.
IMAGINES BOOK 1, TRANS. BY ARTHUR FAIRBANKS
BOOK 1
Whosoever scorns painting is unjust to truth; and he is also unjust to all the wisdom that has been bestowed upon poets – for poets and painters make equal contribution to our knowledge of the deeds and the looks of heroes – and he withholds his praise from symmetry of proportion, whereby art partakes of reason. For one who wishes a clever theory, the invention of painting belongs to the gods – witness on earth all the designs with which the Seasons paint the meadows, and the manifestations we see in the heavens – but for one who is merely seeking the origin of art, imitation is an invention most ancient and most akin to nature; and wise men invented it, calling it now painting, now plastic art.
There are many forms of plastic art – plastic art proper, or modeling, and imitation in bronze, and the work of those who carve Lygdian1 or Parian marble, and ivory carving, and, by Zeus, the art of gem-cutting is also plastic art – while painting is imitation by the use of colours; and not only does it employ colour, but this second form of art cleverly accomplishes more with this one means than the other form with its many means. For it both reproduces light and shade and also permits the observer to recognize the look, now of the man who is mad, now of the man who is sorrowing or rejoicing. The varying nature of bright eyes the plastic artist does not bring out at all in his work; but the “grey eye,” the “blue eye,” and “black eye” are known to painting; and it knows chestnut and red and yellow hair, and the colour of garments and of armour, chambers too and houses and groves and mountains and springs and the air that envelops them all.
Now the story of the men who have won mastery in the science of painting, and of the states and kings that have been passionately devoted to it, has been told by other writers, notably Aristodemus of Caria, whom I visited for four years in order to study painting; and he painted in the technique of Eumelus, but with much more charm. The present discussion, however, is not to deal with painters nor yet with their lives; rather we propose to describe examples of paintings in the form of addresses which we have composed for the young, that by this means they may learn to interpret paintings and to appreciate what is esteemed in them.
The occasion of these discourses of min was as follows: It was the time of the public games at Naples, a city in Italy settled by men of the Greek race and people of culture, and therefore Greek in their enthusiasm for discussion. And as I did not wish to deliver my addresses in public, the young men kept coming to the house of my host and importuning me. I was lodging outside the walls in a suburb facing the sea, where there was a portico built on four, I think, or possibly five terraces, open to the west wind and looking out on the Tyrrhenian sea. It was resplendent with all the marbles favoured by luxury, but it was particularly splendid by reason of the panel-paintings set in the walls, paintings which I though had been collected with real judgment, for they exhibited the skill of very many painters. The idea had already occurred to me that I ought to speak in praise of the paintings, when the son of my host, quite a young boy, only ten years old but already an ardent listener and eager to learn, kept watching me as I went from one to another and asking me to interpret them. So in order that he might not think me ill-bred, “Very well,” I said, “we will make them the subject of a discourse as soon as the young men come.” And when they came, I said, “Let me put the boy in front and address to him my effort at interpretation; but do you follow, not only agreeing but also asking questions if anything I say is not clear.”
1. “Lygdian stone” : an unusually fine white marble used both for sculpture and for gems. Pliny, N.H. 36. 13; Diod. Sic. ii. p. 135.
1.1 SCAMANDER
Have you noticed, my boy, that the painting here is based on Homer, or have you failed to do so because you are lost in wonder as to how in the world the fire could live in the midst of water? Well then, let us try to get at he meaning of it. Turn your eyes away from the painting itself so as to look only at the events on which it is based. Surely you are familiar with the passage in the Iliad where Homer makes Achilles rise up to avenge Patroclus, and the gods are moved to make battle with each other. Now of this battle of the gods the painting ignores all the rest, but it tells how Hephaestus fell upon Scamander with might and main. Now look again at the painting; it is all from Homer.2 Here is the lofty citadel, and here the battlements of Ilium; here is the great plain, large enough for marshalling the forces of Asia against he forces of Europe; here fire rolls mightily like a flood over the plain and mightily it creeps along the banks of the River so that no trees are left there. The fire which envelops Hephaestus flows out on the surface of the water and the River is suffering and in person begs Hephaestus for mercy. But the River is not painted with long hair, for the hair has been burnt off; nor is Hephaestus painted as lame, for he is running; and the flames of the fire are not ruddy nor yet of the usual appearance, but they shine like gold and sunbeams. In this Homer is no longer followed.
2. Not only is the story from the Iliad, but words and bits of descriptions are taken from Homer; cf. troiês hiera krêdemna, Iliad 16.100; phloga pollen, 21. 333; en pediô pur daieto, 21. 343; su de Xanthoioi par’ ochthas dendrea kai, 21. 337f.
1.2 COMUS
The spirit Comus3 (Revelry), to whom men owe their revelling, is stationed at the doors of a chamber – golden doors, I think they are; but to make them out is a slow matter, for the time is supposed to be at night. Yet night is not represented as a person, but rather it is suggested by what is going on; and the splendid entrance indicates a very wealthy pair just married who are lying on a couch. And Comus has come, a youth to join the youths, delicate and yet full grown, flushed with wine and, though erect, he is asleep under the influence of drink. As he sleeps the face falls forward on the breast so that the throat is not visible, and he holds his left hand up to his ear.4 The hand itself, which has apparently grasped the ear, is relaxed and limp, as is usual at the beginning of slumber, when sleep gently invites us and the mind passes over into forgetfulness of its thoughts; and for the same reason the torch seems to be falling from his right hand as sleep relaxes it. And for fear lest the flames of the torch come too near his leg, Comus bends his lower left leg over towards the right and holds the torch out on his left side, keeping his right hand at a distance by means of the projecting knee in order that he may avoid the breath of the torch.
While painters ought usually to represent the faces of those who are in the bloom of youth, and without these the paintings are dull and meaningless, this Comus has little need of a face at all, since his head is bent forward and the face is in shadow. The moral, I think, is that persons of his age should not go revelling, except with heads veiled. The rest of the body is sharply defined, for the torch shines on every part of it and brings it into the light. The crown of roses should be praised, not much for its truth of representation – since it is no difficult achievement, for instance with yellow and dark blue pigments, to imitate the semblance of flowers – but one must praise the tender and delicate quality of the crown. I praise, too, the dewy look of the roses, and assert that they are painted fragrance and all.
And what else is there of the revel? Well, what but the revellers? Do you not hear the castanets and the flute’s shrill note and the disorderly singing? The torches give a faint light, enough for the revellers to see what is close in front of them, but not enough for us to see them. Peals of laughter rise, and women rush along with men, wearing men’s sandals and garments girt in strange fashion; for the revel permits women to masquerade as men, and men to "put on women’s garb" 5 and to ape the walk of women. Their crowns are no longer fresh but, crushed down on the head on account of the wild running of the dancers, they have lost their joyous look; for the free spirit of the flowers deprecates the touch of the hand as causing them to wither before their time. The painting also represents in a way the din which the revel most requires; the right hand with bent fingers strikes the hollowed palm of the left hand, in order that the hands beaten like cymbals may resound in unison.
3. Cf. Milton’s Comus, 46f, where Comus is described as the son of Bacchus and Circe.
4. i.e. resting his head upon his hand.
5. Eur. Bacch. 836, 852, phêlun eidunai stolen.
1.3 FABLES
The Fables are gathering about Aesop, being fond of him because he devotes himself to them. For while Homer also cared for fable, and Hesiod, and Archilochus too in his verses to Lycambes, Aesop has treated all sides of human life in his fables, and has made his animals speak in order to point a moral.6 For he checks greed and rebukes insolence and deceit, and in all this some animal is his mouthpiece – a lion or a fox or a horse, by Zeus, and not even the tortoise is dumb – that through them children may learn the business of life. So the Fables, honoured because of Aesop, gather at the doors of the wise man to bind fillets about his head and to crown him with a victor’s crown of wild olive. And Aesop, methinks, is weaving some fable; at any rate his smile and his eyes fixed on the ground indicate this. The painter knows that for the composition of fables relaxation of the spirit is needed. And the painting is clever in representing the persons of the Fables. For it combines animals with men to make a chorus about Aesop, composed of the actors in his fables; and the fox is painted as leader of the chorus, wince Aesop uses him as a slave in developing most of his themes, as comedy uses Davus.
6. logou, literally “for the sake of thought or reason,” plays on the logou used just before in the primary sense of “speech”; it might be translated “so as to express thought.”
1.4 MENOECEUS
This is the siege of Thebes, for the wall has seven gates; and the army is the army of Polyneices, the son of Oedipus, for the companies are seven in number. Amphiaraüs approaches them with face despondent and fully aware of the fate in store for them; and while the other captains are afraid – that is why they are lifting their hands to Zeus in prayer – Capaneus7 gazes on the walls, resolving in his mind how the battlements may be taken with scaling ladders. As yet, however, there is no shooting from the battlements, since the Thebans apparently hesitate to begin the combat.
The clever artifice of the painter is delightful. Encompassing the walls with armed men, he depicts them so that some are seen in full figure, others with the legs hidden, others from the waist up, then only the busts of some, heads only, helmets only, and finally just spear-points. This, my boy, is perspective8; sine the problem is to deceive the eyes as they travel back along with the proper receding planes of the picture.
Nor are the Thebans without their prophet, for Teiresias is uttering an oracle pertaining to Menoeceus the son of Creon, how that by his death at the dragon’s hole9 the city should thenceforth be free. And he is dying, his father being all unaware of his fate, an object of pity indeed because of his youth, but really fortunate because of his bravery. For look at the painter’s work! He paints a youth not pale, nor the child of luxury, but courageous and breathing of the palaestra, as it were the choicest o the “honey-coloured” youth whom the son of Ariston10 praises; and he equips him with a chest deeply tanned, strong sides and a well-proportioned hip and thigh; there is strength both in the promise of his shoulders and in his supple neck; he was long hair also, but not the long hair of luxury. There he stands at the dragon’s hole, drawing out the sword which has already been thrust into his side. Let us catch the blood, my boy, holding under it a fold of our garments; for it is flowing out, and the soul is already about to take its leave, and in a moment you will hear its gibbering cry. For souls also have their love for beautiful bodies and therefore are loath to part from them. As his blood runs slowly out, he sinks to his knees and welcomes death with eye beautiful and sweet and as it were inviting sleep.
7. Cf. Eur. Phoen. 180-182. “And where is Capaneus – he who hurls at Thebes insult of threats? There: he counts up and down the wall-stones, gauging our towers’ scaling height.” Trans. Way, L.C.L.
8. Literally “the principle of proportion.”
9. Cf. Il. 22. 93, hôs de drakôn epi cheiê, and Eur. Phoen. 931f.: “In that den where the earth-born dragon lay watching the streams of Dirce, must he yield, slaughtered, a blood-oblation to the earth.” Trans., Way L.C.L.
