25 APRIL 1846, Page 15

PERICLES.

THE object of this fiction is to exhibit the writer's view of the true cha- racter of Pericles and Aspasia, and the general features of Athenian so- ciety in their age. The author may also wish to indirectly inculcate some of his own views in morals and politics, especially so far as the ex- tremes of democracy and aristocracy have a relation to the present times. But this purpose, if entertained, is covered ; and its appearance perhaps arises from the difficulty of truly depicting ancient manners, which, com- bined with a genius more didactic than dramatic, may have forced the writer to present principles as pure abstractions, though in the form of persons, instead of exhibiting practices and opinions modified by indi- vidual character.

The author deems that the most favourable conclusion with regard to Pericles and Aspasia is not sufficiently favourable. He represents the connexion between the statesman and the courtesan as at first one of ad- miring friendship, subsequently growing into a warmer feeling, which Pericles is finally able to gratify legitimately, through equivocal con- duct on the part of Hipparete his wife, that compels her to consent to a divorce. Aspasia herself is painted not merely as an able and ac- complished woman—such, for example, as might be found under the old regime of France—but as a penetrating and original philosophic genius; disgusted with the degradation to which her sex is reduced, and the profligacy to which that degradation gives rise ; opposing the heathen superstitions by which she is surrounded, not merely for their falsehood, but for the vices and corruption to which their festivals lead; and incul- cating the " One Great Cause" as the sole originator and sustainer of all things, and the only object of worship. This Theism she inculcates distinctly, though it is shaped but dimly, and owes its clearest form to some Hebrew fragments sung by Jewish captives taken by the Greeks from the Persian army.

Though the hero and heroine occupy the most conspicuous place in the work, and the interest of the reader is chiefly fixed upon them, other historical personages are introduced, and are connected more or less with the main story. The master of Pericles, the philosopher Anaxagoras, is presented to the reader ; so is his great pupil Socrates, and a man equally great, though in another walk, the sculptor Phidias. Of politicians, there are Thucydides the orator and opponent of Pericles, and the demagogue Cleon at the outset of his career. Lysicles, the second husband of Aspasia, is made to bear a part in the story, as a youthful worshiper rather than a lover, and, after he sees his great rival, as a fol- lower of Pericles. These are the principal historical personages ; but many fictitious characters are introduced, to represent the politicians, the profligates, the parasites, and the various other classes of Athenian citizens.

The action of the novel is mainly founded on public events with which Pericles is connected,—as the opening (in modern phraseology) of the Parthenon, and the unveiling of the statue of Minerva; the accusa- tions of corruption brought against Phidiaa, of atheism against Anaxa- goras, and a similar charge against Aspasia, in order to wound Pericles through his friends. The mere events, however, are but a small part of the story ; which is expanded by showing both parties in their hours of privacy, and in their preparation for the public contest. Neither are the incidents by any means limited to the historical actors. Many of the fictitious persons play a conspicuous part in single scenes, which are con- trived with considerable skill to have some bearing on the fortunes of Pericles and Aspasia, or to depict the manners and practices of Athenian society, somewhat coloured by the author's theories.

We have often remarked upon the difficulty of successfully reviving classical manners and producing an interesting novel of ancient life. In the case of really learned books, the reader is presented with a classical dictionary or disquisition in the guise of a fiction, where authority may be assigned for everything introduced, but the story itself is so clearly a vehicle, and very often an ill-constructed vehicle, that the interest soon stands still. In the productions of classical sciolists, the more obvious customs are so evidently pilfered from some learned storehouse, and the manners, if like anything at all in nature, are so completely modern that the incongruity is glaring and distasteful. The author of Pericles has not been able to avoid this latter defect. His social conversations—his pictures of daily life—are frequently both forced and false; they are sub- stantially the same as any mere English novelist would write upon a similar theme, bating Greek names and customs. Where sentiment or passion predominates, this defect is not so conspicuous, and sometimes ceases to be felt, or at least regarded ; and some of this class of incidents are "worked up" to a considerable effect. The exposition of public affairs, the description of public events, and the dramatic introduction of historical persons, are often done with power and interest ; partly, per- haps because his peculiar views induce the writer to disregard mere de- tails, whose minuteness would encumber, whilst his knowledge secures him the truth of a general effect. There is also thought and matter in his work. His theory of Pericles and Aspasia may be wrong, but it con- tains distinct ideas, and a broad principle. Thucydides, the leader of the aristocratical party, sceptical, moderate, and rather well-disposed himself, but overborne by the violence of the young and profligate nobility, and swayed by the doctrine of party expediency—Leostratos, the veteran officer of Cimon, an honest conservative, but disgusted by the unscrupu- lous arts by which the aristocratical party aim at overturning Pericles- Cleobolus, the "practical man," plausible in his manner, perfectly satis- fied of the truth of his own views—and some tither characters, may be abstractions rather than individual persons ; but the principles they re- present are well and not too staringly embodied, and so true that we seem to be able to apply them to passing events. The composition is vigorous and eloquent ; though the style smacks rather of the modern rhetorical than the ancient attic.

This book cannot well be judged of by extracts, or even by a partial perusal; for although seemingly disjointed in structure, every part has a design, and a bearing upon the main end. Such quotations as we can find room for must be looked upon as little more than specimens of style.

DAWN AT ATHENS.

Day dawned upon the city, and the silence of the night gave place to the bustle of a dense population. Crowds of country-people were thronging to the Agora with the produce of their farmland gardens; and the braying of the laden asses, and the loud greetings of the parties as they met, and the disputes of fishermen arriving with their much-sought dainties, each contending for the best place for their display, formed a confusion of sounds such as only a Southern people can produce; while occasionally the cries of a slave under the lash rose above the general clang, and showed that some master or steward rose early, and looked closely to his affairs.

