prey. Nothing but the view of the original of this
wonderful relief, or at least of a cast of it, suffices to make one
appreciate quite adequately its beauty.
With these reliefs we may compare an epitaph[177], written by an
anonymous author to be placed on the tomb of a young man named Pericles.
From the description of the relief which the tomb bore it is clear that
the implements of the chase were represented in it in detail; this would
be quite natural in the Hellenistic age, as we may see by comparing
several examples in the Museum at Athens[178]:--
A marble tomb I stand for Archias’ son,
Young Pericles, and speak his hunting done.
The horse, the spear, in my relief are set,
The dogs, the stakes, and on the stakes the net.
Yet all are stone. The beasts their pleasure take
Around; thy wakeless sleep they cannot break.
In the last two cases a stele has been present in the background, and a
boy shows by his attitude and expression traces of grief. By such gentle
hints does the sculptor of
[Illustration:
PLATE XIV
_Page 152_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE XV
_Page 152_
]
Greece shadow forth rather than express his meaning. The deceased
himself is in both cases represented in the perfection of health and
vigour; it is only the minor characters of the groups who give a
suggestion of the mortality of such perfection.
[Illustration: FIG. 59. STELE OF DEMOCLEIDES.]
But the young men of Athens were not all notable for warlike prowess or
skill in the palaestra. Another relief[179] represents a youth seated
reading from a scroll. He was either an author or an ardent student of
letters. The work is of the fourth century. In our chapter on epitaphs
may be found several destined for the tombs of those who excelled rather
in intellectual pursuits than those of the gymnasium.
In some cases the reference to the past life of the deceased and the
manner of his death is clearer and more explicit. For example, one
Democleides (Fig. 59) is represented on his tomb as seated in an
attitude of dejection on the deck of a galley[180]. His head rests on
his hand; behind him lie his shield and helmet. No doubt he was a
soldier who perished at sea, whether in a naval engagement or by
shipwreck. An epigram in the _Anthology_[181], by an unknown writer, was
evidently written to be placed under some such representation as this:--
A vessel’s oars and prow I here behold.
O cease! why paint them o’er the ashes cold?
Nay! let the shipwrecked sailor underground
Forget the fate which ’mid the waves he found.
It has been pointed out that, in the reliefs of tombs, the persons
represented usually merge their individual peculiarities, and appear as
types. But few rules are without exceptions: and, as an exception, I
engrave (Fig. 60) a highly characteristic portrait of an elderly man,
who appears in the background of a group of the fourth century[182]. It
is not what we should call a classical type, but full of character and
energy, and quite individual in character.
The early art of Greece is seldom very successful in dealing with
children. Children did not, in the great age of Hellas, interest the
Greeks as they do us; they were valued rather for what they would become
than for what they were. Thus the representations of them are made too
much in the light of the future, and boys and girls on the monuments are
figured as little men and women. This was the more natural
[Illustration: FIG. 60. ELDERLY MAN, FROM STELE.]
as children had no childish dress, but wore clothes like those of
adults. One has only to compare, in the celebrated group of Praxiteles,
the figure of the child Dionysus with that of Hermes, who carries him,
to realize fully the lacuna thus produced in ancient art. An early
Athenian stele (Fig. 61) bears in relief the figure of a young boy named
Callis[tratus?], who holds in one hand a bird, while a dog leaps up to
greet him. The name being incomplete, some have regarded the child as a
girl, and in fact the decision as to the sex is not easy.
Turning from men to women, we may cite a few instances of the
characteristic portrait, though, generally speaking, the tombs of women
are decorated with such groups as we shall deal with in the next
chapter.
[Illustration: FIG. 61. BOY, FROM STELE.]
First we may take a stone (Pl. XVI), the very form of which, with the
rough surface of the lower half, sufficiently proves that it was placed
directly in the ground or the mound of earth which covered the
grave[183]. The device is simple, a veiled matron seated, holding in her
hands attributes the nature of which is not easily determined, but which
may be
[Illustration:
PLATE XVI
_Page 156_
]
[Illustration: FIG. 62. PORTRAIT OF MYNNO.]
a cake and a bird, and in any case must be regarded as gifts of the
survivors. The work is archaic, even earlier in character than the
Persian Wars, according to the editors of the _Corpus_. In another early
relief (Fig. 62), which bears the name of Mynno[184], we may see under
the seat of the lady a work basket, such as we have already observed
placed under the so-called Penelope’s seat. With both hands Mynno twists
her thread on a distaff, which is visible immediately under her left
arm. The form of the stele indicates the fifth century; and it is
noteworthy that the art of the time had not yet mastered the problem of
presenting the breast in true profile: while Mynno’s face is turned to
the right, her bosom appears to be turned rather towards the spectator,
and even the further knee is represented with some clumsiness.
Beside these simple and characteristic portraits of seated women we must
place a standing figure. The stele bears the name of Amphotto, and comes
from Thebes (Pl. XVII). There is here, as in many Boeotian monuments, a
pleasing absence of convention. The dress of Amphotto is arranged in an
unusual manner; her hair streams down her back. She seems at first sight
quite an ordinary mortal; yet there are features in the representation
which belong to another sphere. On the girl’s head is a tall circular
crown, of the kind called by archaeologists the _polus_, which is a
distinguishing mark of goddesses in early art. In her hands also are
perhaps a flower (represented in painting and so lost) and a fruit,
which are the characteristic offerings to the dead, and remind us of the
Lycian and Spartan monuments of the cultus of heroes.
The Amphotto stele belongs to the middle of the fifth century. Of the
same age is an interesting slab at the British Museum[185], on which is
depicted a woman seated, also wearing the polus. She holds in one hand a
leaf-shaped fan, of the same kind which the statuettes of Tanagra
commonly hold; and in the other hand a cup from which a serpent feeds.
The serpent here takes us still nearer to the ideas which gave rise to
the Spartan stelae.
A class of reliefs must not be omitted which represents
[Illustration:
PLATE XVII
_Page 158_
]
[Illustration: FIG. 63. GIRL WITH DOLL.]
[Illustration: FIG. 64. PRIESTESS OF ISIS.]
young girls holding dolls. The specimen engraved (Fig. 63) is from the
tomb of one Aristomache[186]. Aristomache is about thirteen or fourteen
years old; the undeveloped breast shows her not to have attained full
womanhood. Her head, gently bent, is turned towards a little figure, no
doubt intended for a terra-cotta statuette, which she holds in her right
hand. This statuette might perhaps represent a deity; but the comparison
of other reliefs[187], where a doll is certainly represented, makes us
disposed to see one here also. Greek girls were allowed dolls until they
married, when they often dedicated them, with balls and other girlish
toys, to some female deity[188]. The presence of the doll, then, shows
that Aristomache has not yet taken a husband and laid aside infants of
terra-cotta for those of flesh.
Finally, we engrave (Fig. 64) a characteristic figure of a priestess of
Isis[189], from a tomb on which she appears, probably in company of her
parents, but they have been broken away. In the stiff and formal dress
of her calling she advances, bearing in her hands the sistrum and vase
of the goddess who, of all the deities, was most closely associated with
the future life. To her patronage and protection her priestess trusts
for a prosperous voyage past the dangers of the last voyage, and a happy
resting-place in Hades. The letters of the name, Alexandra, show that
the monument belongs to the Roman age, though it is by no means wanting
in charm.
This figure is characteristic of the late age of Attic reliefs, but
parallels to it at an earlier period are not wanting. For example, an
Athenian tomb of the fourth century[190] shows us a lady seated, to whom
a young girl brings a tympanum or drum, the special instrument of the
Phrygian Goddess Cybele. And a metrical inscription, which accompanies
the design, tells us that the deceased lady was a priestess of Cybele.
Cybele, at an earlier time, filled in some respects nearly the same
place in the religion of the Athenians which Isis took in Hellenistic
days. The paths of the dead were under her guardianship, and she might
be trusted to ensure to her votaries a place in the world below.
CHAPTER X
FAMILY GROUPS
We next reach the ordinary family groups, a class of representations
usual in the most beautiful and distinctive of the Athenian stelae. It
is these which have captivated a long series of travellers and artists
from Goethe onwards; and it is these which naturally rise before the
imagination when the cemeteries of Athens are spoken of. Goethe has
observed that the wind which blows from the tombs of the ancients comes
with gentle breath as over a hill of roses. And there is no other series
of monuments which seems to take us so readily into the daily life of
the Greeks and to make us feel that they were men and women of like
nature with ourselves, no longer cold and classic, but full of the warm
blood and the gentle affections of ordinary humanity.
It is the natural pathos and the artistic charm of the family groups
which adorn the majority of the tombs of ancient Athens, which strongly
impress all visitors to that beautiful city, even visitors to whom most
of the works of Greek sculpture do not convey any strong emotion. There
is scarcely any one, however hardened by Puritanic training or the
ubiquitous ugliness of modern surroundings against what is simple and
true and lovely in art, who does not feel, through the hard shell of
Philistinism, some touchings of sympathy and delight, if he spends a
morning in the Cerameicus, or an afternoon in the sepulchral rooms of
the National Museum. The influence of ancient Athens has made the
cemetery of modern Athens, in spite of many incongruities, one of the
most beautiful in the world. If, with the remembrance of Athens still
fresh, we visit the great cemeteries of London, it is impossible to
express the feeling of ugliness and bad taste, of jejuneness in design
and poverty of execution with which they oppress the spirits. Religious
hope and consolation are among us, a chill resignation was the natural
attitude of the Greeks in the presence of death; and yet we
counterbalance the superiority of our religion by the inferiority of our
taste and perceptions.
It is very notable how complete in all these representations is the
predominance of women, and how domestic is their tone. This fact can
only be explained when we consider that these monuments belong, in the
great majority of cases, to the time after the political greatness of
Athens had been shattered at the battle of Aegospotami. In ancient
Greece generally, and more especially at Athens, men gave to their wives
and families only such time and care as they could spare from more
engrossing occupations. By nature the Athenians were intensely
political. And while Athens was a ruling power, and every citizen had a
part in the game of politics played on a great scale, it was to public
life that their thoughts and energies were directed, and the life of the
home remained very much in the background. Every scholar is familiar
with the contemptuous language applied by Aristophanes and Euripides to
women; and Xenophon in his _Oeconomics_ regards that girl as best bred
who had seen and heard the least, and had but the virtue of modesty.
Secluded homes like these were not likely to claim very much of the life
of the man whose whole soul was bent on the extension of the Athenian
Empire. The fact is that all noble deeds in the world are bought at a
price, and part of the price paid for the unrivalled burst of public
splendour at Athens in the fifth century was the seclusion of women and
the institution of slavery.
But even in the _Oeconomics_ of Xenophon we have the picture of a worthy
citizen who gives much time and care to his home and his wife. And as
public life decayed in the fourth century, and as manners became less
severe, women became a more important element in the life of the
community. The wife was no longer looked on as merely necessary for the
production of citizens, while the courtesan accumulated vast wealth, and
sometimes built temples or gave away cities. It is in the fourth century
that a growing sympathy for child-life makes the children in Attic
sculpture cease to be little men and women, and become real children.
And it is the art of the fourth century which gives for the first time a
noble and ideal expression of the life of the family, and the mutual
love of its members.
The best plan will be, first to set before the reader several
characteristic specimens of family groups, and afterwards to discuss the
questions, many and not easily answered, which they suggest.
On Pl. XVIII will be found a somewhat exceptional subject, father and
children only. Seated on a chair of the convenient domestic shape,
Euempolus, as he is styled in the inscription, holds in one hand a bird,
and extends a finger of the other hand to the children in front of him,
of whom the nearer, clad in an over-garment only, seems to be a boy; the
further, who wears also a tunic, is apparently a girl. Both have their
long hair done up in a roll, and both have the stiff air which is usual
in case of children of the fifth century. Another work of the same early
period is the stele of Xanthippus in the British Museum (Fig. 65)[191].
The object in the hand of Xanthippus has been a puzzle to
archaeologists. The prevailing view takes it for a shoe-maker’s last,
and supposes that Xanthippus, far from being ashamed of his trade,
glories in it even on his
[Illustration:
PLATE XVIII
_Page 164_
]
[Illustration: FIG. 65. XANTHIPPUS AND CHILDREN.]
tomb. But an objection to this view is that trades were certainly not
held in high honour among freemen anywhere in Greece. The name
Xanthippus too, which belonged to the family of Pericles, was one of the
noblest at Athens, and it seems impossible that it can have been borne
by a mere cobbler. It seems more likely therefore that what Xanthippus
really holds is a votive offering; perhaps some memorial of a cure
wrought on one of his feet by Asklepius. The other hand of the hero
rests on the neck of his little daughter, while an older girl or
perhaps his wife holds a bird. The work is almost contemporary with the
Parthenon frieze; the monument most dignified and charming.
The earliest and one of the most interesting of the groups which
represent a mother and her children is the so-called Leucothea relief in
the Villa Albani (Pl. XIX). A mother, clad in a sleeved Ionic tunic and
an over-dress, is seated dandling on her knee her youngest infant, a
little girl who stretches out to her a loving hand. Under the seat is
the matronly work-basket. In front two elder girls approach their
mother, and behind them a maid-servant, also clad in the Ionian dress,
brings a wreath.
Before the consideration of this delightful group begins, we must
observe that the clumsy right hand of the infant and the head of the
nurse are modern restorations. The rest of the design, though of archaic
stiffness, and dating from a time not later than the Persian wars, shows
the greatest promise. The arm of the mother as seen through the sleeve,
and the forms of the infant’s body, are rendered with care and delicacy.
It is only necessary to compare the details with those of the figures on
the Harpy Tomb of Xanthus (Fig. 27) in order to recognize how vastly
superior the artists of Greece proper at the time were to those of
Lycia, especially in the sense of the proportions of the body, and the
art of so arranging drapery as to display rather than to conceal them.
In most respects we clearly have here an ordinary scene from the life of
the women’s apartments. The mother has risen and breakfasted, and the
nurse brings her the children. And yet there are in the scene certain
details which probably have a special meaning. The position and attitude
of the two elder children remind us oddly of the little worshippers who
appear in the corner of the Spartan relief. And the wreath, though no
doubt flowers and ribbons were continually used by both men and women in
Greece for the adornment
[Illustration:
PLATE XIX
_Page 166_
]
of their persons, is yet one of the most usual and characteristic
decorations of the tomb. It appears that here, as in almost all the
designs with which we are to deal, there is some allusion to death, as
well as to mere domestic happiness. This, however, is denied by some
very competent archaeologists; and we must postpone further discussion
of the subject until we have passed under review a certain number of
characteristic examples of the class.
A very simple and noble specimen of fifth-century work represents a
mother and son, Chaerestrata and Lysander[192] (Pl. XX). The mother is
handing to the son by the wings a little bird. The son, a dignified
youth, wrapped in his himation ‘like an image of modesty’ as
Aristophanes puts it, stretches out one hand to receive the gift. On the
Lycian Harpy Tomb, a youth presents in similar fashion to a seated male
figure a dove held by the wings; and this bird, as the smallest and
least expensive of animal offerings, was a very usual gift to the dead.
Lysanias is almost beyond doubt the person in whose honour the tomb was
set up, and his mother’s gift can scarcely have failed to convey to the
mind of a Greek spectator some sepulchral significance.
A group of a very different kind appears in our next example[193] (Pl.
XXI). A young man named Dion is giving his hand to a very beautiful
seated woman, Mica, whose drapery is quite a model of arrangement. Her
attention is divided between her companion and the mirror which she
holds up in her left hand. The pair are probably husband and wife, and
one may conjecture, though it is by no means certain, that it is the
wife who died, and to whom her young husband has set up this beautiful
monument[194]. A similar relief, though of a later period, found at
Naples[195], bears a simple and graceful epitaph:--
This pledge of love for Aste Daphnis made,
Who loved her living, and desires her dead.
The name Mica, _Little-one_, is fanciful, and quite unlike the rather
stately names usual at Athens. We might be tempted to see in the seated
lady a courtesan; but this view falls to the ground when we compare
other stelae. On one tomb a Mica is in company of a Philtate, _Dearest_;
in another she gives her hand to an Ariste, _Best_[196]. In another
beautiful relief of the fifth century another Mica takes leave of her
husband Amphidemus, who is represented as a warrior setting out for
war[197]. It would seem then that there were certain families at Athens
in the fifth and fourth centuries which chose to give fanciful names to
their daughters. Generally speaking, the names both of men and women
were assigned for sober family reasons, and not in mere caprice.
Before we consider the meaning of the sepulchral family groups, and
compare them one with another, it will be well to bring before the
reader a variety of typical examples, which we will briefly describe in
turn, passing, whenever possible, from the simpler to the more complex,
and from the less expressive to the more expressive.
First, we have a series of groups in which the main idea is
leave-taking.
Pl. XXII. A lady clad in the sleeved Ionian chiton and over-dress,
seated, gives her hand to another who stands before her. Between the
two, in the background, stands a bearded man whose head rests on his
hand[198]. The imperfect perspective of the group, which may be observed
specially in the breast of the seated lady and in the footstool, seems
to indicate the fifth
[Illustration:
PLATE XX
_Page 168_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE XXI
_Page 168_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE XXII
_Page 168_
]
century as date. Nothing, except the somewhat pensive attitude of the
man, indicates that we have here anything but an excerpt from the
ordinary daily life of the women’s apartments.
Pl. XXIII. A seated lady, represented in somewhat better perspective,
gives her hand to a bearded man who wears only the himation or cloak,
and seems to hold in the left hand a strigil. Between the two, in the
background, stands a second lady in the accustomed pensive attitude.
Behind the mistress’s seat stands a young slave-girl, clad in the
long-sleeved chiton usually worn by maid-servants, her hair wrapped in a
kerchief. In the face of the seated figure is a certain eagerness or
intensity of expression, which lifts the group somewhat above the level
of everyday life; besides which, the symbolism of the sphinx, which is
used as a support to the arm of the chair, has a sepulchral meaning.
Above the seated figure is inscribed her name, Damasistrata, daughter of
Polycleides.
Pl. XXIV[199]. A lady, seated in the same fashion as in the last two
reliefs, stretches both her hands towards a matron who stands before
her, and who lightly touches her face with the right hand. Behind the
seated figure stands a young girl; beneath the seat is a dove feeding.
Here the expression of the two principal persons, leaning one towards
the other and tenderly embracing one another, has an obvious
significance. It is no embrace of daily life, but one which goes before
a long parting. The frame in which this relief stands is a modern
restoration.
Fig. 66[200]. A young woman, identified by the inscription as Plangon,
daughter of Tolmides, falls back, evidently fainting with illness, on a
couch. She is supported by a maid-servant, whose rank is indicated by
the kerchief which binds her hair, and by her mother, whose extended
arms signify sympathy and grief. The father, Tolmides, stands on the
left in an attitude of
[Illustration: FIG. 66. DYING WOMAN, FROM STELE.]
grief. This is an almost unique representation of the moment of death.
Nearly always the Attic artist, whose invariable feeling is ‘nothing in
extremes,’ avoids thus clearly portraying the last struggle, and
contents himself with some gentle hint of death. Here, by a very
instructive variation, he is more explicit. And his fortunate freedom
from convention throws back a light on the other scenes which we have
passed in review. One of the epitaphs in the _Anthology_[201] describes
[Illustration:
PLATE XXIII
_Page 170_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE XXIV
_Page 170_
]
a painted scene of a similar character, depicted on the tomb of a lady
named Neotima, who was represented lying back in the exhaustion of
death, brought about by childbirth, while her mother Mnasylla hung over
her, and her father Aristoteles stood by, resting his head on his hand,
in the usual attitude of grief. Curiously enough, the presence of the
husband is not mentioned, nor even his name. Perhaps the commonness of
death in childbirth at Athens needs a word of explanation. It may be
accounted for partly perhaps by the sedentary life of Athenian women,
but more especially by the fact that help in the crisis was not usually
afforded by physicians, but by midwives, who had had no training save
that which is gained by practice. The resort to male accoucheurs was
condemned by the instinctive delicacy of the Attic women.