10. Plato, cf. Rep. 474, melichlôrous, but in Plutarch’s quotation of the passage, Mor. 56 C, we find melichroun.
1.5 DWARFS 11
About the Nile the Dwarfs are sporting, children no taller than their name12 implies; and Nile delights in them for many reason, but particularly because they herald his coming in great floods for the Egyptians. At any rate they draw near and come to him seemingly out of the water, infants dainty and smiling, and I think they are not without the gift of speech also. Some sit on his shoulders, some cling to his curling locks, some are asleep on his arms, and some romp on his breast. And he yields them flowers, some form his lap and some from his arms, that they may weave them into crowns and, sacred and fragrant themselves, may have a bed of flowers to sleep upon. And the children climb up one on another with sistra in their hands, instruments the sound of which is familiar to that river. Crocodiles, however, and hippopotami, which some artists associate with the Nile in their paintings, are now lying aloof in its deep eddies so as not to frighten the children. But that the river is the Nile is indicated, my boy, by symbols of agriculture and navigation, and for the following reason: At its flood the Nile makes Egypt open to boats; then, when it has been drunk up by the fields, it gives the people a fertile land to till; and in Ethiopia, where it takes its rise, a divinity is set over it as its steward,13 and he it is who sends forth its water at the right seasons. This divinity has been painted so as to seem heaven-high, and he plants his foot on the sources, his head bent forward like Poseidon.14 Toward him the river is looking, and it prays that its infants may be many.
11. Cf. the allusion to them in Lucian, Rhetorum Preceptor, § 6; a statue of the Nile with dwarfs sporting over it is found in the Vatican.
12. “Cubit-dwarfs.”
13. Cf. Philostratus, Vita Apollon. 6. 26, where the allusion is based on Pindar (Bergk, Frag. 282).
14. Cf. the gem published by Overbeck, Kunstmythologie, Poseidon, Gemmentafel iii. 3: Poseidon bending forward and Nymph.
1.6 CUPIDS [EROTES]
See, Cupids are gathering apples; and if there are many of them, do not be surprised. For they are the children of the Nymphs and govern all mortal kind, and they are many because of the many things men love; and they say that it is heavenly love which manages the affairs of the gods in heaven. Do you catch aught of the fragrance hovering over the garden, or are your senses dull? But listen carefully; for along with my description of the garden the fragrance of the apples also will come to you.
Here run straight rows of trees with space left free between them to walk in, and tender grass borders the paths, fit to be a couch for one to lie upon. One the ends of the branches apples golden and red and yellow invite the whole swarm of Cupids to harvest them. The Cupids’ quivers are studded with gold, and golden also are the darts in them; but bare of these and untrammelled the whole band flits about, for they have hung their quivers on the apple trees; and in the grass lie their broidered mantles, and countless are the colours thereof. Neither do the Cupids wear crowns on their heads, for their hair suffices. Their wings, dark blue and purple and in some cases golden, all but beat the very air and make harmonious music. Ah, the baskets15 into which they gather the apples! What abundance of sardonyx, of emeralds, adorns them, and the pearls are true pearls; but he workmanship must be attributed to Hephaestus! But the Cupids need no ladders wrought by him to reach the trees, for aloft they fly even to where the apples hang.
Not to speak of the Cupids that are dancing or running about or sleeping, or how they enjoy eating the apples, let us see what is the meaning of these others. For here are four of them, the most beautiful of all, withdrawn from the rest; two of them are throwing an apple back and forth, and the second pair are engaged in archery, one shooting at his companion and the latter shooting back. Nor is there any trace of hostility in their faces; rather they offer their breasts to each other, in order that the missiles may pierce them there, no doubt. It is a beautiful riddle; come, let us see if perchance I can guess the painter’s meaning. This is friendship, my boy, and yearning of one for the other. For the Cupids who play ball with the apple are beginning to fall in love, and so the one kisses the apple before he throws it, and the other holds out his hands to catch it, evidently intending to kiss it in his turn if he catches it and then to throw it back; but the pair of archers are confirming a love that is already present. In a word, the first pair in their play are intent on falling in love, while the second pair are shooting arrows that they may not cease from desire.
As for the Cupids further away, surrounded by many spectators, they have come at each other with spirit and are engaged in a sort of wrestling-match.16 I will describe the wrestling also, since you earnestly desire it. One has caught his opponent by lighting on his back, and seizes his throat to choke him, and grips him with his legs; the other does not yield, but struggles upright and tries to loosen the hand that chokes him by bending back one of the fingers till the other no longer hold or keep their grip. In pain the Cupid whose finger is being bent back bites the ear of the opponent. The Cupids who are spectators are angry with him for this as unfair and contrary to the rules of wrestling, and pelt him with apples.
And let not the hare yonder escape us, but let us join the Cupids in hunting it down. The creature was sitting under the trees and feeding on the apples that fell to the ground but leaving many half-eaten; but the Cupids hunt it from place to place and make it dash headlong, one by clapping his hands, another by screaming, another by waving his cloak; some fly above it with shouts, others on foot press hard after it, and one of these makes a rush in order to hurl himself upon it. The creature changes its course and another Cupid schemes to catch it by the leg, but it slips away from him just as it is caught. So the Cupids, laughing, have thrown themselves on the ground, one on his side, one on his face, others on their backs, all in attitudes of disappointment. But there is no shooting of arrows at the hare, since they are trying to catch it alive as an offering most pleasing to Aphrodite. For you know, I imagine, what is said of the hare, that it possesses the gift of Aphrodite to an unusual degree.17 At any rate it is said of the female that while she suckles the young she has borne, she bears another litter to share the same milk; forthwith she conceives again, nor is there any time at all when she is not carrying young. As for the male, he not only begets offspring in the way natural to males, but also himself bears young, contrary to nature. And perverted lovers have found in the hare a certain power to produce love, attempting to secure the objects of their affection by a compelling magic art.18
But let us leave these matters to men who are wicked and do not deserve to have their love returned, and do you look, please, at Aphrodite. But where is she and in what part of the orchard yonder? Do you see the overarching rock from beneath which springs water of the deepest blue, fresh and good to drink, which is distributed in channels to irrigate the apple trees? Be sure that Aphrodite is there, where the Nymphs, I doubt not, have established a shrine to her, because she has made them mothers of Cupids and therefore blest in their children. The silver mirror, that gilded sandal, the golden brooches, all these have been hung there not without purpose. They proclaim that they belong to Aphrodite, and her name is inscribed on them, and they are said to be gifts of the Nymphs. And the Cupids bring first-fruits of the apples, and gathering around they pray to her that their orchard may prosper.
15. Cf. the wool basket of Helen which was the work of Hephaestus, Od. 4. 125 argyrion talaoon.
16. For Cupids engaged in athletic sports, see the sarcophagus relief in Florence, Baumeister, Denkmäler I, p. 502, fig. 544.
17. This tradition of the fertility of the hare is frequently mentioned by ancient writers; cf. Herod. iii. 108; Arist. de gen. anim. 777a 32, Hist. anim. 542b 31, 574b 30, 585a 5; Plut. Mor. 829E; Aelian, Hist. anim. 13. 12.
18. i.e by making a present of a hare they exercise a sort of constraint upon the beloved.
1.7 MEMNON
This is the army of Memnon; their arms have been laid aside, and they are laying out the body of their chief for mourning; he has been struck in the breast, I think, by the ashen spear. For when I find a broad plain and tents and an entrenched camp and a city fenced in with walls, I feel sure that these are Ethiopians and that this city is Troy and that it is Memnon, the son of Eos, who is being mourned. When he came to the defence of Troy, the son of Peleus, they say, slew him, mighty though he was and likely to be no whit inferior to his opponent. Notice to what huge length he lies on the ground, and how long is the crop of curls, which he grew, no doubt, that he might dedicate them to the Nile; for while the mouth of the Nile belongs to Egypt, the sources of it belong to Ethiopia. See his form, how strong it is, even though the light has gone from his eyes; see his downy beard, how it matches his age with that of his youthful slayer. You would not say that Memnon’s skin is really black, for the black of it shows a trace of ruddiness.
As for the deities of the sky, Eos mourning over her son causes the Sun to be downcast and begs Night to come prematurely and check the hostile army, that she may be able to steal away her son, no doubt with the consent of Zeus. And look! Memnon has been stolen away and is at the edge of the painting. Where is he? In what part of the earth? No tomb of Memnon is anywhere to be seen but in Ethiopia he himself has been transformed into a statue of black marble.19 The attitude is that of a seated person, but he figure is that of Memnon yonder, if I mistake not, and the ray of the sun falls on the statue. For the sun, striking the lips of Memnon as a plectrum strikes the lyre, seems to summon a voice from them, and by this speech-producing artifice consoles the Goddess of the Day.
19. According to Pliny (N.H. 6. 182) Memnon was king of the Ethiopians in Africa (not of the Ethiopians in the Far East) at the time of the Trojan war. The western section of Thebes in Egypt was known as Memnoneia, and here on the left bank of the Nile still remain the two colossal seated figures of Memnon erected by Amenhotep III. They are made of a conglomerate limestone and are 20 metres in height above the pedestal. The northern one of the two, which has been broken in several pieces and set up again, is the figure here referred to. The marvellous tone or “voice” presumably was produced (before the figure was broken) by the sudden expansion of the stone from heat, when the rays of the rising sun fell on it.
1.8 AMYMONE
Poseidon’s journey over the sea I think you have come upon in Homeros, when he sets forth from Aegae20 to join the Achaeans, and the sea is calm, escorting him with its sea horses and its sea-monsters; for in Homer21 they follow Poseidon and fawn upon him as they do here in the painting. There, I imagine, your thought is of dry-land horses – for Homer maintains that they are “bronze-hoofed,” “swiftly-flying,” and “smitten by the lash” – but here it is hippocamps that draw the chariot, creatures with web-footed hoofs, good swimmers, blue-eyed, and, by Zeus, in all respects like dolphins. There in Homer22 Poseidon seems to be angry, and vexed with Zeus for turning back the Greek forces and for directing the contest to their disadvantage; while here he is painted as radiant, of joyous look, and deeply stirred by love. For the sight of Amymone, the daughter of Danaus, as she visits the waters of Inachus, has overmastered the god and he sets out to pursue the girl, who does not yet know that she is loved.23 At any rate the fright of the maiden, her trembling, and the golden pitcher falling from her hands make it evident that Amymone is astounded and at a loss to know with what purpose Poseidon so precipitately leaves the sea; and her natural pallor, is illumined by the gold of the pitcher, as its brightness is reflected in the water. Let us withdraw, my boy, and leave the maiden; for already a wave is arching24 over the nuptials, and, though the water is still bright and pellucid in appearance, Poseidon will presently paint it a purple hue.25
20. Il. 13. 27 ff.
21. Il. 13. 23 f.
22. Cf. Il. 5. 37 and 15. 510.
23. The pursuit of Amymone by Poseidon was frequently depicted on vase paintings, cf. Overbeck, Kunstmythologie, Poseidon, p. 370f.