Here and there some wealthy mansion displayed a gateway still twined with faded flowers; and on the pavement within, pieces of garlands, and fragments of bread trampled in the mire of beastly intemperance, showed that a numerous supper-party had met there the night before. Drowsy slaves were beginning to remove the foul testimony of the night's debauch; and here and there in the streets might be seen some young reveller who was reeling home to sleep off the consequences of his nightly orgies; his hair still garlanded with drooping roses, his shoulders uncover, his costly robe trailing be-hind him in the dust, and his fine countenance disfigured by the imbecility of drunkenness. Throngs of labourers were hastening to the Acropolis, where the directors of the works were awaiting them; and in a few moments more, hundreds of ham- mers and chisels were ringing gaily on the fabrics which formed the glory of that lige and have been the admiration of all subsequent ones. The white marble of the rising edifices glittered against the clear blue sky, while the few dark figures in active employ on the summits of the buildings merely showed that the work was still proceeding, without injuring its outline.

It is one peculiarity of a Southern climate, that the reflection of the sun's rays from the parts on which they impinge is so strong that the shadows disappear; and thus the Parthenon, with its countless lines of columns, and its magnificent entablature, stood in a blaze of whiteness, as if fashioned rather from the clouds of heaven than from any earthly material.

The young man Lysicles is drawn as the son of a country citizen, only occasionally sojourning at Athens. After his first sight of Pericles, he has returned home, but love and the feeling of vacuity induce him to long for Athens. Whatever of modern character there may be in the following bit of dialogue, there is a nice truth and sagacious reflection in the description. "'Father,' said Lysicles, as they stood under the portico of the house, de- spatching the slaves to their different morning tasks, 'I will go with the bullocks to Athens today: the Carman may accompany me, and return with them if I sell them not: wilt thou trust me? It is long since I have been in the city, and I would fain see what is doing there.' "'And what wilt thou in the city, my. boy? I seldom go myself, but people tell me that strange things are taught there; that men are learning to despise the gods; and women of free birth walk the steets alone, and talk with men un- veiled. Such things never happened in my early days, and I fear that the change bodes no good. Go not among such, my son.' "Lysicles hung his head, for he knew the prejudices in his father's mind were too strong to be removed by any argument that he was capable of using; and indeed he was hardly himself aware of why the country seemed so dreary to him. He had entered his mothers apartments and bad seen her and her maids busily engaged in carding and spinning wool; he had heard, even to a finger's length, the quantity of cloth she expected to make from it; had listened to her com- plaints of the idleness of one slave and the insolence of another, with now and then a lamentation that his father was not half sharp enough for a good manager: he had been told over and over again the qualities that he ought to look for in a wife, and had heard of all the young damsels that would by-and-by be eligible matches: but in all this there was nothing to fill his mind or his heart. His mother's voice had assumed a shrill unpleasing tone from the habitual scolding of her maids; her very countenance had grown sharp and shrewish; there was no

womanly charm about-her: the female slaves were coarse and untaught—there was nothing—oh nothing, there, like what he had seen in Athens !"

The desire of Pitt—the loss in ancient literature he most regretted— a speech of Pericles, will not be supplied by this work. Indeed, the con- ventional style of the statesman-orator is probably one of the weakest parts of the book. There is a "situation" on the trial of Aspasia which is telling, and may convey an idea of the writer's powers in a scene. The prosecutors have just concluded their case.

"And now Pericles, leaving the place he had hitherto occupied behind Aspasia moved slowly forwards, and ascended the Bema. Not a voice, not a breath dis- turbed the deep silence, so intense was the curiosity of all to hear in what manner he would open the defence; but, to the astonishment of all, he stood silent: worn with watching and anxiety, he could feel his heart beat and his temples throb; but the collectedness of mind which was needed to enable him to do justice to the cause was gone; and in the agony of feeling that his mental power was failing him at the moment when it was most needed, the proud strong man covered his face with his mantle, and burst into tears.

"A glance of triumph was exchanged between the accusers: but it was short- lived, for when did Athenian feeling ever sleep? At the sight of that un- wonted emotion in him who till then had seemed as impassable as the god after whom they had loved to name him, the judges rose tumultuously from their seats, and crowded to the altar; while one herculean form and deep voice raised and swelled the cry which was immediately echoed by the rest= ASPASIA IS INNOCENT, ASPASIA IS ACQUITTED.'

"Pericles raised his head like a man suddenly awakened from a frightful dream, and almost staggered under the sudden rash of joyful feeling; and then he saw that brawny arm which swung the hammer so well, raised towards him while the broad face was lighted with a smile of triumph; and he recognized Metrodo- ros the armourer, who replied to his look of grateful recollection by a fresh shout of Aspasia is innocent, Aspasia is acquitted'; and he saw no more—for the heart of Athens was with him, and Aspasit was in his arms."

There is a cheering truth in the following remark, counter as it seems to all the wisdom of ages.

"The record of human life is far more melancholy than its course: the hours of quiet enjoyment are not noted; the thousand graces and happinesses of social life, the loveliness of nature meeting us at every step, the buoyatcy of spirit resulting from health and a pure air, the bright sun, the starry firmament—all that cheers man on his road through his probationary state, that warms the heart and makes life pleasant, is omitted in the narrative, which can only deal with facts; and we read of disappointment, and sickness, and death, and ex- claim, Why is man born to sorrow?' He is not so: years of enjoyment brace the soul for the grief when it comes; and when it does come, it comes mixed with so many alleviating circumstances, for those who do not wilfully reject all the lesser pleasures which the loving Father of all his works has with so tender a care scattered at our feet, that even the grief is far less in the reality than it ap- pears in the relation."