w. h. auden, the greeks and us (forewords and afterwords, 1)

7/28/2019 W. H. Auden, The Greeks and Us (Forewords and Afterwords, 1)

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THE GREEKS AND US

Once upon a time thcrc was a littlc boy. Before he could read, hisfather told him stories about the War between the Greeks and theTrojans. Hector and Achilles were as familiar to him as hisbrothers , and when the Olympians quarreled he thought of hisuncles and aunts. At seven he went to a boarding school and mostof the next sevcn years were spent in translating Greek and Latninto English and vice versa. Then he went on to another boardingschool which had a Classical Side and a Modern Side.

The latter was regarded by boys and masters alike in much thesame way as, in a militarist country, civilians are regarded by officers, and with the same kind of degrees of inferiority: history andmathematics were, like professional men, possiblc; the natural sciences, comprehensively labcled Stinks, like tradesmen, were not.The Classical Side, too, had its nice d istinctions: Greek, like theNavy, was the senior, the aristocratic service.

It is hard to believe now that th is story is not a fairy tale buta historical account of middle-class education in England thirty-fiveyears ago.

For anyone brought up in this way, Greccc and Rome are somixed up with his personal memories of childhood and classroomthat it is extremely difficult to look at these civilizations objectively.3


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W.H. AUDENThis is particularly so, perhaps, in the case of Greece. Until nearthe end of the eighteenth century, Europe thought of itself less asEurope than as Western Christendom, the heir to the RomanEmpire, and its educational system was based on the study ofLatn. The rise of Hellenic studies to an equal and then a superiorposition was a nineteenth century phenomenon and coincided withthe development of European nations and nationalist feeling.It is significant, surely, that when, today, an afterdinner speakerrefers to the sources of our civilization, he always names Jerusalem and Athens, but rarely Rome, for the last is the symbol ofa religious and poltica[ unity which has \eased to exist and the reviva! of which few believe in or desire. The historical discontinuitybetween Greek culture and our own, the disappearance for somany centuries of any direct influence, made it all the easier, whenit was rediscovered, for each nation to fashion a classical Greece inits own image. There is a German Greece, a French Greece, anEnglish Greece-there may even be an American Greece-allquite different. Had Holderln met Jowett, for instance, one suspects that neither would have understood a word the other said, andtheir parting would have been cold.

Even within a single country different Greeces coexist. Po r instance here are two English caricatures:

Professor X. Reade Chair of Moral Philosophy. 59. Married.Three daughters. Religion: C of E (Broad). Politics: Conservatve.Lives in a small suburban house stuffed with Victorian knickknacks. Does no t entertain. Smokes a pipe. Does not notice whathe eats. Hobbies: gardening and long solitary walks. Dislikes:foreigners, Roman Catholicism, modern literature , noise. Currentworry: his wife's health.

Mr. Y. Classical tutor. 41. Unmarried. Religion: none. Politics :lllme. Lives in college. Has prvate means and gives wonderfullunch parties for favorite undergraduates. Hobbies: travel andcullecling old glass. Dislikes: Christianity, girls, the poor, Englishconk ng. Current worry: his figure. .

'l 'l l X, the word Greece suggests Reason, the Golden Mean,t'Uin!ion;d control, freedom from superstition; to Y it suggests


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With these words Hermes spcd away for lofty Olympos :And Priam al! fearlcssly from off his chariot alighted .Ordering Idaeus to remain i' the entry to keep watchOver thc bcasts: th 'old king meanwhile strode doughtily onward,

(Robert Bridges. /liad , xxiv, 468-7 1 )But no onc can read this exccpt as a qualitat ivc meter of an eccentric kind, and ccccntricity is a very un-Homcr ic charactcrstic.Then there are the problc.:ms of word-ordtr and diction; Greekis an inllc


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W .H . AUDENam not alone in finding Lucan, one of the most popular of Greekwriters, too "enlightened" for a generation as haunted by devils asour own.

II IThere is no single Greek literary work of ar t as great as TheDvirte Comedy; there is no extant series of works by a singleGreek literary artist as impressive as the complete plays of Shakespeare; as a period of sustained creative activity in one medium,the seventy-five-odd years of Athenian drama, between the firsttragedies of Aeschylus and the last comedy of Aristophanes , aresurpassed by the hundred and twenty-five years, between Gluck'sOrpheus and Verdi's Otello, which comprise the golden age ofEuropean opera: nevertheless, the bewildered comment of anyfifth century Athenian upon our society from Dante's time till ourowrr, and with increasing sharpness every decade, would surelybe: "Yes, I can see all the works of a great civilization; but whycannot l meet any civilized persons? I only encounter specialists,artists who know nothing of science, scientists who know nothingof art, philosophers who have no interest in God, priests who areunconcerned with politics, politicians who only know other politicians."