24. Cf. Od. 11. 213 porphureon d’ ara kuna . . . kurtôthen.
25. Thus enriching the marriage chamber, and concealing the pair.
1.9 A MARSH
The earth is wet and bears reeds and rushes, which the fertile marsh causes to grow “unsown and untilled,” 26 and tamarisk and sedge27 are depicted; for these are marsh-plants. The place is encompassed by mountains heaven high, not all of one type; for some that are covered with pine trees suggest a light soil, others luxuriant with cypress trees proclaim that their soil is of clay, and yonder fir trees – what else do they mean than that the mountain is storm-swept and rugged? For firs do not like rich soil nor do they care for warmth; accordingly their place is at a distance from the plains, since they grow more readily in the mountains because of the wind.28 And springs are breaking forth from the mountain sides; as they flow down and mingle their waters below, the plain becomes a marsh; not, however, a disordered marsh or the kind that is befouled with mud; but the course of its waters is directed in the painting just as if nature, wise in all things, directed it, and the stream winds in many a tortuous meander, abounding in parsley and suited for the voyaging of water-fowl. For you see the ducks, I am sure, how they glide along the water-course blowing jets of water from their bills.29 And what of the tribe of geese? Indeed, they too are painted in accordance with their nature, as resting on the water and sailing on it. And those long-legged birds with huge beaks, you doubtless recognize as foreign, the birds delicately coloured each with different plumage. Their attitudes also are various; one stands on a rock resting first one foot and then the other, one dries its feathers, one preens them, another has snatched some prey from the water, and yet another has bent its head to the land so as to feed on something there.
No wonder that the swans are ridden by Cupids; for these gods are mischievous and prone to sport with birds, so let us not pass by without noticing either their riding or the waters in which this scene lies. Here indeed is the most beautiful water of the marsh, issuing direct from a spring, and it forms a swimming-pool of exceeding beauty. In the midst of the pool amaranth flowers are nodding this way and that, sweet clusters that pelt the water with their blossoms. It is among these clusters that the Cupids are riding sacred birds with golden bridles, one giving free rein, another drawing in, another turning, another driving around the goal-post. Just imagine that you hear them urging on their swans, and threatening and jeering at one another – for this is all to be seen in their faces. One is trying to give his neighbour a fall, another has done it, still another is glad enough to have fallen from his bird that he may take a bath in the race-course. One the banks round about stand more musical swans, singing the Orthian strain,30 I think, as befits the contestants. The winged youth you see is an indication that a song is being sung, for he is the wind Zephyrus and he gives the swans the keynote of their song. He is painted as a tender and graceful boy in token of the nature of the south-west wind, and the wings of the swans are unfolded that the breezes may strike them.
Behold, a river also issues from the marsh, a broad rippling stream, and goatherds and shepherds are crossing it on a bridge. If you were to praise the painter for his goats, because he has painted them skipping about and prone to mischief, or for his sheep because their gait is leisurely as if their fleeces were a burden,31 or if we were to dwell on the pipes or on those who play them – the way they blow with puckered lips – we should praise an insignificant feature of the painting and one that has to do solely with imitation; but we should not be praising its cleverness or the sense of fitness it shows, though these, I believe, are the most important elements of art. Wherein, then lies its cleverness? The painter has thrown a bridge of date palms across the river, and there is a very pretty reason for this; for knowing that palms are said to be male and female, and having heard about their marriage, that the male trees take their brides by bending over towards the female trees and embracing them with their branches, he has painted a palm of one sex on one bank and one of the other sex on the other bank. Thereupon the male tree falls in love and bends over and stretches out over the river; and since it is unable to reach the female tree, which is still at a distance, it lies prone and renders menial service by bridging the water, and it is a safe bridge for men to cross on because of the roughness of its bark.
26. Od. 9. 109: ta g’ asparta kai anêrota panta phuontai, of the island of the Cyclopes.
27. Suggested by Il. 21. 350 f.: murikai . . . êde kupeiron.
28. Cf. Il. 11. 256: anemotrephes enchos, “a wind-nurtured spear.”
29. For aulous cf. Od. 22. 18: aulos ana dinas pachus êlthen aimatos.
30. “Orthian strain,” a familiar high-pitched melody.
31. Cf. Hesiod, Op. 234, “Their woolly sheep are burdened with fleeces.”
1.10 AMPHION
The clever device of the lyre, it is said, was invented by Hermes, who constructed it of two horns and a crossbar and a tortoise-shell; and he presented it first to Apollo and the Muses, then to Amphion of Thebes.32 And Amphion, inasmuch as the Thebes of his day was not yet a walled city, has directed his music to the stones, and the stones run together when they hear him. This is the subject of the painting.
Look carefully at the lyre first, to see if it is painted faithfully. The horn is the horn “of a leaping goat,” 33 as the poets say, and it is used by the musician for his lyre and by the bowman for his bow. The horns, you observe, are black and jagged and formidable for attack. All the wood required for the lyre is of boxwood, firm and free from knots – there is no ivory anywhere about the lyre, for men did not yet know wither the elephant or the use they were to make of its tusks. The tortoise-shell is black, but its portrayal is accurate and true to nature in that the surface is covered with irregular circles which touch each other and have yellow eyes; and the lower ends of the strings below the bridge lie close to the shell and are attached to knobs, while between the bridge and the crossbar the strings seem to be without support, this arrangement of the strings being apparently best adapted for keeping them stretched taut on the lyre.
And what is Amphion saying?34 Certainly he keeps his mind intent on the harp, and shows his teeth a little, just enough for a singer. No doubt he is singing a hymn to Earth because she, creator and mother of all things, is giving him his walls, which already are rising of their own accord. His hair is lovely and truthfully depicted, falling as it does in disorder on his forehead and mingling with the downy beard beside the ear, and showing a glint of gold; but it is lovelier still where it is held by the headband – the headband “wrought by the Graces, a most lovely ornament,” as the poets of the Secret Verses35 say – and quite in keeping with the lyre. My own opinion is that Hermes gave Amphion both these gifts, both the lyre and the headband, because he was overcome by love for him. And the chlamys he wears, perhaps that also came from Hermes; for its colour does not remain the same but changes and takes on all the hues of the rainbow.36 Amphion is seated on a low mound, beating time with his foot and smiting the strings with his right hand. His left hand is playing, too, with fingers extended straight,37 a conception which I should have thought only plastic art would venture. Well, how about the stones? They all run together toward the singing, they listen, and they become a wall. At one point the wall is finished, at another it is rising, at still another the foundation is just laid. The stones are eager in rivalry, and happy, and devoted slaves of music; and the wall has seven gates, as the strings of the lyre are seven.
32. Cf. Paus. 9. 5. 8.
33. Cf. Il. 4. 105: toxon . . . exalou aigos.
34. The text is faulty. Probably the sense is “What do you say Amphion is doing? What else than keeping his mind intent . . . ?”
35. Plato, Phaedrus 252A quotes a passage on Love from the Secret Verses (Jowett, “apocryphal writings”) of Homer. The subject is discussed by Lobeck, Aglaophamus, 861 f.
36. Does this mean that Hermes descends by the rainbow? Certainly the rainbow (i.e., Iris) is like Hermes, a messenger from the gods to men.
37. i.e. the left hand is raised, after the stroke, and the fingers, pointing toward the spectators, are foreshortened.
1.11 PHAETHON
Golden are the tears of the daughters of Helius. The story is that they are shed for Phaëthon; for in his passion for driving this son of Helius ventured to mount his father’s chariot, but because he did not keep a firm rein he came to grief and fell into the Eridanus – wise men interpret the story as indicating a superabundance of the fiery element in nature,38 but for poets and painters it is simply a chariot and horses – and at his fall the heavens are confounded. Look! Night is driving Day from the noonday sky, and the sun’s orb as it plunges toward the earth draws in its train the stars.39 The Horae40 abandon their posts at the gates and flee toward the gloom that rises to meet them, while the horses have thrown off their yoke and rush madly on. Despairing, the Earth raises her hands in supplication, as the furious fire draws near her. Now the youth is thrown from the chariot and is falling headlong41 – for his hair is on fire and his breast smouldering with the heat; his fall will end in the river Eridanus and will furnish this stream with a mythical tale. For swans scattered about, breathing sweet notes, will hymn the youth; and flocks of swans rising aloft will sing the story to Caÿster and Ister42; nor will any place fail to hear the strange story. And they will have Zephyrus, nimble god of wayside shrines, to accompany their song, for it is said that Zephyrus has made a compact with the swans to join them in the music of the dirge. This agreement is even now being carried out, for look! The wind is playing on the swans as on musical instruments.
As for the women on the bank, not yet completely transformed into trees, men say that the daughters of Helius on account of their brother’s mishap changed their nature and became trees, and that they shed tears. The painting recognizes the story, for it puts roots at the extremities of their toes, while some, over here, are trees to the waist, and branches have supplanted the arms of others. Behold the hair, it is nothing but poplar leaves! Behold the tears, they are golden! While the welling tide of tears in their eyes gleams in the bright pupils and seems to attract rays of light, and the tears on the cheeks glisten amid the cheek’s ruddy glow, yet the drops tricking down their breasts have already turned into gold. The river also laments, emerging from its eddying stream, and offers it bosom to receive Phaëthon – for the attitude is of one ready to receive – and soon it will harvest the tears of the daughters of Helius43; for the breezes and the chills which it exhales will turn into stone the tear-drops of the poplar trees, and it will catch them as they fall and conduct them through its bright waters to the barbarians by Oceanus.
38. Cf. Lucretius 5. 392 ff.
39. Cf. Il. 8. 485 f.: en d’ epes’ Ôkeanô lampron phaos êelioio, elkon nukta melainan epi zeidôron arouran.
40. Cf. Phil. Imag. ii. 34.
41. The fall of Phaëthon is depicted, e.g. on an Arretine bowl and a Roman sarcophagus, both figured in Roscher, Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Myth. iii. 2, p. 2195 f.
42. The swans were said to spend the summer on the Cayster river in Lydia and the winter on the Danube (Ister) among the Hyperboreans. Cf. Himerius 79, 17d.
43. Amber was explained by the ancients as the “tears of the daughters of Helius.” The river Eridanus is a mythical stream in the far west near the end of the world, where lived the daughters of Helius. Geographers later connected it with the Po or the Rhone, which lay on the routes by which amber came to the Greeks from the North Sea and the Baltic, where lived “the barbarians by Oceanus.”
1.12 BOSPHOROS
[The women on the bank] are shouting, and they seem to urge the horses not to throw their young riders nor yet to spurn the bit, but to catch the game and trample it underfoot; and these, I think, hear and do as they are bidden. And when the youths have finished the hunt and have eaten their meal, a boat carries them across from Europe to Asia, about four stades – for this space intervenes between the countries – and they row themselves across.
See, they throw out a rope, and a house is receiving them, a charming house just showing chambers and halls for men and indications of windows, and it is surrounded by a wall with parapets for defence. The most beautiful feature of it is a semi-circular stoa following the curve of the sea, of yellowish colour by reason of the stone of which it is built. The stone is formed in springs; for a warm stream flowing out below the mountains of Lower Phrygia and entering the quarries submerges some of the rocks and makes the outcroppings of the stone full of water so that it assumes various colours.44 For the stream is foul where it is sluggish and produces a yellowish colour; but where the water is pure a stone of crystal clearness is formed, and it gives to the rock various colours as it is absorbed in the many seams.
