In the Grip of the Past: Essay on an Aspect of Greek Thought [Reprint ed.] 9789004331877, 9789004320185

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IN THE GRIP OF THE PAST

PHILOSOPHIA ANTIQUA A SERIES OF MONOGRAPHS ON ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY EDITED BY

W.

J. VERDENIUS

AND].

H. WASZINK

VOLUME VI

B. A. VAN GRONINGEN IN THE GRIP

OF THE PAST

LEIDEN

E.

J. BRILL 1953

IN THE GRIP OF THE PAST ESSAY ON AN ASPECT OF GREEK THOUGHT BY

B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, D. LITT., Pa. D. Professor of Ancient Gree/: in the Univerlity of uiden

LEIDEN

E.

J. BRILL 1953

Copyright 1953 by E. f. Brill, Leiden, Netherlands All rights reserved, including the right to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form

Printed in the Netherlands

UXORI MEAE

CONTENTS Preface . . . . . . I-Introduction II-Language

IX I

13

III-History .

24

IV-Narrative

35

V-Genealogy VI-Philosophy VII-Religion VIII-Two Conceptions of the Past IX-Counterargument: the Future . X-Conclusion Index . . . . . .

47

62 82 93 109 I2I I25

PREFACE To call this book an Essay is neither a sign of true or false modesty, nor an excuse for its deficiencies. It simply states a fact. It is impossible to grasp even a single aspect of Greek thought by the purely external, intellectual methods of exhaustive analysis and systematic synthesis. The comprehension of a phenomenon of human spiritual life is always based on something more essential and more personal. The daily contact, through many years of reading and studying; with a highly gifted nation as the ancient Greeks were, establishes a kind of personal relation as with a group of friends. It may happen from time to time that of a sudden an aspect of their personality vividly impresses itself on one's mind, as a question and an answer at the same time. Psychologically speaking, the central idea then seems primary and "older", as the Greeks would have said, than the arguments which afterwards and almost spontaneously group themselves round that idea. In fact, these arguments are the impressions and statements which unconsciously formed the central idea during the previous period of incubation. But, as soon as the whole is condensed in the form of a book, the value of the thesis depends on the arguments and these become the decisive element. The traces, however, of the genesis will remain visible. It would have been possible to continue reading and studying for more than a lifetime, in order to accumulate more arguments and more examples. But even then nobody would have succeeded in reading everything that might be serviceable. So I chose what seemed necessary or interesting in the material which I had gathered. After all, an essay should never be long. What cannot be made likely in one hundred pages will hardly be proved in one thousand. So both the nature of the subject and the shortcomings and predilections of the author have been decisive for compass and character of this book. I shall, of course, be pleased if the competent reader shares my point of view. But to our knowledge of ancient Greece it is still more important if he knows or discovers a better interpretation of the evidence.

X

PREFACE

Prof. J. A. 0. Larsen of the University of Chicago has been so kind as to read the whole manuscript and to propose many corrections. For this help I am deeply grateful, but is goes with­ out saying that I bear the whole responsibility for contents and form. Leiden, December 1952.

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTION TLµ.lWTIXTOV yixp TO 7tp£0'~\ITIXTOV.

Aristotle, Metaph. A 3, 983 b 32

The structure of the human mind is such that all its experiences, the sensory ones as well as the purely psychic, are tied down to time. There are still some things which are independent from all realization of space: an idea, an emotion, consciousness itself; but no thing of which we become aware is situated outside time. We become conscious even of the most abstract concept at a certain moment; it remains present to our mind for a certain period, however short it may be, and then fades away. Every function of our psyche is a process. Even to the superficial observer time presents itself as a sequence of three parts: the past which is no more, the present which is, and the future which is not yet. A sharper analysis will say: the past is the portion of time in which we find the former realities which are no longer subject to any modification 1); it grows continually because it adds to its stores every following present; it is no longer an object of direct perception or experience, but it may return to our mind in the shape of reminiscence. The future is the part of time which does not yet exist, but we take it as a matter of course that it will do so; nevertheless this is only an inference; in fact the future is an object of expectation and conjecture. The present distinguishes itself from both the past and the future because it does not possess any extension; it is the point of contact between the two other domains, the point where the future becomes real, but, at exactly the same moment, is added to the past. In actual practice we always include in it a little of the very near future and especially a limited range of the most recent past, for we exist in the present, our active and passive life pulsates there, and our experience is too palpable, compact, and 1) Cf. Agathon fr. 5 N. M6vovyixp IXUTOU XIXL6e:ot;anp(axe:TIXL ! cxy£V'l]TIX 7t0LELV IJ.aa' iiv '1i7te:7tpetyµ.cvix.

Van Groninien, In the Grip of the Pa!lt

2

CHAPTER ONE

concrete to be shut up in the prison of an abstract point of time. Yet the paradox remains that not the two extensions of time, but the non-dimensional translation between the two holds the richness of our existence. To the psychologists belongs the task of studying this paradox, which is, after all, the problem of human consciousness. Philosophers of all periods have been engrossed with the riddle of time. Nowadays it stands again in the center of their interest. The wise men of ancient Greece also grappled with the problem and several of their theories still deserve consideration 1). The notions of :x_p6vot;, xoc~p6t;,and octwvare important for more than one aspect of Greek thought 3). But this does not fall under our subject. Our problem is different. For every person the past, the present and the future are very closely linked up with his whole psychic life. This life may, in theory, be considered apart from time, but, in practice, cannot be separated from it. Human consciousness is always occupied with reminiscences, present observation or reflexion, and expectations 3 ). If man wants to live, he must be attuned to each of the three. Yet it is highly probable that different people will react differently. 1) See Ad. Levi, Il concetto dello tempo nella filosofia greca fino a Platone (Riv. neo-scolastica, Milano 1919); J. F. Callahan, Four Views of Time in Ancient Philosophy (Cambridge-Mass. 1948). 1) On xp6vo; see H. Fraenkel, Die Zeitauffassung in der archaischen griechischen Literatur (IV. Kongress fiir Aesthetik und allgem. Kunstwissenschaft; Zeitschr. f. Aesth. und allgem. Kunstwissenschaft XXV, Beilageheft; Stuttgart 1931; p. 97-117). On xot,p6; D. Levi, Il xotip6; nella letteratura greca (Rendiconti Reale Accad. dei Lincei 1923 p. 260 f.); P. Philippson, Die Zeitart des Mythos (Basel 1944) p. 23 interprets xotip6; as "die Entbindung einer Seinsfiille in einem an sich zeitlosen, fruchtbaren Augenblick" (cf. note 4 on p. 24: "Fiille des Seins im dauerlosen Moment"). It is, I think, essential to see that xotip6; always denotes a moment considered in relation to another thing; it is never abstract, always concrete. When xot,p6; is put into relation with man, it always indicates the point at which this person expressly inserts himself or is inserted into the xp6vo,. Kotip6; has no value except as a present moment, a "now". For otlwv see A. J. Festugiece, Le sens philosophique du mot otlwv (La Parola del Passato XI p. 172 f.). The alluring interpretations of xp6vo;, xot,p6; en !i.lwv given by R. B. Onians in his enlightening book The Origins of European thought about the Body, the Mind, the Soul, the World, Time, and Fate (Cambridge 1951) pp. 451 n. 1, 343 ff., 200 ff., are of no importance to us here, since they refer to the more or less unconscious background of the normal Greek conceptions. 8 ) In this way it is possible, as E. Cassirer does (Mythischer, aesthetischer und theoretischer Raum, IV. Kongress etc. as inn. 2, p. 21-36), to consider the past, the present and the future as three forms of the present.

INTRODUCTION

3

One person unsuspectingly gives all his attention to the direct present and tries to adapt himself to it with all its delights or sorrows. Another prefers to concentrate on the things which are expected to happen; as a man of the future he is wrapped up in expectations, hope and fear; to him the present, even in its broadest aspect, is above all an approach, a prelude to coming events. There is still a third attitude, the one of the man who is strongly tied down to the past, who finds there the real values of Jife and who sees the present mainly as a result of that past; recollections and experience are more to him than expectations, he draws his vital energy from the past, borrows his convictions from it, and finds his bearings there. What we said just now of the individual may mutatis mutandis also be applied to a community. This thesis is assumed here without any further argument. A nation too is involved in the past, the present and the future, as weJl for its material as for its spiritual life; a nation too possesses, besides its momentary experiences, its collective reminiscences and expectations. Here too the orientation can be threefold. It is the purpose of this book to demonstrate that the ancient Greeks belonged to the third type, that they really lived "in the grip of the past". Naturally this does not mean that they did not attach any value to the present and the future. But it does mean that the past, relatively speaking, meant much more to them. By way of preamble we shall mention some things which can precede the more systematical treatment in the following chapters. I shall partly revert to them there. We can hardly mention a nation which does not consciously, and sometimes intentionally, cling to its past. The Greeks certainly did so and they did it vigourously. Their whole territory swarmed with memorials and monuments, with or without inscriptions, which recalled a person, an event or an achievement. This is the more striking, because in Greece absolute monarchs who, as a rule, have a weakness for monuments out of personal ambition, were rare. With eagerness a Greek told the true or fictitious story attached to them to the interested passer-by. In this way a bridge was built between the present and the past years or centuries. We may assume that the narrator, either from self-complacency, from local or national pride, or from mere joy in relating well-known facts,

4

CHAPTER

ONE

produced the story again and again. To take pleasure in such facts, to feel agreeably at home with old, familiar things, with the deeds and traditions of the past, was normal in Greece. In literature 1): the Homeric epic is founded stylistically for a considerable part on the charm of the frequently recurring epithet and expression, the cliche verse. The proems make immediately clear what part of the cyclic material the poet is going to produce; there is no need of mentioning or introducing either the essential facts or the important persons; the listener knows after the first words what subject will be treated, and he expects variation rather than creation. Tragedy follows the same course: apart from a very few striking exceptions, it confines itself, when choosing its subject, to the fixed mythical heroic material and goes to ruin aesthetically when the ability to vary the themes disappears. The different styles keep their fixed characteristics of language, meter, motifs and sentiment. There are, of course, differences between Homer, Apollonius and Nonnus, but the element of imitation remains evident; there is nothing essentially new, although there is renovation, and new wine is always put into old vessels. Now and again an individual or a small group try to raise the ban. Archilochus is nothing but his own strong and passionate self. In the didactic genre Xenophanes intentionally takes a new road and no predecessor escapes the scorn of Heraclitus. Later, Callimachus is an innovator in many fields, but his new forms soon become traditional examples to be followed closely. Lyric poetry is frequently individual, but elegy remains-at least in its language, and, as far as Callinus and Tyrtaeus are concerned, also in many ideas-strongly bound to the epic. The choral lyric, which never forgot to Doricize, indulges in the traditional myths: when Pindar wants to consider an event of the day, a victory in the games for instance, sub specie aeternitatis, he does so sub specie mythi, i.e. temporis praeteriti. Generally speaking, periods of decline and weakening of a nation's mental energy accentuate the peculiarities of the collective psyche. When therefore the golden age of Greek literature is at an end, the grip of the past grows still stronger and the traditional example becomes the sheet-anchor on which everybody relies. 1) The following facts are so well known that references are not necessary. But I may refer to F. R. Earp, The Way of the Greeks, Oxford 1929, p. 1-9.

