Читать книгу Greek Women - Mitchell 1870-1925 Carroll - Страница 12

It is but natural that the great ladies of heroic times, reared in the luxury of courts, attended by numerous slaves, and exercising an elevating influence over their husbands through their personal charms, should devote great attention to the elegancies of the costume and the toilet. The Greek love of beauty led to love of dress. Numerous epithets point to this characteristic of Homeric ladies; as "with beautiful peplus," "well-girdled," "with beautiful zone," "with beautiful veil," "with beautiful sandal," and the like; and care in dressing the hair is seen in such phrases as "with goodly locks," "with glossy locks."

The Homeric poems describe for us the dress of the Æolico-Ionians down to the ninth or eighth centuries before Christ, and it differs in many important particulars from that of the classical period as seen in the Parthenon marbles.

The women wore only one outer garment, the peplus, brought to Hellas from Asia by the Aryans, which garment the Dorian women continued to wear until a late period. The peplus in its simplest form consisted of an oblong piece of the primitive homemade woollen cloth, unshapen and unsewn, open at the sides, and fastened on the shoulders by fibulæ, and bound by a girdle; but, undoubtedly, as worn by Homeric princesses it assumed a much more regular pattern and was richly embroidered. The pharos was probably a linen garment of Egyptian origin, which was sometimes worn instead of the peplus. Thus the nymph Calypso "donned a great shining pharos, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast a fair golden girdle, and a veil withal on her head." Both these garments left the arms bare, and, while frequently of some length behind, as seen in the epithet "the robe-trailing Trojan dames," were short enough in front to allow the feet to appear.

As the peplus was open at the sides, the girdle was the second most important article of feminine attire. This was frequently of gold, as in Calypso's case, and adorned with tassels, as was Hera's girdle with its hundred tassels "of pure gold, all deftly woven, and each one worth an hundred oxen." But the girdle of girdles was the magic cestus of golden Aphrodite, which Hera borrowed in order to captivate Zeus. The tightened girdle made the dress full over the bosom, so that the epithet "deep-bosomed"--that is, with full, swelling bosom--became frequent. Another characteristic article of dress was the kredemnon, a kind of veil, of linen or of silk, in color generally white, though at times dark blue. It was worn over the head, and allowed to fall down the back and the sides of the head, leaving the face uncovered. There was no garment, like a cloak, to be worn over the peplus. For freer movement women would cast off the mantle-like kredemnon, which answered all the purposes of a shawl. Thus Nausicaa and her companions, when preparing for the game of ball, "cast off their tires and began the song," and Hecuba, in her violent grief, "tore her hair and cast from her the shining veil." There were also metal ornaments for the head, the stephané, or coronal, and the ampyx, a headband or frontlet. The kekryphalos was probably a caplike net, bound by a woven band; Andromache "shook off from her head the bright attire thereof, the net, and woven band." Other feminine ornaments were: the isthmion, a necklace, fitting close to the neck; the hormos, a long chain, sometimes of gold and amber, hanging from the nape of the neck over the breast; and peronæ, or brooches, and ear-rings of various shapes, either globular, spiral, or in the form of a cup, Helen, for example, "set ear-rings in her pierced ear, ear-rings of three drops and glistening; therefrom shone grace abundant."

To embrace in one general description these various articles of feminine attire, "we may think of Helen as arrayed in a colored peplus, richly embroidered and perfumed, the corners of which were drawn tightly over the shoulders and fastened together by the perone. The waist was closely encircled by the zone, which was, no doubt, of rich material and design. Over her bosom hung the hormos of dark red amber set in gold. Her hair hung down in artificial plaits, and on her head was the high, stiff kekryphalos, of which we have spoken above, bound in the middle by the plekté anadesme. Over the forehead was the shining ampyx, or tiara, of gold; and from the top of the head fell the kredemnon, or veil, over the shoulders and back, affording a quiet foil to the glitter of gold and jewels."

Such is the picture of the Heroic Age as drawn for us by Homer. It is a bright picture in the main, though the treatment of the widows and the captive maidens throws on it dark shadows. But when we become acquainted with the heroines of this age, and study their characters in the environment in which Homer places them, we shall be all the more impressed with the high status maintained by the gentler sex at the dawn of Greek civilization.

Before treating of the heroines of Homer, however, let us briefly notice the maidens and matrons of Greek mythology who do not figure so conspicuously in the Chronicles of the Trojan War, but who have won a permanent place in art and in literature.

We should not fail to mention the mortal loves who became through Zeus the mothers of heroes,--Europa, whom he wooed in the form of a white bull, and carried away to Crete, where she became the mother of Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Sarpedon; Semele, who was overcome with terror when Zeus appeared in all his godlike array, and who gave birth to Dionysus, god of the vine; Leda, wooed by Zeus in the guise of a snow-white swan, the mother of Helen, and of Castor and Pollux; Alcmene, mother of Heracles; Callisto, changed, with her little son Arcas, because of the jealousy of Hera, into the constellations known as the Great and the Little Bear; and, finally, Danaë, daughter of Acrisius, King of Argos, locked up by her tyrannical father in a brazen tower, but visited by Zeus as a golden shower. The offspring of this union was the hero Perseus. King Acrisius, in dread of a prophecy that he was destined to be slain by his grandson, had the mother and helpless infant enclosed in an empty cask, which was consigned to the fury of the sea. Terrified at the sound of the great waves beating over their heads, Danaë prayed to the gods to watch over them and bring them to some friendly shore. Her piteous prayers were answered, and mother and child were rescued and found a hospitable haven on the island of Seriphos,

"When rude around the high-wrought ark

The tempests raged, the waters dark

Around the mother tossed and swelled;

With not unmoistened cheek she held

Her Perseus in her arms and said:

'What sorrows bow this hapless head!