The lofty promontory gives a suggestion of the following tale: A boy and girl, both beautiful and under the tutelage of the same teacher, burned with love45 for each other; and since they were not free to embrace each other, they determined to die at this very rock, and leaped into the sea in their first and last embrace. Eros on the rock stretches out his hand toward the sea, the painter’s symbolic suggestion of the tale.
In the house close by a woman lives alone; she has been driven out of the city by the importunity of her suitors; for they meant to carry her off, and pursued her unsparingly with their attentions and tempted her with gifts. But she, I think, by her haughty bearing spurred them on, and coming hither in secret she inhabits this secure house. For see how secure it is: a cliff juts out into the sea, its receding base bathed by the waves, and, projecting overhead, it bears this house out in the sea, a house beneath which the sea seems darker blue as the eyes are turned down towards it, and the land has all the characteristics of a ship except that it is motionless. Even though she has reached this fortified spot her lovers do not give her up, but they come sailing, one in a dark-prowed boat, one in a golden-prowed, others in all sorts of variegated craft, a revel band pursuing her, all beautiful and crowned with garlands. And one plays the flute, another evidently applauds, another seems to be singing; and they throw her crowns and kisses. And they are not rowing any longer, but they check their motion and come to rest at the promontory. The woman gazes at the scene from her house as from a look-out tower and laughs down at the reveling crowd, vaunting herself that she is compelling her lovers not merely to sail but also to swim to her.
As you go on to other parts of the painting, you will meet with flocks, and hear herds of cattle lowing, and the music of the shepherd’s pipes will echo in your ears; and you will meet with hunters and farmers and rivers and pools and springs – for the painting gives the very image of things that are, of things that are taking place, and in some cases of the way in which they take place, not slighting the truth by reason of the number of objects shown, but defining the real nature of each thing just as if the painter were representing some one thing alone – till we come to a shrine. You see the temple yonder, I am sure, the columns that surround it, and the beacon light at the entrance which is hung up to warn from danger the ships that sail out from the Euxine Sea.
44. The marble of Hierapolis is here described; cf. Strabo. p. 629, Vitruvius 8. 3. 10.
45. Cf. Xenophon, Conviv. 4. 23 sumphoitôn eis tauta didaskaleia ekeinô . . . prosekauthê. “This hot flame of his was kindled when they used to go to school together.” Trans. Todd, L.C.L.
1.13 BOSPHORUS
“Why do you not go on to another painting? This one of the Bosphorus ahs been studied enough for me.” What do you mean? I have yet to speak of the fishermen, as I promised when I began. Not to dilate on small matters, but only on points worth discussing, let us omit any account of those who fish with a rod or use a basket cunningly or perchance draw up a net or thrust a trident – for you will hear little about such, and they will seem to you mere embellishments of the painting – but let us look at the men who are trying to capture tunny-fish, for these are worth discussing because the hunt is on so large a scale. For tunny-fish come to the outer sea46 from the Euxine, where they are born and where they feed on fish and sediment and vegetable matter which the Ister and Maeotis bring to it, rivers which make the water of the Euxine sweeter and more drinkable than that of any other sea. And they swim like a phalanx of soldiers, eight rows deep and sixteen and twice sixteen, and they drop down in the water, one swimming over another so that the depth of the school equals the width. Now the ways of catching them are countless; sharp iron spears may be used on them or drugs may be sprinkled over them, or a small net is enough for a fisherman who is satisfied with some small portion of the school. But the best means of taking them is this: a look-out is stationed on a high tree, a man quick at counting and keen of vision. For it is his task to fix his eyes on the sea and to look as far as he can; and if perchance he sees the fish approaching, then he must shout as loud as he can to those in the boats and must tell the number of the fish, how many thousands there are; and the boatmen compassing them about with a deep-laid net that can be drawn together make a splendid catch, enough to enrich the captain of the hunt.
Now look at the painting and you will see just this going on. The look-out gazes at the sea and turns his eyes in one direction and another to get the number; and in the bright gleam of the sea the colours of the fish vary, those near the surface seem to be black, those just below are not so black, those lower still begin to elude the sense of sight, then they seem shadowy, and finally they look just like the water; for as the vision penetrates deeper and deeper its power of discerning objects in the water is blunted. The group of fishermen is charming, and they are brown of complexion from exposure to the sun. One binds his oar in its place, another rows with swelling muscle, another cheers his neighbour on, another strikes a man who is not rowing. A shout rises from the fishermen now that the fish are ready in the net. Some they have caught, some they are catching. And at a loss what to do with so many they even open the net and let some of the fish swim away and escape: so proud are they of their catch.
46. i.e. the Mediterranean.
1.14 SEMELE
Brontè, stern of face, and Astrapè47 flashing light from her eyes, and raging fire from heaven that has laid hold of a king’s house, suggest the following tale, if it is one you know. A cloud of fire encompassing Thebes breaks into the dwelling of Cadmus as Zeus comes wooing Semele; and Semele apparently is destroyed, but Dionysus is born, by Zeus, so I believe, in the presence of the fire. And the form of Semele is dimly seen as she goes to the heavens, where the Muses will hymn her praises: but Dionysus leaps forth as his mother’s womb is rent apart and he makes the flame look dim, so brilliantly does he shine like a radiant star.48 The flame, dividing, dimly outlines a cave for Dionysus more charming than any in Assyria and Lydia; for sprays of ivy grow luxuriantly about it and clusters of ivy berries and now grape-vines and stalks of thyrsus49 which spring up from the willing earth, so that some grow in the very fire. We must not be surprised if in honour of Dionysus the Fire is crowned by the Earth, for the Earth will take part with the Fire in the Bacchic revel and will make it possible for the revelers to take wine from springs and to draw milk from clods of earth or from a rock as from living breasts.50 Listen to Pan, how he seems to be hymning Dionysus on the crests of Cithaeron, as he dances an Evian51 fling. And Cithaeron in the form of a man laments the woes52 soon to occur on his slopes, and he wears an ivy crown aslant on his head – for he accepts the crown most unwillingly – and Megaera causes a fir to shoot up beside him and brings to light a spring of water, in token, I fancy, of the blood of Actaeon and of Pentheus.53
47. Thunder (Brontè) and Lightning (Astrapè). Cf. Pliny, N.H., 25. 96: pinxit (Apelles) et quae pingi non possunt, tonitrua, fulgura, quae Bronten, Astrapen, Ceraunobolian appellant.
48. On the birth of Dionysus, see Overbeck, Kunstmythologie, Zeus, p. 416 f.
49. The wand carried by the followers of Dionysus, properly a wand wreathed with ivy and with a pine-cone at the top.
50. Cf. Eur. Bacch. 726: “The hills, the wild things all, were thrilled with ecstasy: naught but shook as on they rushed”; and 707 f.: “One grasped her thyrsus staff, and smote the rock, and forth up leapt a fountain’s showery spray, one in earth’s blossom planted her reed-wand, and up therethrough the God a wine-fount sent, and whoso fain would drink white foaming draughts scarred with their finger-tips the breast of earth, and milk gushed forth unstinted.” Trans. Way, L.C.L.
51. Evios is an epithet of Dionysus, derived from the cry Euoi (Evoë) uttered by his worshippers.
52. The rending of Pentheus asunder by his mother Agave and the Bacchantes.
53. According to Eur. Bacch. 1291 f. Pentheus was killed on the same spot as Actaeon.
1.15 ARIADNE
That Theseus treated Ariadne unjustly – though some say not with unjust intent, but under the compulsion of Dionysus – when he abandoned her while asleep on the island of Dia,54 you must have heard from your nurse; for those women are skilled in telling such tales and they weep over them whenever they will. I do not need to say that it is Theseus you see there on the ship and Dionysus yonder on the land, nor will I assume you to be ignorant and call your attention to the woman on the rocks, lying there in gentle slumber.
Nor yet is it enough to praise the painter for things for which someone else too might be praised; for it is easy for anyone to paint Ariadne as beautiful and Theseus as beautiful; and there are countless characteristics of Dionysus for those who wish to represent him in painting or sculpture, by depicting which even approximately the artist has captured the god. For instance, the ivy clusters forming a crown are the clear mark of Dionysus, even if the workmanship is poor; and a horn just springing from the temples reveals Dionysus, and a leopard, though but just visible, is a symbol of the god; but this Dionysus the painter has characterized by love alone. Flowered garments and thyrsi and fawn-skins have been cast aside as out of place for the moment, and the Bacchantes are not clashing their cymbals now, nor are the Satyrs playing the flute, nay, even Pan checks his wild dance that he may not disturb the maiden’s sleep. Having arrayed himself in fine purple and wreathed his head with roses, Dionysus comes to the side of Ariadne, “drunk with love” as the Teian poet55 says of those who are overmastered by love. As for Theseus, he is indeed in love, but with the smoke rising from Athens,56 and he no longer knows Ariadne, and never knew her,57 and I am sure that he has even forgotten the labyrinth and could not tell on what possible errand he sailed to Crete, so singly is his gaze fixed on what lies ahead of his prow. And look at Ariadne, or rather at her sleep; for her bosom is bare to the waist, and her neck is bent back and her delicate throat, and all her right armpit is visible, but the left hand rests on her mantle that a gust of wind may not expose her. How fair a sight, Dionysus, and how sweet her breath! Whether its fragrance is of apples or of grapes, you can tell after you have kissed her!
54. The ancient name of Naxos, where Theseus stopped with Ariadne on his way back from Crete, where with her aid he had killed the Minotaur.
55. Anacreon, Frag. 21, Edmonds, Lyra Graeca II, L.C.L.
56. Cf. Od. 1. 58: “But Odysseus, in his longing to see were it but the smoke leaping up from his own land, yearns to die.” Trans. Murray, L.C.L.
57. Cf. Theocritus, 2. 45 f.: “O be that mate forgotten even as old Theseus once forgot the fair-tressed damsel in Dia.” Trans. Edmonds, L.C.L.
1.16. PASIPHAË
Pasiphaë is in love with the bull and begs Daedalus to devise some lure for the creature; and he is fashioning a hollow cow like a cow of the herd to which the bull is accustomed.1 What their union brought forth is shown by the form of the Minotaur, strangely composite in its nature. Their union is not depicted here, but this is the workshop of Daedalus; and about it are statues, some with forms blocked out, others in a quite complete state in that they are already stepping forward and give promise of walking about.2 Before the time of Daedalus, you know, the art of making statues had not yet conceived such a thing. Daedalus himself is of the Attic type in that his face suggests great wisdom and that the look of the eye is so intelligent; and his very dress also follows the Attic style; for he wears this dull coarse mantle and also he is painted without sandals, in a manner peculiarly affected by the Athenians. He sits before the framework of the cow and he uses Cupids [Erotes] as his assistants in the device so as to connect with it something of Aphrodite. Of the Cupids, my boy, those are visible who turn the drill, and those by Zeus that smooth with the adze portions of the cow which are not yet accurately finished, and those that measure off the symmetrical proportions on which craftsmanship depends. But the Cupids that work with the saw surpass all conception and all skill in drawing3 and colour. For look! The saw has attacked the wood and is already passing through it, and these Cupids keep it going, one on the ground, another on the staging, both straightening up and bending forward in turn. Let us consider this movement to be alternate; one has bent low as if about to rise up, his companion has risen erect as if about to bend over; the one on the ground draws his breath into his chest, and the one who is aloft fills his lungs down to his belly as he presses both hands down on the saw.