We must cite one more relief of this class, though it is of interest not
for the representation which it bears, which is quite ordinary, but for
the inscription[202]. A seated woman, veiled, gives her hand to a
standing veiled figure, a bearded man standing in the background. Over
the head of the seated figure is inscribed, Χοιρίνη τίτθη. Choerine then
is a wet-nurse, and the lady to whom she gives her hand is probably her
foster-child whom she has brought up, and who, even after marriage,
retains affection for her old nurse, and erects a monument in honour of
her fidelity. This monument stands by no means alone; it is one of many
set up both by men and women in memory of their nurses. Such facts show
that in Greece, though the nurse would commonly be a slave, natural
affection and gratitude often triumphed over social convention, and she
was regarded as a friend rather than as a dependant.
Another group of reliefs is even more thoroughly feminine. It is
dominated by the idea of adornment. The well-born ladies of Athens
took, as we know, great pains to enhance by art the charms which nature
had liberally bestowed upon them. The rouge-pot was a well-known part of
their arsenal, and is sometimes found in their graves. They were not,
like modern women, the humble slaves of a fashion which constantly
changes. The form and disposition of their garments varies but little
from century to century. But they were very particular as to pattern and
texture, and very careful that each garment should fall in the most
graceful and becoming folds. For jewelry they seem to have had a strong
liking, and it may be urged as a palliation of so frivolous a taste that
the Greek jewelry which has come down to us is in very good taste. The
custom of adorning oneself with huge diamonds and rubies, as a proof of
wealth, would have been considered barbaric in Greece. Jewelry was
mainly of gold, or even gilt bronze, of little material value, but
wrought by cunning workmen, in complete disregard of time, with
exquisite care and subtilty[203], so as to be in itself a thing of art
as well as a mere decoration. If stones were inserted in the metal, they
were quite common stones, sards and onyxes and the like, not cut in
facets, but carved in the form of scarabs, or engraved with beautifully
cut designs in intaglio. Like the dress, the pottery, and the coins of
the Greeks, and all the other surroundings of their life, their jewels
exhibited on a smaller scale the same unrivalled artistic taste which is
shown on a larger scale by their temples and their sculpture.
Pl. XXV. Hegeso, daughter of Proxenus, is seated to left on a chair
which is admirably shaped alike for comfort and steadiness. Her hair is
bound with a beautifully arranged kerchief; she wears the fine Ionic
chiton with sleeves and an over-dress. She is looking at a necklace
which she has drawn from a box held by a serving-girl, and which she
holds in both
[Illustration:
PLATE XXV
_Page 172_
]
hands. This necklace must have been represented either by help of colour
or metal. The slave-girl’s more simple dress contrasts with the elegance
of that of her mistress. The work seems to belong to the early part of
the fourth century. This monument is not in the Museum of Athens, but
remains in its place in the Cemetery by the Gate.
Pl. XXVI. We have once more a group of lady and jewel-box. But here the
attendant who brings the box seems from her dress to be no slave, but a
sister or relative. And the seated lady is not here attracted by the
jewels, but sits in pensive attitude; it may be, however, that her right
hand, which is near her neck, is holding a necklace already adjusted. In
some of the details in this relief there is clumsiness, for example in
the right arm of the standing figure; nevertheless the design is very
graceful.
Pl. XXVII. Here is a further variation. The standing sister or friend,
Demostrate, is evidently trying to tempt the taste of the seated
Ameiniche by offering her jewels, but cannot even attract her attention.
With one hand resting on the seat of the squarely made chair, Ameiniche
looks pensively outwards. The artist seems to imply that when personal
adornment ceases to interest a woman, the shadow of fate is not far
away.
A relief published in the _Corpus_[204], on which is depicted a lady and
her attendant, the former fastening a bracelet, bears an inscription
which at once interests us (Fig. 67). The seated lady is named
Phaenarete, a name borne by the mother of Socrates. It would be a
strange freak of fortune if it had preserved to us the tomb of the
mother of Socrates, engaged in an occupation scarcely in harmony with
the character of her son. It is curious that there is something to be
said in favour of this view, and no decisive argument against it. The
date of
[Illustration: FIG. 67. STELE OF PHAENARETE.]
[Illustration:
PLATE XXVI
_Page 174_
]
[Illustration:
PLATE XXVII
_Page 174_
]
the relief is given by Furtwängler[205] as the Pheidian age; most
archaeologists would probably place it rather later, but still well
within the fifth century. Phaenarete gave birth to Socrates about B.C.
470; but when she died we know not: there is certainly no reason why she
should not have died at about the date of execution of this relief.
Whether she was old or young at the time of her death would make no
serious difference; on her tomb an ideal figure would appear and no true
portrait.
But it may be said that the parents of Socrates were poor; his father
Sophroniscus was a second-rate sculptor, his mother was a midwife[206]:
is it likely that such people could afford so expensive a tomb? To which
it may be replied that Socrates certainly inherited a small fortune. And
it appears that the fine tombs at Athens did not belong by any means
exclusively to the wealthy class. Again, Sophroniscus was a sculptor; a
tomb of somewhat sumptuous style would therefore cost him far less than
the usual price. And the profession of a midwife, in a city where such
duties were undertaken ordinarily by women, might be fairly lucrative.
On the other hand, the name Phaenarete does not appear to have been at
all rare at Athens. It occurs on three or four existing stelae, some of
which belong to the fifth century[207]. Much therefore as we should
desire to find in our stele a record of the mother of Socrates executed
either by Sophroniscus, or even by Socrates himself, who in his youth
followed his father’s craft, we cannot do so with any confidence. Such
an attribution remains a bare possibility, and we have no means of
testing it.
Pl. XXVIII. Here there are obviously preparations for a journey. The
principal figure is Ameinocleia, daughter of Andromenes. She is clad in
a long chiton and an over-dress which serves also as a veil. A slave is
putting on her sandal, during which process she steadies herself by
resting a hand on the girl’s head. In front is a friend who bears a box
of jewelry. The fair Ameinocleia is evidently setting out on a journey.
And it seems evident that there is an allusion to a solemn departure on
a journey whence none returns, although in the details of the
representation we find no clear suggestion of death. That is unnecessary
when the whole group is itself an allusion to it.
Some writers have doubted whether in the scenes of hand-taking and of
adornment there be anything beyond an ordinary scene of daily life, a
domestic interior. The stele of Ameinocleia furnishes reasons for
declining to agree with them. As we have seen, in the hand-taking scenes
more emotion is commonly visible than an ordinary family scene would
warrant. And reflection soon shows that even in scenes of adornment the
notion of parting is in place. The Greek lady especially adorned herself
when she was preparing to go abroad, to take part, maybe, in some
procession in honour of the gods or some marriage festivity. Thus the
notions of adornment and of leaving home are naturally connected.
No doubt in these scenes there may be traced another element, one
derived from the custom of placing ornaments in the tomb and bringing
offerings to the dead. We can trace this influence by means of the
paintings of the white lekythi of which we have spoken in Chapter II. On
these vases are depicted innumerable scenes from the cult of the dead,
among which we often find ladies seated and attendants bringing
offerings. We engrave an example[208] (Fig. 68). Here the lady who is
seated on the steps of the tomb seems to be the person for whom that
tomb was made. She holds on her knees a box of jewelry; on either side
of the tomb stands a maid-servant. In other instances[209] the maids
bring unguent-vases, fans, and
[Illustration:
PLATE XXVIII
_Page 176_
]
[Illustration: FIG 68. SCENE AT TOMB.]
other articles of the toilet. These groups, however, are but
translations into the realm of death of scenes of daily life, such as
are common on Attic vases of the fifth and fourth centuries. These vases
often show us the interior of the women’s apartments, with ladies
dressing or engaged in domestic occupation. As an example we may take a
pyxis published by Dumont[210], on which are depicted a lady with her
hair down, to whom one maid brings a necklace, and another a vessel of
ointment, and another lady whose shoe is being laced by a slave-girl.
Another vase, published by Heydemann[211] (Fig. 69), shows us a seated
woman to whom an attendant brings a box of jewelry, and a family group
of father, mother, and child. The likeness of these groups to those of
the sepulchral reliefs is striking.
The question which is the original in art, the domestic interior or the
offering at the tomb, is not an easy one. The former class of scenes is
Ionic, the latter Doric in character. Both make their appearance on
Attic works at about the same time. It is a case like that of the
meeting of two streams, when it is impossible to say which is the main
river and which the tributary.
[Illustration: FIG. 69. DOMESTIC SCENE.]
We have already observed (Chap. VIII) that a not unfrequent form of
monument at Athens in the later period was a flat slab (τράπεζα), in
which were inserted one or more stone lekythi adorned with reliefs. The
reliefs are in such cases ordinarily family groups; and the
juxtaposition of several of these lekythi in museums has demonstrated
some facts not without interest. It appears that sometimes when a family
grave was acquired, and covered with a slab, a pair of marble vases were
inserted in it, the reliefs of both of which comprise
[Illustration: FIGS. 70 AND 71. FAMILY GROUPS.]
the same set of persons in a somewhat varied arrangement. An instance is
engraved (Figs. 70, 71). On these lekythi[212] Callistomache appears
seated, Aristion and Timagora standing; the main difference is that in
one case the seated lady faces the right, in the other case the left. On
another pair of lekythi we see two husbands, Mys and Meles, with their
wives, Metrodora and Philia. On one vase the two husbands have joined
hands, while the women stand behind them; on the other vase the wives
have joined hands, while the men stand in the background[213]. Sometimes
on the lekythi which stood together, either on the same slab or on slabs
closely adjacent, we can trace the successive generations of Athenian
citizens, their names recurring commonly in alternate generations.
In a very few instances a deity makes his appearance in the ordinary
family groups. The deity who thus intervenes is always Hermes, the guide
of souls (Psychopompus), who leads them down the dangerous road to the
world of spirits.
[Illustration: FIG. 72. STELE OF MYRRHINA.]
Most noteworthy among the stelae on which Hermes appears is that shaped
in the form of a lekythus, and bearing the name Myrrhina[214] (Fig. 72).
In the relief we see the graceful figure of the lady, closely wrapped up
and veiled, giving her hand to Hermes, who leads her forth, looking back
at her the while. An old man and youths, probably the father and
brothers of Myrrhina, stand, the former with raised hand in the attitude
appropriate to adoration[215].
This is doubtless a real tombstone; but the same can scarcely be said of
the beautiful relief which represents the final parting of Orpheus and
Eurydice (Pl. XXIX). Orpheus has dared the perils of the world below and
surmounted them. He has led the recovered Eurydice to the very confines
of the world of shades; and at that moment his disobedience to the law
of Hades, which forbade him to look back, has once more deprived him of
his bride. Hermes claims her back, and the lovers must part
finally[216]. That this beautiful relief, the date of the original of
which is about 400 B.C., has some connexion with the grave seems clear;
the subject is sepulchral, and the sentiment of the group, gentle and
subdued, is closely like that of Athenian tombs. At the same time the
form of the relief, low and broad, proves that it is not part of an
ordinary monument: rather it was meant to be inserted in a wall. It may
be a sort of ‘elegant extract,’ like so many of the copies of the Roman
age. The subject and treatment of some celebrated sepulchral monument
may have been copied in marble for a Roman amateur, and taken out of its
original connexion.
CHAPTER XI
MEANING AND STYLE OF THE RELIEFS
For the interpretation and full appreciation of the Attic reliefs, it is
important to discuss somewhat carefully a fundamental question, which
may be set forth in several ways. Is their allusion primarily to the
life of the past or the life of the future? Is the scene of them Athens
or Hades? Is the hand-taking a sign of parting or of re-union in a world
of spirits? In a word, do they point backward or forward?
In this controversy the names of eminent archaeologists appear on both
sides. But to the English reader it will be more satisfactory to find a
brief statement of the arguments cited on this side and on that, than to
learn what line has been taken by the various authorities[217].
The view which makes the future the time, and the spiritworld the scene
of the sculptured reliefs has in its favour many analogies, and will
naturally commend itself to those who are attracted by the
investigations of comparative religion. There can be little doubt that
the seated pair of the Spartan monuments are regarded as holding their
court as heroized dead. And a number of intermediate links connect these
clearly marked memorials of ancestor-worship with the usual Attic groups
in an almost uninterrupted series, so that to draw
[Illustration:
PLATE XXIX
_Page 182_
]
a line of division at any point between backward-looking and
forward-looking representations is by no means easy. Let us follow a few
of these series.
In the Spartan relief (Pl. II) the heroic pair hold in their hands the
winecup and the pomegranate, drink and food of spirits. The hero of Fig.
30 holds both. Both may be found repeatedly also on the stelae of Athens
and the rest of Greece.
1. The winecup. On the beautiful archaic stele of Lyseas at Athens[218],
the hero is represented not in relief, but painted on the marble; he
stands erect, holding in one hand a winecup, in the other a lustral
branch. Not very much later in date is the stele[219] on which appears
in relief a veiled lady seated, who holds in one hand the flat patera
(Pl. XVI). Here the patera seems to stand in the place of the winecup,
and clearly has the same reference to the receipt of libations.
2. The pomegranate. On an archaic tombstone of Aegina[220], a seated
lady gives her hand to a male figure standing before her: in the other
hand she holds a pomegranate. Again, on a stele of the early part of the
fifth century, which comes from Larissa in Thessaly[221], a lady called
Polyxena stands, drawing forward with one hand her veil, and in the
other holding a pomegranate.
Nor is it only the attributes held by the Spartan heroes which appear in
Attic and other reliefs, but also the offerings brought to them by
worshippers. We will take the cock and the dove, which are prominent at
Sparta or on the Lycian Harpy Tomb, which so closely resembles in its
symbolism the Spartan monuments.
3. The cock. From Larissa comes a fifth-century stele[222], on which is
a relief representing a young Thessalian, clad in a chlamys, who holds
in one hand a spear, in the other a cock His name is Vekedamus. A cock
is also painted on a tomb at Athens which bears the name of
Antiphanes[223].
4. The dove. An Athenian tomb of the middle of the fifth century[224]
(Pl. XXX) bears the seated figure of a lady, Eutamia; before her stands
an attendant of small stature, who brings her a dove and a toilet-box.
Here the dove has the appearance of an offering. But on a number of
Athenian stelae the dove appears evidently as a common household pet. It
is sufficient to refer to our Plate XVIII and Fig. 61; though perhaps a
more pleasing instance than either of these is offered by a charming
relief at Brocklesby Park[225], in which we see a young girl fondling
two doves, which at once takes our thoughts to the offering of two doves
at the temple of Jerusalem after childbirth[226], though doubtless the
correspondence is accidental.
The horse and the dog also, which figure so prominently on the Spartan
tomb (Fig. 30), are of frequent occurrence at Athens.
5. The horse. We have already spoken of the many votive and sepulchral
reliefs on which the dead appear as horsemen. And the horse is also of
frequent occurrence on portrait-stelae. Of this we have cited instances
above, Chap. IX. The horse on the base of the Lyseas monument seems to
be a memorial of some victory in the racecourse. But on another very
early tomb, from Lamprika in Attica[227], we find, sculptured on the
face of it, a young knight on horseback fully armed. Another armed
horseman carved beneath the feet of a standing man occurs on an Attic
tombstone of somewhat later date[228]. On the lekythus-stelae of the
fourth and third centuries, in the scenes of leave-taking, the husband
who gives his hand to his wife is often accompanied by a horse[229],
and sometimes also by a youth who bears his armour.
6. The dog. On the stele by Alxenor (Pl. IX) we have a dog as companion
of the dead; also in Pl. XIII and on the Ilissus relief (Pl. XV). This
addition to sepulchral groups is so common, and so natural, the Greeks
being as fond of dogs as we are, that it requires no comment.
The stele of Eutamia (Pl. XXX) seems to lie very nearly on the boundary
between the heroizing stelae and ordinary Attic reliefs. At first glance
it does not present any marked deviation from the usual Athenian types.
Yet when one examines it in detail many links are evident connecting it
with Sparta and ancestor-worship. The difference in scale between the
seated lady and her attendant makes the latter seem rather a worshipper
than a mere handmaid. And the offerings which she brings, more
especially the dove, belong to the cultus of the dead. The dog too,
sculptured in relief above, offers an exact parallel to the horse in
relief of the stele Fig. 30. Our first point then, that there is an
unbroken line of connexion between stelae of the Spartan and those of
the Athenian class, is made out to demonstration.
But another point may be made out with equal clearness, that at all
events a large part of the Attic reliefs have reference exclusively to
the past. Several groups of them may be cited in proof.
1. Reliefs in which an actual death-scene is portrayed. Such a scene is
represented in our Fig. 66. It is clear that here nothing can be
referred to except what has occurred in the past; and this is equally
clear in the case of--
2. Reliefs in which is represented some notable scene in the life of the
deceased. A good example is offered by the monument on which Dexileos
appears striking down his enemies (Pl. XII), or that of Democleides,
Fig. 59.
3. Reliefs in which the profession of the deceased is indicated, as in
the case of the physicians[230]: and as in the stele of Mynno (Fig. 62).
It has been said that the reference to the past in such cases may be
explained from the Greek notion that the future life was a continuation
of the past on the same lines but in a ghostly fashion. But this
statement will not bear a closer examination. An earthly hunter may hunt
in Elysium: possibly a warrior may be imagined as finding new and
ghostly enemies to overthrow. But could it be for a moment supposed that
a woman would spend her time in Hades in repetitions of sickness and
death, or that a physician would find there need for the exercise of his
old craft? It is thus abundantly clear that in some at least of the
Attic reliefs the backward look prevails.
The class of reliefs from which we may best illustrate the two different
fashions of interpretation is the very large class in which is
represented hand-giving, the Greek δεξίωσις. Sometimes one of the pair
who are hand in hand is standing and one seated: sometimes both are
standing. There are three ways in which the attitude of the pair may be
interpreted. First it may be taken to mark a mere family group, an Attic
interior scene, a portrait of husband and wife or father and son in a
connexion which marks their unity of feeling and mutual affection.
Second, we may combine with this idea that of parting. To this view I
have inclined in a previous chapter. Third, we may take the hand-giving
as indicating the reception in Hades by those who have gone before of
their kindred who follow them. In the funeral oration of Hyperides there
is a passage[231] which is cited in favour of this view, in which the
orator speaks of the heroes of old in Hades
[Illustration:
PLATE XXX
_Page 186_
]
greeting, with a δεξίωσις their descendants who follow them in the way
of virtue and honour. So in the poets also, as we have above seen, there
are frequent references to the life of the re-united family in Hades.
And in fact a hope of such re-union seems to have existed among all
peoples in which family life was highly developed.
We can scarcely venture to rule any of these views out of court. We can
indeed venture to say that in the Athenian reliefs as they reach us, the
setting is full of allusions to the life of the past, while all that
suggests Hades is conspicuously absent. At the same time, while this is
the clear result of artistic analysis, it is quite impossible to say
that the hopes and longings of survivors may not have sometimes found in
the mere grouping of a family scene some earnest of re-united family
life under other conditions than those of earth. Artistic groups, like
strains of music, may be interpreted by the emotions rather than by the
intellect, and suggest many things to many people.
We can best solve the questions we have raised by drawing clearly a line
of distinction between the origin of the Attic sepulchral groups and
their meaning. They undoubtedly derive much both from the
ancestor-worship of early Hellas, and from the monuments in which that
worship found expression. But it is very unlikely that to the Attic mind
of the fifth and fourth centuries they usually conveyed much of
religious meaning. The bright genius of Attic art had little sympathy
with the mystic side of man’s nature. Its tendency was not towards
ethical religion, but towards beauty and enjoyment and social life.
Thus, in the memorials of the dead, the Athenians and those who took
their tone from Attic art sought to produce a pleasing and not too vivid
memorial of the dead, rather than a record of hope in the future life.
They did not disbelieve in the future world, nor did they practically
neglect the simple and pleasing ritual of the cultus of the dead. But
their minds turned more naturally to thoughts less severe and gloomy,
thoughts of the present, of the beauteous land they dwelt in and the
charm of their social surroundings.
