whole freight; they choose a captain to whom they entrust just power enough to keep the vessel on her course in fine weather, but not quite enough for a gale of wind; they also elect a cook and a mate.

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We were nearing the isle of Cyprus, when there arose half a gale of wind, with a heavy, chopping sea. My Greek seamen considered that the weather amounted, not to a half, but to an integral gale of wind at the very least; so they put up the helm, and scudded for twenty hours. When we neared the mainland of Anadoli, the gale ceased, and a favourable breeze springing up, soon brought us off Cyprus once more. Afterwards the wind changed again, but we were still able to lay our course by sailing close-hauled.

We were at length in such a position, that by holding on our course for about half an hour, we should get under the lee of the island, and find ourselves in smooth water, but the wind had been gradually freshening; it now blew hard, and there was a heavy sea running.

As the grounds for alarm arose, the crew gathered together in one close group; they stood pale and grim under their hooded capotes like monks awaiting a massacre, anxiously looking by turns along the pathway of the storm, and then upon each other, and then upon the eye of the Captain, who stood by the helmsman. Presently the Hydriot came aft, more moody than ever, the bearer of fierce remonstrance against the continuing of the struggle; he received a resolute answer, and still we held our course. Soon there came a heavy sea that caught the bow of the brigantine as she lay jammed in betwixt the waves; she bowed her head low under the waters, and shuddered through all her timbers, then gallantly stood up again over the striving sea with bowsprit entire. But where were the crew? It was a crew no longer, but rather a gathering of Greek citizens, the shout of the seamen was changed for the murmuring of the people-the spirit of the old Demos was alive. The men came aft in a body, and loudly asked that the vessel should be put about, and that the storm be no longer tempted. Now, then, for speeches :-the Captain, his eyes flashing fire, his frame all quivering with emotion, -wielding his every limb, like another and a louder voice,-pours forth the eloquent torrent of his threats, and his reasons, his commands, and his prayers; he promises-he vows-he swears that there is safety in holding on-safety, if Greeks will be brave ! The men hear and are moved, but the gale rouses itself once more, and again the raging sea comes trampling over the timbers that are the life of all. The fierce Hydriot advances one step nearer

to the Captain, and the angry growl of the people goes floating down the wind; but they listen, they waver once more, and once more resolve, then waver again, thus doubtfully hanging between the terrors of the storm and the persuasion of glorious speech, as though it were the Athenian that talked, and Philip of Macedon that thundered on the weather bow.

Brave thoughts winged on Grecian words gained their natural mastery over terror; the brigantine held on her course, and smooth water was reached at last.

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Let me close these remarks on the relationship between "Myth" and "Allegory" with a reference to " "Ritual," in which the characteristics of both seem to be united. "ritual performance" or "rite" is made up of "symbols." 1 A symbol is a thing, or an act, taken to represent something else. That something else generally something of great importance may be a transaction (such as a sale of land, symbolised in the Roman law by the act of transferring a clod of earth), or a belief (such as the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, symbolised by sprinkling with water), or a concept (such as that of justice, symbolised by a figure holding an even balance), or a nation (symbolised by its flag). In most cases the symbol has some analogical resemblance, close or remote, to that which it represents; in some cases it is a badge which has for some other reason become attached. The habit of symbolic representation is one of the most primitive and persistent tendencies of human nature. It was present in the first efforts of language, and the highest flights of science are still entirely dependent on the development of it; while without the development of it in another direction there could have been no poetry-the primrose would always have been but the yellow primrose; and even no courtesy of manners-everybody would always have called a spade a spade.

Now, a ritual performance, or rite, is a composition made up of symbols so put together as to produce solemn feeling in those who celebrate and assist. This effect produced is a massive experience of the whole, and may be, indeed ordinarily is, received without conscious attention to the significance of the separate parts the symbols which together

1 See Réville, Prolégomènes de l'Hist. des Religions, p. 125 (Eng. Translation by Squire).

make the whole rite. The rite, if effectually received, is received devoutly as a Myth, not critically apprehended as an Allegory. In its origin and composition it is an Allegorya mosaic of symbols; but as time goes on this is largely lost sight of; the corporate genius of the religious society to which it belongs transforms it for the devout into a Myth. Plato compares that enthusiastic Philosophy, of which Myth is the vehicle, to the Mysteries.1 The devout went to Eleusis, not to get doctrine out of allegorical representations, but to have their souls purified by the awe of the "Blessed Sights presented in the acted Myth.