Pasiphaë outside the workshop in the cattlefold gazes on the bull, thinking to draw him to her by her beauty and by her robe, which is divinely resplendent and more beautiful than any rainbow. She has a helpless look – for she knows what the creature is that she loves – and she is eager to embrace it, but takes no notice of her and gazes at its own cow. The bull is depicting with proud mien, the leader of the herd, with splendid horns, white, already experienced in love, its dewlap low and its neck massive, and it gazes fondly at the cow; but the cow in the herd, ranging free and all white but for a black head, disdains the bull. For its purpose suggests a leap, as of a girl who avoids the importunity of a lover.
1. Cf. Robert, Der Pasiphaë-Sarkophag, xiv Hall. Winckel-mannsprogr., where Cupids are present but not assisting in the work. Mau, Röm. Mitth. XI (1896), p. 50, published a Pompeian wall-painting which depicts Pasiphaë, Daedalus with a young assistant, and the wooden cow.
2. Greek legend emphasized the skill of Daedalus as a sculptor by saying that he made statues which could walk about and even could speak. Cf. Eur. Hecuba, 838.
3. Lit. “all skill of hand and colours.”
1.17 HIPPODAMEIA
Here is consternation over Oenomaüs the Arcadian4; these are men who shout a warning for him – for perhaps you can hear them – and the scene is Arcadia and a portion of the Peloponnesus. The chariot lies shattered through a trick of Myrtilus. It is a four-horse chariot; for though men were not yet bold enough to use the quadriga in war, yet in the games it was known and prized, and the Lydians also, a people most devoted to horses, drove four abreast in the time of Pelops and already used chariots, and at a later time devised the chariot with four poles and, it is said, were the first to drive eight horses abreast.5
Look, my boy, at the horses of Oenomaüs, how fierce they are and keen to run, full of rage and covered with foam – you will find such horses especially among the Arcadians – and how black they are, harnessed as they were for a monstrous and accursed deed. But look at the horse of Pelops, how white they are, obedient to the rein, comrades as they are of Persuasion, neighing gently and as if aware of the coming victory. And look at Oenomaüs, how like he is to the Thracian Diomedes as he lies there, a barbarian and savage of aspect. But as to Pelops, on the other hand, you will not, I think, be inclined to doubt that Poseidon once on a time fell in love with him for his beauty when he was wine-pourer for the gods on Mount Sipylus,6 and because of his love set him, though still a youth, upon this chariot.7 The chariot runs over the sea as easily as on land, and not even a drop of water ever splashes on its axle, but the sea, firm as the earth itself, supports the horses. As for the race, Pelops and Hippodameia are the victors, both standing on the chariot and there joining hands; but they are so conquered by each other that they are on the point of embracing one another. He is dressed in the delicate Lydian manner, and is of such youth and beauty as you noticed a moment ago when he was begging Poseidon for his horses; and she is dressed in a wedding garment and has just unveiled her cheek, now that she has won the right to a husband’s embrace. Even the Alpheius leaps from his eddy to pluck a crown of wild olive for Pelops as he drives along the bank of the river.
The mounds along the race-course mark the graves of the suitors by whose death Oenomaüs postponed his daughter’s marriage, thirteen youths in all.8 But the earth now causes flowers to spring up on their graves, that they too may share the semblance of being crowned on the occasion of Oenomaüs’ punishment.
4. The story is that Oenomaüs promised his daughter Hippodameia to the suitor who should beat him in a chariot race, but with the understanding that he should slay the unsuccessful suitors. Thirteen suits had thus met their death, when Myrtilus, the charioteer of Oenomaüs, gave the race to Pelops by removing the pin that held a wheel in his master’s chariot. The chariot race of Pelops and Oenomaüs is not infrequently depicted on vase-paintings, cf. Arch. Zeit. 1853, Pl. 55; Mon Inst. II. 32.
5. Cf. Xen. Cyrop. 6. 4. 2: tetrarhumon harma kai hippôn oktô, “And Abradatas’ chariot with its four poles and eight horses.”
6. Cf. Pind. Ol. 1. 61 f.
7. Cf. Pind. Ol. 1. 139 f.
8. Cf. Pind. Ol. 1. 127 f.: epei treis ge kai dek’ andra olesais erôntas anaballetai gamon thugatros.
1.18 BACCHANTES 9
Here are also painted, my boy, scenes from Mount Cithaeron – choruses of Bacchantes, and rocks flowing with wine, and nectar dripping from clusters of grapes, and the earth enriching the broken soil with milk.10 Lo! ivy creeps over the ground, serpents stand erect, and thyrsus trees are dripping, I think, with honey. This fir you see lying on the ground is a great deed of women inspired by Dionysus; it fell as it shook off Pentheus in the form of a lion11 into the hands of the Bacchantes. They rend in pieces their prey – that mother of his and his mother’s sisters, they tearing off his arms while she is dragging her son by the hair.12 You would even say they were raising the shout of victory, so like the Bacchic cry13 is their panting. Dionysus himself stands where he can watch them, puffing out his cheek with passion and applying the Bacchic goad to the women. At any rate they do not see what they are doing, and in the supplication of Pentheus they say they hear a lion’s roaring.
That is what is taking place on the mountain; but here in the foreground we now see Thebes and the palace of Cadmus and lamentation over the prey, while the relatives try to fit the corpse together that it may perhaps be rescued for burial. There lies the head of Pentheus, no longer a dubious thing, but such as to excite the pity even of Dionysus – very youthful, with delicate chin and locks of reddish hue, not wreathed with ivy or bryony or sprays of vine, nor are they tossed in wild disorder by flute or Bacchic frenzy. From those locks he derived his vigour, and he imparted vigour to them; but this itself was his madness, that he would not join Dionysus in madness.
Pitiful also we must consider the state of the women. For of what things were they unaware on Cithaeron and of what things do they here have knowledge! Not only has their madness left them, but also the strength they possessed in the Bacchic revel. On Cithaeron you see how, inspired by the conflict, they rush headlong, rousing the echoes on the mountain side, but here they stand still and have come to a realization of what they did in their revels; sinking to the ground one rests her head on her knees, another on her shoulder, while Agave is eager to embrace her son but shrinks from touching him. Her son’s blood is smeared on her hands and on her cheek and on her naked breast.
Harmonia and Cadmus are there, but not as they were before; for already they have become serpents from the thighs down and already scales are forming on them. Their feet are gone, their hips are gone, and the change of form is creeping upward. In astonishment they embrace each other as though holding on to what is left of the body, that this at least may not escape them.
9. Cf. Hartwig, “Der Tod des Pentheus,” Jahr. Inst. VII (1892), p. 153 f., Pl. V.
10. Cf. Eur. Bacch. 142 f., 707 f., cf. elder Phil. Imag. 1. 15.
11. Cf. Eur. Bacch. 1109, 1141 for the felling of the fir, and Pentheus imagined to be a lion.
12. Cf. ibid. 1127 f., which describes the tearing off of Pentheus’ arms.
13. i.e. their lips seem to form the cry “Evoë.”
1.19 THE TYRRHENIAN PIRATES
A mission ship14 and a pirate’s ship. Dionysus steers the former, on board the latter are Tyrrhenians, pirates who ravage their own sea.15 The one is a sacred ship; in it Dionysus revels and the Bacchantes cry out in response to him, and orgiastic music resounds over the sea, which yields its broad surface to Dionysus as readily as does the land of the Lydians; on the other ship they go mad and forget to row and already the hands of many of them are gone. What does the painting mean? Tyrrhenian sailors, my boy, are lying in wait for Dionysus, as word has come to them that he is effeminate and a vagabond and a mine of gold so far as his ship is concerned, because of the wealth it carries, and that he is accompanied only by Lydian women and Satyrs and fluteplayers, and an aged narthex-bearer,16 and Maronian wine, and by Maron17 himself. Hearing that Pans sail with him in the form of goats, they planned to carry off the Bacchantes for themselves and to turn over to the Pans she-goats,18 such as are raised in the land of the Tyrrhenians. Now the pirate ship sails with warlike mien; for it is equipped with prow-beams and beak, and on board are grappling-irons and spears and poles armed with scythes. And, in order that it may strike terror into those they meet and may look to them like some sort of monster, it is painted with bright colours, and it seems to see with grim eyes set into its prow,19 and the stern curves up in a thin crescent like the end of a fish’s tail. As for the ship of Dionysus, it has a weird appearance20 in other respects, and it looks as if it were covered with scales at the stern, for cymbals21 are attached to it in rows, so that, even if the Satyrs are overcome by wine and fall asleep, Dionysus may not be without noise on his voyage; and its prow is drawn out in the semblance of a golden leopardess. Dionysus is devoted to this animal because it is the most exciteable of animals and leaps lightly like a Bacchante. At any rate you see the very creature before you22; it sails with Dionysus and leaps against the Tyrrhenians without waiting for his bidding. And the thyrsus here has grown in the midst of the ship23 and serves as a mast, and sails dyed purple are attached to it, gleaming as they belly out in the wind, and woven in them are golden Bacchantes on Mount Tmolus and Dionysiac scenes from Lydia. That the ship seems to be embowered with vine and ivy and that clusters of grapes swing above it24 is indeed a marvel, but more marvelous is the fountain of wine, for the hollow ship pours forth the wine and lets it drain away.
But let us turn to the Tyrrhenians while they still remain; for under the maddening power of Dionysus the forms of dolphins25 are creeping over the Tyrrhenians – not at all the dolphins we know, however, nor yet those native to the sea. One of the men has dark sides, one a slippery breast, on the back of one a fin is growing, one is growing a tail, the head of one is gone but that of another is left, the hand of one is melting away, while another laments over his vanishing feet.
Dionysus on the prow of his ship laughs at the scene and shouts orders to the Tyrrhenians as fishes in shape instead of men, and as good in character instead of bad.26 Soon, at any rate, Palaemon will ride on a dolphin’s back, not awake, but lying prone upon it sound asleep; and the Arion at Taenarum27 makes it clear that dolphins are the companions of men, and fond of song, and worthy to take the field against pirates in defence of men and the art of music.
14. The ship used for conveying a sacred mission.
15. i.e. the Tyrrhenian sea.
16. Narthex: a plant with a hollow stalk which furnished the Bacchic wands.
17. Cf. Od. 9. 147 f. Maron was a priest of Apollo, who gave Odysseus wine in gratitude for protection. Later, because of the fame of his wine, he was thought of as an attendant of Dionysus.
18. i.e. in place of Bacchantes.
19. It was customary to paint eyes on the prow of Greek ships, apparently with the idea that thus the ship might see its way.
