alexandria and her schools-第7部分

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　by　him；　but　seen　afar　off　by　faith。　　A　few　such　old　persons　have　I　seen；　both　men　and　women；　in　whom　the　young　heart　beat　pure　and　fresh；　beneath　the　cautious　and　practised　brain　of　age；　and　gray　hairs　which　were　indeed　a　crown　of　glory。　　A　few　such　have　I　seen；　and　from　them　I　seemed　to　learn　what　was　the　likeness　of　our　Father　who　is　in　heaven。　　To　such　an　old　age　may　He　bring　you　and　me；　and　all　for　whom　we　are　bound　to　pray。



LECTURE　IITHE　PTOLEMAIC　ERA　（Continued。）



I　said　in　my　first　Lecture；　that　even　if　royal　influence　be　profitable　for　the　prosecution　of　physical　science；　it　cannot　be　profitable　for　art。　　It　can　only　produce　a　literary　age；　as　it　did　in　the　Ptolemaic　era；　a　generation　of　innumerable　court…poets；　artificial　epigrammatists；　artificial　idyllists；　artificial　dramatists　and　epicists；　above　all；　a　generation　of　critics。　　Or　rather　shall　we　say；　that　the　dynasty　was　not　the　cause　of　a　literary　age；　but　only　its　correlative？　　That　when　the　old　Greeks　lost　the　power　of　being　free；　of　being　anything　but　the　slaves　of　oriental　despots；　as　the　Ptolemies　in　reality　were；　they　lost　also　the　power　of　producing　true　works　of　art；　because　they　had　lost　that　youthful　vigour　of　mind　from　which　both　art　and　freedom　sprang？　Let　the　case　be　as　it　will；　Alexandrian　literature　need　not　detain　us　longthough；　alas！　it　has　detained　every　boy　who　ever　trembled　over　his　Greek　grammar；　for　many　a　weary　year；　and；　I　cannot　help　suspecting；　has　been　the　main　cause　that　so　many　young　men　who　have　spent　seven　years　in　learning　Greek；　know　nothing　about　it　at　the　end　of　the　seven。　　For　I　must　say；　that　as　far　as　we　can　see；　these　Alexandrian　pedants　were　thorough　pedants；　very　polished　and　learned　gentlemen；　no　doubt；　and；　like　Callimachus；　the　pets　of　princes：　　but　after　all；　men　who　thought　that　they　could　make　up　for　not　writing　great　works　themselves；　by　showing；　with　careful　analysis　and　commentation；　how　men　used　to　write　them　of　old；　or　rather　how　they　fancied　men　used　to　write　them；　for；　consider；　if　they　had　really　known　how　the　thing　was　done；　they　must　needs　have　been　able　to　do　it　themselves。　　Thus　Callimachus；　the　favourite　of　Ptolemy　Philadelphus；　and　librarian　of　his　Museum；　is　the　most　distinguished　grammarian；　critic；　and　poet　of　his　day；　and　has　for　pupils　Eratosthenes；　Apollonius　Rhodius；　Aristophanes　of　Byzantium；　and　a　goodly　list　more。　　He　is　an　encyclopaedia　in　himself。　　There　is　nothing　the　man　does　not　know；　or　probably；　if　we　spoke　more　correctly；　nothing　he　does　not　know　about。　　He　writes　on　history；　on　the　Museum；　on　barbarous　names；　on　the　wonders　of　the　world；　on　public　games；　on　colonisation；　on　winds；　on　birds；　on　the　rivers　of　the　world；　and　ominous　subjecta　sort　of　comprehensive　history　of　Greek　literature；　with　a　careful　classification　of　all　authors；　each　under　his　own　heading。　　Greek　literature　was　rather　in　the　sere　and　yellow　leaf；　be　sure；　when　men　thought　of　writing　that　sort　of　thing　about　it。　　But　still；　he　is　an　encyclopaedic　man；　and；　moreover；　a　poet。　　He　writes　an　epic；　〃Aitia；〃　in　four　books；　on　the　causes　of　the　myths；　religious　ceremonies；　and　so　forthan　ominous　sign　for　the　myths　also；　and　the　belief　in　them；　also　a　Hecate；　Galataea；　Glaucusfour　epics；　besides　comedies；　tragedies；　iambics；　choriambics；　elegies；　hymns；　epigrams　seventy…threeand　of　these　last　alone　can　we　say　that　they　are　in　any　degree　readable；　and　they　are　courtly；　far…fetched；　neat；　and　that　is　all。　　Six　hymns　remain；　and　a　few　fragments　of　the　elegies：　　but　the　most　famous　elegy；　on　Berenice's　hair；　is　preserved　to　us　only　in　a　Latin　paraphrase　of　Catullus。　　It　is　curious；　as　the　earliest　instance　we　have　of　genuinely　ungenuine　Court　poetry；　and　of　the　complimentary　lie　which　does　not　even　pretend　to　be　true；　the　flattery　which　will　not　take　the　trouble　to　prevent　your　seeing　that　it　is　laughing　in　your　face。

