Ten Great Religions by James Freeman Clarke

J >> James Freeman Clarke >> Ten Great Religions

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45

The Earth, Gaia, became more and more important to the Hellenic mind.
Passing through various stages of development, she became, successively,
Gaia in the first generation, Rhea in the second, and Demeter ([Greek: De
meter]), Mother Earth, in the third. In like manner the Sun is
successively Hyperion, son of Heaven and Earth; Helios, son of Hyperion
and Theia; and Phoebus-Apollo, son of Zeus and Latona. The Moon is first
Phoebe, sister of Hyperion; then Selene, sister of Helios; and lastly
Artemis, sister of Apollo. Pallas, probably meaning at first "the virgin,"
became afterward identified with Athene, daughter of Zeus, as
Pallas-Athene. The Urania Pontus, the salt sea, became the Titan Oceanos,
or Ocean, and in another generation Poseidon, or Neptune.

The early gods are symbolical, the later are personal. The turning-point
is reached when Kronos, Time, arrives. The children of Time and Earth are
no longer vast shadowy abstractions, but become historical characters,
with biographies and personal qualities. Neither Time nor History existed
before Homer; when Time came, History began.

The three male children of Time were Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades;
representing the three dimensions of space. Height, Breadth, and Depth;
Heaven, Ocean, and Hell. They also represented the threefold progress of
the human soul: its aspiration and ascent to what is noble and good, its
descent to what is profound, and its sympathy with all that is various: in
other words, its religion, its intelligence, and its affection.

The fable of Time devouring his children, and then reproducing them,
evidently means the vicissitudes of customs and the departure and return
of fashions. Whatever is born must die; but what has been will be again.
That Eros, Love, should be at the origin of things from chaos, indicates
the primeval attraction with which the order of the universe begins. The
mutilation of Uranos, Heaven, so that he ceased to produce children,
suggests the change of the system of emanation, by which the gods descend
from the infinite, into that of evolution, by which they arise out of the
finite. It is, in fact, the end of Asia, and the beginning of Europe; for
emanation is the law of the theologies of Asia, evolution that of Europe.
Aphrodite, Beauty, was the last child of the Heavens, and yet born from
the Ocean. Beauty is not the daughter of the Heavens and the Earth, but of
the Heavens and the Ocean. The lights and shadows of the sky, the tints of
dawn, the tenderness of clouds, unite with the toss and curve of the wave
in creating Beauty. The beauty of outline appears in the sea, that of
light and color in the sky.[227]

Sec. 4. The Gods of the Poets.

Herodotus says (II. 53), "I am of opinion that Hesiod and Homer lived four
hundred years before my time, and not more, and these were they who framed
a theogony for the Greeks, and gave names to the gods, and assigned to
them honors and arts, and declared their several forms. But the poets,
said to be before them, in my opinion, were after them."

That two poets should create a theology and a worship for a great people,
and so unite its separate tribes into a commonwealth of united states,
seems to modern minds an absurdity. But the poets of Greece were its
prophets. They received, intensified, concentrated, the tendencies of
thought already in the air. All the drift was toward Pan-Hellenic worship
and to a humanized theology, when the Homeric writers sang their song.

The Greeks must be conceived of as a nation of poets; hence all their
mythology was poetry. Poetry was their life and joy, written or unwritten,
sung or spoken. They were poets in the deeper sense of the word; not by
writing verses, but by looking at all nature and all life from its poetic
side. Their exquisite mythology arose out of these spontaneous instincts.
The tendency of the Greek mind was to vitalize and harmonize nature.[228]

All the phenomena of nature, all the powers of the human soul, and all the
events of life, became a marvellous tissue of divine story. They walked
the earth, surrounded and overshadowed by heavenly attendants and
supernatural powers. But a striking peculiarity of this immense
spiritualism was that it was almost without superstition. Their gods were
not their terror, but their delight. Even the great gods of Olympus were
around them as invisible companions. Fate itself, the dark Moira, supreme
power, mistress of gods and men, was met manfully and not timorously. So
strong was the human element, the sense of personal dignity and freedom,
that the Greek lived in the midst of a supernatural world on equal terms.