20. Cymbals where, in a ship of war, shields would be hung.
21. i.e. the figure-head which forms the prow.
22. Cf. the ship of Dionysus on a black-figured kylix, Wien. Volegeblätter, 1988, Pl. VII, 1a.
23. Cf. Hom. Hymns 7. 38 ff. for a description of the vine.
24. Cf. ibid. 7. 35 f. for the fountain of wine.
25. Cf. ibid. 7. 51 f. for the transformation of the sailors into dolphins.
26. It is implied that henceforth the transformed pirates will have the traits which later Greek legends attribute to dolphins.
27. i.e. the bronze statue of Arion seated on a dolphin, which Herodotus (1. 24) describes.
1.20 SATYRS
The place is Celaenae, if one may judge by the springs and the cave; but Marsyas has gone away either to watch his sheep or because the contest is over. Do not praise the water; for, though it looks sweet and placid, you will find Olympus28 sweeter. He sleeps after having played his flute, a tender youth lying on tender flowers, whilst the moisture on his forehead mingles with the dew of the meadow; and Zephyrus summons him by breathing on his hair, and he breathes in response to the wind, drawing the air from his lungs. Reeds already yielding music lie beside Olympus, and also the iron tools with which the holes are bored in the pipes. A band of Satyrs gaze lovingly upon the youth, ruddy grinning creatures, one desiring to touch his breast, another to embrace his neck, another eager to pluck a kiss; they scatter flowers over him and worship him as if he were a divine image; and the cleverest of them draws out the tongue of the second pipe which is still warm and eats it, thinking he is thus kissing Olympus, and he says he tasted the boy’s breath.
28. i.e. the figure of Olympus which he is about to describe. Olympus was a pupil of Marsyas and beloved by him; cf. the red-figured vase painting, Roscher, Lexicon d. gr. u. röm. Myth. III. 861.
1.21 OLYMPUS
For whom are you playing the flute, Olympus? And what need is there of music in a desert place? No shepherd is here with you, nor goatherd, nor yet are you playing for Nymphs, who would dance beautifully to your flute; and I do not understand just why you take delight in the pool of water by the rock and gaze into it.29 What interest have you in it? It does not murmur for you like a brook and sing an accompaniment to your flute, nor do we need its water to measure off the day30 for you, we who would fain prolong your music even into the night. If it is beauty you are investigating, pay no heed to the water; for we are more competent than it to tell all your charms. Your eye is bright, and many a provoking glance comes from it to the flute; your brow overarching the eye indicates the meaning of the tune you play; your cheek seems to quiver and as it were to dance to the melody; your breath does not puff out your cheeks because it is all in the flute; your hair is not unkempt, nor does it lie smooth, made sleek with unguents as in a city youth, but it is so dry that it is fluffy, yet without giving the impression of squalid dryness by reason of the bright fresh sprays of pine upon it. Beautiful is such a crown and well adapted to adorn beautiful youths; but let flowers grow for maidens and let them produce their rosy colour for women. Your breast, I should say, is filled not merely with breath for the flute, but also with thoughts of music and meditation on the tunes you will play. As far as the breast the water pictures you, as you bend down over it from the rock; but if it pictured you full length, it would not have shown you as comely from the breast down; for reflections in the water are but on the surface, imperfect because stature is foreshortened in them.31 The fact that your reflection is broken by ripples may be due to your flute breathing upon the water of the fountain, or all that we see may be due to Zephyrus, who inspires you in playing the flute, the flute in breathing its strain, and the spring in being moved by the flute-playing.
29. Cf. Narcissus gazing at his reflection in a pool, elder Phil. Imag. 1.23.
30. An allusion to the water-clock used in the courts to time the speeches.
31. Olympus is standing far enough back from the pool, so that he sees only the reflection of his head and breast; these are bent forward so as to be nearly parallel to the surface of the water, and therefore the reflection is not unduly foreshortened; whereas, if he had been standing near enough to the water to see the rest of his body, the reflection of it would have been very much foreshortened.
1.22 MIDAS
The Satyr is asleep; let us speak of him with bated breath, lest he wake and spoil the scene before us. Midas has captured him with wine in Phrygia32 on the very mountain-side, as you see, by filling with wine the spring beside which he lies disgorging the wine in his sleep.
Charming is the vehemence of satyrs when they dance, and charming their ribaldry when they laugh; they are given to live, noble creatures that they are, and they subdue the Lydian women to their will by their artful flatteries. And this too is true of them: they are represented in paintings as hardy, hot-blooded beings, with prominent ears, lean about the loins, altogether mischievous, and having the tails of horses.33
The Satyr caught by Midas34 is here depicted as satyrs in general are, but he is asleep as a result of the wine, breathing heavily like a drunken man. He has drunk up the whole spring more easily than another would have taken a cupful, and the Nymphs dance, mocking the Satyr for having fallen asleep. How dainty is Midas and how he takes his ease! He is careful of his head-dress and his curling locks, and he carries a thyrsus and wears a robe woven with gold. See the long ears,35 which give his seemingly attractive eyes a sleepy look and turn their charm into dullness; for the painting purposely hints that this story ahs already been divulged and published abroad among men by the pen, since the earth could not keep secret what it heard.36
32. The story is told by Xen. Anab. 1. 2. 13, and Philostratus, Vita Apoll. 6. 27.
33. The older type of representing Satyrs is here described: Benndorf.
34. On a black-figured kylix by Ergotimus (Wiener Vorlegeblätter, 1881, Pl. IV. 2) the captured Seilenus is being led to Midas by attendants carrying a rope and a wine skin; cf. also a red-figured amphora.
35. The ears of an ass, which Apollo gave Midas because he presumed to think his own music superior to that of Apollo.
36. The story runs that Midas concealed the ass’s ears from everyone but his hairdresser, who was sworn to secrecy; but the latter whispered the secret to a hole in the earth, and bushes that grew there when shaken by the wind told the story to the world.
1.23 NARCISSUS
The pool paints Narcissus, and the painting represents both the pool and the whole story of Narcissus.37 A youth just returned from the hunt stands over a pool, drawing from within himself a kind of yearning and falling in love with his own beauty; and, as you see, he sheds a radiance into the water. The cave is sacred to Acheloüs and the Nymphs, and the scene is painted realistically. For the statues are of a crude art and made from a local stone; some of them are worn away by time, others have been mutilated by children of cowherds or shepherds while still young and unaware of the presence of the god. Nor is the pool without some connection with the Bacchic rites of Dionysus, since he had made it known to the Nymphs of the wine-press; at any rate it is roofed over with vine and ivy and beautiful creeping plants, and it abounds in clusters of grapes and the trees that furnish the thyrsi, and tuneful birds disport themselves above it, each with its own note, and white flowers grow about the pool, not yet in blossom but just springing up in honour of the youth. The painting has such regard for realism that it even shows drops of dew dripping from the flowers and a bee settling on the flowers – whether a real bee has been deceived by the painted flowers of whether we are to be deceived into thinking that a painted bee is real, I do not know. But let that pass. As for you, however, Narcissus, it is no painting that has deceived you, nor are you engrossed in a thing of pigments or wax; but you do not realize that the water represents you exactly as you are when you gaze upon it, nor do you see through the artifice of the pool, though to do so you have only to nod your head or change your expression or slightly move your hand, instead of standing in the same attitude; but acting as though you had met a companion, you wait for some move on his part. Do you then expect the pool to enter into conversation with you? Nay, this youth does not hear anything we say, but he is immersed eyes and ears alike, in the water and we must interpret the painting for ourselves.
The youth, standing erect, is at rest38; he has his legs crossed and supports one hand on the spear which is planted on his left, while his right hand is pressed against his hip so as to support his body and to produce the type of figure in which the buttocks are pushed out because of the inward bend on the left side. The arm shows an open space at the point where the elbow bends, a wrinkle where the wrist is twisted, and it casts a shadow as it ends in the palm of the hand, and he lines of the shadow are slanting because the fingers are bent in. Whether the panting of his breast remains from his hunting or is already the painting of love I do not know. The eye, surely, is that of a man deeply in love, for its natural brightness and intensity are softened by a longing that settles upon it, and he perhaps thinks that he is loved in return, since the reflection gazes at him in just he way that he looks at it. There would be much to say about he hair if we found him while hunting. For there are innumerable tossings of the hair in running, especially when it is blown by a wind; but even as it is the subject should not be passed over in silence. For it is very abundant and of a golden hue; and some it clings to the neck, some is parted by the ears, some tumbles over the forehead, and some falls in ripples to the beard. Both the Narcissi are exactly alike in form and each repeats the traits of the other, except that one stands out in the open air while the other is immersed in the pool. For the youth stands over the youth who stands in the water, or rather who gazes intently at him and seems to be athirst for his beauty.
37. Narcissus gazing at his reflection in a pool is the subject of a Pompeian wall-painting (Ternite, Wandgemaelde, III. 4. 25).
38. Cf. the attitude of Oenomaüs in the east pediment of the temple of Zeus at Olympia.
1.24 HYACINTHUS 39
Read the hyacinth, for there is writing on it40 which sys it sprang from the earth in honour of a beautiful youth; and it laments him at the beginning of spring, doubtless because it was born from him when he died. Let no the meadow delay you with the flower, for it grows here41 also, not different from the flower which springs from the earth. The painting tells us that the hair of the youth is “hyacinthine,” 42 and that his blood, taking on life in the earth, has given the flower its own crimson colour. It flows from the head itself where the discus struck it. Terrible was the failure to hit the mark and incredible is the story told of Apollo; but since we are not here to criticize the myths and are not ready to refuse them credence, but are merely spectators of the paintings, let us examine the painting and in the first place the stand set for throwing the discus.
A raised thrower’s stand43 has been set apart, so small as to suffice for only one person to stand on, and then only when it supports the posterior portions and the right leg of the thrower, causing the anterior portions to bend forward and the left leg to be relieved of weight; for this leg must be straightened and advanced along with the right arm. As for the attitude of the man holding the discus, he must turn his head to the right and bend himself over so far that he an look down at his side, and he must hurl the discus by drawing himself up and putting his whole right side into the throw. Such, no doubt, was the way Apollo threw the discus, for he could not have cast it in any other way; and now that he discus has stuck the youth, he lies there on the discus itself – a Laconian youth, straight of leg, not unpractised in running, the muscles of his arm already developed, the fine lines of the bones indicated under the flesh; but Apollo with averted face is still on the thrower’s stand and he gazes down at the ground. You will say he is fixed there, such consternation has fallen upon him. A lout is Zephyrus, who was angry with Apollo and caused the discus to strike the youth, and the scene seems a laughing matter to the wind and he taunts the god from his look-out. You can see him, I think, with his winged temples and his delicate form; and he wears a crown of all kinds of flowers, and will soon weave the hyacinth in among them.
39. Hyacinthus, a youthful favourite of Apollo, was accidentally slain by the discus thrown by the god, and the event was commemorated by the hyacinth which is said to have sprung from his blood. The accident is here explained as due to Zephyrus, the wind which diverted the discus from its true course.