But on the other hand it must be allowed that in the case of the
cultus-reliefs of the oblong class (Chapter VII), the reference is to
the future and not to the past. The worship of the dead could not begin
until they were canonized, so to speak; and to this canonization all the
details of the reliefs refer. If the question be asked whether the scene
in which the august hero sits on his throne or leads his horse is Hades
or the tomb itself, the answer is not easy. There seems to have existed
in this matter a confusion of mind. The earliest beliefs of the human
race seem to regard the dead as continuing in the grave an existence
which is a ghostly echo of the past life, and there receiving the
constantly presented offerings of their descendants. But the Greeks, as
we know them in history, had risen to a higher level of thought. They
thought that the soul travelled away from the resting-place of the body
until it reached the shadowy realm of Hades and Persephone, there to
receive from divine justice the reward or the punishment which it had
earned in its earthly life[232]. Such was the view of the priest and the
poet, and of educated people generally. But it is a familiar fact in the
history of religion that custom and cultus move far more slowly than
doctrine; and that to this body of usage is attached a survival of the
earlier or more primitive belief. So it came to pass in Greece, in spite
of the philosopher who spoke of the soul as mounting to its native
aether, and of the poet who sang of the realm of Hades and dread
Persephone. Still through the centuries offerings were brought to the
tomb, and the dead were supposed there to enjoy them. Still the stele
remained a sort of shrine of the family cultus, and ancestors were
regarded as there present in the same supernatural fashion in which
deities were present in their temples and their images. We can scarcely
upbraid the Greeks; for we too, while commonly believing in heaven, if
not in hell, still think of our dead as present in some sense at the
tomb in which we have laid their bodies. And modern scientific research
even indicates some justification of this deep-seated prejudice, which
mere reason disowns. For there is everywhere a deep-seated belief that
apparitions haunt the places where the persons whose shadows they are
lived their lives or underwent some overpowering emotion.
Thus it seems quite natural to regard the scene of the cultus reliefs as
the actual graveyard where they were set up. And this interpretation is
in most cases satisfactory. But some of them have a clear reference to
the land of spirits. In one instance, on an Attic votive tablet, we see
a deceased mortal feasting with Herakles and the Muses[233] and there is
a whole class of monuments which represent deceased heroes supping with
Dionysus. We engrave one of the most characteristic examples[234] (Fig.
73). An elderly man reclines on a couch, beside which is a table spread
with fruits, and a slave pouring wine. A serpent twined round the table
has clearly a sepulchral reference. The wife of the hero is seated at
his feet: both turn with surprise and delight to the left of the relief,
where the young Dionysus, bearing a thyrsus, and supporting his reeling
body on the shoulder of a young satyr, advances towards the couch. The
dead man had doubtless been a votary of Dionysus, perhaps attached to
the Orphic mysteries; and the god to whom in his earthly life he had
devoted himself comes to sup with him in the world of shades. In this
case certainly the banquet must be regarded as held, not at the tomb,
but in some nobler scene.
Next to the meaning of the sepulchral reliefs of Greece, the style of
art in which they are executed requires some attention.
[Illustration: FIG. 73. DIONYSUS AS GUEST.]
The reliefs of the sixth century, and down to about B.C. 460, are
excellent examples of the art of their time, in no way inferior to other
contemporary works of sculpture. The relief of Pl. II introduces us to a
school of artists of whom we have no other knowledge, a school localized
in Peloponnesus, and trying to work out an independent line of art. The
early reliefs of Athens and the Islands stand, however, on a much higher
level. We have already seen that Professor Brunn, an admirable judge,
had early discerned in the qualities of the Aristion relief (Pl. IX) the
promise of the excellence of later Athenian art. The other stele of Pl.
IX, that of Alxenor, shows similar merits, and a somewhat more advanced
style. The group of mother and children (Pl. XIX) is a work of the
greatest delicacy and charm: the forms of mother and infant, showing
through the orderly folds of the Ionian dress, indicate genuine love of
nature and appreciation of form; and the group is full of the same
sentiment which charms us in the tombs of a later age.
The reliefs of the sixth century were usually executed in honour of
distinguished persons; they frequently bore the name of the sculptor,
and that sculptor would usually be one whose fame was great. This shows
that early sculptors were proud of executing tombs: at a later time
tombs almost never bear an artist’s name.
As we approach the middle of the fifth century, the art of the sculptor
in Greece is taking constantly a higher and a wider range. Great temples
are rising on all sides, especially at Athens, and offering to great
artists noble opportunities of distinction to be won either by designing
the great cultus-statues of the gods, or by fitly adorning the outsides
of their temples. The sculpture of athletes also had, in the hands of
Pythagoras of Myron and of Polycleitus, reached a perfection hitherto
undreamed of. And at the same period the sumptuary laws of Athens, which
were only gradually falling into neglect, closely limited the sum of
money to be spent on tombs. Under these circumstances we cannot be
surprised that the sepulchral monuments of the middle of the fifth
century, of the age of the Parthenon and the Temple of Nike, are mostly
of somewhat small size and poor execution. In their style they show
something of the contemporary grand style, but it is only a distant
cousinship to it which they display. They are not the work of great
artists, but of workers scarcely above the level of the skilled
stonemason.
Several of the groups figured in our plates belong to this age. As
examples, we may take Pl. XVII, the stele of Amphotto, which is a work
of the earlier half of the fifth century, and Plates X, XIII, XVIII, XX,
XXI, XXVI, all of which were probably executed in the latter half of
that century. The form of these stelae is simple, even clumsy, the gable
above usually surmounted by three acroteria, on which an acanthus
pattern was probably painted. The subjects consist of few figures in
simple groups. The perspective is by no means perfect; for instance, the
breasts of Tynnias (Pl. X) and of Mica (Pl. XXI) are too fully turned to
the spectator. Nevertheless these reliefs have an extraordinary nobility
and dignity. Tynnias might almost have sat for a model of the Zeus at
Olympia: Lysander (Pl. XX) is the model of a modest and well-bred
Athenian boy: Mica (Pl. XXI), in spite of her fanciful name, has not a
touch of levity. Like the maidens of the Parthenon frieze, all these
human beings behave as if in the immediate presence of the gods. They
embody nobility and repose.
In the fourth century, the conditions of sculpture at Athens again
underwent a great change. No new and splendid temples rose from the
ground. No great public buildings offered a wide field to the architect,
the painter, and the sculptor. Art worked mainly in the service of
individuals. And, at the same time, the sepulchral monuments of Athens
became far more sumptuous. It is therefore quite natural that they
should have been sometimes undertaken by artists of renown.
We have the testimony of Pausanias to the fact that Praxiteles himself
sometimes made the sculptural adornment of the great Attic sepulchres.
Outside the Peiraeus gate, among other noteworthy tombs, Pausanias[235]
found one which he thus describes: ‘Not far from the gates is a tomb,
whereon stands a soldier standing by his horse: who he was I know not,
but it was Praxiteles who made both man and horse.’ The contemporary
painter Nicias also undertook tombs. Pausanias[236] tells us that
outside the gates of Triteia in Achaia was ‘a tomb of white marble
worthy of note in all respects, but particularly remarkable for the
paintings on the marble, the work of Nicias. There is a throne of ivory,
and seated on it a young and beauteous woman, behind whom stands a
maid-servant holding a sunshade. Also a young man standing, not bearded
as yet, clad in a chiton with a purple chlamys over it: beside him is an
attendant carrying hunting-spears and leading dogs of hunting breed.
Praxiteles and Nicias were closely associated in art; Praxiteles is even
said to have declared that his sculpture owed much of its charm to the
colouring applied to it by Nicias. We may judge then that the beautiful
sepulchral monuments of the fourth century, whether set up at Athens or
elsewhere, owed their excellence to the second Athenian school, to
Praxiteles and Scopas and their contemporaries. An examination of the
monuments themselves fully confirms this view. More than one
archaeologist has been struck with the strong likeness to be traced
between the heads recently recovered from the pediments of the temple of
Athena at Tegea[237], which are our best evidence for recovering the
style of Scopas, and some of the Attic sepulchral reliefs, especially
that of Dexileos (Pl. XII) and that from the Ilissus (Pl. XV). These
works are certainly of the age of Scopas. The tomb of Dexileos was set
up immediately after 394 B.C., and in the same year the old temple of
Athena at Tegea was burned, affording to young Scopas the task of its
reconstruction. It is quite possible that some of the existing tombs of
the fourth century may be the actual work of sculptors of the second
Attic school. In the moderation, the gentleness, the pleasing sentiment
of these Athenian tombs we see precisely the qualities for which
Praxiteles was celebrated. But, generally speaking, sepulchral monuments
are of the class of work which a great sculptor would leave to pupils
and assistants, just as they left the decorative sculpture of the bases
of their great statues.
The tombs of this age are larger and more sumptuous, and the groups at
once more complicated and more expressive. There is less repose than in
the stelae of the fifth century, and more sentiment. Characteristic
figures of warriors of this age are those of Dexileos (Pl. XII) and
Aristonautes (Pl. XI): and among family groups we may notice the Ilissus
relief (Pl. XV), the stele of Damasistrate (Pl. XXIII), and the group of
Pl. XXIV.
Our plates scarcely come down to a later time than the fourth century,
but among the most interesting figures found on tombs of the later age
is the figure of the girl devoted to the service of Isis in Fig. 64.
CHAPTER XII
INSCRIPTIONS
After thus entering into the question of the meaning of the Attic
sepulchral reliefs, and discussing their relation to the Greek beliefs
as to the future world, it is necessary to give some account of the
inscriptions which accompany the reliefs.
By far the most usual inscription on an Attic tomb consists of a proper
name, to which is added commonly a patronymic. In addition to this
simple record, archaic tombs sometimes bear the name of the artist who
executed them. Towards the end of the fifth century the custom comes in
of adding also the place to which the deceased belonged. The reliefs of
the best age are not signed by an artist, and in fact anything beyond
names and demes is, in the fifth and fourth centuries, quite unusual.
The strict canons of developed Greek art seem to have rejected any long
or metrical epitaph as out of place or in bad taste. Later, in the third
and second centuries, longer inscriptions, often written in elegiac
metre, are far commoner.
Our plates and engravings furnish specimens of the ordinary kinds of
inscriptions. The two archaic reliefs of Pl. IX bear the artists’ names,
in one case Ἔργον Ἀριστοκλέοσ[238], in the other Ἀλχσήνορ ἐποίησεν ὁ
Νάχσιος: to the latter signature is added a delightfully naïve comment,
ἀλλʹ ἐσίδεσθε, Just look! implying that in the artist’s own opinion his
work is well worth looking at. The inscription on the tomb of Dermys
and Citylus (Fig. 55) records the name of the dedicator, Ἀμφάλκης ἔστασ’
ἐπὶ Κιτύλοι ἠὃ ἐπὶ Δέρμυι.
After the archaic age, the inscriptions are simpler, as Ἀμφοττό (Pl.
XVII), Εὐέμπολος (Pl. XVIII), Δημοκλείδης Δημητρίο (Fig. 59), Τυννίας
Τύννωνος Tρικορύσιος (Pl. X), Κρατιστὼ Ὀλυνθία Ἄγρωνος θνγάτηρ Γλαυκίου
δὲ γυνή, and so forth.
When the tomb belongs to one person these inscriptions are simple, and
there can be no ambiguity in their interpretation, nor is there any
doubt to which of the persons represented in the relief the identifying
inscription belongs. But when the inscription contains several names the
matter is not so simple. Dr. Furtwängler lays down the rule that the
names are the names of the dead; in that case, as the dead and the
living appear together in the reliefs, there would be no necessary
correspondence between relief and inscription. I find however, in the
great majority of cases, that not only do the inscriptions agree with
the reliefs, but that the names are placed over the figures in order to
identify them. The analogy of Greek vases here helps us. On vases it is
an ordinary custom to place over each of the persons of the design his
or her name, merely for purposes of identification. It appears that the
same custom prevails in sepulchral reliefs. Confirmation of this view
will be found in abundance by any one who examines the _Corpus of Attic
Reliefs_. And further confirmation is afforded by the epigrams of the
_Anthology_. One records[239] not only the name of the person to whom
the tomb belongs, and who appears in its relief, but also the names of
the dog, the horse, and the slave who form his _cortége_. Another
reads[240], ‘This is Timocleia, this Philo, this Aristo, and this
Timaetho; all daughters of Aristodicus.’ In fact, to this general rule
of the explicatory character of the inscriptions only a few doubtful
exceptions make their appearance. One of these exceptions appears on
our Pl. XXVII. The group consists of two ladies, whereas the names above
are Μικίων Αἰαντοδώρου Ἀναγυράσιος, Ἀμεινίχη Μικίωνος Θριασίου,
Δημοστράτη Αἴσχρωνος Ἁλαὲως--the names of one man and two women. But it
appears that in this case a name was originally placed only over the
seated lady: this was erased, and the three names which we find were
inserted at a later period. We may safely therefore assert that at all
events in the great majority of cases the names placed on the tombs
identify the persons of the reliefs, and do not by any means necessarily
give us a clue to the occupants of the grave.
It is pointed out by Dr. Weisshäupl, in an excellent paper on Greek
epitaphs[241], which has been of great service to me in this chapter,
that the term χαῖρε, Farewell, which is common in late Greek epitaphs,
does not occur on the graves of Athenian citizens. The age of the
deceased, in modern epitaphs one of the most indispensable features, is
seldom stated on Greek tombs: a curious exception being found in the
case of Dexileos.
Among the tombs which we engrave, only this of Dexileos (Pl. XII) bears
a long or a detailed inscription. The record here tells us that the hero
was born in the archonship of Teisander, and died in that of Eubulides,
and was one of the five horsemen at Corinth. The last phrase is curious,
nor is its meaning certain. Usually it is explained as meaning that
Dexileos took part in some noted feat of arms with four other horsemen
in the Corinthian war. But recently[242], Dr. Brückner has tried to
prove that the πέντε ἱππεῖς were the adjutants of the Hipparchi, and
persons of definite rank in the army.
After the age of Demetrius of Phalerum, when the sepulchral monuments of
Athens become poorer and smaller, the inscriptions as a rule remain very
brief. But on exceptional tombs of this age, and a larger number of the
Roman period, we find long inscriptions in prose or in verse, giving
the history of the occupant or moralizing on life and death. Already in
another work[243] I have given a brief account of the general character
of Athenian epitaphs. I therefore in this place prefer to take my
examples not from Athens, but from other parts of Greece. There is, at
all events in later ages, no great difference in character between the
sepulchral inscriptions of Athens and those of other cities, if we
except those districts of Asia Minor which were partly under the
influence of Asiatic religions and ways of thinking. Where the epitaph
has some pretension to literary style I give a rendering in heroic
verse, in other cases a prose translation may suffice.
We may begin with the inscription of a public tomb. At all times these
tombs bore epigrams of a nobler type than those of private persons.
Commonly they were set up in some public place and were the scene of
heroic honours. The epigram which they bore would be composed by some
noted poet. Every one knows of the noble lines written by Simonides for
the Spartans who fell at Thermopylae:--
Go, stranger, and at Lacedaemon tell
That here obedient to her laws we fell.
Another public epitaph, also belonging to some of the heroes of the
Persian wars, has been found at Megara[244]. It is not, however, the
original record, but a copy made of that record when it had almost
perished with age in the fourth or fifth century of our aera by one
Helladius, who attributes to Simonides the verses which run thus:--
Eager we strove that freedom’s day might rise
For Greece and home; but death is all our prize.
Some fell beside Euboea’s sacred strand,
Where Artemis, chaste huntress, holds the land:
Some died at Mycale; some the warlike show
Of Tyrian fleets at Salamis laid low:
Some in Boeotian plains, in daring mood,
The charging Median chivalry withstood.
Here in full market[245], ’mid the thronging crowd,
Our townsmen have our honoured grave allowed.
This epitaph was evidently placed on the public grave of the Megarian
citizens who fell in the various battles against the Persians. It was no
doubt a cenotaph. Pausanias mentions it, and states that the Megarians
set the graves of their distinguished dead in the senate-house, so that
all future generations might consult in presence of the heroes:
Helladius adds, ‘even in my day a bull is sacrificed by the city.’ An
epitaph in the market-place and the annual sacrifice of a bull for a
thousand years might well supply to the Greek soldier an incentive as
great as among us the hope of a monument in Westminster Abbey.
A similar monument in honour of the Athenians who fell at Potidaea, in
the Peloponnesian War, is preserved at the British Museum[246]. We may
also consider as public a tomb erected at Corfu by Amphilochian soldiers
to one of their comrades who had fallen in a skirmish on the opposite
coast[247]. It dates from about the third century B.C.:--
For thee a bitter fate thy friends behold
Of Amphilochian land the warriors bold,
When by Illyrian horse in battle slain
Within an island tomb thy bones remain.
They left thee not, when thou wast lying low,
Thy comrades brave well-skilled the dart to throw;
From deadly battle-press thy corpse they save,
And mourning kinsmen bear thee to the grave.
Public epitaphs such as these are in the highest degree objective. They
recount the deeds of a hero and deplore his death, but they seldom
indulge in moral reflection, or speak of any future life. This is in
fact the character of all early epitaphs, whether from private or public
graves. I will cite a few of the sixth century to begin with.
The tomb of Menecrates at Corfu is well known to many travellers, from
its beautiful situation. The inscription, written in archaic characters
of Corinth, runs thus[248]: ‘This tomb is of Menecrates son of Tlesias
of the race of Oeanthe: the people raised it to him. He was proxenus,
beloved by the people, and died at sea, and was buried by the stroke of
oars of the public ships[249]. Praximenes, coming from his native city,
raised with the people this memorial to his brother.’ Menecrates seems
to have been consul or proxenus of Corinth at Corcyra, and was succeeded
in that office by his brother Praximenes.
The sculptured lion found on the spot may belong to the tomb of
Menecrates; but it more probably belongs to another tomb of the same age
erected to one Arniadas, which bears a very simple record[250], ‘This is
the tomb of Arniadas: bright-eyed Ares was his death, as he fought by
the ships at the streams of Arathus, doing many valiant deeds in the sad
battle-strife.’
The qualities of moderation, of self-control and of nobility which
belong pre-eminently to almost all Greek productions of the fifth
century, are in nothing to be observed more clearly than in the epitaphs
of that period. A few specimens will suffice as well as many to exhibit
this character. Many or most of them record a death in battle: it
appears that only when a man thus died for his country or was otherwise
especially distinguished, was he allowed an epitaph recording more than
his name and that of his father. A grave at Anactorium[251] of the fifth
century bears the inscription, ‘This tomb near the way shall be called
by the name of Procleidas, who died fighting for his country.’ Another
at Thisbe[252] in Boeotia reads, ‘Dear to citizens and friends I fell in
the front ranks fighting valiantly.’ The following record civic or
personal rather than military merit. From Thespiae[253], ‘As a memorial
over Olaidas when he died I was erected by his father Ossilus, to whom
his departure brought sorrow.’ From Tanagra[254], ‘Thy native city,
Cercinus son of Phoxius, Heracleia in Pontus, shall have sorrow at thy
death among our friends; so never shall we forget thy praise: greatly
did I admire thy nature.’ The ‘I’ of the former of these two epitaphs is
the tombstone; the ‘I’ of the second is a sorrowing friend.
The epitaphs of the fourth century B.C. are of similar character, but
somewhat more abundant and less rigid in type. The following from Oreus
in Euboea[255] is decidedly pleasing:
In bloom of youth by praise thy fame was spread,
In blameless ways thy childish days were sped:
In man’s estate, when law and country bade,
Where hostile ranks by Ares were arrayed,
A horseman, thou didst strive with fair renown
Thy fathers and thy fatherland to crown.
This tomb, to mark thy worth, thy sire doth raise,
Thy city decks it with unceasing praise.
An epitaph from Thebes[256] seems to have been erected over a soldier of
the Sacred War: ‘When young I cultivated merriment (εὐφροσύνην ἤσκουν)
associating with my companions in the gymnasium. I die in war, bearing
aid to the Delphic land. My grandfather was Euenoridas, my father Neon.’