INTRODUCTION

5

Atticism domineers over prose: one wishes to be a new Thucydides, another Lysias, a second Xenophon. People tie themselves on purpose to the past, which is considered without further debate as the better times. Imitation, return to the past, restoration of things ancient is the accepted rule. It is as if a fear of forgetting and of omitting grips most educated persons; they compile corpora, anthologies, dossiers, collections of literary and scientific data. It would be interesting to consider the whole Greek literature from this point of view. But it is not necessary, I presume, to insist on it here. A few words may also suffice for the plastic arts. Architecture has its definite styles as literature its genres. When once art has reached the height of the classical period in an extremely rapid rise, it swerves relatively little from the beaten path; the road winds smoothly, and does not make sharp turns. Here too the Greek limits himself in principle to a variation of the existing norms. Again and again we meet a certain fear of breaking with the acknowledged forms. In philosophy the same tendency is present. Even great innovators, such as Socrates and Plato, do not give up the connection with the past or with their predecessors. Up to very late in life Plato put his own views by preference in the mouth of his master. The Greek did not like anything totally new; real revolutions were exceedingly rare in his public as well as in his cultural life. His first inclination is to accept the past, not to reject it. He starts by being a pupil and a disciple. Everybody knows how strong the cohesion was within the schools and how close the relation between pupil and teacher in all professions and sciences. We conclude this from what we know about the schools of rhapsodes and the Hippocratic school; the oath in vogue in the latter pays special attention to the mutual obligations of master and disciple. We can see it also in the philosophical groupings and, up to late centuries, in the apprentice-contracts on papyrus which bring us into contact with direct practical life. This respect of the pupil for his teacher is a special form of the general respect of the younger for his seniors. In his Clouds Aristophanes shows clearly how strongly this reverence has been instilled into the heart and conscience of the Athenian population, and in Sparta it was considered as one of the essential virtues. Homer

6

CHAPTER ONE

insists again and again 1) that according to his heroes-which is another way of saying: according to his own opinion and that of his auditors-the ancestors were better and stronger than the living race; only rarely do sons equal their fathers and, generally speaking, the development of humanity does not show an ascending line. It goes without saying that this is not the only view. The image of a primitive state of earthborn people who lived on acorns and who had still to acquire all the boons of civilization, is to be traced here and there. Aeschylus shows in his Prometheus the sad fate of a humanity which still lacked the benefits bestowed by the demigod, in comparison to the great progress which we owe to his intervention 2). In stating this, he is obvious thinking about Hesiod who, in his Theogony 3 ) as well as in his Works and Days'), alludes to the gift of fire which Prometheus offered to mankind against Zeus' will. But Hesiod likewise, still with more conviction, proclaims the opposite conception; not so much because he tells even in his myth of Prometheus that mankind "lived free from evil and grievous toil and painful malady" 6), but because he illustrates immediately afterwards in the myth of the five human generations how mankind degenerated from one period to another, and expresses the fear that it will continue to do so 6). As soon as one's own existence in one's own world does not give satisfaction, one is inclined, out of nostalgia for better things, to indulge in fancies and to invent another world and another life. These are always thought of as remote in time or place. They are located on the extreme border of the inhabited world, or even outside it, across the Ocean 7); but more commonly in another age. In the latter case, one has the choice between the past and the future. The Greek always placed them pypreference in the past 8 ). A 260 v., E 302, M 380, 447, 6 223 etc. Vs. 447 f. The author of the treatise De vetere medicina (Hippocrates ?) also makes the history of mankind start at a very primitive level, see 3, 20 ff. 8 ) Vs. 561 f. ') Vs. 47 f. 1 ) Works and Days 90 f. 1 ) Ibid. 106 f. 7) See my Heimwee en Fantasie, Amsterdam 1947, passim. 8 ) This tendency seems to be quite alive in modern Greece; at all events the poet Palamas, writing the "Twelve Songs of the Gipsy" (1907) and "The Flute of the Emperor" (1910), situates his visions of a happy world in the past, whereas e.g. the Dutch poets '('The Feast of Remembrance" by H. Roland Holst, or "Pan" by H. Gorter) put them in the future. See G. H. Blanken, Vier Dichters (Centaur 1946, p. 673). 1)

1)

INTRODUCTION

7

His longing is a longing back. Plato assures us that the Ancients were better than we ourselves and lived in closer communion with the gods 1). Isocrates places everything which he thinks desirable in the past; the Athens of former days was exemplary; only imitation of the forefathers can bring real prosperity; as with Homer "the strength of Heracles" is a natural paraphrase of the simple name, so with him "the excellency of the fathers" becomes a synonym of the fathers themselves 2). Now we can argue that his contemplative and indolent nature could only too readily make him a laudator temporis acti; but also the active and matter-offact Demosthenes extols the ancestors 3 ). In addresses of generals and elsewhere the recollection of the praiseworthy example of former generations is a regularly recurring common-place '). Pericles' funeral oration, as composed by Thucydides, begins with the ancestors; "it is only just, says he, and it is quite in harmony with the present occasion, that a tribute of honourable remembrance should be offered to them" 6). It is evident that, in doing so, he observes the rules of the genre 8 ). The poet Choerilus too sees his world, that is the world of poetry, as degenerated and on the decline. In former days, yea, then it was different; "blessed was every servant of the Muses expert in songs in those times when the meadow was still undefiled" 7 ). The older one's knowledge, the more it redounds to one's credit. In Plato's Timaeus the pride of the Egyptian is depicted who, when Solon boasts of the age of Greek traditions, answers with a smile: "You Greeks are always children - - - your souls are young, 1) Philebus 16 C: o! µev 1toti..cXLo!, xpe:!-r-rove:c; ~µii'>vxotl ~'t'&pw lle:wvotxoiivnc;. Socrates is speaking. •) See IV, VII, VIII, XV passim. MLµe:iallotL, ~lJAoiiv,v1tpoy6vwv «PE't'll, see XII 5, XV 76. On autochthony see VIII 49; for Arcadia Xenophon, Hell. VII 1, 23. a) See XXIV 211. ') E.g. !!,. 370 f., E 800 f., 0 229 f.; Aesch. Pet's. 402 f.; Herod. VII 53, 1; Thuc. VII 69, 2. 5 ) II 35 f. Especially 36, 1 : "Ap~oµotL3t ii1to 't'WV 1tpoy6vwv7tp00't'OV • 3!xotLOV

ycxpIXO't'oi:c; xotl 7tp&7tOV BE&µot~ T't'OLBe: njv TLµ~v't'IXU't'ljc; njc; µv~µljc; 3!3oa6otL. I 123, 1 and IV 92, 3 1tciTpLovmeans "brave". 8 ) See K. Jost, Das Beispiel und Vorbild der Vorfahren bei den attischen

Rednem und Geschichtschreibem bis Demosthenes (Rhet. Stud. ed. E. Drerup XIX, Paderbom 1936). 7 ) Fr. 1 K 1-2. TA µcixotp lSMLc; friv xe:i:vovxp6vov t3pLc; iioL3'ijc;J Mouaciwv 61pci1twv,V.

8

CHAPTER ONE

for in them you do not possess any opinion resting on old tradition, nor any knowledge which is grey for age" 1). The past fixed the rules. One could read in one of the works of Hesiod that "howsoever the city does sacrifice, the ancient custom is the best" 2). For the ancient is the best, and especially the most ancient, the beginning. Plutarch expresses it quite to the point: "in everything the beginning is the most important", says he, and we may consider this as a general truth, although he is thinking specifically about the foundation of a city 3). The beginning is decisive; the beginning is "great": "Aye, great was the time that started the sorrows", Sophocles makes the chorus sing in the Ajax'). Aristotle considers this idea from a more general and philosophical point of view when he states that "antiquity appears to be a near approach to what is by nature" 6); this implies that the old is more akin to the essential than the recent, at least seems to be so according to the general conception. And "opinion" is in wide domains of life of more consequencet han "reliable knowledge or science". The thought recurs to him when he is speaking about music: "For at present most people take part in it for the sake of pleasure, but those who originally included it in education did so because - - - nature itself seeks to be able not only to engage rightly on business, but also to occupy noble leisure; for - - - this (leisure) is the first principle of all things" 6 ). 22 B; cf. Taylor's note p .. 52 f. Fr. 221 R. KotlTov 'Halo3ov ouv e:lK6Troc; TOVTwv a.pxixtrov6uaLwvv6µov l:1totLvoiivTote:lm:!v• ≤Ke:1t6ALc; pe~7laL,v6µoc;3' a.pxixroc;&pLaToc;. Isocrates A ntid. 82 says that now speeches as well as laws have become quite numerous, and thus 't'WVµev v6µrov l:1totLve:!a61XL 't'O\lc;CXp)(IXLO't'IX't'OUc;, 't'WV3e: Myrov 't'O\lc;KIXLVO't'IX't'Ouc;. In the latter part of this sentence, the vain rhetor himself is speaking, in the former the general opinion is expressed. 3 ) De fort. Rom. 8, 321 A. Cf. Antiphon Soph. fr. 60: li't'ixvyiip TLc;1tpiiyµixToc;K!v O't'OUOUV T7lVcxpx~vop6wc;TCOL~a7l't'IXL, e:lKoc; KotlT7lV't'e:MUT7lV op6wc; ytyve:a6otL. ') Vs. 934 µeya:c;&p' '1jvl:Ke:!voc; &pxrovxp6voc;'lt"ljµiiTrov.Jebb's interpretation (p. 143) is slightly different. He writes "was potent in the beginning = atpo3pc7ic; '1)pxe:;the use of µeya:c; being analogous to that of 1to).uc;in such phrases as 1t0Auc;'1jvALaa6µe:voc;".I rather agree with Radermacher's note (p. 137): "&pxrovist hier wortlich der 'Beginner' ". 6 ) Rhet. II 9, 9 p. 1387 a 16; the special connexion into which the adage is put there, does not affect our argument. 8 ) Polit. V 3, p. 1337 b 28 (cf. 1338 a 34): vuv µe:v ya.p c!>c; ~3ov~c; )(IXpLvol 7'1:Ae:La't'OL µe:TE)(OUaLv a:u~c; • ol 3' l:~ a.px~c; l:v 7totL3e:(~ 3La. 't'O T7lVq>U aLVIXUT7lV ~7l't'e:!v- - µ~ µ6vov CXa)(OAe:!v op6wc;IDa. xixl a)(OAIX~e:Lv 3uvixa6otL KotAWc; • IXUT7l ya.p (~ axo).~ scil.) a.px~ l'tlXV't'rov (i.e. of music, grammar, gymnastics, a rt). 1)