Furtwängler, Ant. Gemmen, Pl. xx. 31, publishes an Etruscan scarab representing Hyacinthus; the youth is bending forward, drops of blood fall from his head, and at his feet is the discus that caused his death.
40. Referring to the letters AI AI (“woe, woe”) on the petals of the flower.
41. i.e. in the curling hair of the youth Hyacinthus in the painting.
42. Cf. Od. 6. 231: komas, huakinthinô anthei homoias.
43. It was the stone slab marked with incised lines which gave a firm footing to the athlete; cf. Ausgrabungen in Olympia, v. 35. The present description closely follows the well-know Discobolus of Myron.
1.25 ANDRIANS
The stream of wine which is on the island of Andros, and the Andrians who have become drunken from the river, are the subject of this painting. For by act of Dionysus the earth of the Andrians is so charged with wine that it bursts forth and send up for them a river; if you have water in mind, the quantity is not great, but if wine, it is a great river – yes, divine! For he who draws from it may well disdain both Nile and Ister and may say of them that they also would be more highly esteemed if they were small, provided their streams were like this one.
These things, methinks, the men, crowned with ivy and bryony, are singing to their wives and children, some dancing on either bank, some reclining. And very likely this also is the theme of their song – that while the Acheloüs bears reeds, and the Peneius waters Tempe, and the Pactolus . . . flowers, this river makes men rich and powerful in the assembly, and helpful to their friends, and beautiful and, instead of short, four cubits tall; for when a man has drunk his fill of it he can assemble all of these qualities and in his though make them his own. They sing, I feel sure, that this river alone is not disturbed by the feet of cattle or of horses, but is a draught drawn from Dionysus, and is drunk unpolluted, flowing for men alone. This is what you should imagine you hear and what some of them really are singing, though their voices are thick with wine.
Consider, however, what is to be seen in the painting: The river lies on a couch of grape-clusters, pouring out its stream, a river undiluted and of agitated appearance44; thyrsi grow about it like reeds about bodies of water, and if one goes alone past the land and these drinking groups on it, he comes at length on Tritons at the river’s mouth, who are dipping up the wine in sea-shells. Some of it they drink, some they flow out in streams, and of the Tritons some are drunken and dancing. Dionysus also sails to the revels of Andros and, his ship now moored in the harbour, he leads a mixed throng of Satyrs and Bacchantes and all the Seileni. He leads Laughter (Gelon) and Revel (Comus), two spirits most gay and most fond of the drinking-bout, that with the greatest delight he may reap the river’s harvest.
44. A river of pure wine undiluted with water, and turgid, as if under the influence of wine.
1.26 BIRTH OF HERMES
The mere babe still in swaddling clothes, the one who is driving the cattle into the cleft of the earth, who furthermore is stealing Apollo’s weapons – this is Hermes.45 Very delightful are the thefts of the god; for the story is that Hermes, when Maia bore him, loved thievery and was skilled in it, though it was by no means through poverty that the god did such things, but out of pure delight and in a spirit of fun. If you wish to follow his course step by step, see how the painting depicts it. He is born on the crest of Olympus,46 at the very top, the abode of the gods. There, as Homer says,47 one feels no rain and hears no wind, nor is it ever beaten by snow, it is so high; but it is absolutely divine and free from the ills that pertain to the mountains which belong to men. There the Horae care for Hermes at his birth.48 The painter has depicted these also, each according to her time, and they wrap him in swaddling clothes, sprinkling over him the most beautiful flowers, that he may have swaddling clothes not without distinction. While they turn to the mother of Hermes lying on her couch of travail, he slips out of his swaddling clothes and begins to walk at once and descends from Olympus. The mountain rejoices in him – for its smile is like that of a man – and you are to assume that Olympus rejoices because Hermes was born there.
Now what of the theft?49 Cattle grazing on the foothills of Olympus, yonder cattle with golden horns and whiter than snow – for they are sacred to Apollo – he leads over a winding course into a cleft of the earth, not that they may perish, but that they may disappear for one day, until their loss vexes Apollo; and then he, as though he had had no part in the affair, slips back into his swaddling clothes. Apollo comes to Maia to demand back the cattle, but she does not believe him and thinks the god is talking nonsense. Would you learn what he is saying? For, from his expression he seems to me to be giving utterance, not merely to sounds, but to words; he looks as though he were about to say to Maia, “Your son whom you bore yesterday wrongs me; for the cattle in which I delight he has thrust into the earth, nor do I know where in the earth. Verily he shall perish and shall be thrust down deeper than the cattle.” But she merely marvels, and does not believe what he says. While they are still disputing with one another Hermes takes his stand behind Apollo, and leaping lightly on his back, he quietly unfastens Apollo’s bow and pilfers it unnoticed,50 but after he has pilfered it, he doest not escape detection. Therein lies the cleverness of the painter; for the melts the wrath of Apollo and represents him as delighted. But his laughter is restrained, hovering as it were over his face, as amusement conquers wrath.
45. Cf. the red-figured vase in the Museum Gregorianum, Baumeister, Denkmäler, fig. 741.
46. Cf. Alcaeus, Frag. 2, Edmond’s Lyra Graeca I; the story is told at length in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes.
47. Homer, Od. 6. 42 ff. “Neither is it shaken by winds, nor ever wet with rain, nor does the snow fall upon it, but the air is outspread clear and cloudless.” Translation of Murray in L.C.L.
48. Cf. Alcaeus, Frag. 3, Edmonds, Lyra Graeca I.; Philostratus, Vita Apollon. 5. 15. For the Horae, cf. elder Phil. Imag. ii. 34.
49. Hermes’ theft of the cattle is depicted on the mentioned in note 45.
50. The same scene is described at length in Horace’s Ode to Mercury, I. 10. 11. 9-12: Te boves olim, nisi reddisses, per dolum amotas, Puerum minaci voce dum terret, viduos pharetra risit Apollo.
1.27 AMPHIARAÜS
The two-horse chariot – for the four-horse chariot51 was not yet in use by the heroes except by Hector the Bold – is bearing Amphiaraüs52 on his way back from Thebes at the time when the earth is said to have opened to receive him, in order that he may prophesy in Attica53 and utter true answers, a sage among men most sage. Of those seven who sought to gain the kingdom for the Theban Polyneices none returned save Adrastus and Amphiaraüs; the rest the Cadmeian soil received.54 These were slain by spears and stones and battle-axes, all but Capaneus, who, it is said, was struck down by a thunderbolt after he had first, as I recall, struck at Zeus with a boastful taunt.55
Now those others belong to another tale, but the painting bids you look at Amphiaraüs alone as in his flight he sinks beneath the earth, fillets and laurel and all. His horses are white, the whirling of his chariot wheels shows urgent haste, the panting breath of the horses issues from every nostril, the earth is bespattered with foam, the horses’ manes are all awry, and fine dust settling on their bodies wet with sweat makes them less beautiful but more true to life. Amphiaraüs otherwise is in full armour, but he ahs left off his helmet, thus dedicating56 his head to Apollo, for his look is holy and oracular. The painting depicts also Oropus as a youth57 among bright-eyed women, nymphs of the sea, and it depicts also the place used by Amphiaraüs for meditation, a cleft holy and divine. Truth clad all in white is there and the gate of dreams58 – for those who consult the oracle must sleep – and the god of dreams himself is depicted in relaxed attitude, wearing a white garment over a black one, I think representing his nocturnal and diurnal work.59 And in his hands he carries a horn, showing that he brings up his dreams through the gate of truth.
51. Cf. elder Phil. Imag. 1. 17.
52. For Amphiaraüs on his chariot, cf. Benndorf-Neumann, Das Grabmal von Gjölbaschi, p. 194 f., Pl. xxiv a, 5.
53. i.e. at the Amphiaraüm at Oropus in northern Attica, a dream-oracle and health-resort.
54. Cf. Il. 3. 243.
55. Aeschylus gives the boast of Capaneus, Septem.: 427 f. Trans. Smyth, L.C.L.: “For whether Heaven wills it or wills it not, he vows he will make havoc of the city, and that even the rival fire of Zeus, though it crash upon the earth in his path, shall not stay his course . . . “
56. avieis with double meaning, (1) “leaving it free to the light” and (b) “dedicating it.”
57. The personification of the town of Oropus on the seashore, where the oracle of Amphiaraüs was situated.
58. i.e. the Gate of Horn, through which come dreams that are true; cf. Od. 19. 566. Those who consulted the oracle slept in the shrine, and were cured by the god or learned the means of cure through dreams, a practice called “incubation.”
59. The Dream-god wears white over black because dreams come by night as well as day.
1.28 HUNTERS
Do not rush past us, ye hunters, nor urge on your steeds till we can track down what your purpose is and what the game is you are hunting. For you claim to be pursuing a “fierce wild boar,” 60 and I see the devastation wrought by the creature – it has burrowed under the olive trees, cut down the vines, and has left neither fig tree nor apple tree or apple branch, but has torn them all out of the earth, partly by digging them up, partly by hurling itself upon them, and partly by rubbing against them. I see the creature, its mane bristling, its eyes flashing fire, and it is gnashing its tusks at you, brave youths61; for such wild animals are quick to bear the hunter’s din from a very great distance. But my own opinion is that, as you were hunting the beauty of yonder youth, you have been captured by him and are eager to run into danger for him. For why so near? Why do you touch him? Why have you turned toward him? Why do you jostle each other with your horses?62
How I have been deceived! I was deluded by the painting into thinking that the figures were not painted but were real beings, moving and loving – at any rate I shout at them as though they could hear and I imagine that I hear some response – and you63 did not utter a single word to turn me back from my mistake, being as much overcome as I was and unable to free yourself from the deception and the stupefaction induced by it. So let us look at the details of the painting; for it really is a painting before which we stand.
About the lad are gathered beautiful youths, who engage in beautiful pursuits, such as are becoming to men of noble parentage. One shows in his face a touch of the palaestra, anther shows grace, another urbanity, and the fourth, you will say, has just raised his head from a book. The horses they ride are no two alike, white and chestnut and black and bay, horses with silver bits, dappled horses with golden trappings – these pigments,64 it is said, the barbarians living by Oceanus compound of red-hot bronze, and they combine, and grow hard, and preserve what is painted with them – nor have the youths the same clothing or equipment. One lightly armed horseman wears his tunic girt up, a good javelin thrower I suppose, another has his breast protected with armour, threatening fight with the wild beast, another has his shins protected, another his legs. That youth65 rides on a white horse which, as you see, has a black head, and a white medallion is fashioned on his forehead in imitation of the full moon; and it has golden trappings, and bridle of Median scarlet; for his colour flashes on the gold with the effect of fiery-red jewels. The youth’s garment is a chlamys bellying out in the wind; in colour it is the sea-purple66 which the Phoenicians love, and it should be prized above other purple dyes; for though it seems to be dark it gains a peculiar beauty from the sun and is infused with the brilliancy of the sun’s warmth. And from shame of exposing himself unclad to those about him he wears a sleeved chiton of purple which reaches half-way down his thighs and likewise half-way to his elbows. He smiles, and his eye flashes, and he wears his hair long, but not long enough to shade his eyes when the wind shall throw it into disorder. Doubtless many a one will praise his cheeks and the proportions of his nose and each several feature of his face, but I admire his spiritedness; for as a hunter he is vigorous and is proud of his horse, and he is conscious of the fact that he is beloved. Mules and a muleteer bring their luggage, snares and nets and boar-spears and javelins and lances with toothed blades67; masters of hounds accompany the expedition and trackers and all breeds of dogs, not alone the keen-scented and swift of foot, but also the high-spirited dogs, for courage also was required to confront the wild beast. And so the painting shows Locrian, Laconian, Indian, and Cretan dogs,68 some sportive and baying, . . . and some attentive; and they all follow the trail with grinning muzzles.69 And the hunters as they advance will hymn Artemis Agrotera70; for yonder is a temple to her, and a statue worn smooth with age, and heads of boars and bears; and wild animals sacred to her graze there, fawns and wolves and hares, all tame and without fear of man. After a prayer the hunters continue the hunt.