Berenice　the　queen；　on　Ptolemy's　departure　to　the　wars；　vows　her　beautiful　tresses　to　her　favourite　goddess；　as　the　price　of　her　husband's　safe　return；　and　duly　pays　her　vow。　　The　hair　is　hung　up　in　the　temple：　　in　a　day　or　two　after　it　has　vanished。　　Dire　is　the　wrath　of　Ptolemy；　the　consternation　of　the　priests；　the　scandal　to　religion；　when　Conon；　the　court…astronomer；　luckily　searching　the　heavens；　finds　the　missing　tresses　in　an　utterly　unexpected　placeas　a　new　constellation　of　stars；　which　to　this　day　bears　the　title　of　Coma　Berenices。　　It　is　so　convenient　to　believe　the　fact；　that　everybody　believes　it　accordingly；　and　Callimachus　writes　an　elegy　thereon；　in　which　the　constellified；　or　indeed　deified　tresses；　address　in　most　melodious　and　highly…finished　Greek；　bedizened　with　concetto　on　concetto；　that　fair　and　sacred　head　whereon　they　grew；　to　be　shorn　from　which　is　so　dire　a　sorrow；　that　apotheosis　itself　can　hardly　reconcile　them　to　the　parting。

Worthy；　was　not　all　this；　of　the　descendants　of　the　men　who　fought　at　Marathon　and　Thermopylae？　　The　old　Greek　civilisation　was　rotting　swiftly　down；　while　a　fire　of　God　was　preparing；　slowly　and　dimly；　in　that　unnoticed　Italian　town　of　Rome；　which　was　destined　to　burn　up　that　dead　world；　and　all　its　works。

Callimachus's　hymns；　those　may　read　who　list。　　They　are　highly　finished　enough；　the　work　of　a　man　who　knew　thoroughly　what　sort　of　article　he　intended　to　make；　and　what　were　the　most　approved　methods　of　making　it。　Curious　and　cumbrous　mythological　lore　comes　out　in　every　other　line。　The　smartness；　the　fine　epithets；　the　recondite　conceits；　the　bits　of　effect；　are　beyond　all　praise；　but　as　for　one　spark　of　life；　of　poetry；　of　real　belief；　you　will　find　none；　not　even　in　that　famous　Lavacrum　Palladis　which　Angelo　Poliziano　thought　worth　translating　into　Latin　elegiacs；　about　the　same　time　that　the　learned　Florentine；　Antonio　Maria　Salviano；　found　Berenice's　Hair　worthy　to　be　paraphrased　back　from　Catullus'　Latin　into　Greek；　to　give　the　world　some　faint　notion　of　the　inestimable　and　incomparable　original。　　They　must　have　had　much　time　on　their　hands。　　But　at　the　Revival　of　Letters；　as　was　to　be　expected；　all　works　of　the　ancients；　good　and　bad；　were　devoured　alike　with　youthful　eagerness　by　the　Medicis　and　the　Popes；　and　it　was　not；　we　shall　see；　for　more　than　one　century　after；　that　men's　taste　got　sufficiently　matured　to　distinguish　between　Callimachus　and　the　Homeric　hymns；　or　between　Plato　and　Proclus。　　Yet　Callimachus　and　his　fellows　had　an　effect　on　the　world。　　His　writings；　as　well　as　those　of　Philetas；　were　the　model　on　which　Ovid；　Propertius；　Tibullus；　formed　themselves。

And　so　I　leave　him；　with　two　hints。　　If　any　one　wishes　to　see　the　justice　of　my　censure；　let　him　read　one　of　the　Alexandrian　hymns；　and　immediately　after　it；　one　of　those　glorious　old　Homeric　hymns　to　the　very　same　deities；　let　him　contrast　the　insincere　and　fulsome　idolatry　of　Callimachus　with　the　reverent；　simple　and　manful　anthropomorphism　of　the　Homeristand　let　him　form　his　own　judgment。