1)

INTRODUCTION

9

Aristotle does not stand alone. The same idea underlies Democritus' opinion concerning music, though he does not speak about "nature", but about "necessity" 1). The truly valuable things in life are never seen as recent inventions. Even Lucian makes his mouthpiece Lycinus reproach Crato that the latter considers the art of dancing as recent: "first you seem to ignore that the practice of dancing is not new and did not start yesterday or the day before yesterday, say in the time of our grandparents or our greatgrandparents; no, those who determine with precision the history of dancing, could say to you that it came to being at the same time as the universe itself" 2), in this way alluding to the circular movement of the stars. People gladly corroborate their opinions with the authority of the furthest or at any rate of a far past. The most conclusive argument to a thesis is its traditional value. Below we shall still go deeper into this subject. There is also the wish to represent one's own nation as very old. In Greece this means as a rule going back to heroic and mythical times, a matter to be discussed further on. In addition there is the tendency to consider autochthony as a special claim to honour, e.g. in Athens or Arcadia 3). When Herodotus tells us that the Scythians consider themselves as the youngest people in the world (and in doing so is not free from some ironic scoffing) he expects at any rate that his Greek reader will be astonished at such a queer idea'). The political history of Hellenism shows in a surprising way this love of the past, even when the general situation has fundamentally changed. The autonomy of the polis has become once for all, after the rise of the Macedonian dynasty, a mere fiction and remnant 1) Fr. 144 D. d7)µ6xpL-ro;- - µouaLx~vq>'l)O'L ve:ro-repixv e:!vixL xixt niv ix!-rlixv&n:o3l3roaL).eyrov µl) &n:oxp!vixL -r&vixyxix!ov ("that not necessity did distinctly form it"), &Uix ix 't'ou n:e:pLe:uvTo; ~37) ye:vfo6ixL.It is clear that To n:e:pLe:6v belongs

to the later development of things, not to their original, essential nature. 1 ) De salt. 7: )(IXL n:pcii't'6vye:ixe!vo mxvu~yvO'l)KEVIXL µoL3oxe:!;, w;OUve:wnpov

't'O nj; opx~ae:c.i; in:L~3euµix 'TOU't'6 iO"TLV, ou3e x6c; ou3e n:p.C..ot1i; ooaoi:1tiiaLV. As to the political situation see Thuc. VIII 92, Blass, Attische Beredsamkeit 1 I 250, Wilamowitz, Platon 1) 1)

I

210.

8 ) Theog. 66: the Muses µe>.1tovT1XL 1tixvTwvTe:v6µoui; xotl ~!le:otxe:3va.. The passage is often considered as spurious. ') Vs. 290: lJYCOVTIXL a· ~Tp1X7tCAOLaL v6µ01i;. Ii) See Ehrenberg o.c. p. 114 f. 8 ) See Ehrenberg o.c. p. u8-9: "Das Gesetzte ist zur Sitte geworden"; cf. p. 123 concerning the religious value of !le:aµo( in later times, which expresses another tum of mind. 7) See ibid. p. 120, where Pindar's ideas are treated: "N6µoi; (ist) - - Ordnung, die aus alter Sitte stammt". 8) Antiphon V 14 = VI 2, V 48; fr. 78 Th., always speaking of laws concerning murder. 1 ) Antiphon I 3: 1toi:pix Twv !le:wvxotl Twv 1tpoy6vwv31ot3e:l;a.µe:vo1. 10) See Hirzel o.c. p. 369 f. 11) III So, 5.

I2

CHAPTER ONE

by the passage of time" 1). The Greek does not conceive the law as a thing which in the first and foremost place points to the future as a mandate or a line of conduct, but to the past as a custom established by time 2). If he wants to speak about honouring the gods, it is very striking that besides the normal words (as ae~e:a0ocL and 6e:poc1te:ue:Lv) he uses also the verb voµ(~e:Lvdrawn from v6µoc;. Is there, in fact, a greater honour imaginable than the "usuaJ" honour rendered to the "traditional" 3 ) deities? ') In this essential. and dangerous domain there is no more reliable directive than tradition; this is to be preferred largely to individual or new insight. This basic value of the past is more than once enuntiated in a completely incidental way, and precisely the unpremeditated character of such statements enhances their importance. When Paris has declared that he is willing to give back the treasures, but not the woman, king Priam advises his soldiers: "Take now your evening-meal in the town". When he adds: "as you did formerly", his thought is hovering between "as you used to do" and "as you ought to do" 6). It is once again the past which fixes the rules for all the goings out and comings in. 1) Polit. V p. 1269 a 20: o ydtp v6µot; !crxuv ou8e:µ£0tv!xtt l't'pot;TO l't'e:£6e:a60tL 7t'1Xpot TO!!lot;, TOUTO a· OUy£ve:TIXL e:!µYj8Lotl(p6vou 7t'Aij6ot;.

•) Aristotle's statement is drawn from a context exposing that numerous changes affect the value of legislation. At the same time it would be foolish to avoid any change and to keep intact regulations set down by the first men, e:he: Y'1)ye:ve:!t; 7jcr0tve:tT' ex qi6opiit; TLVOt; eaw671a0tv.In the same way one should also interpret his statement: ,7JTouaL8' /5).wi; ou To mx-rpLovcillot Tciy0t6ov l't'ixv-re:t;(p. 1269 a 3); this is not in contradiction with our argument, but approaches the matter from a different side. 8 ) O! l't'0tp0t8e:8oµevoL 6e:o£,Dinarchus I 94. ') Euripides Bacch. 201 f. 7t'IXTp£out; 7t'1XplX8oxixi;, &t; a· oµ~ALK!Xt; l(p6vI xexT7Jµe:6', ou8e:lt; IXUTot KIXTIX~OtAe:i A6yot;. The poet probably drew the argumentation from the writings of Diogenes of Apollonia, whose theories are repeated, as it seems, by Socrates in Xenophon's Memorabilia I 4, 16 (cf. W. Theiler, Zur Geschichte der teleologischen Naturbetrachtung bis au£ Aristoteles, Zurich 1925 p. 18 f.). Once again, tradition is considered as more reliable and true than personal, momentary insight. 5 ) H 370: vuv µtv 86p7t'ovf).e:a6e:KIXTot 7t'T6ALv wt; TOl't'ixpot;l't'e:p.

CHAPTER TWO

LANGUAGE Toii-romxvuJµou. ') OZ. XI 5 v.

16

CHAPTER TWO

"I shall at all events (cipx.~v) see to it that she will never know" 1). In Demosthenes: "At any rate (niv cipx.~v)he was free not to accuse" 2). It occurs very often with the negation, meaning "absolutely not, in no case, never". We find in Herodotus: "Trees in this country do not even (ou8ecipx.~v)essay to grow" 3). It is not otherwise with related expressions. 'E~ cipx.~;,e.g. in Herodotus: "my history was e:~cipx.~;(i.e. from the beginning, in its fundamental design, in virtue of its nature and being) bent on having digressions" '). In Plato: "All those to whom it befell e:~cipx.~;(i.e. once for all, as a lasting characteristic) to be sons of kings" 0 ), and: "forcoming-to-beise:~cipx.~; (i.e. anyway) difficult" 8). Ilpw't'cxor 't'CX 1tp&'t'cx: e.g. in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter 7 ): "Aidoneus obtained his position of honour as 't'oc1tp&'t'cx (i.e. once for all, definitively) the division was made", or in the Iliad 8) : "(This staff) which will nevermore bring forth leaves nor twigs since it 1tp&'t'cx (i.e. once for all) left its stem" 9). At the bottom of all these expressions lies this idea: things which happened or did not happen in a remote past, and especially at the beginning itself, are decisive for the whole and for ever. Inversely formulated: the Greek can make a general and fundamental statement by an expression with regard to the beginning of the matter in question. He need not have been consciously aware of this; such phrases are as a rule mere automatisms of the language. But they are not without value. On the contrary, they prove exactly how deep the conception is rooted in the psyche. For that reason it is not without meaning that, where we so easily use the word "absolutely"-which points literally to the accomplishmentthe Greeks think of the beginning. They speak also of "the begin-

I 9 1 : ixpx~v ydtp tyw !Lllxor.vljaoµcxL OU't'WClan X't'A. XXIII (In A1'istocr.) 93: ~v ixpx_~v ydtp i~ijv a.UT µ~ ypixcpm. 3 ) I 193 2 : 't'dtydtp a~ filer. 8ev8pe:a. ou8rl:1te:Lpii't'a.L apx_~vcpepe:Lv (a.G't"ll '1jXWP'lll· ') IV 30 1 : 1tpoa67jxa.i;; ydtp 8fi µoL O Myoi;; E~ apx_iji;;i8£~7l't'O. 1 ) Gorgias 492 B: oaoLt; E~ apx_iji;; umjp~e:v'q (3a.arUwvUEaLV e:Iva.L'q X't'A. 1) Epinomis 973 B: wi;; E~ apx_iji;; 't'O ye:vea6a.Lxw1t6v. 7) Vs. 85 f.: aµcpl arl:'t'L!LllV I r>J..a.xe:v wi;;'t'dt1tpw't'a.8L1X't'pLx_a. 8a.aµbi;;E't'UX,67l. 8 ) A 235 f.: 't'O µrl:voi.11tO't'E cpulla. xixl lS~oui;;I cpuae:LE1te:la~1tpW't'IX 't'Oµ~v EV lSpe:aaLAEAOL1te:. 8 ) See Cope's commentary on Arist. Rhet. I 2, 13 p. 1357 a 17 (p. 42): "1tpw't'ot; 'in its earliest, most elementary' or 'normal, typical form' "; he compares Polit. IV 4, 1291 a 17; VI 4, 1319 a 39, where 1tpwToi;;is a synonym IV 8, 1294 a 25, where it is equal to aAl)6Lvoi;;. of (3iAT1a-ro,;; 1)

1)