No doubt the elements of mythology are in all nations the same, consisting
of the facts of nature and the facts of life. The heavens and the earth,
day and night, the sun and moon, storms, fire, ocean, and rivers, love and
beauty, life and progress, war, wisdom, doom, and chance,--these, among
all nations, supply the material for myths. But while, with some races,
these powers remain solemn abstractions, above and behind nature, among
the Greeks they descended into nature and turned to poetry, illuminating
all of life.

Let us imagine a Greek, possessed by the spirit of his nation and
acquainted with its legendary history, visiting the holy places of that
ideal land. On the northern boundary he sees the towering summit of
Olympus, on whose solemn heights reside the twelve great gods of his
country. When the dark clouds roll along its defiles, and the lightning
flashes from their black depths, it is Zeus, striking with his thunderbolt
some impious offender. There was held the great council of the Immortals.
When the ocean was quiet, Poseidon had left it to visit Olympus. There
came Hephaestos, quitting his subterranean fires and gloomy laborers, to
jest and be jested with, sitting by his beautiful queen. There, while the
sun hung motionless in mid-heaven, Apollo descended from his burning
chariot to join the feast. Artemis and Demeter came from the woods and
fields to unite in the high assembly, and war was suspended while Ares
made love to the goddess of Beauty. The Greek looked at Parnassus,
"soaring snow-clad through its native sky," with its Delphic cave and its
Castalian fount, or at the neighboring summits of Helicon, where Pegasus
struck his hoof and Hippocrene gushed forth, and believed that hidden in
these sunny woods might perhaps be found the muses who inspired Herodotus,
Homer, Aeschylus, and Pindar. He could go nowhere without finding some
spot over which hung the charm of romantic or tender association. Within
every brook was hidden a Naiad; by the side of every tree lurked a Dryad;
if you listen, you may hear the Oreads calling among the mountains; if you
come cautiously around that bending hill, you may catch a glimpse of the
great Pan himself. When the moonlight showers filled the forests with a
magical light, one might see the untouched Artemis gliding rapidly among
the mossy trunks. Beneath, in the deep abysses of earth, reigned the
gloomy Pluto with the sad Persephone, home-sick for the upper air. By the
sea-shore Proteus wound his horn, the Sirens sang their fatal song among
the rocks, the Nereids and Oceanides gleamed beneath the green waters, the
vast Amphitrite stretched her wide-embracing arms, and Thetis with her
water-nymphs lived in their submarine grottos. When the morning dawned,
Eos, or Aurora, went before the chariot of the Sun, dropping flowers upon
the earth. Every breeze which stirred the tree-tops was a god, going on
some errand for Aeolus. The joy of inspired thought was breathed into the
soul by Phoebus; the genial glow of life, the festal mirth, and the glad
revel were the gift of Dionysos. All nature was alive with some touch of a
divine presence. So, too, every spot of Hellas was made interesting by
some legend of Hercules, of Theseus, of Prometheus, of the great Dioscuri,
of Minos, or Daedalus, of Jason and the Argonauts. The Greeks extended
their own bright life backward through history, and upward through heroes
and demigods to Zeus himself.

In Homer, the gods are very human. They have few traits of divinity,
scarcely of dignity. Their ridicule of Vulcan is certainly coarse; the
threats of Zeus are brutal.

As a family, they live together on Olympus, feasting, talking, making
love, making war, deceiving each other, angry, and reconciled. They feed
on nectar and ambrosia, which makes them immortal; just as the Amrita
makes the Hindoo gods so. So in the Iliad we see them at their feast, with
Vulcan handing each the cup, pouring out nectar for them all. "And then
inextinguishable laughter arose among the immortal gods, when they saw
Vulcan bustling through the mansion. So they feasted all day till sundown;
nor did the soul want anything of the equal feast, nor of the beautiful
harp which Apollo held, nor of the Muses, who accompanied him, responding
in turn with delicious voice."