In this epigram notes quite unfamiliar to the Christian world are
struck. The deceased had fallen on what might have passed as a crusade,
an expedition to punish the sacrilegious aggression of the Phocians on
the temple of Apollo at Delphi. Yet instead of dwelling on such
religious merit, the epitaph speaks of his cheeriness of disposition and
his sociability, of his worship of the ‘goddess fair and free, in heaven
yclept Euphrosyne.’ In fact no quality is more often mentioned with
praise in sepulchral inscriptions than the social habits of the
deceased. An inscription of the same age from Athens[257] seems to
record the success of a comic actor, who is praised especially for
having overcome his natural disqualification for his pursuit: ‘All
Hellas admires thee, Euthias, and misses thee in the sacred festivals;
nor without cause. For through art, not natural gift, in vine-crowned
comedy of gentle mirth thou wast second in rank, but first in art.’ In
athletic sports also we learn that the spectators most applauded those
who won by science, not mere strength. Another contemporary inscription
from Athens[258] is in more poetic form: ‘Divine Modesty, daughter of
high-minded Shame, one who valued above all thee and warlike Valour,
Cleidemus of Melita son of Cleidemides is here buried.’
It will be observed that all the epigrams hitherto cited are from the
graves of men, not women. Indeed, inscriptions from women’s tombs very
seldom, at this early time, contain more than the name with that of
father or husband. Generally speaking, until the time of Alexander, the
women of Greece were content to shine with borrowed light, and to be
notable in the home rather than in the city. Of sculptural honour they
had, as we have seen, even more than their share; but to praise a woman
in public might well seem to her friends to approach indelicacy. In the
later age inscriptions recording female worth are frequent. There is no
question that as the public life of Greece decayed, women became more
and more prominent in the cities.
It is not easy to assign, on epigraphic grounds, an exact date to
sepulchral inscriptions of the third and later centuries down to Roman
Imperial times. Partly for this reason, and partly because the later
epitaphs of Greece really form one class, I prefer to group them rather
by subject than by period. Generally speaking, they have more literary
pretensions than earlier epitaphs, and their character is more personal
and subjective, so that they give us information on many subjects as to
which early inscriptions are silent.
An epitaph from Melos[259] of the third century B.C. is set over a wife,
but it bears a suspicious appearance of being the composition of the
husband: ‘I love even in death my husband, for with no common care he
made me a tomb conspicuous to all. And me his wife he made equal to the
heroes in veneration in memory of the sweet joys of love.’ As a memorial
of a young man who met with some accident on the shore of Leucas[260],
the following epigram was graven: ‘Unfavourable weather kept back
Telesphorus and loosed his girdle (i.e. delayed the girding of his loins
for a journey). The shore proved fatal to him; and destiny would no
longer wait. Alas! for his untimely death, and his sad parents!’ We may
next cite a couple of Boeotian epitaphs inscribed over literary men.
From Larymna[261]: ‘Behold, stranger, here the tomb of departed Philo,
who gave himself to the skilled pursuit of polite letters, while to all
the citizens of Larymna he showed a nature ever friendly. Early he has
quitted his life yet at its prime; and with universal mourning his city
weeps his loss.’ Still more detailed is the following, from
Orchomenus[262], of the second century B.C., set up over one Philocrates
of Sidon: ‘Thou boastedst a maturity, Philocrates, not unworthy of thy
earlier life, urged on by the subtle mind. For from early youth, as is
right, thou hadst been familiar with the doctrines of Epicurus, easy to
understand. Then, obedient to the rudder of Fortune[263], in a wandering
life, thou didst preside at the contests of men among the Minyae[264].
Now thou liest close to thy son, thy limbs touching his, without sorrow,
having come out of life to join him gone before.’ Sometimes inscriptions
of this biographic character contain literary touches. For example, on a
public tomb at Thera[265], set up in honour of Admetus, priest of Apollo
Carneius, the epitaph ends, ‘leaving to wife and mother heavy grief: yet
what wonder? even Thetis had to mourn the loss of the slain Achilles.’
The epitaphs which express a sentiment as to human life are usually of
Roman age. I will, however, cite a few of them, in order to complete our
survey. An epitaph from Samos[266] ends with the reflection, ‘If due
account were made of piety, never would my home have incurred such
misfortunes as these.’ One from Tanagra[267] ends, ‘O mortals, turn your
thoughts to what is paltry: if you meditate better things, Hades is
envious of the good.’ These are feelings which doubtless often touch the
minds of relatives and friends in our days, but on this particular point
we are more under the dominion of convention than were the Greeks; and
the utterances of cynicism or despair are mostly excluded from our
graveyards. The following from Thespiae[268] is more in the line of
propriety: ‘Who would not weep over the vain hopes of parents, looking
at me?’
Many epitaphs of the later period contain some statement as to the
destiny of the spirit. Such statements are, however, usually expressed
in very conventional form; they have the air rather of poetical
amplification than of a real hope beyond the grave. In this respect
they contrast markedly with early Christian inscriptions; in which,
however rough and inelegant the form may be, there lies an unmistakable
air of real feeling. A pagan epitaph of Sparta[269], of the second
century A.D., runs: ‘Adorned with every virtue, noble Titanius, son of
Paeon, thou possessest the Island of the Blest.’ We can scarcely imagine
that at this late period the Island of the Blest lived in popular
belief, or that the phrase is anything but a poetical reminiscence. An
epitaph, which may have been written beneath the sculptured dog, on the
tomb of Diogenes the Cynic[270], runs thus: ‘Lies he here, who dwelt in
an earthen cask? Aye, truly; but now that he is dead, he has the stars
for his home.’ With this optimistic rhetoric we may compare the cynical
and pessimistic rhetoric of another epitaph, ‘Mix the wine, and drink
deep with brows crowned with flowers, nor scorn the delights of love:
all the rest at death is consumed by earth and fire[271].’ As this
epigram accompanied a relief which represented a man reclining at table,
the whole seems to have been a cynical travesty of the banqueting
reliefs above discussed.
Where, however, mention is made of Hades and Persephone, or where we
catch an echo of Orphic phrase, we may suspect a more serious meaning.
In the following, for example, from Crommyon[272], the opening phrase
seems to belong to Orphism and the Mysteries, ‘I Philostrata have gone
back to the source whence I came, leaving the bondage in which nature
yoked me. Having filled up the measure of fourteen years, in the
fifteenth, a virgin, I quitted the body, childless, unwedded, a maiden.
May those to whom life is an object of desire grow old to their hearts’
content.’ The same character attaches to the following, from
Megara[273]: ‘The body of Nicocrates rests in the lap of earth; his
heart (κέαρ) has fled above to the divine aether. Thanks to thee,
Pluto, kindly deity, for this destiny. Gentle and lovable, a favourite
with all was the son of Callitychus; now another and a divine light
receives him.’
We occasionally find mention made of Hermes in epitaphs as leader and
friend of departed spirits. An anonymous epitaph of the _Palatine
Anthology_[274], reads thus: ‘They say that Hermes leads the good on the
way that bears to the right from the pyre to Rhadamanthys: by this way
Aristonous, the much-mourned son of Chaerestratus, went down to the
abode of Hades, who receives all men.’ The phrase ‘bears to the right’
must refer to some known chart or description of the paths of souls,
which are described in greater detail in some of the Orphic
inscriptions. For example, on a gold tablet found at Petelia in
Italy[275], buried doubtless with one who had been initiated in the
Orphic Mysteries, we find a sort of guide or way-book for the last
journey: ‘Thou shalt find on the left of the abode of Hades a well, and
beside it planted a white cypress. And thou shalt find another, cold
water flowing from the Lake of Mnemosyne: before it stand guards. Then
shalt thou say, “I am a child of earth and starry heaven, but a heavenly
race is mine, as ye yourselves know. I am dry and faint with thirst;
give me then speedily cold water flowing from the lake of Mnemosyne.”’
The spring on the left, the name of which is not given, is doubtless
that of Lethe, or forgetfulness. The soul which wishes to claim its
immortal rights must avoid this water, and demand in virtue of its
divine nature some of the other water, that of memory, that its
individuality may not be lost. This seems to be the path to the right,
on which Hermes leads those who have in their lifetime prepared
themselves for the journey.
It would be easy to multiply epitaphs of this kind, but they would lead
us into regions of thought and belief outside the limits of this book,
which is concerned not with the opinions of Greek philosophers and
mystics but of every-day people.
A priestess of Zeus, at Argos[276], seems to have found a tomb in the
sacred precinct of the god; whence her epitaph runs: ‘The divine ruler,
to whom it was my honour to minister when alive, took my blameless life
and gave me this favour among the dead. Hence I have not a tomb
underground, but dwell in the place of the blest, in the golden home of
the gods.’ Here there seems to be a play upon the place of burial, as
involving a parallel exaltation of the spirit. An elegant epitaph by
Dionysius of Magnesia, still extant, from Paros[277], begins by an
inquiry as to the name of the dead person, then goes on to narrate the
history of her life, and ends with an appeal to Persephone, and a kindly
greeting to survivors:--
O Maid of many names, Queen ruling wide,
Her by the hand to pious places guide.
On all who, passing, greet the soul below
With kindly word, may God some good bestow.
This epigram brings us to the last class of extant epitaphs, that in
which the passer-by is addressed in friendly or in threatening language.
This kind is not exclusively late: we have already seen that the Spartan
epitaph at Thermopylae addresses the wayfarer, and bids him carry a
message to Sparta. But it is very common on late tombs. In an epitaph
from Crete[278], of the first century, the wayfarer is requested to say
as he passes, ‘May earth lie light on thee.’ In another, of the same
age, from Pholegandros[279], we read, ‘Having duteously greeted me, the
dead Diogenes, go, stranger, to thine own affairs, and may they prosper
at thy will.’ The gentle custom of giving a passing greeting at the
tomb, in the word χαῖpε, seems to have been usual among the Greeks. Thus
easily one kept on good terms with the dead, and won their friendly
wishes. On the other hand, any sort of violence done to a grave or its
inmates brought down on the sacrilegious violator all kinds of plagues
and miseries, which are sometimes, in late Roman times, set forth in the
epitaph itself, _in terrorem_. Sometimes a sum of money is mentioned
which the violator must pay as a fine to redeem his guilt; but sometimes
he is threatened with direr penalties, gout and fever and many other
diseases. The tomb of Annia Regilla, wife of Herodes Atticus, at Athens,
bears an inscription in which the prayer is set forth that for any one
who disturbs the grave the earth may refuse to bear fruit and the sea
refuse to bear his ships, and that he and his race may perish miserably.
Blessings are heaped on all who may honour the burial-place. Our minds
naturally pass to the well-known epitaph on Shakespeare’s tomb at
Stratford, which may perhaps have been framed on an ancient model.
At a decidedly higher literary level than the epitaphs collected from
Greek gravestones are many of those put together in the seventh book of
the _Palatine Anthology_. All real lovers of Greek letters are
acquainted with the delightful epigrams written by poets of the
Hellenistic age to adorn the tomb: gems of Callimachus, of Meleager, of
Leonidas of Tarentum, and others. English poets, from Dr. Johnson to Mr.
Andrew Lang, have devoted hours of leisure to rendering in English verse
these flowers of ancient poetry, which are best characterized in the
well-known words as slight things but roses, βαιὰ μὲν ἀλλὰ ῥόδα. If,
however, we accept the comparison of the Epigrams of the _Anthology_ to
roses, we must remember that our roses are highly cultivated and
civilized flowers. No person with any literary discernment would compare
them to the brier-rose, the anemone, or the primrose.
In previous chapters of this work I have occasionally ventured on
versions of Greek epitaphs from the _Anthology_. Yet, in view of the
purpose and character of this book, we can make but careful and scant
use of that collection. Roses may be a suitable adornment for a tomb,
but when one is anxious carefully to study the form of the monument and
to examine its sculptural decoration and its epitaph, roses may be in
the way. As it comes down to us, the _Anthology_ is put together on
literary rather than historic principles. Dates and schools are mixed up
with the most perplexing indifference. Epigrams of Simonides and Sappho
are placed next to the verses of Callimachus and Archias, of Rufinus and
Paulus Silentiarius, authors who between them cover a space of more than
a millennium. And, moreover, in no department of Greek letters is the
rhetorical and epideictic spirit, that pest of Greece, more rampant than
in the epigram. The great majority of sepulchral epigrams were written,
not to duly honour the dead, but to display the literary taste and
ingenuity of the poet. So that while we admire greatly the finished and
exquisite beauty of these poems, we can seldom suppose that they embody
much feeling or contain much thought. One class of epitaphs in the
_Anthology_, the anonymous, has more actuality, being commonly
transcribed from actual tombstones: but from the literary point of view
these are the poorest.
I propose, however, to give in this place renderings of a few of these
literary epitaphs, selecting such as belong to an earlier period, and
such as have some interest in their matter, and not merely in their
style. In some cases I give a version of my own; in other cases I use
the elegant translations which Dr. James Williams, of Lincoln College,
has kindly placed at my disposal.
We find not rarely on Greek tombs of all periods colloquies between the
dead and wayfarers. The following is a literary version by Leonidas[280]
of such a dialogue, carried on in a style of stately courtesy:--
‘Lady, what name, what father dost thou own,
That lieth ’neath this shaft of Parian stone?’
‘Prexo, the daughter of Calliteles.’
‘Where wast thou born?’ ‘Beside the Samian seas.’
‘Who paid thee fitting funeral honours thus?’
‘The husband of my youth, Theocritus.’
‘How came thy death?’ ‘In childbed did I die.’
‘Thine age?’ ‘But two and twenty years lived I.’
‘And childless?’ ‘Nay, of mother’s care bereft,
Calliteles, just three years old, was left.’
‘Long life and ripe old age thy boy await.’
‘Friend, all good things be showered on thee by fate.’
The following bears the name of Sappho[281]:--
The dust of Timas: ere her bridal she
Saw the dark chamber of Persephone.
Their lovely hair her playmates offered here,
Cut off to honour her who was so dear.
This seems of archaic simplicity compared with the metrical epitaph on
Clearista by Meleager, already cited in Chapter VIII. Nothing could well
be simpler also than the following by Callimachus[282], whose art in
this case conceals art:--
Saon the son of Dicon here doth lie
In holy sleep: the good can never die.
A charming epitaph[283] on one Amyntichus, being anonymous, is probably
from a real tomb:--
Dear earth, receive Amyntichus to rest,
Mindful of all his labour spent on thee;
Thee with the boughs of Bacchus oft he dressed,
And in thee planted oft the olive-tree,
Filled thee with Deo’s grain, and trenches led
To make thee rich in herbs and autumn fruits.
Lie thou then lightly on his hoary head,
And busk his tomb with springtide’s tender shoots.
An epitaph, by Leonidas[284] of Tarentum, on one Clitagoras, refers to
offerings at the tomb, such as we have spoken of in Chapter II:--
Shepherds, who tend upon yon mountain steep
Your herds of goats and flocks of fleecy sheep,
A little gift Clitagoras to-day
For sake of Queen Persephone doth pray;
I would that sheep should bleat, and from a rock
A shepherd pipe soft music to his flock;
And let one hind cull fresh young meadow-bloom
In early spring, and crown therewith my tomb;
Another take and milk a mother ewe
And with the stream this funeral stone bedew;
The dead are reached by kindly acts of men,
And e’en the dead can make return again.
This is a pastoral picture well worthy of Theocritus; the last two lines
show how persistently there lingered among the Greek peasants that
notion of the exchange of services between dead and living of which I
have spoken above.
Sometimes not only human beings but also favourite animals had their
tombs and epitaphs. Especially, we are told, was this the case at
Agrigentum in Sicily, a city which paid dearly for its luxury and
effeminacy at the time of the Carthaginian invasion of the end of the
fifth century. The following[285], by Meleager, was for a hare:--
A long-eared hare was I and swift of feet,
When Phaenium stole me from my mother’s breast.
She gave me young spring flowers to be my meat,
And in her bosom oft I lay caressed.
True mother she! but death soon came to me,
Good living made me fat and overfed.
Here lie I ’neath her chamber floor, that she
In dreams may see my tomb beside her bed.
We are here clearly in the region of elegant trifles: and being there we
may give a few more specimens of the poetic art which, like the
acanthus, gave an elegant finish to the tomb. The following is
Meleager’s lament over Heliodora[286]:--
To Hades, Heliodora, from above,
I send these tears, the relics of my love,
Tears hard to weep; and on thy tomb I pour
This memory of loving days of yore.
O bitter, bitter, darling, is my woe
A bootless gift for Acheron below.
Where is my flower? By Hades snatched away,
The budding blossom is but dust to-day.
Grant, Mother Earth, that one so dear as she
May softly in thy arms enfolded be.
The next epitaph, by Philip of Thessalonica, is quite Hellenistic in
character[287]:--
Architeles the Sculptor, where was laid
His son, with mournful hand the tombstone made.
Not cut with iron tool the lines appear;
The stone was furrowed by the frequent tear.
O stone! lie lightly, that the dead may know
A hand indeed paternal set thee so.
I cite only the end of another epitaph, by Heracleitus, which is said to
have adorned the tomb of a lady named Aretemias[288]. It is so neat and
compressed that I have in vain tried to render it in an English heroic
distich:--‘Twin sons I bare: one I left to my husband as a stay of old
age; one I take with me as a memorial of my husband.’
We may add a couple more epitaphs which clearly belong to the epideictic
or rhetorical class, but which please by the neatness of their form. One
by Damagetes[289] professes to record the last words of a lady named
Theano, of Phocaea, in Asia Minor.
Phocaeans! hear the moan Theano made,
As night received her with eternal shade.
‘How sad my lot! Afar some unknown sea
In thy swift ship, my husband, beareth thee.
Fate stands beside my bed. Ah! wert thou by,
Holding thy loving hand that I might die.’
The following professes to belong to a tomb of Ajax[290], on which was
placed a mourning woman, who represented his unappreciated worth or
valour:--
On Ajax’ tomb with closely shaven hair
I sit, sad Worth, in semblance of despair,
Grief-struck at heart that with the Achaean host
Deceitful Fraud more weight than I can boast.
CHAPTER XIII
LATER MONUMENTS OF ASIA MINOR
The sepulchral monuments of Greece Proper are all on a modest scale, and
noteworthy on account of their beauty of design and charm of sentiment
rather than for their magnificence or costliness. In order to find
sumptuous tombs erected by Greek architects and decorated by the great
Greek sculptors, we must cross over into Asia. We have in a previous
chapter spoken of some of the monuments of Asia Minor which are
contemporary with the earliest tombs of Greece. We have now to observe
how Greece in the later fifth and the fourth centuries paid back the
artistic debt which she owed to Asia. The custom of erecting magnificent
memorials of departed rulers long prevailed in all parts of Asia. And
when Greece stood without a rival in the arts of architecture and
sculpture, it was natural that the wealthy princes who planned the
monuments of their predecessors, or sometimes their own destined tombs,
should import Greek artists, and allow them a free hand to produce great
mausoleums, in which the art of Greece registered in beautiful forms the
affection of kinsfolk and the veneration of subject populations.
Without at all intending to exhaust the subject, I propose to give some
account of a few of the most noteworthy of these monuments, especially
of the Nereid monument and the Gyeulbashi heroon in Lycia, and the
Mausoleum a Halicarnassus. These tombs I select not as typical of their
age and country, but rather as exceptional. They represent the almost
complete victory in Asia not only of Greek art, but even of Greek ideas.
Side by side with these monuments there were erected in Asia Minor, and
especially in Lycia, tombs in which native tendencies, such as we have
seen in an earlier chapter were still dominant. Sir Charles Fellows
brought from Lycia some tombs of this character, and casts of the
reliefs of others which remain in their site. The most interesting
representation is from a tomb at Cadyanda[291], on which we see
banqueting scenes, dancing figures, a group of four girls playing with
knucklebones, and so forth, with bilingual inscriptions in Greek and
Lycian. But to comment on these scenes as if they were of Hellenic
origin would lead us far astray. Like the paintings and reliefs of
Etruria, they represent a peculiar and lost phase of civilization,
thinly veneered by the art and thought of Hellas.