LANGUAGE

17

ning of a rope" 1), meaning what we call "the end of the rope" 2). The use of the word arche in this sense is nothing but a peculiar application of the general phenomenon which we observed also There the general with "not yet" and the verbal adjectives in --r6c:;. thesis was cast in a form which referred to the past, here in a form which bears upon the furthest and primary past, the beginning. So we may expect that the limits between these two will not be practically never means "belonging rigorously observed. 'Ap:x,0t'i:oc:; to the beginning", as when Herodotus says that the Sauromatae speak Scythian, but "with mistakes since the beginning (chto -rou &.p:x,0t(ou), seeing that the Amazons never learnt it properly" 3). The normal meaning is "old, from former days", especially "from mythical times" '). The things which we have observed up to now can also be formulized in a different way. The Greeks often refer to the past and, by doing so, they bind the matter in question to a chronological conception. But as soon as we inquire after the real meaning, it becomes obvious that the idea is not temporal but is used in a general sense. Hippocrates writes: "The art of medicine would never &.p:x,~v) have been discovered, nor would any medical at all ('t"Ylv research have been conducted-for there would have been no need for medicine-, if sick men had profited by the same - - - food - - - as men in health - - -. But in fact (vuv 8e) sheer necessity has caused men to seek and find medicine" 5). This interesting passage shows &.p:x,~v has again the meaning of "absolutein the first place that 't"YJV ly": the conception, although it is formally situated in the furthest past, is in fact beyond all restraint of time. But it indicates also that vuv here is no longer an adjunct of time; it does not point to the present in contrast with the past or the future, as it does in Herod. IV 60, 2: cip)(l)-roi.ia-rp6cpou. In the same way Plato Leg. 768 E says TlJVcip)(l)Vvi.ivn:AE:utjj1tpoacxljioc;, where we would say the contrary. This is the reason why Badham (in Mnemosyne X p. 324) considers the expression "singularis scribae error", because "contrarium solemus facere", and consequently he changes the text! When Alcmaeon (fr. B 3 D.) says of the cyclic movement of the stars: TlJVcip)(l)V-rij> not even Badham would have objected. -rEAEL 1tpoacxljior.L, 3 ) IV 117: O'OAOLX(~OVTE~ or.u-tjici1to-roi.icipxor.£ou, C7tEl06 XPlJaTW~lµ.or.6ov. ') So Isocrates III 26, IV 30, V 144, VI 42. 1 ) De vet. medic. 3: Tl)V ycxpcip)(l)V olh' !iv Eupi67JTE)(VlJ ~ !71-rpLXlJ olh' !iv C~lJ'"l67J - o63evycxpor.&nj~ ~EL - El-ro!cnxcxµ.voucn - - TCX or.6-rcx - - &7tEpol uyLor.(vovn:~ ea6£ouaL- - - ~UVEcpEpEV. - - Ni.iv 3i: at6Tl)~ civciyx71 !71-rpLXl)V e1to£7JO'EV ~7JT7J6ijvor.£ n: xor.lEl'.>pE6ijvor.L. 1)

1)

Van Groningen, In the Grip of the Past

2

18

CHAPTER TWO

countless other passages, but to reality as opposed to fiction

1).

Most modem languages and the classical languages as well, often render a timeless conception in a form essentially tied down to time, namely when the present tense of a verb does not place the act in the present, but expresses it as a timeless generality. So Solon uses the present tense when saying: "Fate brings to mankind good and evil and it is impossible to escape from the ordinances of the gods" 2). The peculiar phenomenon however is that the Greek expresses this same thought regularly with a historical tense, which normally refers to the past, the aorist of the indicative. This tense bears in augment and endings the indisputable characteristics of a past tense 3) and expresses the past countless times. Its verbal aspect is well-known: primarily it indicates the action without any subjective bythought of duration or completion. This negative aspect then changes into the so-called instantaneous one, sometimes specialised into the inchoative or terminative aspect, but the action always remains situated in the past. Two special cases occur, however. First, a sudden emotion, which is undoubtedly felt in the present, is expressed by the aorist. 'Errnveaot means: "right you are; hear! hear!" ~ 3'dtp1X V£X't'1Xp Uwxe: 7t1X't"l)p (10) - - - :x;ixlpe:L 3e n 1to't'VL1X Al)-roo (12 )". But in the light of the distinction explained above, the irregularity seems to disappear.

LANGUAGE

23

does not merely serve to communicate facts but also lends itself excellently for the expression of general certainties and lasting truths. Here the Greek awards a special pregnant significance to the past: he considers it decisive. Especially the furthest past, the beginning, possesses this value to a large extent.

CHAPTER THREE

HISTORY To;:c; µev ve:w't"epoic; TI)V'!"WV ye:y7JpcxK6't"WV 1te:pmme;;:cru11e:o-L11 (~ lcr't"op{cx), 't"OLc; 8e1tpe:cr~U't"€pmc; 7tOAACX7tACXO"LOC~e:L TIJVU7tOCPXOUO"CX\/ eµ1te:ip(cx11. Diodorus Siculus I 1, 5

Whoever wishes to trace a nation's attitude towards the past will ask himself first and foremost whether it places any value on history and, if so, in what form and with what intention. So we must state here how the Greeks, as historians, viewed their relation to the past 1). Everybody knows how they applied themselves with indefatigable avidity to history. It is apparent from the immense number of historians and historical writings known only by name and title 2). Here too the grip of the past is exceedingly strong, and collective memory occupies a considerable part in their mental life. 3) The word itself strikes the eye at once, for "history" (to-'t"op(a.) indicated originally any research, and branch of knowledge. But soon it became specialized. The Pythagoreans used it for geometry'). The knowledge of nature was indicated by it quite a long timeeven up to the present-but only with a further qualification, as m:pl 't"IX ~a. or cpu't"wvto-'t"op(a., naturalis historia 5). But without any such definition it soon began to be limited to the study of the past, to "history". Apparently the Greeks considered investigation of the past research par excellence. It is more important, however, to know how they performed this 1) See in general E. Rowald, Vom Geist antiker Geschichtsschreibung, Miinchen 1944. 2 ) The bulk of F. Jacoby's Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker is ample proof. 3 ) Include all the related words. See F. Muller, De Historiae vocabulo atque notione (Mnemosyne LIV 1926 p. 234 f.); K. Keuck, Historia, Geschichte des Wortes und seiner Bedeutung in der Antike und in den romanischen Sprachen, diss. Miinster 1934. ') See Iamblichus, Pyth. vita XVIII 89. 6 ) Aristotle De part. anim. III 14 p. 674 b 16; the titles of books by Theophrastus and Pliny the Elder.

HISTORY

25

research. Leaving the aesthetical form aside 1), we ascertain that there are three types, which we can illustrate in each case with one important representative; the lesser representatives join their betters of their own accord. Thucydides displays interest in the things which have happened in its purest form. With him this interest is a well-nigh unalloyed hunger after knowledge of that which really happened. To him the past is the object of a knowledge which must try to be as objective, matter of fact and exact as possible. How was it formerly in reality? How did everything, which I want to trace, actually come to pass 2) ? These are the questions which he wishes to answer and which he regards as particularly important. What he tries to discover in doing so is not only a number of outward facts, but also the forces which have determined and caused them, the relations and aspirations which form the background. But we may leave this aside. Impartiality and lack of prejudice are his most characteristic qualities. Above all, he does not intend making any further use of the knowledge acquired. As soon as he has presented it in a literary form, his task is done. With this point of view he remains unique in the Greek world of historians 3 ). This was only possible in a time when a youthful passion for knowledge and a desire of objectivity sharpened by the sophistic movement could meet in a strong personality. But just on account of the fact that he has been and has remained the most scientific of Greek historians, his importance for our research becomes less considerable, though he does represent a certain aspect of submission to the past. His predecessor, the Father of History, Herodotus, is of much more consequence. He has freed himself from myth and mythical speculations; supernatural wisdom is irrelevant to him'). His This was generally conceived as a natural demand. This remains true although he once states (I 22, 4 and cf. III 82, 2) that his work is useful, not only to those who wish to know what happened, but also to him who will TO aoupec,;axoneiv TWII µeU611TWIIXOTEixu6u; XIXT(XTOIXll1)

1)

6p&meLOII TOLO\ITWIIXIXL nixpixn),1]a(w11i!aea61XL. 8 ) So it is the more remarquable that Lucian de hist. conscrib. lays down the same law for real historiography. It is not unlikely that the peripatetic biography was an exception and closely followed the example of Thucydides, but it is not sufficiently known; D. R. Stuart (Epochs of Greek and Roman Biography 1928 p. 126 f.) thinks that it was of a "hortatory or monitory" character, but I have my doubts. ') See I 5, 3; VI 53.

CHAPTER THREE

curiosity is beyond dispute: "wonder is one of his characteristic words" (Glover) 1}. Nevertheless, he intends to give more than merely an account of "great and wonderful deeds" 2). He wishes to use the past as an explanation of the present, or at any rate of a later phase in the development. Generally speaking, the aetiological way of thinking is an early form of science and in later stages it naturally has remained active. We shall meet it again when discussing myth and philosophy. But apart from it, every striking event has, already in early times, and author (octT~oc;}. The Greek aroused the question of cause (octT£oc} mind asks sooner and more often: Whence ? Where from ? By whom ? eventually also: Since whom?, than: Whereto?, perhaps even sooner than: How? 3 ). So Hippocrates' book On Airs, Waters, Places is, especially in the second part (12-24), entirely founded on aetiology: the author is in search of causes for the differences between countries and nations 4}. The quickly flourishing historical science of Herodotus and those who follow his example is particularly rich in aetiological elements. Herodotus does not search for an exact knowledge of what happened once upon a time. The sterner science of today suspects him sometimes of adaptation, perhaps even of fiction, now from compositional motives, now from the desire to state a cause more explicitly. His whole work is a tissue of facts and their causes, not less in details than in the whole 6). Let us leave the details aside. The work as a whole speaks a plain language. One series of events has roused his interest: the wars which the little Greek nation waged against the Asiatic colossus and, strange to 1) T. R. Glover, Herodotus (The Sather Lectures III, Berkeley 1924) p. 26. 1) I pr. lpyoc µeyix).ixn KotL(l(l)µotcnix. 3 ) Cf. A 604: xixxou 3' &.pix ol ~e).ev cipx~- This tendency is nicely illustrated by the well-known story concerning the inhabitants of Apollonia in Epirus (Herod. IX 93). When great ill befell their country, they did not ask the Delphian prophets how they could remedy the disaster, but inquired what might be the cause (To oclTLov't'Ou ~ocpe6vToc; xixxou), and nothing more. So their first thought does go to the past, although they suffer today and will have to do something to-morrow. Cf. below p. 112 f. ') See H. Diller, Wanderarzt und Aitiologe, Leipzig 1934, especially p. 30 f., 40 f. 6 ) K. A. Pagel, Die Bedeutung des aitiologischen Momentes fiir Herodots Geschichtsschreibung, diss. Berlin 1927, gives numerous examples and sound theory.