The　other　hint　is　this。　　If　Callimachus；　the　founder　of　Alexandrian　literature；　be　such　as　he　is；　what　are　his　pupils　likely　to　become；　at　least　without　some　infusion　of　healthier　blood；　such　as　in　the　case　of　his　Roman　imitators　produced　a　new　and　not　altogether　ignoble　school？

Of　Lycophron；　the　fellow…grammarian　and　poet　of　Callimachus；　we　have　nothing　left　but　the　Cassandra；　a　long　iambic　poem；　stuffed　with　traditionary　learning；　and　so　obscure；　that　it　obtained　for　him　the　surname　of　＇Greek　text：　　skoteinos＇　the　dark　one。　　I　have　tried　in　vain　to　read　it：　　you；　if　you　will；　may　do　the　same。

Philetas；　the　remaining　member　of　the　Alexandrian　Triad；　seems　to　have　been　a　more　simple；　genial；　and　graceful　spirit　than　the　other　two；　to　whom　he　was　accordingly　esteemed　inferior。　　Only　a　few　fragments　are　left；　but　he　was　not　altogether　without　his　influence；　for　he　was；　as　I　have　just　said；　one　of　the　models　on　which　Propertius　and　Ovid　formed　themselves；　and　some；　indeed；　call　him　the　Father　of　the　Latin　elegy；　with　its　terseness；　grace；　and　clear　epigrammatic　form　of　thought；　and；　therefore；　in　a　great　degree；　of　our　modern　eighteenth　century　poets；　not　a　useless　excellence；　seeing　that　it　is；　on　the　whole；　good　for　him　who　writes　to　see　clearly　what　he　wants　to　say；　and　to　be　able　to　make　his　readers　see　it　clearly　also。　　And　yet　one　natural　strain　is　heard　amid　all　this　artificial　jinglethat　of　Theocritus。　　It　is　not　altogether　Alexandrian。　　Its　sweetest　notes　were　learnt　amid　the　chestnut　groves　and　orchards；　the　volcanic　glens　and　sunny　pastures　of　Sicily；　but　the　intercourse；　between　the　courts　of　Hiero　and　the　Ptolemies　seems　to　have　been　continual。　　Poets　and　philosophers　moved　freely　from　one　to　the　other；　and　found　a　like　atmosphere　in　both；　and　in　one　of　Theocritus'　idyls；　two　Sicilian　gentlemen；　crossed　in　love；　agree　to　sail　for　Alexandria；　and　volunteer　into　the　army　of　the　great　and　good　king　Ptolemy；　of　whom　a　sketch　is　given　worth　reading；　as　a　man　noble；　generous；　and　stately；　〃knowing　well　who　loves　him；　and　still　better　who　loves　him　not。〃　　He　has　another　encomium　on　Ptolemy；　more　laboured；　though　not　less　interesting：　　but　the　real　value　of　Theocritus　lies　in　his　power　of　landscape…painting。

One　can　well　conceive　the　delight　which　his　idyls　must　have　given　to　those　dusty　Alexandrians；　pent　up　forever　between　sea　and　sand…hills；　drinking　the　tank…water；　and　never　hearing　the　sound　of　a　running　streamwhirling；　too；　forever；　in　all　the　bustle　and　intrigue　of　a　great　commercial　and　literary　city。　　Refreshing　indeed　it　must　have　been　to　them　to　hear　of　those　simple　joys　and　simple　sorrows　of　the　Sicilian　shepherd；　in　a　land　where　toil　was　but　exercise；　and　mere　existence　was　enjoyment。　　To　them；　and　to　us　also。　　I　believe　Theocritus　is　one　of　the　poets　who　will　never　die。　　He　sees　men　and　things；　in　his　own　light　way；　truly；　and　he　describes　them　simply；　honestly；　with　little　careless　touches　of　pathos　and　humour；　while　he　floods　his　whole　scene　with　that　gorgeous　Sicilian　air；　like　one　of　Titian's　pictures；　with　still　sunshine；　whispering　pines；　the　lizard　sleeping　on　the　wall；　and　the　sunburnt　cicala　shrieking　on　the　spray；　the　pears　and　apples　dropping　from　the　orchard　bough；　the　goats　clambering　from　crag　to　crag　after　the　cistus　and　the　thyme；　the　brown　yout