In his third journey through Lycia, in 1842, Sir Charles Fellows
discovered, not far from the agora of Xanthus, a lofty stone basis, some
33 feet by 22 in dimensions; and in close connexion with it a large
quantity of reliefs and of fragments of Ionic architecture[292]. Leaving
the basis where it stood, he brought to England the sculpture; and by
the labours of English archaeologists the tomb to which both basis and
sculpture belonged has been reconstructed. I repeat the restoration of
Falkener[293], which has been accepted by Overbeck and other authorities
(Fig. 74). The restoration is not in all points certain. As the basis
remains there cannot be any question as to its form and the position of
the sculptured friezes which adorned it. And the examination of the
upper surface of the basis established a pteron or line of columns all
round, with statues standing in the intercolumniations. But as to the
position of the friezes which belong to the upper part of the monument,
and as to the acroteria which Falkener places on the top of all, there
remains considerable uncertainty. The whole of the sculpture may be
studied in the British Museum, and is published by Professor Michaelis
in the tenth volume of the Roman _Monumenti dell’ Instituto_.
[Illustration: FIG. 74. NEREID MONUMENT, FALKENER.]
From the present point of view the most important of
[Illustration: FIG. 75. GABLE OF NEREID MONUMENT.]
the scenes depicted on this monument is to be found in one of the
pediments[294] (Fig. 75). The hero of whom the tomb is a memorial is
seated in state, sceptre in hand: his wife sits opposite, and the
children are grouped about them. Further to the right are attendants on
a smaller scale. One dog is asleep under the master’s chair, another
lies in the corner of the pediment. In the other pediment there is a
warlike scene, of which only one-half is preserved. The midmost figure,
doubtless the hero again, is on horseback[295] charging an overthrown
foe, to whose aid his companions, clad as Greek hoplites, hurry forward.
The representation here is no doubt of some notable feat of arms of the
owner of the tomb. To the warlike scene the peaceful scene first
described corresponds. At first sight it seems merely a picture out of
daily life: but if we bear in mind the ordinary symbolism of the Greek
tomb we may fairly find in it some sepulchral significance. The grouping
of the children about their parents reminds us of many Attic sepulchral
reliefs, and the train of attendants bears a decided resemblance to the
group of votaries usual on heroizing reliefs. In fact, we find here what
is called by archaeologists a contamination. The Asiatic custom of
regarding a tomb as a monument of the fame and a record of the exploits
of some great ruler or leader of men is penetrated by the genius of
Attic sepulchral art, and takes new and more beautiful forms.
Treating the two pediments as striking the keynote of the whole
sculptural adornment of the monument, we shall not hesitate to find in
all its representations allusions to the life and exploits of the hero
whom it commemorates. But of the four friezes which encircled the
building at various heights, three furnish us with information which is
too vague to be historically useful. The theme of the first is battle,
of the third hunting, of the fourth feasting and repose. It is only the
frieze numbered as the second in the publications which gives us more
detailed and accurate information. Here are unfolded to us the
successive scenes of the siege and capture of a hostile city; the battle
before the walls, the attempt to storm and the defence, the parleying
and surrender, the escape of some of the inhabitants and the leading
into captivity of others. In the scene of capitulation the central
figure is an Eastern king or ruler, in Persian cap; behind him an
attendant bears a sunshade; around him stand his guards. This potentate
is approached by two elderly men, staid and dignified, who are clearly
the representatives of the city, and come asking for terms. In other
scenes we find a bold but a necessarily unsuccessful attempt to
represent without due perspective the city walls with the heads of the
defenders showing above them, the women wailing, the attacking force
adjusting the ladders for scaling, or repulsing sorties of the besieged.
The siege and the capture of a hostile city was evidently one of the
most notable events of the life of the hero of the monument. With some
plausibility archaeologists have found allusion to the same siege in the
beautiful figures of women which stood between the columns of the
pteron, the temple-like structure which crowned the monument. These
figures represent young girls in the dress of Attic maidens flying in
haste and alarm from some danger which threatens them. At their feet are
various marine creatures: the dolphin, the sea-snake, a crab, a
water-bird, or a fish. This curious circumstance has given rise to the
commonly accepted view that they represent Nereid nymphs hastily
escaping over the surface of the sea from some rude alarm, flying in
disorder to their father Nereus, as they do on more than one vase when
Peleus has laid hands on their sister Thetis. What more likely to cause
a panic among the shy and peaceful ladies of the sea than a marine
battle, or even the attack of an army on a city of the seacoast?
Urlichs has tried to show that all the historical indications which may
be derived from the frieze of the siege and from the presence of the
flying Nereids may be explained if we assign the tomb to the king or
satrap, Pericles of Xanthus, who, as we learn from a fragment of
Theopompus, laid siege to the neighbouring city of Telmessus, and after
a stubborn resistance compelled it to capitulate. Before we can accept
or reject this theory we must briefly consider two questions. Is an
actual historic event depicted on the tomb, or is the representation
merely of a mythical siege of the past? And what is the date of the
monument?
As to the first of these questions I have already sufficiently indicated
my view. The sculptural history of the siege is too detailed and precise
to be a rendering of a merely typical or ideal siege. The two
emissaries of the besiegers must have had prototypes, and recent
prototypes, in real life; and the king before whom they stand is no
mythical chief, but the ruler for whom the tomb was made. This has been
disputed by Wolters, but the general consensus of archaeologists is
against him.
On the other point, the date of the monument, there has been much wider
divergence of opinion. At first, in England, it was placed in the sixth
century, as a monument of the conquest of Xanthus by Harpagus, the
general of Cyrus. This, however, is quite impossible. Soon the pendulum
swung too far in the other direction, and the sculpture was brought down
to the fourth century, and even connected with the school of Scopas. The
date fixed by Furtwängler[296], the latter part of the fifth century, is
now generally accepted. In the forms of the Nereids we may trace the
artistic influence of the Victory of Paeonius, set up about B.C. 424.
And if some of the figures of the friezes be carefully considered they
will be found to show traces of undeveloped art, even of archaism. The
Nereid monument belongs to the age of the Parthenon and the temple of
Athena Nike, not to the age of the Mausoleum.
If therefore we were compelled, as Urlichs supposed, to assign the
taking of Telmessus by Pericles to so late a date as the 102nd Olympiad
(B.C. 372), we should be obliged to give up its assignment to that king.
But there is no conclusive reason for the date fixed by Urlichs. There
is therefore no improbability that our monument may be a memorial of
Pericles of Xanthus. In any case it has an important place among the
remains of antiquity, because it stands in the line of descent, a line
marked by many lacunae, which connects the mural reliefs of Assyria,
with their fulness of historic detail, and the magnificent monuments of
imperial Rome. The Nereid Monument and that of Gyeulbashi, as well as
some of the sarcophagi from Sidon, with which I shall deal in the
fifteenth chapter, naturally strike the student as being set in a key
somewhat different from that of ordinary Greek sculpture. The
mythological scenes portrayed on them find ready parallels in Greece,
but the more historic scenes carry our minds to the wall-sculptures of
Assyria or the reliefs of Roman columns, such as those of Trajan and
Aurelius, rather than to other Greek works. The reason of this is
probably that the art of these Asiatic monuments is influenced by that
of Ionia, which is to us, unfortunately, but little known. The Ionian
tendency was towards history, that of the Dorians towards religion. The
great Greek painters, following Ionian precedent, celebrated in their
works many historic battles. Bularchus in very early times is said to
have portrayed, for a Lydian king, a victory of the Magnesians: Panaenus
painted at Athens the battle of Marathon, Androcydes of Cyzicus painted
for the Thebans a picture of their victory at Plataea, and Euphranor
depicted the battle of Mantineia. But in Greece sculpture took a
different and more ideal line, and translated the battles of the present
into mythic combats of the past, in which Centaurs and Amazons rather
than fellow-Greeks represented the vanquished party. The sculpture of
the Nereid monument is dominated by a more realistic and historic
spirit. The sculpture at Gyeulbashi is on the border-line, so that we
find it hard to decide whether the scene of the siege there portrayed is
Ilium or Lycia, and whether the battles are being fought on the windy
plain of Troy or the southern coast of Asia Minor. The sculpture of the
Mausoleum is of the purely Greek and ideal character. But the greatest
of the Sidonian sarcophagi returns, as we shall see, in the age of
Alexander the Great, to a more realistic level.
The heroon of Gyeulbashi was discovered in the heart of Lycia by
Schönborn in 1842. For a long time the discovery remained almost
unnoticed. But a few years ago an Austrian expedition was sent to secure
such remains of the monument as have artistic value, and these are now
deposited in the Museum of Vienna. Unfortunately they have suffered
terribly, being of limestone and not of marble, from exposure to the
weather, and some of the friezes have almost perished. Casts of the
better-preserved portions are to be found at South Kensington and
Oxford. And the whole monument is published in the completest and most
satisfactory form by Professor Benndorf[297].
[Illustration: FIG. 76. HEROON OF GYEULBASHI.]
In form the heroon differs entirely, as will be seen from the engraving
(Fig. 76) from other Lycian monuments. The actual grave is a modest
construction in the form of a sarcophagus surmounted by a cover with
gables. This stands transversely within a walled enclosure some 78 feet
long by 68 wide, inside measurement. The enclosing wall is built solidly
of squared stones. And it is this which is the interesting part of the
whole; for the wall is adorned without and within with a series of
reliefs, presenting us with a whole gallery of representations
remarkable alike for their style and their subjects, some of which are
portrayed nowhere else in the whole range of Greek sculpture.
The keynote here again is furnished by the group of seated heroic
personages. This group is sculptured over the door through which the
enclosure is entered; unfortunately it has so severely suffered that the
details are obscure. The great lintel stone over the doorway is
decorated as follows. Above are the foreparts of four winged bulls,
separated by rosettes and a gorgon-head. Immediately below these are
seated two pairs of figures, in each case male and female. The men are
bearded, the women veiled. Husband and wife are turned towards one
another, and behind the wife in each group stands a girl, a daughter or
servant, holding in one instance a casket, in the other raising her arms
in an attitude of sorrow.
These two heroic pairs are probably the proprietors of the sacred
enclosure, which was built like a finely carved casket to hold their
ashes. In the decoration of the casket we find one Oriental motive. Over
the door inside is a line of dwarfs, or of repetitions of the Egyptian
monster Bes, holding musical instruments or dancing. Here we have a
touch lent by a religion less refined and artistic than that of the
anthropomorphic Greeks. The rest of the reliefs take their subjects from
the legendary tales of Greece. We do not appear to have here, as on the
Nereid monument, allusions to the lives of the buried heroes. There is
no scene which bears the impress of history. The Greek artists who were
employed by the wealthy Lycian family to adorn the wall seem to have
been left quite free in their choice of subjects. So they run on almost
without plan, from tale to tale and from scene to scene. Sometimes we
have two subjects, one above the other, quite independent one of the
other. Sometimes the two lines of decorations are occupied with a single
scene.
It would be useless to attempt to describe in detail scenes which we are
unable to set before the eyes of the reader. The landing of the Greeks
at Troy, the siege of the City, the battle of Achilles with the Amazons
who come to its rescue, Odysseus meeting Penelope, and shooting down the
suitors, are taken from the cycle of Trojan legend. Then we have the
hunting of the Calydonian boar, the carrying off of the daughters of
Leucippus, the expedition of the Seven against Thebes, all portrayed
with the freedom which Greek artists use, always ready to subordinate
strict fidelity to tradition to the necessities of art and the love of
balance and measure. The interest of those scenes is great, but it does
not belong to our subject. The art is not sepulchral, but of the
myth-loving kind which prevails in the decoration of Greek temples, and
which once marked the lost masterpieces of the great Greek painters.
Professor Benndorf has tried, and not unsuccessfully, to prove that in
the reliefs of Gyeulbashi we may find clear traces of the influence of
the great Thasian painter Polygnotus, another of whose lines of
influence reached the sculptors of the Parthenon. The Lycian heroon and
the Attic temple are works of about the same period, widely as they
differ in some respects. At Athens the influence of Polygnotus is fairly
and fully translated into sculptural style. In Lycia the sculptor has
less transforming vigour, and he retains in the work of the chisel some
conventions appropriate only to the work of the brush.
One other important tomb must be mentioned which was built in Asia,
though its construction is purely Greek, its material the marble of
Pentelicus, and its erection on the coast of Asia Minor no more than an
instance of the fortune of war.
[Illustration: FIG. 77. LION-TOMB, CNIDUS.]
Among the discoveries, with the fruits of which Sir Charles Newton
enriched the British Museum, there were few which he valued more highly
than that of the Lion-tomb of Cnidus. The huge lion, which is now in the
Mausoleum Room of the British Museum, reclined on the top of a building
made solid to receive his vast weight, looking out over the Carian Sea.
We engrave (Fig. 77) the whole monument as restored by Mr. Pullan[298].
It can scarcely be contended that the lion is a great work of sculpture.
His size is imposing and his attitude monumental, but the head and body
alike lack character and force. This is true of all the lions of Greek
artists of the period, the great lion set up in memory of Chaeroneia,
those which adorned the Mausoleum, and others. The fact is that the
Greeks between the days of the Persian Wars and those of Alexander knew
nothing of the lion, probably scarcely ever saw one, dead or alive. So
their artistic and idealizing tendency had to work without constant
reference to, and correction by, nature. Thus, while the types of the
horse, the bull, and the dog went on developing on the lines of love and
appreciation of nature, the type of the lion became fantastic and poor.
The soul of the lion does not inhabit the bodies prepared for it by
Greek artists.
Nevertheless the Cnidian monument has its interest. It is conjectured,
with a high degree of probability, that it was set up by Conon, after
his great victory of 394 B.C. over the Spartan fleet at Cnidus. It
commemorates alike the battle and the Athenians who fell in it. It is an
Attic tomb though not erected in Attica, more imposing as a historical
monument than the reliefs of the Cerameicus, but inferior to them in the
higher artistic qualities.
Our subject being Greek sculptured tombs, we must leave out of
consideration one of the most important classes of Hellenic or
semi-Hellenic graves, that which belongs to the Greek colonists of the
Crimea and their barbarous Scythic allies[299]. In the neighbourhood of
the ancient Panticapaeum, a city closely connected with Athens by ties
of commerce and alliance, there are many mound-graves, which being
opened have been found to contain lofty vaulted chambers, in shape and
design not unlike the treasuries of Mycenae and Orchomenus, but of a far
later age, belonging in fact mostly to the fourth century, which seems
to have been the golden age of Panticapaeum. These graves have no
important architectural features and no sculptural adornment. But they
have in many cases preserved to our days their contents, a rich spoil of
gold and bronze, of Greek vases and barbarous armour, of ornaments and
coins. By an art-loving and paternal government, these important relics
of the most northerly branch of the Hellenic stock have been carefully
collected and preserved, forming to-day one of the most splendid
attractions of the Hermitage Museum at St. Petersburg.
They are also luxuriously published in official publications of the
Russian Government, offering to the student of history a new chapter,
showing how, in the Crimea of old, Greek and Scythian met, how the Greek
refined the Scythian and supplied him with admirable works of art, and
how the Scythian lent the Greek armour and clothes, besides no doubt
supplying him with timber, corn, and skins. And to the student of art
they exhibit the richness and the taste displayed by Athenian craftsmen
in the fourth century, in the production even of the smallest and least
considered of the appliances of daily life.
CHAPTER XIV
THE MAUSOLEUM
We turn next to the Mausoleum, the great tomb erected in honour of
Mausolus, king of Caria, by his widow Artemisia, in the middle of the
fourth century. It ranked among the wonders of the world, and was the
work of the most celebrated artists of Greece. The discovery of its
remains by Sir Charles Newton occupies a prominent position among the
first-rate achievements of English excavators. And their acquisition by
the British Museum has made the National Gallery of Sculpture almost as
rich in fourth-century sculpture as the purchase of the Elgin marbles
had made it in the sculpture of the fifth century.
The problem of the reconstruction of the Mausoleum is among the most
interesting of those connected with the history of Greek architecture.
Generally speaking, after the excavation of the site of the great Greek
building, its restoration is by no means difficult. The laws of Greek
architecture are so precise, and its forms so simple, that it is
possible from the evidence of a few stones to reconstruct it with the
certainty with which the skilled palaeontologist constructs a geological
animal from the evidence of a few bones. The wonderful reconstructions
of Dr. Dörpfeld on the Athenian Acropolis, at Olympia, and elsewhere,
have commonly but little in them which is arbitrary, though much which
is brilliant.
Dr. Dörpfeld has not yet attempted the Mausoleum. But it is safe to say
that in its reconstruction he would meet difficulties such as he has not
yet encountered. At first sight, the materials for a reconstruction seem
very abundant. We have an elaborate description of the monument by
Pliny. We have an account of its partial destruction in the sixteenth
century by the Knights of St. John. And the excavations on the site
conducted by Sir Charles Newton were complete and systematic. But the
advantage derived from all this richness of material is more than
balanced by the fact that the Mausoleum was a work of new and original
design. It was no Greek temple, made according to well-established
rules, but a monument intended to stand alone through the centuries.
Thus the man who would successfully restore its design must venture to
rise above convention, and has need of a thorough grasp of the
tendencies and possibilities of Greek architecture.
Setting aside the fanciful reconstructions proposed by scholars before
Newton’s excavations, we pass to those made with the data now available.
The earliest reconstruction, one to which we must attach considerable
value, is that set forth by the excavators themselves. It is hard to say
who is responsible for it. It was first projected by Lieut. Smith, an
engineer attached to the expedition, revised and completed by Mr. Pullan
the architect, adopted and defended by Sir Charles Newton himself. Plans
based upon this, but differing from it in various points, were set forth
by Mr. Fergusson and Dr. Petersen. But since neither of these writers
has fairly grappled with the subject from the beginning, we may feel
justified in not paying much heed to their plans. If we are to set aside
a restoration made on the spot, with all local knowledge and every
resource, it must be only after a very careful and complete survey of
all the available evidence.
The plans of Pullan, Fergusson, and Petersen have won their way into our
books, and are frequently treated as final. But final they certainly are
not. They have never, until quite lately, been collated with sufficient
care with the evidence, especially with the ancient authorities. They
contain violations of precedent and probability which it is not easy to
justify. Mr. Oldfield has therefore done an excellent work in his recent
attempt[300] to improve upon the received restorations, an attempt
marked by extreme care, lucidity, and ingenuity.
[Illustration: FIG. 78. MAUSOLEUM: MR. PULLAN.]
It is, unfortunately, not possible here to criticize in satisfactory
detail the views of Mr. Oldfield and his predecessors. I propose only to
set forth briefly the sum of the evidence
[Illustration: FIG. 79. MAUSOLEUM: MR. OLDFIELD.]
which exists for the reconstruction, after engraving side by side the
plans set forth by Mr. Pullan (Fig. 78) and Mr. Oldfield (Fig. 79)[301]
on the basis of that evidence. Readers to whom such inquiries have no
interest would do well to omit the rest of this chapter.
Our materials are of four kinds. First we have the statements of certain
ancient writers. Second, we have the curious account by Guichard of the
state of the building when it was partially destroyed by the Knights of
St. John in 1522. Third, we may cite the analogy of other ancient
buildings of the same kind, so far as they are preserved. And of course
all these sources of information must be used in strict subordination to
the evidence of excavation and of the remains actually existing.
1. _Ancient Writers._
Hyginus[302] mentions three facts in regard to the Mausoleum; he says
that it was of Parian marble, 80 feet in height, 1,350 feet in
circumference. In two of these statements he is certainly right. The
marble of the Mausoleum is Parian, and the circuit of the sacred
enclosure or peribolus is given by Newton as 1,348 English feet. But as
to the height of the building Hyginus contradicts Pliny, and must
probably be corrected by him.
Martial, in a curious line, speaks of the Mausoleum as suspended in the
air[303]. This phrase certainly implies that it did not appear to
spectators a solid and massive structure, but light and aspiring. Mr.