"But when the splendid light of the sun was sunk, they retired to repose,
each one to his house, which renowned Vulcan, lame of both legs, had
built. But Olympian Zeus went to his couch, and laid down to rest beside
white-armed Here."[229]

Or sometimes they fight together, or with mortals; instances of both
appear in the Iliad. It must be admitted that they do not appear to
advantage in these conflicts. They usually get the worst of it, and go
back to Zeus to complain. In the Twenty-first Book they fight together,
Ares against Athene, Athene also against his helper, Aphrodite; Poseidon
and Here against Apollo and Artemis, Vulcan against the river god,
Scamander. Ares called Athene impudent, and threatened to chastise her.
She seized a stone and struck him on the neck, and relaxed his knees.
Seven acres he covered falling, and his back was defiled with dust; but
Pallas-Athene jeered at him; and when Aphrodite led him away groaning
frequently, Pallas-Athene sprang after, and smote her with her hand,
dissolving her knees and dear heart. Apollo was afraid of Poseidon, and
declined fighting with him when challenged, for which Artemis rebuked him.
On this, Here tells her that she can kill stags on the mountains, but is
afraid to fight with her betters, and then proceeds to punish her, holding
both the hands of Artemis in one of hers, and beating her over the head
with her own bow. A disgraceful scene altogether, we must confess, and it
is no wonder that Plato was scandalized by such stories.

Thus purely human were these gods; spending the summer's day in feasting
beneath the open sky; going home at sundown to sleep, like a parcel of
great boys and girls. They are immortal indeed, and can make men so
sometimes, but cannot always prevent the death of a favorite. Above them
all broods a terrible power, mightier than themselves, the dark Fate and
irresistible Necessity. For, after all, as human gods they were like men,
subject to the laws of nature. Yet as men, they are free, and in the
feeling of their freedom sometimes resist and defy fate.

The Homeric gods move through the air like birds, like wind, like
lightning. They are stronger than men, and larger. Ares, overthrown by
Pallas, covers seven acres of ground; when wounded by Diomedes he bellowed
as loud as nine or ten thousand men, says the accurate Homer. The bodies
of the gods, inexpressibly beautiful, and commonly invisible, are,
whenever seen by men, in an aureola of light. In Homer, Apollo is the god
of archery, prophecy, and music. He is the far-darter. He shoots his
arrows at the Greeks, because his prophet had been ill-treated. "He
descended from Olympus," says Homer, "enraged in heart, having his bow and
quiver on his shoulders. But as he moved the shafts rattled on the
shoulders of him enraged; and he went onward like the night. Then he sat
near the ships, and sent an arrow, and dreadful was the clangor of the
silver bow."

Later in the Iliad he appears again, defending the Trojans and deceiving
Achilles. In the Homeric Hymn his birth on Delos is sweetly told; and how,
when he was born, Earth smiled around, and all the goddesses shouted.
Themis fed him on nectar and ambrosia; then he sprang up, called for a
lyre and bow, and said he would declare henceforth to men the will of
Jove; and Delos, exulting, became covered with flowers.[230]

The Second Book of the Iliad begins thus: "The rest, both gods and
horse-arraying men, slept all the night; but Jove sweet sleep possessed
not; but he pondered how he might destroy many at the Greek ships, and
honor Achilles. But this device appeared best to his mind, to send a fatal
dream to Agamemnon. And he said, 'Haste, pernicious dream, to the swift
ships, and bid Agamemnon arm the Achaeans to take wide-streeted Troy,
since Juno has persuaded all the gods to her will.'"

This was simply a lie, sent for the destruction of the Greeks.