HISTORY

27

say, successfully. He could not possibly know of any fact of equal importance. Here there was the clash of two nations and two parts of the world, which were essentially opposed to each other 1}, two nations with quite different ideals: the one with its all-powerful kingship could not tolerate that a little neighbour did not submit to its evident superiority; the other saw its most precious good, its liberty, threatened. Well then, this most important event aroused in Herodotus, apart from the desire to record it, certainly no less the wish to investigate its causes. Knowledge of these causes is decidedly necessary, if one is to understand what has happened in reality. He is perfectly consciom:of that aetiological design. As to this, the proem admits of no doubt: "What Herodotus the Halicarnassian has learnt by inquiry is here set forth. His aim is twofold: that the memory of the past may not be blotted out from among men by time, and that great and marvelous deeds done by Greeks and Barbarians may not lack renown. But he inquired especially into the cause of their strife". The all-absorbing fact of the Persian Wars clamours not only for an account, but also for an explanation. Herodotus does not leave us one moment in doubt where he is going to seek that explanation and where he is sure to find it. Does he ask for anthropological, political or economical forces and relations which revealed themselves in that war? Will he try in particular to elucidate the military strategic part ? Does he perhaps pay special attention to the consequences, as would have been the case with Thucydides, who, according to his own sayings, has followed the Peloponnesian War from the beginning because the great strength of both parties made the course and issue of all-absorbing interest ? It goes without saying that now and again all this is slightly touched upon. But on the title-leaf one thought supplants all the others: it is the inquiry after the cause, after the man who is to blame 2). In this way Herodotus is the type of historian who appeals to the past and exclusively to the past to explain the events which followed. He always says the Greek 3 )) to the past. This wants to lead back. (cx.vocqiepe:~v. is the second type of Greek historiography. Aeschylus stresses the idea in his Persae. I treated the subject more at length in my article "Over het ordenend verband in Herodotus' Historien" (in: Exuli, Amico Huizinga amici non historici, Haarlem 1948 p. 41 f.). 1) E.g. Isocrates Plat. 10: 6otuµii~6l 8t 1tpot;Tl TOOV j'l!:j'l!:V'1j(Ltv6lV &votVLotv 1te:1tOL7Jµevov 3tcxm:cpuxui:cxv avcxcpe:poua7Jo~ as primogenitor of all the clans, can be left aside here. They do not affect our argument. For a skillful discussion of the matter see H. Becker, In Defence of Morgan's "Grecian Gens": Ancient Kinship and Stratification (Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, 6, 1950, p. 309 ff.). 1 ) Pyth. V 75: q,oon~ Atyi.tBor.,, lµol 'lt"CX't"&pE~. 8 ) The technical term used by Herodotus VI 51 is 'lt"pea~uyevdlj. ') Their sons are the first Spartan kings, Agis and Eurypon.

GENEALOGY

53

about the wise man in the Theaetetus1). After a short indication of the latter's point of view toward glory, riches and praise, he adds the following detail: "And when they sing the praises of family, and say that someone is a gentleman because he has had seven generations of wealthy ancestors, he thinks that their sentiments only betray a dull and narrow vision in those who utter them, and who are not educated enough to look at the whole, nor to consider that every man has had thousands and thousands of progenitors, and among them have been rich and poor, kings and slaves, Hellenes and barbarians, many times over. And when people pride themselves on having a pedigree of twenty-five ancestors, which goes back to Heracles, the son of Amphitryon, he cannot understand their poverty of ideas". In the genos all sorts of things are inherited, riches, regard, power. The guestfriendship with other families is also inherited. These ties are so powerful that they prevail against the personal situation of the moment. The past is stronger than the present. As soon as Glaucus and Diomedes meet each other on the plain of Troy and perceive that their families are allied by such bonds, they offer each other the usual gifts and promise to avoid each other in battle 2). Every member has his obligations towards the genos; also in this sense noblesse oblige. The young Mantitheus explains his activity as a very youthful politician by saying that it is traditional in his family 3). The argument would not have been used, if it had not been valid, even in democratic Athens. The descendants may appeal to the ancestral merits even if they themselves have no active part in them. The daughter of Diagoras the Rhodian demands admittance to the Olympian games. It is refused because no woman has this right. Her answer is: "Indeed. But I differ from all other women; I surpass them because I lean upon the merits of my forefathers" '). 1) Theaet. 174 E f.: Ta: 3t 37J yev7JUfLVOUV't"c.>V, ooc;YEVVOCL6c; ·nc; i:n:Ta:mxn:n:ouc; 71:AOUV ijye:LTIXL TOV i!n:a.wov,un:o a.n:a.L3e:ua(a.c; OU 3uva.µ.tvc.>ve:lc;TO n:iiv a.e:l (3A&n:e:Lv ou3t )..oy(~e:a!la.L IITLn:a.n:n:wvxa.l n:poy6vwvµ.upLa.3e:c; ix«a-rye:y6va.aLva.va.p£6µ.7JTOL, ~ a.!c;n;)..ouaLOL xa.l 71:Tc.>J(OL xa.l (3a.aLA'ijc; xa.l 3ouAoL(3a.p(3a.po( Te:xa.l "Ell7jve:c;n:olla.xLc;µ.up(oLye:y6va.aLv i>TOUV • ID' !n:l n:evTe:xa.l e:fxoaLxa.Ta.A6y n:poy6vwv ae:µ.wvoµ.ivwvxa.l a.va.cpe:p6nwv e:lc;'Hpa.x)..'ija.Tov 'Aµ.cpLTpuwvoc; ilETon:a. a.u-rvor Ta. l>vTot,~ oua(oc,TO O'TOL)(&!ov or Ta. O'TOL)(&!ot; if need be, considering it in a finalist way, of To TeAoc;;1). Let us trace in a few words how they availed themselves of these possibilities. I. uaLc;; occurs regularly in the Ionian philosophers; it is not without reason that they have been called q:iuaLxo(since Antiquity. means "coming to be" We can leave aside the passages where q:iuaLc;; and is a synonym of yeve:aLc;;,or where the signification is not philosophical. In their writings, as far as they are preserved, and in ancient commentaries and doxographies the word has three meanings: a. "natural constitution"; e.g. Anaximander: "The q:iuaLc;; of the stars is fire" 2) ; Heraclitus distinguishes words and deeds xotTa. q:iuaLv,i.e. according to their constitution 3); sometimes this "nature" is represented as an active energy, in Parmenides: "It is the same thing which thinks (q:ipovee:L), namely the q:iuaLc;; of !'£Mot in men, all and individually" 41). In Empedocles "nature" is wholly 1) 1) 3) ')

The peripatetic TO u1toxe:(µ.evov may be neglected. A 14 D: m,p(V"ljvµev TrJVipuaw Twv d!aTpc.>v. B I D : XCXTIX tpu a LV8LcxLpec.>v !xcxaTovxcxt tppa.~c.>v 6>; l!;x: e:L. B 16, 2-3 D: TOyixp CXUTO I !aTLVIS1te:ptppovee:Lµe:A£c.>V lj)UO'L;av6pw1tOLO'LV. In vs. I of the same fragment Parmenides speaks of the xpiiaL; µe::).eoov.

PHILOSOPHY

JI

identified with energy, as when he says: ".cpuau;changes and moves everything" 1 ). In this meaning the term is often opposed to "end" or "death" (-re1..euTfi)2) and apparently indicates nature as it has been determined at its origin and through this origin, origin once again meaning the most remote past of the thing in question. This dynamic value is still present in the well-known sophistic opposition between tpoaLt; and v6µ.oc;or 6eaLc;. b. the thing itself, as characterized by its nature, in other words: something which is and possesses its own character. So Anaximander taught, according to Simplicius 3), that the original essence is neither water nor any other well-defined substance, but an indefinite and boundless tpoaLc;. Anaximenes believes that other earthy tpoaLet; move in the space between the stars '). The proem of Parmenides' book deserves being quoted 6): he promises the reader that he will know (Xt6ep((XvtpoaLv (meaning b), everything which is in the aether and whence it took its origin, also the function and the tpoaLt; (meaning a) of the moon, the sky etc. 8). c. the totality of things. Under this head falls the use of the word as a title of books 7), or as an object of contemplation 8). When ), he means that Heraclitus says that "tpoaLc;likes to conceal itself" 11 the totality of things existing appears as a riddle to him who wishes to understand it, and makes the explanation very difficult. Generally speaking, the Presocratics use the word tpoaLt;to indicate either a quality or an existing reality which clamours for an I leave indecided what the µe).e;or.are. Cf. W. J. Verdenius, Parmenides, diss. Utrecht 1942 p. 6 f. 1) B 126 D., where I take ~ IJ)Ucrn;as belonging to the quotation; it is i.e. Tel:llv't'or.. opposed to &1tor.v't'or. 8 ) B 8, 1-2 D.: IJ)UCJL\;oullevoc; fo't'LVOC7tlXV't'CtlV I 6V7j't'WV,oulle 't'L\; ou).oµevou 6or.vix't'oLo 't'EAEU't'~,isworthwhile quoting, because IJlumc;,meaning "natural constitution", is opposed to 't'&AE:utj"the end" and indicates the constitution as it is fixed by the birth, the origin, the most remote past of the beings in question. 3 ) A 9 D., cf. A 11 D. Of course it is not even certain that Simplicius and Hippolytus, using the word, actually quote the Ionian philosopher. ') A 7, 5 D.: &!vor.L 8e: xor.lye:w8&Lc; IJlua&Lc; bJ 't'ij>'t'6mi>'t'WVCXa't'eprov auµ1t&pLIJ)Epoµevor.c; or.u't'oi:c;. Same remark as in n. 3. 6 ) B 10 D.: e:tan 8' or.l6e:p(or.v 't'E IJ)UCJLV 't'IX't'' bJ or.l6epL 7tlXV't'ot I ~µor.Tot - - I lpyot TE xux).ron;oc;n;e:uan n:e:pLIJ)OL't'ot ae:A~v'l)c;I xor.l IJ)uaiv. 1) It is even possible to interpret in both cases as "the origin". 7) Anaximander A 2 D. (cf. 7 D.), Heraclitus A 1, 5 D., Parmenides A 9 D. (cf. 14 D.), etc. 8) Thales A 1, 24 D., B I D. ') B 123 D.: IJ)UaLc;xpu7t't'Ea6otLIJ)W:L.