The boar cannot bring himself to keep out of sight, but leaps from the thicket and rushes at the horsemen; at first it confuses them by its sudden onset, then it is overcome by their missiles, though it is not mortally wounded, partly because it is on its guard against their thrusts and partly because it is not hit by bold hunters; but, weakened by a superficial wound in the thigh, it runs through the woods till it finds refuge in a deep marsh and a pool adjoining the marsh. So with shouting the rest follow it to the edge of the marsh, but the youth keeps on after the creature into the pool and these four dogs with him; the creature tries to wound his horse, but bending well over on his horse and leaning to the right he delivers with the full force of his arm a blow that hits the boar just where the shoulder-blade joins the neck. Thereupon the dogs drag the boar to the ground, and the lovers on the bank shout as if in rivalry to see who will outshout his neighbour; and one is thrown from his horse which he excited beyond control instead of holding it I check; and he weaves for the youth a crown of flowers from the meadow in the marsh. The lad is still in the pool, still in the attitude in which he hurled his javelin, while the youths stand in astonishment and gaze at him as though he were a pictures.
60. Cf. Il. 9. 539: chlounên sun.
61. Cf. Il. 13. 473 f.: “He bristleth up his back and his two eyes blaze with fire, and he whetteth his tusks, eager to ward off dogs and men.” Trans. Murray, L.C.L.
62. i.e. as they try to get near the youth.
63. Addressed to the boy to whom he is interpreting the pictures.
64. The pigments used by the ancients were ordinarily earth colours (not vegetable colours, or chemical preparations), and were often brought from a great distance.
65. i.e. the central figure, the leader.
66. This “sea-purple” was obtained from a shell-fish, murex.
67. On the equipment of the hunter cf. Xen. De Venat. ix. 11 f.; x. 2 f., 16.
68. On hunting dogs cf. ibid. ix. 2; x. 1.
69. Cf. Xen. De Venat. iv. 3: emmeidiôsai men pros ta ichnê.
70. Artemis the Huntress. Cf. Xen. De Venat. vi. 13; Eur. Hipp. 58 f. gives the huntsmen’s hymn to Artemis.
1.29 PERSEUS
No, this is not the Red Sea nor are these inhabitants of India, but Ethiopians and a Greek man in Ethiopia. And of the exploit which I think the man undertook voluntarily for love, my boy, you must have heard – the exploit of Perseus71 who, they say, slew in Ethiopia a monster from the sea of Atlas,72 which was making its way against herds and the people of this land. Now the painter glorifies this tale and shows his pity for Andromeda in that she was given over to the monster. The contest is already finished and the monster lies stretched out on the strand, weltering in streams of blood – the reason the sea is red – while Eros frees Andromeda from her bonds. Eros is painted with wings as usual, but here, as it not usual, he is a young man,73 panting and still showing the effects of his toil; for before the deed Perseus put up a prayer to Eros that he should come and with him swoop down upon the creature, and Eros came, for he heard the Greek’s prayer. The maiden is charming in that she is fair of skin though in Ethiopia, and charming is the very beauty of her form; she would surpass a Lydian girl in daintiness, an Attic girl in stateliness, a Spartan in sturdiness. Her beauty is enhanced by the circumstances of the moment; for she seems to be incredulous, her joy is mingled with fear, and as she gazes at Perseus she begins to send a smile towards him. He, not far from the maiden, lies in the sweet fragrant grass, dripping sweat on the ground and keeping the Gorgon’s head hidden lest people see it and be turned to stone. Many cow-herds come offering him milk and wine to drink,74 charming Ethiopians with their strange colouring and their grim smiles; and they show that they are pleased, and most of them look alike, Perseus welcomes their gifts and, supporting himself on his left elbow, he lefts his chest, filled with breath through panting, and keeps his gaze upon the maiden, and lets the wind blow out his chlamys, which is purple and spattered with drops of blood and with the flecks which the creature breathed upon it in the struggle. Let he children of Pelops perish75 when it comes to a comparison with the shoulder of Perseus! for beautiful as he is and ruddy of face, his bloom has been enhanced by his toil and his veins are swollen, as is wont to happen when the breath comes quickly. Much gratitude does he win from the maiden.
71. The story is that Andromeda was bound on the seashore as prey for the sea monster, that thus the city of her father might be saved. There Perseus finds her as he goes on his quest for the head of Medusa; he slays the monster, frees the girl, and carried her off to be his wife.
72. Cf. Eur. Andromeda, Frag 145 Nauck: kêtos . . . ex Atlantikês halos.
73. Eros was often depicted as a youth in the firth and fourth centuries B.C., while in the Hellenistic and Roman periods the Erotes (or Cupids) were winged children.
74. Cf. Eur. Andromeda, Frag. 146N: pas de poimenôn erhei leôs, ho men galaktos kissinon pherôn skuphos, ponôn anapsuktêr, ho d’ ampelôn ganos.
75. Lit. “Good-bye to”; Pelops (see next Description) was famous for his ivory white shoulder, but the shoulders of Perseus were more beautiful and withal more muscular.
1.30 PELOPS
A delicate garment of Lydian fashion, a lad with beard just beginning to grow, Poseidon smiling at him and honouring76 the lad with a gift of horses – all this shows that it is Pelops the Lydian who has come to the sea in order to invoke Poseidon’s aid against Oenomaüs; since Oenomaüs accepts no son-in-law, but slaying the suitors of Hippodameia he takes pride in their severed members as hunters who have captures game take pride in the heads of bears or lions.77 And in answer to Pelops’ prayer a golden chariot ahs come out of the sea, but the horses are of mainland breed, and able to speed over the Aegean with dry axle and light hoof. The task will go off well for Pelops, but let us examine the task of the painter.
It requires no small effort, in my opinion to compose four horses together and not to confuse their several legs one with another, to impart to them high spirits controlled by the bridle, and to hold them still, one at the very moment when he does not want to stand still, another when he wants to paw the ground, a third when he [wants to lift up his head], while the fourth takes delight in the beauty of Pelops and his nostrils are distended as though he were neighing.78 This too is a clever touch: Poseidon loves the lad and brings him to the cauldron and to Clotho, after which Pelops’ shoulder seemed to shine79; and he did not try to divert him from the marriage, since the lad is eager for it, but being content even to touch his hand, he clasps the right hand of Pelops while he counsels him about the race; and already Pelops proudly “breathes Alpheius,” 80 and his look follows the steeds. Charming is his glance and elated because he is proud of the diadem, from which the hair of the lad trickling down like golden sprays of water follows the lines of his forehead, and joins the bright down on his cheeks, and though it falls this way and that, yet it lies gracefully. The hip and breast, and the other parts of the naked body of Pelops which might be mentioned, the painting conceals; a garment covers his arms and even his lower legs. For the Lydians and the upper barbarians, encasing their beauty in such garments, pride themselves on these weavings, when they might pride themselves on their natural form.81 While the rest of his figure is out of sight and covered, the garment by his left shoulder is artfully neglected in order that its gleam may not be hidden; for the night draws on, and the lad glows with the radiance of his shoulder as does the night with that of the evening star.
76. There are reminiscences of Pindar’ First Olympian Ode in the language of this description, e.g. agallôn, 19, and Ol. 1. 139, erôntas, 23, and Ol. 1. 127. Other echoes are noted below.
77. Sophocles is said to have referred to this practice in his play entitled Oenomaüs, cf. Frag. 432 N. For the chariot race of Pelops and Oenomaüs see elder Phil. Imag. i. 17, and Philostratus the Younger, Imag. 9.
78. Benndorf observes that Philostratus is describing the four-horse team as it is so often depicted on the vases of the fifth century B.C., on of the four turning back his head towards the charioteer, and one raising his head. The same scheme appears on a coin of Syracuse.
79. Cf. Pindar, Ol. 1. 39 f. The story that Tantalus served his son Pelops to the gods at a banquet is denied by Pindar, who explains it as malicious gossip; but Pindar accepts the “pure cauldron” from which Clotho, goddess of birth, took Pelops with the ivory shoulder. Pindar also tells of Poseidon’s love for Pelops, and of the gifts of the golden chariot with winged steeds, by which Pelops won Hippodameia.
80. “breathes Alpheius,” as in Aristophanes, Birds, 1121, of a runner at full stretch like an Olympic runner. The Olympic race-course was on the banks of the Alpheius.
81. Cf. Hdt. i. 10: the Lydians considered it a disgraceful thing for even a man to be seen naked.
1.31 XENIA
It is a good thing to gather figs and also not to pass over in silence the figs in this picture. Purple figs dripping with juice are heaped on vine-leaves; and they are depicted with breaks in the skin, some just cracking open to disgorge their honey, some split apart, they are so ripe. Near them lies a branch, not bare, by Zeus, or empty of fruit, but under the shade of its leaves are figs, some still green and “untimely,” 82 some with wrinkled skin over-ripe, and some about to turn, disclosing the shining juice, while on the tip of the branch a sparrow buries its bill in what seems the very sweetest of the figs. All the ground is strewn with chestnuts, some of which are rubbed free of the burr, others lie quite shut up, and others how the burr breaking at the lines of division. See, too, the pears on pears, apples on apples, both heaps of them and piles of ten, all fragrant and golden. You will say that their redness has not been put on from outside, but has bloomed from within. Here are gifts of the cherry tree, here is fruit in clusters heaped in a basket, and the basket is woven, not from alien twigs, but from branches of the plant itself. And if you look at the vine-sprays woven together and at the clusters hanging from them and how the grapes stand out one by one, you will certainly hymn Dionysus and speak of the vine as “Queenly giver of grapes.” 83 You would say that even the grapes in the painting are good to eat and full of winey juice. And the most charming point of all this is: on a leafy branch is yellow honey already within the comb and ripe to stream forth if the comb is pressed; and on another leaf is cheese new curdled and quivering; and there are bowls of milk not merely white but gleaming, for the cream floating upon it makes it seem to gleam.
82. The kind that are picked green and seldom ripen.
83. Aristophanes, Pax 520, where Eirênê is addressed.