Oldfield contends that the phrase would well describe a building whereof
the upper part rested mainly on pillars[304], and would certainly not
apply to a building of which solidity is the most striking feature, as
it is of Mr. Pullan’s reconstruction.
The most important of ancient writers on the Mausoleum is Pliny[305],
whose description we must transcribe at length, both in Latin and
English.
Scopas habuit aemulos eadem aetate Bryaxim et Timotheum et
Leocharen, de quibus simul dicendum est quoniam pariter caelauere
Mausoleum. Sepulcrum hoc est ab uxore Artemisia factum Mausolo
Cariae regulo, qui obiit Olympiadis cvii[306] anno secundo. Opus id
ut esset inter septem miracula hi maxime fecere artifices. Patet ab
austro et septentrione sexagenos[307] ternos pedes, breuius a
frontibus, toto circumitu pedes ccccxi[308], attolitur in
altitudinem xxv cubitis, cingitur columnis xxxvi. Πτερόν
uocauere[309]. Ab oriente caelauit Scopas, a septentrione Bryaxis,
a meridie Timotheus, ab occasu Leochares, priusque quam peragerent
regina obiit. Non tamen recesserunt nisi absoluto iam, id gloriae
ipsorum artisque monumentum iudicantes, hodieque certant manus.
Accessit et quintus artifex. Namque supra πτερόν pyramis altitudine
inferiorem aequauit[310], uiginti quatuor gradibus in metae cacumen
se contrahens. In summo est quadriga marmorea quam fecit Pythis.
Haec adiecta cxxxx pedum altitudine totum opus includit.
Scopas had as rivals and contemporaries Bryaxis, Timotheus, and
Leochares, whom we must treat of together since together they
sculptured the Mausoleum. This is the tomb erected to Mausolus
prince of Caria by his widow Artemisia. He died in the second year
of the 107th Olympiad (B.C. 351). That this work is among the seven
wonders of the world is mainly owing to these artists. Its length
on the north and south sides is sixty-three feet; the façades are
shorter; the whole circuit is 411 feet; it rises to a height of
twenty-five cubits, and is surrounded by thirty-six columns. This
they call the _Pteron_. The sculptures of the east side are by
Scopas, those on the north by Bryaxis, those on the south by
Timotheus, those on the west by Leochares. Before the task was
finished the queen died; but the artists ceased not till the work
was done, considering that it would redound to their glory and be a
memorial of their art. To this day they vie in handiwork. There
came in also a fifth artist. For over the _pteron_ was a pyramid in
height equal to that below, with a flight of twenty-four steps
tapering to a point. On the top is a marble quadriga made by
Pythis. The addition of this raises the height of the whole
building to 140 feet.
In this passage are several disputed readings, which I have marked in
the notes. I have accepted Mr. Oldfield’s version, which is that of the
earlier edition of Sillig’s Pliny. I will briefly sum up Pliny’s
evidence as to the form and dimensions of the building. His statement as
to the circumstances of its erection needs no summing; it is clear, and
no doubt correct.
1. The frontage towards north and south was 63 feet: the frontage (in a
stricter sense the fronts) towards east and west was shorter. But the
circuit was 411 feet. This latter dimension seems inconsistent with the
former. How could a building which was 411 feet in circuit have no side
longer than 63 feet? Impressed by this difficulty, some writers supposed
the true dimensions to be 163 feet (adding to the text centenos) for the
frontage to north and south. Colonel Leake, followed by Newton and
Pullan, regarded the dimension of 63 feet as really the length of the
cella, not of any frontage. This, however, is doing clear violence to
the text of Pliny. But by a most ingenious adaptation, Mr. Oldfield has
succeeded in reconciling the numbers of Pliny as they stand. He has, in
fact, substituted for a square or oblong groundplan of the building ☐, a
cruciform plan [** symbol]; and so makes it possible for any given front
to be less than a fourth of the circuit of the building. Here Mr.
Oldfield has certainly won a great advantage over rival constructions:
he has kept to the text of Pliny, and at the same time greatly improved
the form of the building. It is true that it would not be easy to find
other Greek buildings of cruciform plan, but the Erechtheium at Athens
gives us a hint that such a plan, produced by the intersection of two
ordinary temples, would not be impossible. And the Mausoleum was a
building in which originality of design was to be expected.
2. The number of columns of the pteron was thirty-six. The pteron is the
temple-like building erected on the base, a construction of which, in
any possible view, columns were the principal feature. Now the writers
who supposed the pteron to be a huge square edifice were compelled to
place the columns all round the edge of it: and to fill up the midst
with a vast and solid construction of hewn stone (Fig. 78). But Mr.
Oldfield is enabled, by greatly reducing the superficial area covered by
the pteron, to make the columns by far its most conspicuous feature.
Within them there is room only for a small building; or the space may
even be filled by a few solid piers, which is the plan he adopts. He can
thus far more nearly conform to the ‘aere pendentia Mausolea’ of
Martial.
3. The total height was 140 feet[311] from the ground to the top of the
chariot. Let us consider how this height was made up. Thirty-seven and a
half feet (25 cubits) was occupied by the pteron. Then there was a
pyramid of twenty-four steps over the pteron, supporting a chariot, and
there was under the pteron another pyramid equal in height to the upper
one. Now we have considerable remains of the steps of the upper pyramid,
from careful measurement of which Mr. Pullan has ascertained that each
step was 12¼ inches in height. Thus the total height of the upper
pyramid was 24½ feet. The lower pyramid was of the same height. The
chariot would not occupy less than twelve feet. We have thus accounted
for 37½, 24½, 24½ and 12 feet, about 100 feet of the 140 of Pliny. The
amount may be filled up by assuming that the whole stood on a high
podium or basis, and by inserting an attic over the pteron, or in other
ways.
4. If the reading _aequavit_ for _aequat_ be accepted, an opening is
left for Mr. Oldfield’s view, that after the building had been set up
with a pyramid rising to a point, it was decided to add a chariot on the
top, and that in order to accomplish this, a basis was built round the
topmost steps of the pyramid, of which six were thus concealed from
view.
5. Sir C. Newton[312] and Mr. Pullan accepted the reading ‘_altitudinem_
inferiorem’ for _altitudine_, and had supposed the assertion to be that
the height of the pyramid above was equal to that of the basis below the
pyramid. This is, however, a mere correction of the text. If we adhere
to the reading of the MSS. we must retain _altitudine_, and suppose
_inferiorem_ to apply to a second pyramid beneath the pteron. It is thus
that Mr. Oldfield takes the phrase, and of the existence of this second
pyramid he finds proof in the testimony of Guichard, to which we shall
next turn. The height of this lower pyramid he supposes to have been
equal to that of the original pyramid of twenty-four steps, not of
course to the later truncated pyramid of eighteen steps.
It will be seen on referring to Figs. 78 and 79 that the acceptance of
one or the other of these readings of Pliny makes a great difference in
the principles of reconstruction. Mr. Pullan admitted no lower pyramid,
and regarding the chariot on the summit as part of the original design,
makes the twenty-four steps of the upper pyramid support it. Mr.
Oldfield does admit a lower pyramid, and regarding the chariot as a
later addition works into its basis six steps of the upper pyramid.
Hence a great difference between the two restorers in the area covered
by the base of the upper pyramid, which is far larger in Mr. Pullan’s
design: and this affects the whole form of the building, since the
excavations determined the size of the area on which the whole stood. It
is not easy to meet Mr. Oldfield’s argument in favour of his design,
that the phrase ‘tapering to a point’ applies far better to his pyramid,
as originally intended, than to Mr. Pullan’s flat-topped pyramid.
2. _The Testimony of Guichard._
Such appears to be the testimony of Pliny. And in some points it is
curiously supplemented by the very notable account, professing to come
from an eye-witness, which is given us by Guichard[313] of the
proceedings of the Knights of St. John on the site of the Mausoleum. ‘In
the year 1522, when Sultan Solyman was preparing an expedition against
the Rhodians, the Grand Master, knowing the importance of the Castle of
St. Peter [at Budrum or Halicarnassus], and being aware that the Turk
would seize it if he could at the first assault, sent some knights
thither to repair the fortress and make all due preparations to resist
the enemy. Among the number of those sent was the Commander de la
Tourette, a Lyonnese knight, who was afterwards present at the taking of
Rhodes, and came to France, where he related what I am now about to
narrate to M. d’Alechamps, a person sufficiently known by his learned
writings, and whose name I mention here only for the purpose of
publishing my authority for so singular a story.
‘When these knights had arrived at Mesy (Budrum), they at once set about
fortifying the castle; and looking about for stones wherewith to make
lime, found none more suitable or more easily got at than certain steps
of white marble, raised in the form of a staircase (_perron_) in the
middle of a level field near the port, which had formerly been the great
square of Halicarnassus. They therefore pulled down and took away these
marble steps for their use, and finding the stone good, proceeded, after
having destroyed the little masonry remaining above ground, to dig lower
down, in the hope of finding more.
‘In this attempt they had great success, for in a short time they
perceived that the deeper they went the more the structure was enlarged
at the base, supplying them not only with stone for making lime but also
for building.
‘After four or five days, having laid bare a great space one afternoon,
they saw an opening as into a cellar. Taking a candle, they descended
through this opening, and found that it led into a fine large square
apartment, ornamented all round with columns of marble, with their
bases, capitals, architrave, frieze, and cornices, carved and sculptured
in _mezzo rilievo_. The space between the columns was lined with slabs
and bands of marbles of different colours, ornamented with mouldings and
sculptures, in harmony with the rest of the work, and inserted in the
white ground of the wall, where deeds and battle-scenes were represented
sculptured in relief.
‘Having at first admired these works, and entertained their fancy with
the singularity of the sculpture, they pulled it to pieces, and broke up
the whole of it, applying it to the same purpose as the rest.
‘Besides this apartment, they found afterwards a very low door, which
led into another apartment, like an ante-chamber, where was a tomb, with
its urn and its cover (_tymbre_) of white marble, very beautiful and of
marvellous lustre. This sepulchre, for want of time, they did not open,
the retreat having already sounded.
‘The day after, when they returned, they found the tomb opened, and the
earth all round strewn with fragments of cloth of gold, and ornaments of
the same metal, which made them suppose that the pirates who hovered on
their coast, having some inkling of what had been discovered, had
visited the place during the night, and had removed the lid of the
tomb.’
Those who are acquainted with the Levant, with its wondrous tales of
underground chambers and hidden treasures, will scarcely be disposed to
accept, without a grain of salt, the details of this curious story. It
may be true, or it may be in the main a work of the imagination. Many
such stories, grounded or groundless, are flitting from mouth to mouth
in Asia Minor, and rapidly growing in the process. Nevertheless it is
probable that Mr. Oldfield is justified in saying that the earlier part
of the tale affords a clear confirmation of the existence (which has
been denied) of a lower pyramid at the Mausoleum as well as that which
surmounted the building. The knights found in the ground steps of white
marble like a staircase, and as they dug downwards these steps spread
outwards, just as would the steps of a pyramid. The solid mass of marble
had escaped while most of the upper part of the building had been
carried away as material for the castles of the knights. But it survived
no longer; it was carried away by the companions of De la Tourette and
built into the walls of the castle. As to what Guichard tells us in
regard to the contents of the inner chamber, scepticism is more
justifiable.
3. _The Analogy of other Buildings._
Of monuments mentioned in these pages, only two can fairly be used for
comparison with the Mausoleum. These are the Lycian Nereid Monument
(Fig. 74) and the Lion Tomb of Cnidus (Fig. 77). The Nereid Monument
consists, like the Mausoleum, of a pteron raised upon a base or podium;
but no part of it is of pyramidal form. It is merely, if the restoration
be correct, a building in the form of an ordinary Greek temple, on an
unusually high podium. It may be used as proof that the Mausoleum also
had a high podium, for the existence of which the existing remains
furnish no direct evidence. The Lion Tomb may be suggestive from a
constructional point of view, as the architectural problem involved in
supporting a massive lion on the top was not unlike the problem which
the architect of the Mausoleum had to solve. But its elevation was of a
far simpler type than was that of the Mausoleum.
Other buildings are cited and engraved in the treatise of Mr. Oldfield,
but unless we could examine them in detail it would be useless to
mention them here. They are valuable rather as offering suggestions on
points of construction than as affording us real parallels to the plan
of the Mausoleum.
* * * * *
The evidence of existing remains must be studied partly in Sir C.
Newton’s _History of Discoveries_, partly in the Mausoleum Room of the
British Museum. Lately Mr. Murray has in that museum set up one of the
pillars of the pteron, with base and cornice, a reconstruction which
will greatly help those who wish to revive in imagination the glories of
the most splendid of ancient sepulchres.
For the manner in which out of the data Mr. Oldfield makes a conjectural
restoration of the great tomb we must refer the reader to his admirable
paper in _Archaeologia_. We can only conclude, as we began, by referring
to his engraving set side by side with Mr. Pullan’s (Figs. 78, 79). Of
the two it is by far the better, closer to the ancient evidence, less
clumsy, more Greek. But of course it may be in turn superseded by other
restorations hereafter. In one point both reconstructions are certainly
wrong, in placing on the top of the whole, in the chariot of Pythis, the
magnificent statues of Mausolus and Artemisia, found on the site, which
were doubtless carefully preserved in the interior of the building, and
not put almost beyond sight and exposed to the weather on the top of it.
I have elsewhere[314] maintained this view by the following arguments:--
1. Pliny mentions the chariot of Pythis, but says nothing of any figures
in it.
2. The statues at such a height, in a chariot, and behind gigantic
horses, would have been almost invisible from below.
3. Neither Mausolus nor his wife is holding reins or clad in the dress
of a charioteer.
4. The head of Mausolus in particular is too well preserved to have been
long exposed to the weather.
5. Both the horses and the wheel of the chariot are on a far larger
scale than the two statues.
6. They are also very inferior to the statues as works of art.
The only argument of importance on the other side arises from the fact
that the statues and the fragments of the chariot were found together.
But it must be observed that the course of discovery in the German
excavations at Olympia proved that collocations of remains of ancient
buildings have often a most fortuitous character. And not only were the
statues of Mausolus and Artemisia found with the remains of the chariot,
but also a variety of fragments of other statues which can have had
nothing to do with that chariot.
We cannot yet venture to say to which of the Mausoleum artists the
portrait of Mausolus is due. Quite lately Dr. J. Six has suggested
Bryaxis and Dr. W. Amelung Praxiteles, who is said by Vitruvius to have
had a share in the monument. But neither of these conjectures reaches
beyond a probability.
We possess, besides the sculptured remains already mentioned, quite a
wealth of fragments of statues and reliefs from the site. (1) Some
fragments of metopes, one of which seems to have represented an
adventure of Theseus. (2) A few figures from a most spirited frieze,
representing a race of chariots. This frieze is generally accepted as
the work of Scopas. (3) Scanty vestiges of a frieze representing the
battle of Lapiths and Centaurs. (4) The well-known wonderful frieze of
the Greeks and Amazons. (5) A magnificent torso of a Persian rider on
his horse. (6) Portions of many statues of colossal size and of life
size. These sculptural remains have never been properly published[315],
nor are by any means all of them exhibited in the public rooms of the
British Museum.
The Mausoleum was a wonder of the world, not so much on account of its
size and costliness as because of its ingenious architecture and noble
sculpture. Though it had not the magnificence of the Taj Mahal of Agra,
nor the solidity of the Pyramids of Egypt, it is probably the noblest
tomb ever erected for mortal man. It not only immortalized the name of
Mausolus, but it is also a leading authority for the style of the second
great school of Attic sculptors. Its poor remains are among the most
precious possessions of the British Museum. Of the authors, we can still
say, in the words of Pliny, ‘hodie certant manus.’
CHAPTER XV
GREEK SARCOPHAGI
The recent great discovery at Sidon of a number of beautiful sarcophagi
executed by Greek artists, and belonging to the best period of
sculpture, has been quite a revelation to archaeologists. Before, we had
abundance of Roman sarcophagi, the sculpture of which showed various
degrees of merit; and we had a few sarcophagi from Cyprus and Lycia and
Etruria, which were interesting, but not very important in relation to
Greek art or Greek religion. One or two of our most beautiful
sarcophagi, notably the Amazon sarcophagus of Vienna, were Hellenic, and
dated as far back as the fourth century; but these seem almost lost in
the brilliancy of the recent discoveries.
The Greek custom was not to bury the dead in massive coffins of stone,
but either to build a receptacle for the body out of slabs of terra
cotta, or to enclose it in a light earthenware vessel. I speak of course
of the cases when the body was buried: when it was burned, obviously
only a small vase would be necessary to hold the ashes.
The terra-cotta coffins of the Greeks had seldom any notable adornment.
But exception must be made of one great necropolis, that of Clazomenae
in Ionia. In some of our great museums, notably those of London and
Berlin, there are preserved several remarkable sarcophagi[316] of the
sixth century, which come from that site. They are of solid
construction, made of terra-cotta, adorned with rich patterns painted on
lids and on sides, and covered with scenes closely parallel to those
familiar to us on black-figured vases, combats of warriors, hunting
scenes, heraldic animals, and the like. A distinctly Oriental trait
found on some of these coffins is found in the scenes where the hunters
are pursuing in chariots stags and other game. The kings of Assyria are
represented on the walls of their palaces as thus hunting in chariots;
but the custom was probably quite foreign to all Greeks except a few
wealthy inhabitants of Asia, who were influenced by Asiatic ways. These
productions of Ionic potters are very interesting from many points of
view, but are not quite in the line of our present investigation.
Let us then at once pass to the sarcophagi from Sidon, now the chief
ornaments of the important museum formed by Hamdy Bey at
Constantinople[317]. They all come from one series of tombs discovered
at Sidon. There was a central pit sunk in the rocky soil, off which
branched in all directions a series of chambers cut at various times and
opening one out of the other. The rooms contained a number of sarcophagi
of various periods, the earlier showing the influence of Egypt, the
later that of Hellas. There can be little doubt that we have discovered
one of the chief burying-places of the royal race of the kings of Sidon.
Unfortunately the coffins had been opened by robbers at some uncertain
period, and their contents removed. Only the sarcophagi themselves
remain, for the most part in an excellent state of preservation, and
even retaining to some extent the colours with which their marble was
stained when they were fashioned.
Until the end of the sixth century these royal coffins are of the
Egyptian form, the body being plain, and the cover imitating the form of
a mummy with the face exposed. But in the fifth century these faces show
the dominance of Greek style. And as the rule of Greek art in the Levant
becomes during that century more pronounced, the mummy-like sarcophagus
gives place to forms better suited for offering a suitable field to the
sculptor, and the flat surfaces are adorned with reliefs, which in style
if not in subject are of pure Greek type. We will briefly describe the
four principal sculptured sarcophagi under the names which have been for
convenience assigned to them, and in chronological order: (1) The Tomb
of the Satrap, (2) The Lycian Tomb, (3) The Tomb of the Mourning Women,
(4) The Alexander Tomb.
The Tomb of the Satrap is assigned by Studniczka to the middle of the
fifth century, and though the freedom of pose of some of the figures
sculptured on it may make us hesitate before accepting quite so early a
date, it certainly belongs to the century. Three of the four scenes
which adorn the sides and ends of the tomb are clearly scenes from the
history of one man, no doubt the hero contained in it, a personage
represented as having a long beard, and usually wearing the conical hat
of the Persians and Phrygians. The scene of one of the ends (Fig.
80)[318] recalls the gable of the Nereid monument. The bearded man
reclines on a couch at table, holding in his hand a winecup. His wife is
seated at his feet; in attendance on him are two young men, one of whom
fills a rhyton or drinking horn from a jug. We have here a scheme
closely like that of the sepulchral banquet of Athens. And though the
reference may be primarily to the family repast of the palace, yet
considering that the sculptor was a Greek, it is scarcely likely that
all reference to what was beyond the tomb was wholly absent from his
mind. The wine which the hero drinks may very well be that poured in
libation at his grave.