72

CHAPTER

SIX

explanation; not the answer which philosophy gives or tries to give, but that which makes men wonder. The question is in fact: "What is that physis ?". Physis is the phenomenon and not the essence, the thing which really is. It is only with the Pythagoreans that the concept acquires this meaning, e.g. when Philolaus differentiates physis from cosmos as "the inner side" from the "outer side", the former giving the explanation of the latter; for he says: "in the cosmos the physis is a harmonious combination of the unlimited and the limited; this is also true for the cosmos and everything in it" 1). But we cannot ascertain whether this terminology is older than Philolaus himself 2). 2. To llv except -in a pluralistic system, lends itself very well to the purpose indicated, certainly much better than 't'ocllv't'~ which rather means the phenomena and the concrete objects. The singular was used regularly by Parmenides and his school, and, in all probability, was even coined by him personally, in the first place to oppose real being to objects of perception 3); quite naturally he opposes To llv and 't'o µ~ llv, the world of opinion and the world of fancy'). Leucippus and the other atomists, who reject every distinction of matter and something different, use the word in order to distinguish the atoms as 't'o llv from the void as 't'o µ~ llv5); so 6 ). SomeMelissus' book bore the title Ile:pl.(f)Ucre:c.uc; ~ 1te:pl. 't'OUllv't'oc; llv't'~7 ), if we may times Empedocles calls the four elements 't'OC accept Isocrates' testimony, who, as a pedantic stylist, is probably not a reliable source. The plural is here an equivalent of the singular, because his system is a pluralistic one; what really exists is a number of four mutually irreducible forms, also called with a poetic metaphor 1) B I D.: ci cpt1V, XIXL /1).o;6 x6aµo; XIXL 't'IXevIXU't' 7t1XV't'IX. 1 ) In A 5 D. Anaximenes is said to have considered µlixv TIJV u11:oxe:tµwtjv cpuaw xixl &11:e:tpov, but here the terminology is clearly that of Simplicius. 8 ) A 24 D.: t~ IXVIXYJ('lj; iv o!e:'t'IXL e:!vixt't'Oav XIXL &llo ou8ev - - - ixvixyxix~6µe:vo; a· IXXOAou6e:'tv 't'ot; cpixwoµevot;XIXL 't'O !v µev XIX't'IX 't'OVMyov, 7tAe:tc.> 8e: XIX't'IX TIJV ixfo67)atvu1tOA1Xµ~cxvrov e:!vixt. ') A 22 D.: cp7jal8e: ll't'Le:r't'L7t1Xp1X 't'O av U7t1Xp)(e:L, 't'OU't'O oux fo't'tv 6v. 't'O 8e µl) 6v evTot; /1).oi; oux fo't'tv. There is no relation between the two; 't'o 5v is not the cause or the ground of the world of 't'O fLll6v. 6 ) A 6 D.: Myov't'e:;'t'Oµev 6v, 't'Oae: (Ll)6v. 't'OU't'c.>V 8e 't'Oµev 7tA'ijpe:; XIXL a't'e:pe:6v, 't'O6v, 't'O8e: xe:vovXIXL µixv6v, 't'O(Ll)6v. 1 ) A 4 D. 7 ) Isocrates, De permut. 268: 't'WV1t1XA1Xtwv aocpta't'wv,wv 6 µe:v &11:e:tpov 't'O 7tA'ij6o;lcp7)V,'Eµ1te:8ox).rj; ae: 't't't''t'1Xp1X.

PHILOSOPHY

73

2). The Pythag1) or with a qualifying epithet ixyevl)TOC pL~wµ.,x-roc oreans seem to have used the word from time to time as a substitute for "number" 3). The term is considerably more abstract than physis and it is not strange that it is to be found especially with the uncompromising ontologists such as Parmenides, and the Pythagoreans for whom the universe is number. The word indicates that which is real, perfect in itself and irreducible, and, according to Melissus '), of everlasting duration. 3. Oua(ocis the word which since Plato has enjoyed the greatest popularity, and rightly so, for it is extremely adequate. Precisely for this reason it is used by later doxographers, but it is not probable that the early philosophers ever used it themselves 6). There is a statement by Philolaus, which perhaps repeats an older formula: "we must judge of the functions and the oua(ocof number according to the strength of the Decad" 8 ). But here the function and the essence of number are opposed to each other. Only an identification of oua(ocand number would be of interest to us 7). So oua(ocdiffers from the older -ro15v.As a participle, -ro15valways expresses or suggests an idea of material existence. Speaking of "Being" even Parmenides has to make use of images (e.g. when he compares its form with that of the sphere 8)) and apparently wants to form, or cannot desist from forming, an image of the abstract. Oua(oc,on the contrary, is wholly abstract, it is mere concept, an idea. The supplanting of the former by the latter is symptomatic of the growing delivery of the Greek mind from every impediment to abstraction. B 6 D. : -rifncxpcxmiv-rrovpL~©µ.cx-rcx. B 7 D.: cxyEV7l-r1X • a-roL)(ELIX 1tcxp''Eµ.m:3otld Hesychius. 8 ) B IO D.: !xe:!voL3e "t'OV cxpL6µ.ov "t'IX llv-rcxAEYOU!JLV. 4 ) B I D. : cxd ~v ll "t'L ~v xcx!ex£!!a-rcxL.B 2 D. : OU)(tyEVE"t'O, !a-rL"t'£ xcxl.cxd ~v xcxlcxd !a-rcxL,xcxl CXp)('ljV OU)(!:l{EL ou3e "t'£AEl)T1jV. 5) So Anaximander A II D.: I.EYEL 3e xp6vov 6>i;6>pLaµ.EV7li; Tiji; YEVE!JEwxu).(8sw e.g. fr, l -6 D. ') W. Jaeger, Paideia I, Oxford 1939, p. 197, where he points at the meaning of Theognis 6o ouff xotxwv yv!',otc; s!86ffc; ou-.' ixyot!lwv. 1)

PHILOSOPHY

81

circumstances which nobody willed, acts of ancestors who could not foresee the consequences, an inscrutable ordinance of the gods. But always the present of tragical suffering is caused by the past, a past which will not die until it is expiated or atoned for 1). The same applies to other less mournful aspects of life. Pindar is convinced that the future is completely the domain and realm of the powerful gods; from that mysterious storehouse the present comes forth in the shape of uncertain and capricious fortune ('t1'.ixYJ). On the narrow edge between the unknown future and the unchange2). He must, able past man must show his excellence, his cx.peTcx. by preference in agonistic exertion, fight the good fight. So far so good, but we must make an important addition: man draws his strength for this battle from the past, his own past and the past of his family 3). In Pindar's conception of life and mankind there is hardly any chronological perspective to be found. The present itself is always a crisis; man stands in the breach made by the attacking future, not as one who fights to penetrate into a besieged fortress, but on the defence. He protects his past and the past of his clan, while these two in their turn support him. He needs this backing in order to hold his ground successfully. It is the past which determines the nature, the behaviour and the task of those who stand in the present. The future is a dangerous challenger but the past a strong ally. We can only wait and see how the future "will turn out", but the past is well-known and therefore manageable. To express it in a different way, to Pindar the past is something of a long duration which remains valid and strong. The future, on the contrary, is only the very nearest future, that which is about to happen or into which we must enter and act immediately. We might use the image of the pyramid: the broad basis of the past penetrates with the single point of the agonistic present into the unknown future. This future makes sense in human life only at the point of contact, whereas the connection with the past is large and wide, strong, tangible and solid. Cf. J. W. Mackall, Lectures on Greek Poetry, Oxford 1910, p. 170. H. Strohm, Tyche, Zur Schicksalsauffassung bei Pindar und den friihgriechischen Dichtern, Stuttgart 1944, p. 55 f. 8 ) See p. 53 f. 1)

1)

Van Groningen, In the Grip of the Past

6

CHAPTER SEVEN

RELIGION Oilxouv 8ijT' etnp6ffpoL (LEV yiji;, 1tp6ffpOL3e6£00'\Iiye'IIO'\ITO, wi;npea(3uTcxTc,iv i5VTc,iv TouTc,iv, op6wi; fo6' ll {3ota,i.E:Cot ; Aristophanes, Aves 4 77-8

Now we shall turn our attention to religion, that topic so essential to human life and thought. I shall not make use of the argument that all religious ceremonies in Greece have a strong traditional character. For this is the case everywhere. Caution with regard to the divine powers and the dread of missing the aim explain sufficiently the desire to follow the example of the past. This may also be applied to prayer. In so far as it is a doxology, it easily becomes aretalogy, in a mythical form of narrative, and it tells us what the gods did in earlier times. Whenever it is a request, it contains, as a rule, an appeal to the past, by recalling either help given before, or sacrifices made and homage paid in former days 1). But all this is too well-known. No more shall I linger over two other elements of Greek religious life in which the grip of the past comes to the fore. They are the cult of the ancestors and that of the heroes 2). They are in the most literal sense of the word a form of worship of something which existed formerly, and which has kept its strength; the past may be 1) Two examples may suffice. For the first type Sappho 1, 5 D.: otl noTot - - ~A6ei;etc., for the second A 39: e:tnoTe TOLl(otp(e:VT' inl 'IIY)ov lpeqiotetc. xcx-repc,iTot •) See in general E. Rohde, Psyche, passim; for the heroes in particular L. R. Farnell, Greek Hero-Cults, Oxford 1921 and M. P. Nilsson, Geschichte der Griech. Religion I, Munich 1941, p. 170 f., 677 f. A. D. Nock, The Cult of the Heroes, Harvard Theol. Rev. 27, 1944, p. 141 f. insists on the uncertainty of a practical distinction between gods and heroes; the latter are very often "minor deities". I draw the attention to the important passage in Plato's Hippias Maior 282 A. The sophist says that he is convinced of the great progress made by art and knowledge, and adds: e:lc,i6ot!J.MOL fyc,iye: T0\.11;7tlXAIXLOUI; ff xotl 1tp0Tepoui; l)!J.W'II1tp6ffp6v ff xotl !J.IXAAO'\I i"Yx(,)!J.LCX~E:L'\I 7l T0\.11;'\IU'II,EUAot(3ou!LE'IIOI; (LEVcp66vovTW'\I~6>'\IT(l)'II, cpo(3ou!LE'IIOI; 3e !J.ij'IIL'\ITW'\I unAe:UTlJX6Tc,iv. Apparently the speaker and his audience consider it natural to speak first and better about the former generations, i.e. the past, but moreover it is the safer way because the dead, i.e. the past, have a power more dreadful than the envy of the living.