The procession in Purgatorio, xxix., like Ezekiel's visions, to which it is indebted, is an elaborately ordered series of symbolical creatures and objects; in the fresco on the left wall of the Spanish Chapel of S. Maria Novella in Florence, every figure, either in itself, or in the position which it occupies in the group, is a symbol. It is true, of course, that to appreciate the beauty of either composition fully one must have at least a general acquaintance with the meaning of the symbols employed; yet finally it is as a great spectacle that the procession of the twenty-ninth Canto of the Purgatorio or the fresco in the Spanish Chapel appeals to one. Indeed, it is because it so appeals that one is anxious to spell out the symbolical meaning of its separate parts, so that, having spelt this patiently out, one may find one's self all the more under the enchantment of the whole which transcends the sum of its parts so wondrously.2

Similarly, to take a third instance, it is because the Story, in the Second Book of the Fairy Queen, of the Adventures at the Castle of Medina, is very readable as a story, and contains beautiful passages of poetry, that we are pleasurably interested in following its elaborate translation of the dry Aristotelian doctrine of "Mean and Extremes " into pictures.

I would add that the effect produced by a great professedly allegorical composition like the procession in Purgatorio, xxix., or the Spanish Chapel fresco, is sometimes produced by a poem-sometimes even by a single line or stanza of poetry-in which the poet's art, instead of definitely 1 See supra, p. 236.

2 The symbolism of the fresco alluded to above is dealt with by Ruskin in his Mornings in Florence, iv. and v.

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presenting, distantly suggests a system of symbols. A symbol or system of symbols definitely presented is often enough a mysterious thing; but a symbol or system of symbols distantly suggested "teases us out of thought," and arouses in no ordinary degree that wonder, at we know not what, which enters into the effect produced by Poetry as such.

I do not think that a better example of what may be called suppressed symbolism, and of its wonderful poetical effect, could be found than that afforded by Dante's canzone beginning

Tre donne intorno al cor mi son venute 1

a poem on which Coleridge's record of its effect upon himself is the best commentary. He begins by describing it as "a poem of wild and interesting images, intended as an enigma, and to me an enigma it remains, spite of all my efforts." Then, in an entry dated Ramsgate, Sept. 2, 1819, he writes: "I begin to understand the above poem (Tre donne intorno al cuor mi son venute, etc.), after an interval from 1805, during which no year passed in which I did not re-peruse, I might say, construe, parse, and spell it, twelve times at least-such a fascination had it, spite of its obscurity! It affords a good instance, by the bye, of that soul of universal significance in a true poet's composition, in addition to the specific meaning."

1 Canzone xx. p. 170, Oxford Dante.

2 Anima Poetae, from the unpublished notebooks of S. T. Coleridge, edited by E. H. Coleridge, 1895, p. 293.

THE TIMAEUS

CONTEXT

THE subject of the Timaeus is the Creation of the Universe (soul and body) and of Man (soul and body). The speaker in whose mouth the whole Discourse, or Myth, treating of this subject is put is Timaeus, the great Pythagorean Philosopher of Locri in Italy.

The Discourse, or Myth, is part of the general scheme which is worked out in the Trilogy consisting of the Republic, Timaeus, and Critias.

The assumed chronological order of the pieces is Republic, Timaeus, Critias: i.e. the Conversation at the house of Cephalus is repeated next day by Socrates to Timaeus, Critias, Hermocrates, and another this is the Republic; the day after that again, Socrates, Timaeus, Critias, and Hermocrates meet, and the Conversation and Discourse which constitute the Timaeus are held, followed by the Myth related by Critias in the unfinished piece which bears his name. Thus we have first an account of Man's education; then an account of his creation; and lastly the story of the Great War for which his education fits him.

But, of course, the logical order is Timaeus, Republic, Critias-God, because he is good, makes, in his own image, the Universe of which Man is part-not, however, a mere part, but a part which, after a fashion, is equivalent to the whole, in so far as it adequately represents the whole-a microcosm in the macrocosm. Man, as microcosm, is an image of God as adequate as the great Cosmos itself is; and, like God whose image he is, is a creator-makes in turn a Cosmos, the State. We have thus the analogy :-God: Cosmos: Man: State. Upon God's creation of the Cosmos, in the Timaeus, there follows, in order, Man's creation of the State, in the Republic; while the Critias comes last with the representation of the State performing the work for which it was created.