In the First Book, Jupiter complains to Thetis that Juno is always
scolding him, and good right had she to do so. Presently she comes in and
accuses him of plotting something secretly with Thetis, and never letting
her know his plans. He answers her by accusations of perversity: "Thou art
always suspecting; but thou shalt produce no effect, but be further from
my heart." He then is so ungentlemanly as to threaten her with corporal
punishment. The gods murmur; but Vulcan interposes as a peacemaker,
saying, "There will be no enjoyment in our delightful banquet if you twain
thus contend." Then he arose and placed the double cup in her hands and
said, "Be patient, my mother, lest I again behold thee beaten, and cannot
help thee."

He here refers to a time when Jupiter hung his wife up in mid-heaven with
anvils tied to her heels; and when Vulcan untied them he was pitched from
Olympus down into the island of Lemnos, whence came his lameness. A rude
and brutal head of a household was the poetic Zeus.

No doubt other and much more sublime views of the gods are to be found in
Homer. Thus (Il. XV. 80) he compares the motion of Juno to the rapid
thought of a traveller, who, having visited many countries, says, "I was
here," "I was there." Such also is the description (Il. XIII. 17) of
Neptune descending from the top of Samothrace, with the hills and forests
trembling beneath his immortal feet. Infinite power, infinite faculty, the
gods of Homer possessed; but these were only human faculty and power
pushed to the utmost. Nothing is more beautiful than the description of
the sleep of Jupiter and Juno, "imparadised in each other's arms" (Il.
XIV. 350), while the divine earth produced beneath them a bed of flowers,
softly lifting them from the ground. But the picture is eminently human;
quite as much so as that which Milton has imitated from it.

After Homer and Hesiod, among the Greek poets, come the lyrists. Callinus,
the Ephesian, made a religion of patriotism. Tyrtaeus (B.C. 660), somewhat
later, of Sparta, was devoted to the same theme. Pindar, the Theban, began
his career (B.C. 494) in the time of the conquests of Darius, and composed
one of his Pythian odes in the year of the battle of Marathon. He taught a
divine retribution on good and evil; taught that "the bitterest end awaits
the pleasure that is contrary to right,"[231] taught moderation, and that
"a man should always keep in view the bounds and limits of things."[232]
He declared that "Law was the ruler of gods and men." Moreover, he
proclaimed that gods and men were of one family, and though the gods were
far higher, yet that something divine was in all men.[233] And in a
famous fragment (quoted by Bunsen[234]) he calls mankind the majestic
offspring of earth; mankind, "a gentle race, beloved of heaven."

The tragic poet, Aeschylus, is a figure like that of Michael Angelo in
Italian art, grand, sombre, and possessed by his ideas. The one which
rules him and runs darkly through all his tragedies is the supreme power
of Nemesis, the terrible destiny which is behind and above gods and men.
The favorite theme of Greek tragedy is the conflict of fate and freedom,
of the inflexible laws of nature with the passionate longings of man, of
"the emergency of the case with the despotism of the rule." This conflict
appears most vividly in the story of Prometheus, or Forethought; he,
"whose godlike crime was to be kind"; he who resisted the torments and
terrors of Zeus, relying on his own fierce mind.[235] In this respect,
Prometheus in his suffering is like Job in his sufferings. Each refuses to
say he is wrong, merely to pacify God, when he does not see that he is
wrong. As Prometheus maintains his inflexible purpose, so Job holds fast
his integrity.

Sophocles is the most devout of the Greek tragedians, and reverence for
the gods is constantly enjoined in his tragedies. One striking passage is
where Antigone is asked if she had disobeyed the laws of the country, and
replies, "Yes; for they were not the laws of God. They did not proceed
from Justice, who dwells with the Immortals. Nor dared I, in obeying the
laws of mortal man, disobey those of the undying gods. For the gods live
from eternity, and their beginning no man knows. I know that I must die
for this offence, and I die willingly. I must have died at some time, and
a premature death I account a gain, as finishing a life filled with
sorrows."[236] This argument reminds us of the higher-law discussions of
the antislavery conflict, and the religious defiance of the fugitive
slave law by all honest men.