RELIGION

past, but in these cults it is felt as quite active and often weirdly alive. This activity may manifest itself for good or for evil. Religion here blends with the genealogical relation to those who lived in former times. The heroes are seen, as a rule, as the ancestors of a group of persons Jarger than the one of the family in the strict sense of the word, more than once even than the one of a whole city. In particular we shall now discuss the most important part of religion, namely that which concerns the gods. The world of the gods has been conceived by the Greeks in many respects as a lofty, sometimes an inferior, replica of the human world. It is no wonder that we shall come upon topics which remind us of the subjects expounded in the preceding chapters. But our subject imposes at once certain restrictions upon us. Religion is a relation between man and higher powers or a supreme being, a feeling of being united in confidence or fear. It does not concern itself with time; it may be experienced in every "now", if man is in a religious state of mind. The "mystical", primary side of every religion, the direct faith and the expression of that faith in cult or ceremony have little importance for us. We are interested in representations, habits of thinking and efforts to explain. Not the living practice, but the secondary theory attracts our attention. This theory, moreover, is as much alive as the practice. It may assume the form of abstract reasoning. It will then easily join up with philosophy and knowledge, and develop into an independent theology. But philosophy and abstract reasoning are, in Hellas too, of a later date than the other approach to religion and its problems, the myth. When knowledge in general, and the separate forms of it, philosophy in particular, originated in Greece, they were the result and the symptom of that remarkable opening of the mind which leads to the putting of questions without there being any practical aim or profit in the answering of them. But this curiosity and this wondering about facts and thoughts had already found expression in the myths, be it in a different manner. The myth, which fixes religious speculations in a narrative form, is a philosophy avant la lettre. It wishes to explain all sorts of things; in fact, it wishes to explain everything. I shall give a few examples. The river Peneus flows through the narrow valley of Tempe from Thessaly into the sea. The Thessalians were of the opinion that Poseidon opened that chasm and Herodotus, who prefers to ascribe the situation to an earthquake, acknowl-

CHAPTER

SEVEN

edges, nevertheless, the relative exactness of the mythical conception 1). The Greek landscape is characterized among other things by a graceful tree, the laurel. Where does it come from? The myth gives the answer. Once upon a time there was a beautiful maiden, called Daphne. She did not yield even to Apollo's proposal, when he wanted to marry her. She took to flight, and when she was about to be overtaken, she was changed at her own request into a tree, the laurel tree 2). What is the origin of mankind? Prometheus, so says the myth, moulded men out of the clay of the earth 3). The same benefactor of humanity afterwards gave them fire 4). But there are many other things in daily life which, through their importance, give rise to the question of the first "finder". Athena invented the double clarinet 6 ). The lyre is Hermes' discovery 6). Mankind owes corn and agriculture to Demeter 7), wine to Dionysus 8 ). It is superfluous to enumerate other gifts of divine "first finders" 9). It is more to the point to remember that countless regularly returning ceremonies and customs, that all religious feasts-and there were no other feasts-were considered repetitions of events in which the god or the gods themselves were concerned. So Demeter herself "showed the manner of her rites and taught her mysteries" 10). The Delphian priesthood boasted Cretan origin, and that is why the Homeric hymn tells how Apollo himself lead the first orgiones to his sanctuary 11). It was customary that men-that is, the Greeks-offered to the gods a sacrifice of bones covered with fat. The flesh was not burned VII 129, 4. Cf. e.g. Palaephatus De incred. 49, p. 70 F., and Ovid Metam. I 452 f. 8) Apollodorus I 7, 1. According to Hesiod Works and Days 60 f. Hephaestus built the woman at Zeus' request. ') Hesiod WOYks and Days 50 f. 1 ) To throw it away immediately, cf. Aristotle Polit. VIII 6, 7, 1341 b 2. 1) H. Hom. Herm. 24 f. 7) H. Hom. Dem. 470 f. 8 ) Hesiod Works and Days 614, Theog. 562 f. H. Hom. Herm. it is Hermes who invents the firesticks and the fire. 9) The heroic period is here also a prolongation of the divine age. Orpheus is considered the "finder" and founder of the multiform doctrines which bear his name. Cf. Aristoph. Ran. 1032 and numerous other passages in 0. Kem, Orph. Fragmenta, Berlin 1922. In the Hellenistic time the Aitia relating to cult and religion have become a special literary genre. 10) H. Hom. Dem. 474: 3e:i~ 3p7jC1(LOcme:p ol 'l'COAAOL, 'l'CIXVTtX e:!va.('l'COU XtXL ev -r6rc. 7) Vs. 700: xa.uµa. 3e: 6e:arcfoLovxixn:xe:v Xixo~, during the struggle with

w~

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But myth is no science; it does not shun paradoxes. Comprehension of the real function of the myth opens the way towards understanding. If the myth really is to fulfill its explicative function, then the universe of Zeus and of the Olympian gods must be explained by it, and the prehistory of the present cosmos must be related. This cosmosmust find its ultimate explanation in Chaos, and the conception of Chaos must therefore be such that it really explains the cosmos. In a reasonable cosmogony the similar can never be the result of the similar: the offspring must needs differ from the father. If not, what would be the logic of the distinction of two generations? Why should one admit two identical links in the pedigree ? When the cosmogonic genealogy of Hesiod is reduced to its two extreme elements, we find the pre-Olympian and the Olympian world, or Chaos and cosmos. The successive changes which the whole Theogony enumerates are condensed into a transition from one dissimilar to the other. The strong tendency of the Greek mind to think in antitheses helps to explain that the conception of Chaos must be contrary to that of cosmos. Chaos is divine. But in Hesiod's theory every divinity answers to a present or former reality in the universe which can be indicated and put into words. Which reality answers to the conception of Chaos? It must be the negation of the essential characteristics of the present state of things. These are two in number. The first is that the universe really exists and can be subdivided into countless parts and elements which also exist. The second is that this universe exists in a certain way, as a cosmos. Hesiod's Theogony, mythical cosmography and cosmogony, is an attempt to state that things exist, to define what they are, and to show that they do not lie in indiscriminate disorder, but that there is astructureandahierarchy. The absence of these two characteristics plainly expresses itself in the conception of Chaos. At that stage there were not yet things, and order, of course, could not yet exist. Chaos answers indeed to something like empty space, mere topos, not as a kind of geometrical abstraction, but as the negation of something positively existing and perceptible. But it answers also to the opposite of order, again not in the sense of an unarranged and indiscriminate mass of things to be arranged later on-a conception which could only be based the Titans; cf. W. Jaeger, Theology p. 13 f. Cf. Ibycus fr. 28 and Bacchylides 5, 27.

RELIGION

gr

upon the belief, developed much later, in the eternal presence of a certain quantity of matter-but in the sense of something not yet arranged. I am of opinion that one approximates Hesiod's real idea much more effectively with this negative approach than with a positive one 1). Naturally the lack of precision of this conception, one might even say: its emptiness, leads to uncertainties and hesitations in his exposition. Each reflexion and each application provokes contradictions and paradoxes. In Hesiod Chaos is a past stage in the evolution of the Universe, which gave way to something quite different, as well as a still existing aspect of the world 2), its extension in space. Any word used here is likely to lead astray. Therefore it is better to follow the poet with intuitive sensitiveness than to fall foul of his vision with an inappropriate and therefore vain reasoning. As soon as man begins to meditate about the divine background of reality and wishes to put mystery into words, he again follows the same road, the road to the past. Instead of a static explication in an ontological sense he gives a series of stories which his pious fancy inspires and which sparkle with dynamic life. At bottom this is a paradoxical method. In the next chapter we shall treat this aspect of the question more at length. But we need not wonder that this way of thinking has called forth reactions and protests from the philosophers. Also in broader circles the myths were attacked by euhemerists and their precursors, who transform them into human history, and in a more refined way by the allegorists, who consider them a mere process for stating arid considerations of a purely theoretical nature in a more attractive and poetical form. When, later on, the ancient Greek, this time however under outside influence-for this reason we shall not discuss it at lengthbegins to fee] the need of redemption by mysteries and life renewing ceremonies, he searches in fact to be delivered from the burden of his sinful past. This loses its alarming weight in no other way than by a symbolic death which cancels that past and makes a new start. A real salvation even implies a complete forgetting. For even in the 1) The same negative approach is necessary to understand why e.g. the Orphic Theology (fr. B. 12 D.) considered Nu~the arche. 1 ) Apart from the consideration that Chaos, being of divine nature, cannot possibly die or pass away. Hesiod says nowhere that Chaos disappeared in one way or another. Cf. also next chapter, p. 97.

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hereafter memory is dangerous. When the soul of a deceased relation guides Thespesius through the underworld, as Virgil did for Dante, he points out to him particularly that the irrational and corporeal part of the soul is inclined to arouse memories of the body and its material life, with the sad consequence of a renewed birth 1). As well in real death as in the fictive one of the mysteries the breach with the past through "forgetting", through Lethe, is essential. It may be true that Lethe alludes originally to the "unconsciousness" of the ghosts and shadows 2), but practically it means that the dead have forgotten and have come to stand outside life, which precisely borrows its richness and fulness from the reminiscences. In the mysteries the situation is a trifle different. At Lebadea the initiation was preceded by a drinking from the source Lethe 3); without this, it would be impossible to listen to the revelations. Here Lethe is the breaking of the bonds of the earthly past, of the fetters of that which has happened and has determined life up to that moment; once again it is a kind of death, unavoidable for whomsoever wishes a new life. The grip of the past on human life is so strong that redemption is only possible if one can forget. 1 ) Plutarch, De se,a 27, 566 A. •) See E. Rohde, Psyche 7- 8, Tiibingen 1) See J. E. Harrison, o.c. p. 511 f.

1921,

p. 3161•

CHAPTER EIGHT

TWO CONCEPTIONS OF THE PAST M:yw 8t ooTO £Vl(p6votLijxwv. '} See the enumeration of NuaixL in Hesychius s.v. Herodotus II 146, 2 1)

1)

already puts it in Ethiopia. 1) Chapter V p. 50.