[Illustration: FIG. 80. SARCOPHAGUS OF THE SATRAP: END.]
At the opposite end of the sarcophagus are represented four of the
body-guard, conversing one with the other. On one of its sides is a
scene of leave-taking. The hero sits on a throne, resting his arm
Zeus-like on a sceptre, while behind him stand two of the women of his
household. Before him is a young man, no doubt a son, stepping into a
chariot to which four horses are already yoked, and of which he holds
the reins. He turns to say a word of farewell to his father. Two other
young men are present: one holds in the horses of the chariot, the other
stands ready to mount a horse, and to ride beside it. Here again we have
a scene to which abundant parallels may be found among the Attic
grave-reliefs. The departure of a warrior or a horseman is, as we have
already seen[319], an ordinary subject on the stelae of Athens and
elsewhere. It may be that the son is setting out on a military
expedition which brought his father fame and increase of territory.
On the fourth side of the tomb, father and son are again prominent. It
is a hunting scene. In the midst is a panther turning to bay, which
father and son charge at the same moment on horseback from one side and
the other. On the left a young horseman has struck down a stag, and to
balance him on the right is represented a horse galloping away in a
panic, having thrown his rider, whom he drags with him. There can be
little doubt that all these scenes are out of the life of the person to
whom the tomb is devoted, and in all his son appears with him, very
probably the successor who had the sarcophagus made. The subsidiary
figures may be either younger sons or merely attendants. Unfortunately
we have no historical data for the assignment of the tomb to any
particular ruler of Sidon.
M. Reinach insists with justice on the importance of this tomb as a
monument of the great art of Ionia of the fifth century, an art of which
little has come down to us, but of the splendour of which we can judge
from the statements of ancient writers. Our sarcophagus lies half-way
between the reliefs of Assyria, recording the great deeds of the kings,
in an exaggerated and ideal historical record, and the sculpture of
purely Greek monuments such as the Mausoleum, where the battles of
Greeks and Amazons, of Lapiths and Centaurs, take the place of the
contests of ordinary men. The Lycian Tomb and that of the Mourning Women
belong almost entirely to the idealizing tendency of Greek sculpture
already spoken of, which translated the present into the past and the
human into the heroic. With the age of Alexander the historic tendency
once more prevails, since the deeds of Alexander and his contemporaries
might well seem pitched at a level quite as high as the mythic exploits
of Herakles and Theseus.
The Lycian Tomb may be dated about the year 420. It owes its name to its
curious form, a form common in Lycia, the cover being set on in the
shape of a Gothic arch. The conjecture has been hazarded that it was
originally made for a Lycian chief and carried off by its Phoenician
proprietor; but for this view there is not much evidence.
[Illustration: FIG. 81. SPHINXES: LYCIAN SARCOPHAGUS.]
The two ends are adorned, with consummate taste and adaptation to space,
with mythic subjects. Above, at one end, are a pair of griffins, at the
other a pair of sphinxes, whose beautiful faces might be those of two
angels of death (Fig. 81). Below are Centaurs in carefully balanced
groups. The sides of the tomb bear reliefs the subjects of which are
taken from daily life, but daily life treated quite generally, and with
a view to the laws of sculptural composition rather than with any
intention to set forth the history of a life. On one side two Amazons,
each in a four-horse chariot and attended by a female charioteer, attack
a lion. On the other side five men on horseback close in upon a boar.
The hunters are all young men of the type of the riders on the frieze of
the Parthenon, to some of whom in fact they bear a very close
resemblance. But the chariot used for lion-hunting savours rather of
Assyria than of Greece. The reliefs were fully coloured, such
accessories as reins and spears being filled in in metal.
As the Lycian Tomb carries an echo of the style of Pheidias, so the Tomb
of the Mourning Women reminds us at once of the works of the second
Attic school, and of Praxiteles in particular. We should date it about
B.C. 370 or 360. I can only describe in detail the scenes of the one end
of it which is selected for the illustration; of the rest of the
sculptured reliefs a very summary description must suffice. Never was
there a work of art in which death and mourning were represented in so
varied and so exquisitely subdued a fashion. The sarcophagus is like an
artistic lament, written in many verses, and composed in different keys,
but still constantly returning to and hovering about the loss of some
dignified and much-regretted person. In the engraving (Fig. 82) we see
at the top two corresponding groups, in each of which is a bearded man
seated in an attitude of dejection, while a younger man standing before
him holds discourse with him. The subject of which he speaks is, we can
scarcely doubt, the death of the ruler who was the master and protector
of both, and whose departure causes widely spread sorrow in the land.
Just below, in the gable, are three seated women, who also seem to talk
on the same theme. They remind us of a fine passage in the dirge
pronounced by David over Saul and Jonathan[320], ‘Ye daughters of
Israel, weep over Saul, who
[Illustration: FIG. 82. SARCOPHAGUS OF MOURNERS: END.]
clothed you in scarlet with other delights, who put on ornaments of gold
on your apparel.’ The main field is occupied by three women standing,
separated one from the other by pillars of Ionic form. In the attitude
of all there is something of pensiveness, as it would seem to us, but to
a Greek eye it would mean more than thought,--sorrow. The poses are
precisely those to which we are accustomed in the Attic family groups;
and there can be little doubt that the artist who made this sarcophagus
belonged to the school, Praxitelean in character, which produced the
stelae of Athens. The lowest line of sculpture in the engraving is on a
very small scale and in low relief; it represents scenes of hunting and
the bringing home of the booty.
The remaining three faces of the sarcophagus correspond with that which
we have described in subject and in style, the other end closely so. On
each side we find--besides the lowest relief, which runs all
round--above, a funeral procession, in which a hearse is convoyed to the
grave by a chariot and led horses, and below, six more women in mourning
attitudes standing between pillars. The number of these female figures
is thus eighteen. It would puzzle many a modern artist to solve the
artistic problem thus set, to produce eighteen figures of women, all
young and of the same type, all standing in poses both in themselves
elegant but yet suggestive of grief, and so different one from the other
that there is no sameness or repetition. But artistic problems of this
sort had a special attraction for Greek artists of the best period--for
the artist who planned the Parthenon frieze as well as for the artists
of the Mausoleum. And no solution could be found more perfect than that
offered us in the present case. The eighteen women have been compared to
a dirge of eighteen stanzas; and though to sustain the comparison the
dirge would be somewhat monotonous, that fact perhaps would not make it
less impressive.
M. Reinach well observes that the whole form of this monument is taken
from that of a temple. The columns support an entablature, above which
rises a pediment. Between the columns stand statues, as very often in
Greek temples and in monuments such as the Lycian heroon (Fig. 74). No
doubt, morphologically, the sarcophagus is a miniature temple, as the
temple itself is a beautified and idealized house; but in Greece every
form of monument soon acquires a decoration specially suited to it; thus
the form and decoration of this tomb are an able adaptation rather than
a survival.
If our assignment of the date of the sarcophagus to about B.C. 370 or
360 be correct, we may almost venture to assign a name to its possessor.
Though we do not know much of the history of Sidon, we do know that at
this period the throne of the city was occupied by a king named Strato,
in whose honour the people of Athens passed a decree, in return for
favours done to their envoys. The text of this decree is extant[321]. As
Strato was thus on excellent terms with the people of Athens; what more
natural than that Athens should lend an artist for the decoration of his
sarcophagus either to him or to his successor?
By far the most beautiful and the most noteworthy of the Sidonian
sarcophagi is that which bears the name of Alexander the Great. At
first, when the discovery was made, some writers expressed the opinion
that it was the tomb of Alexander himself. Alexander however was buried,
as we know on quite sufficient testimony, not at Sidon but at
Alexandria[322]. And though the coffin is quite worthy of holding the
bones of the greatest of kings, yet Alexander’s taste was probably too
florid to be content with a mere shrine of marble. Moreover, it is
almost certain that no Greek was the occupant, for inside were found
linen bands, such as were used for swaddling the corpses of Oriental,
but not of Hellenic, princes. The body which had been thus swathed has
disappeared.
But though the great sarcophagus never held the body of Alexander, yet
its sculptures are an important artistic and even historical record of
some of his achievements. Let us briefly consider them in order.
According to analogy, we should expect to find in the pedimental scenes
of the sarcophagus the best clue to its attribution: with them therefore
we will begin. In examining all the scenes, we must discriminate with
the utmost care between the dress of Macedonians and Greeks on one side
and that of the Persians, Phoenicians, and other Asiatic peoples on the
other. Greeks appear here, as in all works of art, usually with body
either bare or covered with a cuirass, at the bottom of which is a
leather flap. Sometimes a chlamys floats from their shoulders. They
carry sword and shield, or a lance, and wear helmets: the Macedonian
helmet rises in a peak at the top and has cheek-pieces. The dress of the
Asiatics is less varied: they wear a loose chiton, sleeves cover their
arms to the wrist, and trousers reach to the ankle; on their heads is
the Phrygian cap, the flaps of which often cover the mouth; a loose coat
with sleeves, almost like the jacket of a hussar, is often attached to
them at the neck and hangs behind. This is the candys, often mentioned
by ancient writers. Xenophon[323] says that soldiers put their arms
through the sleeves when on parade.
In the first pediment we have a fighting scene. The fighting is between
Macedonians on one side and Persians on the other. The most prominent
figure, who occupies the midmost place, is an Asiatic cavalier, who
strikes down at a Greek soldier. His Persian companions overthrow the
Macedonians opposed to them. We have, in fact, a victory of Asiatics
over Europeans. In the opposite pediment (Fig. 83) is a scene less easy
to interpret. Here the combatants are all Greek or Macedonian. The most
prominent figure is that of a fully armed foot-soldier, who drives his
sword into the throat of a youth who kneels at his feet.
In the frieze below the pediment last mentioned (Fig. 83), we again see
an Asiatic horseman, apparently the hero of the first pediment, as
central figure, victorious over a Greek opponent, whose helmet, of form
not Macedonian, lies beside him. On either side of the horseman there
charges fiercely a Macedonian soldier against Asiatics, who are clearly
over-matched. In the corresponding frieze at the other end is a scene in
which a party of Asiatics hunt the panther.
[Illustration: FIG. 83. ALEXANDER SARCOPHAGUS: END.]
Before leaving these scenes, we may observe that it seems clear that the
Asiatic chief already twice repeated is the tenant of the tomb. His
dress is quite suitable for that of a ruler of Sidon: his position is
marked as unique. The scenes in which he takes part are no doubt his
hunting and his petty wars with neighbouring princes, whose armies, like
all armies at the time, were mixed, consisting partly of Macedonians,
partly of Greek mercenaries, and partly of native troops. In knowing so
little of the history of the time, we lose the clue that we might
otherwise possess as to the particular events portrayed.
[Illustration: FIG. 84. ALEXANDER SARCOPHAGUS: LION HUNT.]
If we accept this interpretation, we shall be able to explain one at
least of the long friezes which adorn the sides of the sarcophagus (Fig.
84)[324]. The subject of it is a lion-hunt. In the midst is a group,
about which the whole scene is balanced. The lion has turned to bay, and
flung himself upon the horse ridden by an Asiatic cavalier, who is
doubtless the Sidonian monarch of previous scenes. He defends himself
with energy; and help is approaching from both sides. On one side,
galloping to his aid, Alexander himself, notable for his regal fillet or
diadema, and the intense expression observable in most of his portraits.
On the other side comes a Macedonian noble, perhaps Hephaestion, a
beautiful figure, but without the diadema. At the two ends of the relief
are other groups--a Persian drawing the bow, a servant running up armed
with a pike, a Greek and a Persian striking down a stag. We can easily
understand that to accompany Alexander in his hunting, and to be rescued
by him from the attack of a lion, was enough to confer great distinction
on any Asiatic potentate, and we cannot be surprised that he should
think the event worthy of record on his tomb.
The remaining frieze is that which has attracted most attention[325]. It
is a representation of the conquering charge of Alexander and his
companions at one of his battles, perhaps that of Issus. From the left
comes the Great King, a lion’s skin on his head, overthrowing, by a
furious charge, a Persian noble who tries to stop his way. An elderly
man, perhaps Parmenio, charges at the same moment from the right with
like success; in the midst is a third Macedonian leader striking down at
a Persian, one of the noblest figures ever executed in marble. In the
field is a _mêlée_ of Greeks and Persians, the former having by much the
better of the fray. In this scene the intention certainly seems to be to
glorify Alexander and his generals; and it is not easy to find any
allusion to deeds of the Sidonian king. He can scarcely be one of the
overthrown Persian horsemen. The whole composition should be compared
with the well-known Pompeian mosaic which represents the battle of
Issus: the group of Alexander and his immediate foe is composed in the
two scenes in almost exactly the same way. We engrave finally (Fig. 85)
one of the lions which decorate the upper corners of the coffin.
[Illustration: FIG. 85. ALEXANDER SARCOPHAGUS: A LION.]
It is most probable that this tomb contained the remains of a king
mentioned in history. About 350 B.C. Sidon had revolted against Persia
under Artaxerxes Ochus, and the revolt had been mercilessly suppressed
by the Persian king. As a natural result, the city regarded Alexander,
when in his victorious course he reached Sidon, as a deliverer rather
than as a foe. While Tyre resisted to the death, Sidon yielded at once.
A King Strato was then ruling. For reasons of his own Alexander directed
Hephaestion to depose him, and to set up in his place a member of the
royal house named Abdalonymus. The latter, however, did not reign very
long, as after this Phoenicia became a bone of contention between the
Ptolemies and the Seleucidae. It seems a fair historical conjecture that
the great sarcophagus is that of Abdalonymus, who seems to have been the
last of the native royal race, and who records on his tomb alike his own
exploits and those of his hero and protector Alexander.
The beauty of the whole sarcophagus cannot be judged from our
representations, few in number and small in size. To be appreciated
fully, the great monument must be seen in its place in the Museum at
Constantinople: its beauty and preservation are alike overpowering. Much
of the colouring still remains[326], but the accessories, swords, bits
of horses, and the like, once filled in in bronze and silver, have
disappeared. The style is a style of wonderful vigour of grouping and
skill in execution. Altogether it is one of the world’s masterpieces.
The artistic school of this great work of art remains yet to be
determined. The names of Eutychides and Euthycrates, great sculptors of
the end of the fourth century, have been suggested. But the truth is
that in this sarcophagus we are face to face with a work of a character
quite new to us, in some ways a more masterly work of the Greek chisel
than we had before possessed. Hitherto we had been able to divide Greek
reliefs into high relief, half relief, and bas relief. But the artist of
these friezes mixes all these styles, in order to produce the desired
effect, with masterful boldness. We must wait until time and fresh
discoveries enable us to determine his artistic genealogy.
The nearest of Greek sarcophagi in date and style to the last of the
Sidonian series is the great Amazon sarcophagus of Vienna[327], an
admirable work of art, on the four sides of which are depicted with
much spirit the battles of the Greeks and Amazons. But we have here
regular mythologic scenes like those which adorn the great temples of
Greece; nothing personal, and nothing which has reference to the future
world. Any further consideration of Greek sarcophagi and of the Roman
sarcophagi which succeeded them would take us into another province of
the great empire of Hellenic antiquity.
THE END
OXFORD: HORACE HART
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
FOOTNOTES:
[1] I. 28. 36: ‘Iniecto ter pulvere curras.’
[2] Benndorf, _Griech. und Sicil. Vasenbilder_, pl. i.
[3] Benndorf, _Griech. und Sicil. Vasenbilder_, pl. xxxiii.
[4] _Mon. dell’ Inst._ ix. 39.
[5] Rayet, _Monum. de l’Art Antique_, pl. lxxv.
[6] Rayet, text to above plate.
[7] See below, Ch. VII, VIII.
[8] _Iliad_, xvi. 666.
[9] Klein, _Euphronios_, p. 272. Iris and a female figure stand on
either side. Some writers, interpreting the latter as Eos, have seen in
the dead body that of Memnon. The point is immaterial to our present
purpose.
[10] Dumont, _Céramiques de la Grèce propre_, pl. xxvii.
[11] _Mon. dell’ Inst._ ix. 32. We reproduce only the central group of
the painting.
[12] _Gräber der Hellenen_, p. 42, pl. viii. Stackelberg found
the coffin himself near the Acharnian Gate at Athens, and drew it
immediately on discovery.
[13] Pottier et Reinach, _La Nécropole de Myrina_, p. 101.
[14] Herodotus, iv. 26. The word γευέσια may perhaps mean, as some have
suggested, the anniversary of the death, if death be regarded as birth
into a new life. The early Christians seem to have adopted this view.
[15] P. 519; _Charon_, 22.
[16] II. p. 926; _De Luctu_, 9.
[17] Plutarch, _Solon_, 21.
[18] _Athen. Mittheil._ i. 143.
[19] Plutarch, _Aristides_. 21.
[20] _Athen. Mittheil._ 1893, p. 53.
[21] See below, Chap. VI.
[22] _Ephem. Archaiol._ 1886, pl. iv.
[23] Benndorf, _Griech. und Sicil. Vasenb._ pl. xxi, 2: cf. xxi. 1,
xxii, xxv, &c.
[24] Dumont, _Céram. de la Grèce_, pl. xxv.
[25] Pottier, _Lécythes blancs_, pl. iv: cf. p. 74.
[26] No. 735 of the Athens Museum.
[27] Pl. lx.
[28] In a later Chapter (X) I show by instances how close is sometimes
the resemblance in reliefs and on vases between the toilet scenes of
daily life and scenes of offering to the dead.
[29] _Catalogue of Vases_, IV. pl. iv. I cannot accept the view of the
author of the Catalogue, that all three figures are those of mourners.
[30] As to the pillar (κίων) and table (τράπέζα), see Chap. VIII.
[31] _Psyche, Seelencult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube der Griechen_, 1894.
[32] _Odyssey_, iv. 560.
[33] x. 28. Cf. Robert, _Die Nekyia des Polygnot_. Halle, 1892.
[34] _Antike Denkmäler_, published by the German Archaeological
Institute, vol. i. pl. xxiii. 3.
[35] Nos. 1 and 2 on the plate already cited.
[36] Pottier, _Lécythes blancs_, pl. 3: cf. Benndorf, _Griech. und
Sicil. Vasenb._ pl. 27.
[37] X. 28. 7.
[38] See _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, Series E, pl. i-iii: cf. Baumeister,
_Denkmäler_, article ‘Unterwelt.’
[39] Cf. the relief published in _Athen. Mittheil._ iv. pl. ix.
[40] L. 50.
[41] I. 28. 6.
[42] _Agesilaus_, xi. 8.
[43] See Chap. XI.
[44] II. p. 364 E (translation of Davies and Vaughan).
[45] Chap. XII.
[46] Plutarch, _Pelopidas_, 20-22.
[47] _Odyssey_, xi. 602.
[48] For this see, among other works, Schliemann, _Mycenae and Tiryns_;
Schuchhardt, _Excavations of Schliemann_ (Eng. trans.); Perrot et
Chipiez, _La Grèce Primitive_; Gardner, _New Chapters in Greek History_.
[49] Schuchhardt, _Schliemann’s Ausgrabungen_, p. 176.
[50] Perrot et Chipiez, _La Grèce Primitive_, p. 638.
[51] Schliemann, _Mycenae_, pl. E.
[52] Perrot et Chipiez, pl. vi.
[53] _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, ii. p. 136, pl. xiii.
[54] Helbig, _La Question mycénéenne_. 1896.
[55] Schliemann, _Mycenae_, p. 81.
[56] Ibid. p. 86.
[57] Perrot et Chipiez, p. 770.
[58] The most recent account of these, by M. Joubin, will be found in
the _Bulletin de Corresp. hellén._ 1895, p. 69.
[59] II. 22, 2 (Ταντάλου) ἰδὼν οἰδα ἐν Σιπύλῳ τάφον Θέας ἄξιον.
[60] Texier, _Description_, pl. cxxx.
[61] Weber, _Le Sipyle_, pl. i.
[62] Perrot et Chipiez, v. 83. Mr. Ramsay, while allowing the general
excellence of this drawing, disputes its accuracy in some particulars.