Euripides represents the reaction against the religious tragedy. His is
the anti-religious tragedy. It is a sneering defiance of the religious
sentiment, a direct teaching of pessimism. Bunsen ("God in History") goes
at length into the proof of this statement, showing that in Euripides the
theology of the poets encountered and submitted to the same sceptical
reaction which followed in philosophy the divine teachings of Plato.[237]
After this time Greek poetry ceased to be the organ of Greek religion. It
is true that we have subsequent outbreaks of devout song, as in the hymn
of Cleauthes, the stoic, who followed Zeno as teacher in the Porch (B.C.
260). Though this belongs rather to philosophy than to poetry, yet on
account of its truly monotheistic and also devout quality, I add a
translation here:[238]--

Greatest of the gods, God with many names, God ever-ruling and ruling all things!
Zeus, origin of nature, governing the universe by law,
All hail! For it is right for mortals to address thee;
Since we are thy offspring, and we alone of all
That live and creep on earth have the power of imitative speech.
Therefore will I praise thee, and hymn forever thy power.
Thee the wide heaven, which surrounds the earth, obeys;
Following where thou wilt, willingly obeying thy law.
Thou holdest at thy service, in thy mighty hands,
The two-edged, flaming, immortal thunderbolt,
Before whose flash all nature trembles.
Thou rulest in the common reason, which goes through all,
And appears mingled in all things, great or small,
Which, filling all nature, is king of all existences.
Nor without thee, O Deity, does anything happen in the world,
From the divine ethereal pole to the great ocean,
Except only the evil preferred by the senseless wicked.
But thou also art able to bring to order that which is chaotic,
Giving form to what is formless, and making the discordant friendly;
So reducing all variety to unity, and even making good out of evil.
Thus, through all nature is one great law,
Which only the wicked seek to disobey,--
Poor fools! who long for happiness,
But will not see nor hear the divine commands.

* * * * *

But do thou, O Zeus, all-bestower, cloud-compeller!
Ruler of thunder! guard men from sad error.
Father! dispel the clouds of the soul, and let us follow
The laws of thy great and just reign!
That we may be honored, let us honor thee again,
Chanting thy great deeds, as is proper for mortals.
For nothing can be better for gods or men
Than to adore with perpetual hymns the law common to all.

The result of our investigation thus far is, that beside all the
polytheistic and anthropomorphic tendencies of the old religion, there yet
lingered a faith in one supreme God, ruler of all things. This is the
general opinion of the best writers. For example, Welcker thus speaks of
the original substance of Greek religion:[239]--

"In the remotest period of Greek antiquity, we meet the words [Greek:
theos] and [Greek: daimon], and the names [Greek: Zeos] and [Greek:
Kronion]; anything older than which is not to be found in this
religion. Accordingly, the gods of these tribes were from the first
generally, if not universally, heavenly and spiritual beings. Zeus was
the immortal king of heaven, in opposition to everything visible and
temporal. This affords us a permanent background of universal ideas,
behind all special conceptions or local appellations. We recognize as
present in the beginnings of Greek history the highest mental
aspirations belonging to man. We can thus avoid the mistaken doubts
concerning this religion, which came from the influence of the
subsequent manifestations, going back to the deep root from which they
have sprung. The Divine Spirit has always been manifested in the
feelings even of the most uncultivated peoples. Afterwards, in trying
to bring this feeling into distinct consciousness, the various childish
conceptions and imperfect views of religious things arise."

Sec. 5. The Gods of the Artists.

The artists, following the poets, developed still further the divinely
human character of the gods. The architects of the temples gave, in their
pure and harmonious forms, the conception of religious beauty and majesty.
Standing in some open elevated position, their snowy surface bathed in
sunshine, they stood in serene strength, the types of a bright and joyful
religion. A superstitious worship seeks caves and darkness; the noble
majesty of the Greek temples said plainly that they belonged to a religion
of light and peace.