TWO CONCEPTIONS

OF THE PAST

105

outstanding figures: the kings who are living now, their fathers, their grandfathers, possibly even a more distant ancestor, mighty in deeds and of immortal fame. They all are suffused with light, but it is a different light, the light of historical tradition, and they lived in the other time, our common historical past. This light decreases gradually the farther we go back. Mankind is apt to forget, says Pindar 1). And that explains why we find higher up in the pedigree ancestors of whom nothing can be told. They are mere names. Dead reminiscences or premeditated fancy have assigned them their place. Between the two fields of light, different light, they lie as a dim stretch, neutral and colourless, undescribed and undescribable, a genealogical no man's land, which has no other function than to establish a connection, to join the historical and the mythical, and to conceal the transition from one level to the other. But it is clear that in this way a first step is taken on the road which leads to assimilation. Herodotus enumerates eighteen ancestors who separate king Leonidas, the hero of the Thermopylae, from Heracles 2). Leonidas was killed, as everybody knew, in the year which we call 480 B.C. The Greeks assumed, as a rule, that approximately three generations make a century. The conclusion was obvious: if Heracles' life is considered in a purely historical way, he lived some seven centuries before Leonidas. Our chronology would say, in the eleventh or twelfth century B.C. The mythical past to which Heracles belongs here is made to coincide with an exact period in the historic sense of the word through a simple arithmetical operation. Of course it does not matter in the least that all the calculations referring to him do not arrive at the same result. We must, however, not forget that Heracles lived in the mythical sphere; the nature of his achievements proves it. None less than Zeus was involved in his birth, and, at the end of his career, the son of Semele obtained his place among the Olympians. In his figure the human and the divine are intertwined and he belongs to the two forms of the past. In his life the two close in upon each other. To speak more correctly, the Greeks considered the same hero, according to the tale which was told, as living 1) Pind., Isthm. VII 13 ciµ.11&µ.011e:i; 3i: ~po't'o£. 1)

VII

204.

106

CHAPTER EIGHT

now in the one, now in the other past 1), just as Thebes is sometimes a real city, that of Epaminondas for instance, and sometimes a mythical one, that of Cadmus and Oedipus. Heracles is no exception. The same considerations apply to numerous other heroes, probably to all of them. Long ago it has already been remarked that practically all of them are placed close to each other in a very limited number of generations, roughly, between 1400 and noo B.C. On the other hand, the past of the gods themselves, to which their personal history as well as the genesis of the universe belong, does not admit of any such chronological fixation. To sum up, the whole past presents itself to the Greek, if we neglect all differences of level, as consisting of three fields of light. Nearest to him lies the historical past of which his own present is the direct continuation. The pure mythical past of the gods lies at the greatest distance. In between we find the past of the heroes 2). It borrows its splendour essentially from the same source of light as the time of the gods, but in practice it stands in the historical light as well, although, as a rule, the transition is blurred. It is, moreover, not to be doubted that the distinction which we tried to make as precise as possible, existed in the Greek mind more as a tendency than as a conscious reality. But the subconscious is no less important than the clear and conscious, when we try to understand our fellowmen. This tendency is not absent from our modern minds either. Knowledge of the past is memory. The Greeks bore two types of reminiscence, each of one type of the past. And we? It seems that besides the ordinary, matter-of-fact recollection on the purely historical level, we also know something different. When we Dutch people remember the war which our country waged for its freedom under the guidance of William the Silent, when the whole Western world commemorates Marathon or Salamis or the destruction of Jerusalem, when the citizens of America recall to their minds the struggle which brought them independence, in one word, when man looks back upon these events which have been decisive for every1) This is another instance of "The Greeks' Capacity for Viewing Things Separately", cf. B. E. Perry, Trans. of the Amer. Philo!. Assoc. 68, 1937, p. 403 ff. 1 ) Practically the heroic past coincides with the period covered by the Greek epic as long as this remained in pure contact with its mythical basis.

TWO CONCEPTIONS

OF THE PAST

107

thing of pre-eminent importance to him, or, expressing it in a religious tone, as soon as he looks back upon events in which he thinks he perceives God's finger, then all of a sudden they are illumined with a peculiar sheen of higher and transcendental light, beside which the ordinary light of historical events may seem faint and dull. And, finally, the words which I borrowed here from the religious and metaphysical field make clear what lies at the bottom of this remarkable duality of conception. That the Greek distinguished two kinds of past is just a consequence, a consequence of the fact that he did not look in a one-sided and narrow-minded way at the universe and the things in it. Practically all Greek philosophers share with each other and accordingly with most of their compatriots a fundamental, intuitive, monistic conception, according to which reality is essentially one. But at the same time they distinguish, as a rule, two different aspects: one based upon observation, the world of the phenomena, of matter, of actuality, of the unexplained; a second based upon interpretation, valuation and explication, the world of the form, the idea, the essence behind the appearance. To put it in religious terms: there is the material, natural and human aspect of the world, there is also the divine aspect. To the Greeks things were not only what they seemed. And as soon as man sees the world in a dualistic way-no matter in virtue of what theory or of what creed-as soon as he holds that reality has two different dimensions, all his conceptions will bear the mark of this duality. The world is alive and in movement; movement also will have a double character and will be bound to a double conception of time. It could not be otherwise. And in these two aspects of time are revealed two different views also of eternity. We have seen that on the historical level time is extensible in both directions, in the past and in the future, without any end whatever. It is a quantitative eternity, an everlastingness of day after day and thousands of centuries after thousands of centuries. But the mythical time presented itself as a past. It had a beginning and it had an end, it could be located nowhere and, nevertheless, bears and embraces the other time. It is not eternal in quantity and extension, for it must contain, actually does contain, but a very limited number of facts. But these facts are of tremendous, of essential, and all-decisive importance. They are at the base of everything which our experience

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invites us to consider as real. And so the time in which they happened, a time which is, for simple psychological reasons, considered as a past, is in fact outside time; it has nothing to do any more with that eternity of everlasting duration, but it took the Greekand, if we are willing to follow, it takes us-to the threshold of that other unsubstantial and higher conception of eternity as a form of being withdrawn from time and evolution and imperfection, the eternity where we meet the ideal and where we meet God.

CHAPTER NINE

COUNTERARGUMENT:

THE FUTURE

Twv cxvmmµevwv71cxuni lmV o?ia' IS>.ooi; otU"L"o!i; ye:voµ.evoov.

a,

u

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success, or pleasant leisure, or society, or enjoyment, and breaks the unity of life which arises from the past being blended with the present; for detaching today from both yesterday and to-morrow, it even makes every event as if it had never happened from lack of memory.-Those who do not keep or recall to their memory former things, but let them drift, actually empty themselves daily and hang upon the morrow, as if what happened a year ago, or even yesterday and the day before yesterday, had nothing to do with them, and had hardly occurred at all." The Greek possessed this human quality of memory and tradition to a high degree. In the world of the Greek mind no sudden impetuous change of course occurs; nothing but developments and alterations take place, the later events may always be easily connected with the preceding ones. The present offers him, it is true, the opportunity to form his life again and again, but he borrows the material from the past. Life gains meaning only by retaining and interpreting this material. We find in the foreground that which is experienced and happens now; the background is formed by that which became reality once upon a time. Against that background, which changes every moment because it picks up what stood in the foreground and is retained by memory, the thinking Greek proiects every new present reality 1). He has been more strongly impressed by the certainty of .the past. The future is hope or fear, at most expectation or possibility. The present is without real sense unless it borrows its significance from the past. Bertrand Russell once wrote 2) : "The Past does not change or strive. Like Duncan in Macbeth 'after life's fitful fever it sleeps well' 3). What was eager and grasping, what was petty and transitory, has faded away. The things that were beautiful and eternal shine out like stars in the night." This expresses in a beautiful manner the 1) The Cyrenaic philosopher Aristippus contended (see Aelianus V. Hist. XIV 6) that man, living only in the present, should not worry about past and future: µ6vov yixp !q>otaxev71µ1hepovdvotLi:o 1totp6v,µ~i:e 11& i:o qi6!ivov µ~i:e ,:o1tpoa8oxwµevov· ,:oµtv yixp ii1to>.wMvotL, ,:o8t &87j>.ovd1tep !ai:otL.This view characterizes the sensualist and hedonist, but goes radically against the normal Greek opinion. The Cyrenaic and Cynic philosophies enrich the panorama of Greek thought, but do not contribute to its essential character. 1) I find the quotation in G. Murray, Euripides and his Age, Oxford 1921, p. 248. 8 ) III ii 23.

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123

difference between the passionate activity-and passivity-of the present and the unalterable quiet of the past. But to say that this "sleeps well" is dangerous. Memory is one of the strongest powers of the mind and of the heart. "Purpose is but the slave to memory" this same Shakespeare makes Hamlet say 1). In this way the past determines the present. That is why it has an explanatory significance. That is why he who wants to understand, practically, philosophica11y or religiously, stands in need of it. For there lies the decisive development which has often commenced with a decisive beginning. That is why it has normative value also. We do not find the laws of life and of the world indicated, revealed perceptibly, or formulated comprehensibly, in a vague future or in a confused present. We find them in the past, which carries in itself the stored up treasures of moral experience and metaphysical understanding. Memory, personal or collective, is the book in which that experience is accumulated and given structure. Reading this book steels the will, enriches the mind, and deepens personality. Tht. Greek puts himself in the centre, and from the point where he place:; himself he seeks explanation and satisfaction. By preference he places himself at the last point of a development, to look back from there. His way of thinking is strongly aetiological: to know means to know the extreme causes. Religiously speaking, the certainty which the heart looks for does not lie in expectation or hope, in a teleology or an eschatology \\hich hold out to him a goal which he may reach some time, but in what has happened once on a higher level and gives meaning to an at first unintelligible world of observation. This past determines the nature and the life of the cosmos, which one can name also the nature and the life of the gods. An element of fatalism is not alien to this conception and it is no surprise that the Greek cannot be without a Moira or a Heimarmene, a fate or law which makes everything go as it does. This does not alter the fact that the Greek loved the present life passionately. What Chekov said of the Russian: "Der russische Mensch gibt sich gem der Erinnerung bin, aber er liebt das Leben nicht" 2), does not apply to him. His bent towards the past is closely connected with the preference which he has always felt for the theory of the endless return of 1)

1)

III ii 198.

The Steppe (I read the German translation, ed. Manesse, Ziirich, p. 470).

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TEN

things! In the poet both these tendencies are alive. He shares with the ancient Greek the tendency to look back into the past, and to accept the eternal return of things. The past, transitoriness, the revival of all things, are typical poetic motifs. "The poet, generally speaking, is not much bent on the future, and he often decidedly prefers the past.-The poet's attitude is not progressive, but regressive, not so much because the future does not mean anything to him as an individual, or because he wishes to escape from the exacting or too matter of fact present, but because the future offers no opportunity to employ the motif of repetition which is inherent in poetry" 1). We may say it also in anothe1 way; the poet expresses nothing but his own soul, and this soul derives its fulness and riches from its past, from its experience and history. Every poet joins with Proust in "La recherche du temps perdu". The history of civilization includes times of activity and fertile renovation. · It also includes periods in which the cultural impulses are weak. In the history of Greek culture the latter periods are characterized by a passive acceptance of that which former generations had created. But in the more creative periods the poetic energy flourished vigourously as an aspect of the living Greek mind. There is a second aspect, and here he strives to detach himself from the past and nevertheless to exchange certainty for uncertainty. to Myo