Thou sleepst the while, thy gentle breast

Is heaving in unbroken rest,

In this our dark, unjoyous home,

Clamped with the rugged brass, the gloom

Scarce broken by the doubtful light

That gleams from yon dim fires of night.

But thou, unwet thy clustering hair,

Heedst not the billows raging wild,

The moanings of the bitter air,

Wrapt in thy purple robe, my beauteous child!

Oh! seemed this peril perilous to thee,

How sadly to my words of fear

Wouldst thou bend down thy listening ear!

But now sleep on, my child! sleep thou, wide sea!

Sleep, my unutterable agony!

Oh! change thy counsels, Jove, our sorrows end!

And if my rash, intemperate zeal offend,

For my child's sake, his father, pardon me!'"

The god Apollo, too, had his mortal loves: the fair maiden Coronis, whom in a fit of jealousy he shot through the heart,--the mother of Æsculapius, the god of healing; Daphne, the beautiful nymph, who would not listen to his entreaties, and was finally changed into a laurel tree; and the muse Calliope, by whom he became the father of Orpheus, who inherited his parent's musical and poetical gifts. The story of the loves of Orpheus and his beautiful wife, Eurydice, is one of the most touching in all literature: how she died from the bite of a venomous serpent, and her spirit was conducted down to the gloomy realms of Hades, leaving Orpheus broken-hearted; how Zeus gave him permission to go down into the infernal regions to seek his wife; how he appeased even Cerberus's rage by his music, and Hades and Proserpina consented to restore Eurydice to life and to her husband's care, but on the one condition that he should leave the infernal regions without once turning to look into the face of his beloved wife; and how he observed the mandate until just before he reached the earth, when he turned, only to behold the vanishing form of the wife he had so nearly snatched from the grave. The rest of his days were passed in sadness, and finally some Bacchantes, enraged at his sad notes, tore him limb from limb, and cast his mangled remains into the river Hebrus. "As the poet-musician's head floated down the stream, the pallid lips still murmured 'Eurydice!' for even in death he could not forget his wife; and as his spirit floated on to join her, he incessantly called upon her name, until the brooks, trees, and fountains he had loved so well caught up the longing cry and repeated it again and again."

The story of Niobe is one of the best-known Greek legends, because of its exquisite portrayal in art. Niobe, daughter of Tantalus, the mother of fourteen children,--seven manly sons and seven beautiful daughters,--in her pride taunted the goddess Latona, mother of Apollo and Artemis, because her offspring numbered only two. She even went so far as to forbid her people to worship the two deities, and ordered that all the statues of them in her kingdom should be torn down and destroyed. Enraged at the insult, Latona called her children to her, and bade them slay all the children of Niobe. Apollo, therefore, coming upon the seven lads as they were hunting, slew them with his unfailing arrows; and while the mother was grieving for the loss of her sons, Artemis began to slay her daughters. In vain did the mother strive to protect them, and one by one they fell, never to rise again. Then the gods, touched by her woe, changed her into stone just as she stood, with upturned face, streaming eyes, and quivering lips.

Three other heroines of mythology deserve to be enrolled within this brief chronicle: Andromeda, Ariadne, and Atalanta. The Princess Andromeda, a lovely maiden, was being offered as a sacrifice to a terrible sea monster who was devastating the coast. She was chained fast to an overhanging rock, above the foaming billows that continually dashed their spray over her fair limbs. As the monster was about to carry her off as his prey, the hero Perseus, returning from his conquest of Medusa, suddenly appeared as a deliverer, slew the monster, freed Andromeda from her chains, restored her to the arms of her overjoyed parent, and thus won the princess as his bride.

Far more pathetic is the story of the Princess Ariadne, daughter of King Minos of Crete, who fell in love with the Athenian hero Theseus when he came to rescue the Athenian youths and maidens from the terrible Minotaur. She provided him with a sword and with a ball of twine, enabling him to slay the monster and to thread his way out of the inextricable mazes of the labyrinth. Theseus in gratitude carried her off as his bride; but on the island of Naxos he basely deserted her, and Ariadne was left disconsolate. Violent was her grief; but in the place of a fickle mortal lover, she became the fair bride of an immortal, the genial god Dionysus, who discovered her on the island and wooed and won her.

Atalanta, the third of this illustrious group, the daughter of Iasius, King of Arcadia, was a famous runner and sportswoman. She took part with Meleager in the grand hunt for the Calydonian boar, and it was she who at last brought the boar to bay and gave him a mortal wound. When Atalanta returned to her father's court, she had numberless suitors for her hand; but, anxious to preserve her freedom, she imposed the condition that every suitor should engage with her in a footrace: if he were beaten, his life was forfeited; if successful, she would become his bride. Many had thus lost their lives. Finally, Hippomenes, a youth under the protection of Aphrodite, who had bestowed on him three golden apples, desired to race with the princess. Atalanta soon passed her antagonist, but, as she did so, a golden apple fell at her feet. She stooped to pick it up, and Hippomenes regained the lead. Again she passed him, and again a golden apple caused her to pause, and Hippomenes shot ahead. Finally, just as she was about to reach the goal, the third golden apple tempted her to stop once more, and Hippomenes won the race and a peerless bride.