The sculptor worked originally in company with the architect. The statues
were meant to adorn the temples, the temples were made as frames and
pedestals for the statues. The marble forms stood and walked on the
pediments and gave life to the frieze. They animated the exterior, or sat,
calm and strong, in the central shrine.

The poets, in giving a moral and human character to the gods, never quite
forgot their origin as powers of nature. Jupiter Olympus is still the god
of the sky, the thunderer. Neptune is the ruler of the ocean, the
earth-shaker. Phoebus-Apollo is the sun-god. Artemis is the moonlight,
pure, chaste, and cold. But the sculptors finally leave behind these
reminiscences, and in their hands the deities become purely moral beings.
On the brow of Jupiter sits a majestic calm; he is no angry wielder of the
thunderbolt, but the gracious and powerful ruler of the three worlds. This
conception grew up gradually, until it was fully realized by Phidias in
his statues at Olympia and Elis. Tranquil power and victorious repose
appear even in the standing Jupiters, in which last the god appears as
more youthful and active.

The conception of Jupiter by Phidias was a great advance on that of Homer.
He, to be sure, professed to take his idea from the famous passage of the
Iliad where Jove shakes his ambrosial curls and bends his awful brows;
and, nodding, shakes heaven and earth. That might be his text, but the
sermon which he preached was far higher than it. This was the great statue
of Jupiter, his masterpiece, made of ivory and gold for the temple at
Olympia, where the games were celebrated by the united Hellenic race.
These famous games, which occurred every fifth year, lasting five days,
calling together all Greece, were to this race what the Passover was to
the Jewish nation, sacred, venerable, blending divine worship and human
joy. These games were a chronology, a constitution, and a church to the
Pan-Hellenic race. All epochs were reckoned from them; as events occurring
in such or such an Olympiad. The first Olympiad was seven hundred and
seventy-six years before Christ; and a large part of our present knowledge
of ancient chronology depends on these festivals. They bound Greece
together as by a constitution; no persons unless of genuine Hellenic blood
being allowed to contend at them, and a truce being proclaimed for all
Greece while they lasted.

Here at Olympia, while the games continued, all Greece came together; the
poets and historians declaimed their compositions to the grand audience;
opinions were interchanged, knowledge communicated, and the national
life received both stimulus and unity.

And here, over all, presided the great Jupiter of Phidias, within a Doric
temple, sixty-eight feet high, ninety-five wide, and two hundred and
thirty long, covered with sculptures of Pentelic marble. The god was
seated on his throne, made of gold, ebony, and ivory, studded with
precious stones. He was so colossal that, though seated, his head nearly
reached the roof, and it seemed as if he would bear it away if he rose.
There sat the monarch, his head, neck, breast, and arms in massive
proportions; the lower part of the body veiled in a flowing mantle;
bearing in his right hand a statue of Victory, in his left a sceptre with
his eagle on the top; the Hours, the Seasons, and the Graces around him;
his feet on the mysterious Sphinx; and on his face that marvellous
expression of blended majesty and sweetness, which we know not only by the
accounts of eyewitnesses, but by the numerous imitations and copies in
marble which have come down to us. One cannot fail to see, even in these
copies, a wonderful expression of power, wisdom, and goodness. The head,
with leonine locks of hair and thickly rolling beard, expresses power, the
broad brow and fixed gaze of the eyes, wisdom; while the sweet smile of
the lips indicates goodness. The throne was of cedar, ornamented with
gold, ivory, ebony, and precious stones. The sceptre was composed of
every kind of metal. The statue was forty feet high, on a pedestal of
twelve feet. To die without having seen this statue was regarded by the
Greeks as almost as great a calamity as not to have been initiated into
the mysteries.[240]