See _Journ. Hell. Stud._ 1889, p. 155.
[63] Perrot et Chipiez, v. p. 103.
[64] Perrot et Chipiez, v. p. 111. Another drawing in _Journ. Hell.
Stud._ 1888, p. 368 (Ramsay).
[65] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ pl. xviii.
[66] With M. Perrot’s work on Phrygia, it is necessary to compare Mr.
Ramsay’s ‘Study of Phrygian Art’ in the _Journal of Hellenic Studies_
for 1889 and 1890.
[67] I. p. 61.
[68] See the _Catalogue of Sculpture_ of the British Museum, or Perrot
and Chipiez, vol. v.
[69] _Brit. Mus. Cat. of Sculpture_, i. No. 80; cf. Perrot and Chipiez,
vol. v. p. 396.
[70] _Anabasis_, vi. 29.
[71] _Odyssey_, xx. 66.
[72] _Catalogue of Sculpture_, i. p. 53, No. 93.
[73] _Brit. Mus. Cat. of Sculpture_, i. No. 86. Engraved in Murray,
_Hist. Sculpture_, i. pl. iii-v; Cesnola, _Cyprus_, pl. 16, 17; Brunn,
_Denkmäler_, pl. 102.
[74] _Cat. of Sculpture_, No. 97; Murray, i. pl. v.
[75] _Ann. dell’ Inst._ xix. pl. F.
[76] Plutarch, _Lycurgus_, 27.
[77] _Athen. Mittheil._ vii. 163.
[78] _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, v. 131. I return to the subject in
the next chapter.
[79] _Athen. Mittheil._ x. 160.
[80] See Maspéro, _Life in Ancient Egypt and Assyria_, p. 145.
[81] _Athen. Mittheil._ ii. 25.
[82] _Catalogue_, No. 1417.
[83] Perrot et Chipiez, ii. p. 107.
[84] _Athen. Mittheil._ iv. pl. 7.
[85] See a paper by Pervanoglu, _Das Familienmahl auf altgriech.
Grabsteinen_.
[86] _Brit. Mus. Cat. of Coins: Thrace_, p. 90.
[87] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ v. p. 116.
[88] Ibid. v. p. 106.
[89] _Athen. Mittheil._ 1879, p. 165.
[90] Cf. Furtwängler, _Sabouroff Coll._ Introd. p. 39.
[91] Buchholz, _Homerische Realien_, iii. 1, 334.
[92] Chap. vii. p. 20, ed. Kenyon.
[93] _Brit. Mus. Cat. of Marbles_, No. 753.
[94] Here the female figure seems decidedly the taller, but this may be
the result of the law of Greek reliefs, to place the heads of persons
represented on one level.
[95] _Coll. Sabouroff_, pl. 29.
[96] Pl. 16.
[97] Roscher, _Lexikon_, i. p. 2555.
[98] _La Collection Sabouroff_, Introd. p. 28.
[99] _Athen. Mittheil._ viii. 16; Le Bas, _Voyage_, pl. 103.
[100] _Athen. Mittheil._ iii. 380; Friedrichs-Wolters, _Gipsabgüsse_,
No. 1076; Roscher, _Lexikon_, i. p. 2557.
[101] _Museum Marbles_, ix. pl. 34.
[102] _Mon. dell’ Inst._ xi. 55.
[103] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ vii. 1.
[104] _Arch. Zeitung_, 1883, p. 285.
[105] _Monum. Grecs_, pl. i; Roscher, _Lexikon_, i. p. 405, where the
figures are wrongly called Ares and Aphrodite.
[106] Roscher, _Lexikon_, i. p. 2571.
[107] Chap. I.
[108] _Il._ xi. 371; _Od._ xii. 14, &c. Cf. the phrase, τύμβῳ τε στήλῃ
τε, τὸ γὰρ γέρας ἐστὶ θανόντων.
[109] II. 26.
[110] ‘Opere tectorio exornari.’
[111] ‘Columellam, aut mensam aut labellam.”
[112] These passages are collected by Messrs. Pottier and Reinach in
the _Bulletin de Corresp. hellénique_, 1882, p. 396.
[113] Gerhard, _Auserl. Vasenbilder_, pl. 199: cf. _Mon. dell’ Inst._
viii. pl. 5; Benndorf, _Griech. und Sicil. Vasenbilder_, pl. 24.
[114] _Arch. Jahrbuch_, 1891, p. 197.
[115] e.g. _Mon. dell’ Inst._ viii. 5.
[116] Stackelberg, _Gräber der Hellenen_, xlv. 3. The deceased lady,
seated on the τράπεζα, was, no doubt, represented as draped, but the
wash of colour has worn away.
[117] Paus. ix. 30, 7.
[118] Ibid. ix. 25, 2.
[119] Ibid. iv. 32, 3.
[120] VII. 700.
[121] _Athen. Mittheil._ x. pl. 13.
[122] _Ecclesiazusae_, l. 996. Cf. l. 538.
[123] Ibid. l. 1110.
[124] An exhaustive article on these vases will be found in _Athen.
Mittheil._ 1891, p. 371 (Wolters). The writer maintains that they
appear only on the tombs of the unmarried. For a representation of a
terra-cotta vase on a χῶμα see p. 379.
[125] _Athen. Mittheil._ 1887, pl. ix.
[126] Athens _Cat._ 884. The lekythos on the right, however, is a
restoration, all except part of its foot.
[127] _Anthology_, vii. 182.
[128] _Ad Leocharem_, p. 1086.
[129] For the colouring of these votive figures see Collignon, _Hist.
de la Sculpture grecque_, vol. i, frontispiece; _Ephemeris Arch._ 1887,
pl. ix; _Antike Denkmäler des Arch. Inst._ i. pl. 39.
[130] _Athen. Mittheil._ 1893, p. 83.
[131] This matter is treated in detail in Brückner’s _Ornament und
Format der Attischen Grabstelen_: see pl. i. of that work.
[132] Perrot et Chipiez, ii. 270.
[133] Brückner, _Ornament und Formen der Att. Grabstelen_, pl. i. 2.
[134] Athens _Cat._ 975.
[135] Ibid. 729.
[136] Ibid. 754.
[137] Ibid. 28.
[138] _Athen. Mittheil._ vol. iv.
[139] _Gräber der Hellenen_, pl. 56.
[140] _Septem c. Theb._ 524.
[141] _Athen. Mittheil._ xii. 105.
[142] Chap. I, above.
[143] Athens _Cat._ No. 775.
[144] L. 168.
[145] Athens _Cat._ No. 783.
[146] Athens _Cat._ No. 744.
[147] Athens _Cat._ No. 770.
[148] _Anthol. Palat._ vii. 344.
[149] See F. Imhoof-Blumer and P. Gardner, _Numismatic Commentary on
Pausanias_, pl. E, p. 19.
[150] Published in the _Journ. Hell. Stud._ vi. p. 32.
[151] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 169.
[152] Plutarch, _Cic._ 26.
[153] VII. 37. Cf. 707.
[154] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 62.
[155] See especially a paper by Professor Loeschcke in _Athen.
Mittheil._ iv. 292.
[156] Pliny, _N. H._ xxxv. 153.
[157] _Athen. Mittheil._ iv. pl. vi.
[158] For example, Dr. Waldstein, in the first volume of the _Journal
of Hellenic Studies_, p. 168.
[159] _Athen. Mittheil._ iv. pl. iii.
[160] I. 90. τειχίζειν δὲ ... φειδομένους μήτε ἰδίου μήτε δημοσίου
οἰκοδομήματος.
[161] The head also does not belong to the statue, and the right arm
and other parts are restorations. See the Berlin _Denkmäler_, i. pl.
31, 32.
[162] For the basket see Fig. 62: for the attitude cf. Pl. XXVI.
Epigrams to be placed on tombs adorned with statues of women are to be
found in the _Anthology_, vii. 649, &c. As a replica of the ‘Penelope’
in very high relief exists in the Vatican, we may regard it as likely
that the original was not entirely detached from the background.
[163] Athens _Cat._ No. 218.
[164] Athens _Cat._ No. 219.
[165] e.g. Kaibel, No. 505, from Tricca. The formula of dedication is
Ἑρμάον Χθονίου.
[166] See Plates XXV, XXVI.
[167] _Athen. Mittheil._ iv. pl. i, ii. Cf. _C. A. G._ pl. i.
[168] Michaelis, _Ancient Marbles in Great Britain_, p. 385, whence our
engraving is taken.
[169] _C. A. G._ pl. iv. As to the pentathlon, see the _Journ. Hell.
Stud._ i. p. 210.
[170] _Athen. Mittheil._ iii. pl. 14.
[171] These are lost, but the holes in which they were fixed remain
over the forehead.
[172] Reins, sword, and lance were added in metal, as is shown by the
remaining holes in which these were fixed. Colour was doubtless freely
added.
[173] _Bull. Corr. Hellén._ iv. pl. 7.
[174] Athens _Cat._ No. 873.
[175] Athens _Cat._ No. 828.
[176] It has been suggested that the gesture is one of adoration in
presence of the deities of the next world.
[177] _Anthologia_, vii. 338.
[178] For instance, Athens _Cat._ No. 1192.
[179] At Rome. Published in the _Ann. e Mon. dell’ Inst._ 1855, pl. xv.
Cf. Friedrichs-Wolters, _Gipsabgüsse_, No. 1010.
[180] Athens _Cat._ No. 752.
[181] VII. 279.
[182] Athens _Cat._ No. 731.
[183] _C. A. G._ pl. xv.
[184] _C. A. G._ pl. xvii.
[185] _Br. Mus. Cat. of Marbles_, No. 721; _Mus. Marb._ ix. pl. 38.
[186] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ vi. pl. B.
[187] Such as Friedrichs-Wolters _Gipsabgüsse_, No. 1024: _Arch.
Zeitung_, 1871, pl. 53.
[188] _Anthol. Palat._ vi. 280.
[189] Athens _Cat._ No. 1196.
[190] _C. A. G._ pl. xxxvii.
[191] _Museum Marbles_, x. 3.
[192] Athens _Cat._ No. 711.
[193] Ibid. No. 765; _C. A. G._ pl. xlviii.
[194] The two notions that in such groups it is always the seated or
that it is always the standing person who is dead are alike fallacious.
[195] Kaibel, No. 557.
[196] _C. A. G._ Nos. 134, 139.
[197] Ibid. No. 158.
[198] Athens _Cat._ No. 717.
[199] Athens _Cat._ No. 870.
[200] Ibid. No. 749. A photograph of the relief being unsatisfactory,
we copy the engraving at p. 70 of the _C. A. G._
[201] VII. 730, by Perses.
[202] _C. A. G._ No. 333, pl. lxxxiv.
[203] I have a vivid recollection of the admiration expressed for the
examples in the British Museum by Mr. Ruskin.
[204] Pl. xxxix; cf. Athens _Cat._ No. 724.
[205] _Sabouroff Coll._ Introd. p. 12.
[206] Plato, _Theaetetus_, p. 198 A.
[207] Rangabe, _Antiq. Hell._ ii. pp. 539, 842; cf. _C. I. G._ 1012 b,
7034, and Aristophanes, _Acharn._ l. 49.
[208] Benndorf, _Griech. und Sicil. Vasenbilder_, pl. xv.
[209] e.g. Benndorf, _op. cit._ pl. xxv; Dumont, _Cér. de la Grèce
propre_, i. pl. xxv.
[210] _Op. cit._ pl. ix.
[211] _Griech. Vasenbilder_, pl. xi.
[212] 950 and 951 in the National Museum, Athens: No. 323, pl. lxxvii,
and No. 357, pl. lxxxviii, of the _C. A. G._
[213] Figured in Brückner’s _Griech. Grabreliefs_, p. 12.
[214] _Gazette archéol._ i. pl. vii.
[215] Hermes also appears on a monument of the British Museum, a sort
of round altar on which are sculptured a man and woman hand in hand.
_Br. Mus. Cat. Sculpture_, No. 710.
[216] The example in our plate is that at Paris. The inscriptions,
Zetus, Amphion, Antiopa, are modern, and utterly incorrect.
[217] Good statements of the arguments will be found in the
Introduction to Furtwängler’s _Sabouroff Collection_, and in Brückner’s
_Griech. Grabreliefs_, 1888.
[218] _C. A. G._ No. 1, pl. i. See above, p. 141.
[219] _C. A. G._ No. 36, pl. xv.
[220] _Athen. Mittheil._ viii. pl. 17.
[221] Ibid. pl. 2.
[222] Ibid. pl. 3.
[223] _C. A. G._ No. 22, pl. xiii.
[224] Ibid. No. 66, pl. xxviii.
[225] Michaelis, _Anc. Marbles in Gr. Britain_, p. 229, No. 7.
[226] Luke ii. 24.
[227] _C. A. G._ No. 19, pl. xi.
[228] Ibid. No. 14, pl. ix. Barracco Collection.
[229] _C. A. G._ pls. ciii, cxxxi, &c.
[230] A physician named Jason examining a patient, on a stele of the
British Museum: _Cat._ No. 629.
[231] _Epitaph._ 13.
[232] See above, Chap. III.
[233] _Arch. Zeitung_, 1871, pl. 49; _Journ. Hell. Stud._ v. p. 138.
[234] Roscher, _Lexikon_, i. p. 2539. The relief is in the Louvre.
[235] I. 2. 3.
[236] VII. 22. 6.
[237] Overbeck, _Geschichte der gr. Plastik_, ed. 4. ii. p. 22.
[238] I have transcribed these inscriptions as they stand, letter by
letter, retaining χσ for ξ, ο for ω, οι for ῳ, and so on.
[239] VII. 304, by Peisander.
[240] VII. 463, by Leonidas.
[241] _Grabgedichte der griechischen Anthologie._ Vienna, 1889.
[242] _Jahrbuch des Inst._ 1895, p. 204.
[243] _New Chapters in Greek History_, chap. x.
[244] Kaibel, _Epigrammata Graeca_, No. 461; _C.I.G._ i. 1051. Cf.
Paus. i. 43. 3.
[245] The published copy is very defective, and of the last two lines
only the general sense can be made out.
[246] _Brit. Mus. Greek Inscr._ i. p. 102. Cf. _New Chapters in Greek
History_ p. 322.
[247] Kaibel, No. 183.
[248] Kaibel, No. 179. Roehl, _Inscrr. Gr. Antiqq._ No. 342.
[249] This is the rendering of Roehl. The conceit is rather far-fetched
for so early a period.
[250] Kaibel, No. 180: Roehl, No. 343.
[251] Kaibel, No. 182.
[252] Ibid. No. 487.
[253] Ibid. No. 486.
[254] Ibid. No. 488.
[255] Ibid. No. 209.
[256] Ibid. No. 490.
[257] Kaibel, No. 38.
[258] Ibid. No. 34.
[259] Kaibel, No. 189.
[260] Ibid. No. 482.
[261] Ibid. No. 493.
[262] Ibid. No. 491.
[263] Fortune, Τύχη, was represented in art as holding a rudder and a
cornucopia.
[264] That is, the Charitesia, games held at Orchomenus.
[265] Kaibel, No. 191.
[266] Ibid. No. 224.
[267] Ibid. No. 496.
[268] Ibid. No. 497.
[269] Kaibel, No. 473.
[270] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 64, anonymous.
[271] Stephani, _Der ausruhende Herakles_, p. 59. The relief has
disappeared.
[272] Kaibel, No. 463.
[273] Ibid. No. 462.
[274] VII. 545.
[275] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ 3 p. 112.
[276] Kaibel, No. 465.
[277] Ibid. No. 218.
[278] Ibid. No. 195.
[279] Ibid. No. 190.
[280] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 163. Version of J. Williams.
[281] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 489. Version of J. Williams.
[282] Ibid. vii. 451. Version of J. Williams.
[283] Ibid. vii. 321. Version of J. Williams.
[284] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 657. Version of J. Williams.
[285] Ibid. vii. 207. Version of J. Williams.
[286] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 476. Version of J. Williams.
[287] Ibid. vii. 554. My version.
[288] Ibid. vii. 465.
[289] Ibid. vii. 735. My version.
[290] _Anth. Palat._ vii. 145. My version.
[291] _Brit. Mus. Cat. of Sculpture_, i. No. 766; Fellows, _Lycia_, p.
116; Petersen, _Reisen in Lykien_, ii. p. 193.
[292] For a full account of this monument see _Annali dell’ Inst._ 1874
and 1875; _Mon. dell’ Inst._ x.; cf. also Benndorf and Niemann, _Reisen
in Carien und Lykien_, p. 89, pl. xxiv.
[293] From Overbeck, _Geschichte der gr. Plastik_, ii. 191.
[294] _Annali dell’ Inst._ 1875, pl. DE.
[295] All that is preserved of steed and rider is the foreleg of the
rearing horse.
[296] _Arch. Zeit._ 1882, p. 359.
[297] _Das Heroon von Gjölbaschi-Trysa._ O. Benndorf and G. Niemann.
Wien, 1889. Our engraving is taken from pl. i. of this admirable work.
[298] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries_, ii. pl. 23.
[299] As to these see the _Antiquités du Bosphore Cimmérien_, a
magnificent work, now republished at a moderate price by M. Salomon
Reinach. Also Newton, _Essays in Art and Archaeology_, ch. ix., _Greek
Art in the Kimmerian Bosporos_.
[300] _The Antiquary_, vol. liv. pp. 273-362.
[301] Mr. Oldfield has kindly allowed me to copy a drawing in which his
latest views are incorporated.
[302] _Fab._ 223.
[303] ‘Aere ... uacuo pendentia Mausolea.’ _Epig._ 1.
[304] Comparing Martial, _Epig._ ii. 14: ‘Inde petit centum pendentia
tecta columnis.’
[305] _N. H._ 36, 30.
[306] _v. l._ cvi.
[307] _v. l._ centenos sexagenos.
[308] _v. l._ pedes ccccxl.
[309] _v. l._ uocauere circumitum.
[310] _v. l._ altitudinem inferiorem aequat.
[311] In a rough statement like this it is unnecessary to take into
account the slight difference between the English and the Greek foot.
[312] _Hist. Disc._ ii. p. 191.
[313] _Funérailles et diverses manières d’ensevelir_, &c., quoted by
Newton in his _History of Discoveries_, vol. i. p. 76.
[314] _Journ. Hell. Stud._ xiii. p. 188.
[315] The whole of the Amazon frieze is now figured in the Berlin
_Denkmäler_, vol. ii., and in Overbeck’s _Plastik_, 4th ed., ii. p. 106.
[316] For an account of these see the Berlin _Antike Denkmäler_, vol.
i. part 4; also _Bulletin de Corr. hellén._ 1895, p. 69.
[317] _Une nécropole royale à Sidon._ Hamdy Bey and Théodore Reinach.
A good account by Studniczka in the _Jahrbuch_ of the German Institute
for 1894, p. 204.
[318] This and the subsequent engravings are taken from the plates
of the magnificent work of Hamdy Bey and M. Théodore Reinach, _Une
nécropole royale à Sidon_, by kind permission of authors and publisher.
[319] Chaps. IX, X.
[320] 2 Sam. i. 24.
[321] Hicks, _Greek Historical Inscriptions_, p. 155. The marble is in
the Oxford Museum.
[322] The evidence is put together by Mr. Chinnock in the _Classical
Review_ of June, 1893.
[323] _Cyropaedeia_, viii. 3, 10.
[324] It must be observed that although we are obliged in the engraving
to bisect this relief, it is really continuous. The head of the lion in
the upper line fits on to the body of the lion in the lower line.
[325] It is figured not only in the works already cited, but also in
Overbeck’s _Geschichte der Plastik_, ii. p. 403, and in other works.
[326] As to this and all other details, see the valuable remarks of M.
Reinach, _op. cit._ p. 325.
[327] Robert, _Die antiken Sarkophag-Reliefs_, ii. pl. 27.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: can scarely
have aimed=> can scarcely have aimed {pg 81}
in Attica, at Spata, and at Menidi=> in Attica, at Sparta, and at Menidi
{pg 105}
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