Civilization is a precarious balance between what ProfessorWhitehead has called barbarie vagueness and trivial order. Barbarism is unified but undifferentiated; triviality is differentiated butlacking in any central unity; .. deal of civilization is the integra

~ i o n into a complete whole and ;,.,ith the minlmum strain of themaximum number of distinct activities. It is impossible to say, for example, of a harvest dance of aprimitive tribe whether it is aesthetic play, undertaken for the

~ l e a s u r e it gives the participants in performing it well, or religiousntual, an outward expression of an inward piety towards the powers who control the ha rvest, or a scientific technique for sccuringthe practica! effect of a better harvest : it is indeed fooJish tn thinkin such terms at all, since the dancers have not lcarned to makesuch distinctions and cannot understand what thcy mean.

In a society like our own, on the other hand, whcn a man goes8

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THE GREEKS ANO USto the ballet, he goes simply to enjoy himself and all he demandsis that choreography and performance shall be aesthetically satisFyng; when he goes to Mass, he knows that t is irrelevant whetherthe Mass be well or badly sung, for what matters is the att itude ofhis will towards God and his neighbor; when he plows a field, heknows that whether the tra ctor be beautiful or ugly or whether hebe a repentant or a defiant sinner is irrelevant to bis success orfailure. His problem is quite differcnt from that of the savage; thedanger for him is that, instead of being a complete pcrson at everymoment, he will be split into three unrelated fragments which arealways competing for dominance: the aesthetic fragment whichgoes to the ballet, the religous which goes to Mass, and the practica! which earns its living.

l f a civilization be judged by this double standard, the degreeof diversity attained and the dcgree of unity retained, then it ishardly too much to say that the Athenians of the fifth century B.C.were the most civilized people who have so far existed. The factthat nearly all the words we use to define activities and branchesof knowledge, e.g., chemistry, physics, economics, politics , cthics,aesthetics, theology, tragedy, comedy, etc ., are of Greek origin isproof of their powers of conscious differentiation; their literatureand their history are evidence of their ability to maintain a senseof common interrelation, a sense which we have in great measurelost as they themselves lost it in a comparatively short time.

". . . as their forefathers were they,those old seapirates, who with roving robberybuilt up their island lordships on the ruin of Crete,when the unforbearing rivalry of their free citieswrec'd their confederacy within the sevenscore years'twixt Marathon and Issus; until from the prideof routing Xerxes and bis fabulous host, they fellto make that most memorable of all invasionsless memorable in the glory of Alexander,under whose alen kingship they conspired to outreachtheir own ambition, winning dominions too widefor domination; and were, with their virtue, dispersedand molten into the great stiffening alloy of Rome."

(Robert Bridges. Testament of Beauty, I , 758-7 0)9


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W.H. AUDENTh e geography of Grecce, whcre barren mountains scparate

sma ll fertilc Iocalities from each other, cncouraged dive rsity, migration to new co1onies, and an economy of exchange rather thanproduction for use. In consequence, thc Grceks, who, when theyfirst invaded the Aegcan, werc not so very difl'erent from any otherpatriarchal military tribe-the kind of life describccl in th e !liad ismuch the same as that describcd in Beowulf- rapidly dcvelopedwithin a comparatively small area a grcat varicty of forms of socialorganization, tyrannies and constitutional city-s tatcs in Jonia, feudaloligarchy in Boeotia. a militarist policc state in Sparta. democracyin Ath ens, almost every possiblc kind, in fact, but onc, the extended centralized state typical of major river-basin areas likeEgypt or Babylonia. The initial stimulus. therefore, to comprehension, inquiry, speculation, and cxperiment was prescnt; but thisexplains ncither the extraordinary talen t the Grccks displayed inthese activities nor their capacity to absorb influences and makethem their own: unlikc the R omans, thc Greeks ncver give the,i_mp ression of being eclectics; everything they do and say isstamped with their distinctive character.Greek culture, as a glance at the chronological table at the endof this introcluction will show, had successivclv three ccnters theIonian seaboard, Athcns, and Alexandria. Sparta rcm ained o u ~ s i d ethe general cultural development in a fossilized state of primitivism,exciting in her neighbors a mixture of fear, rcpulsion, and admiration. Nevcrthcless, she made, indirectly through Plato , a contribution which for good or ill, has inftuenced the world as much as anyother element in Greek culture, namely, the idea of a consciouslyplanned education of its citizens by the state; indeed the very concept of the state as something distinct from the ruling class, fromthe individual, and from the community might be sa id to be clerivedfrom Sparta.

At the beginning of Greek litera tu re stands H omcr. If the /liadand the Odyssey are better than the epics of oth cr nations. this isdue not to their content but to thcir more sophisticated imagination- as if the original material had been worked ovcr into its prcscntform under much more civilized conditions than existed among.say , the Teutonic peoples until their heroic agc was too far bchindthem to seem real. It is difficult, however, to makc objcctive com-

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THE GREEKS ANO USparisons, since the Teutonic ep ics had little further h istory; Homerhecame, through the Romans. one of the basic inspirations of European literature, without which there would be neither an Aeneid,aDivine Comedy, a Paradise Lost, nor the comic epics of Ariostoor Pope or Byron.

The next development after Homer took place Jargely in Joniaand for the most part in and around tbe courts of tyrants who werc,of course, more like the Medicis than like a modcrn dictator.

The Ionian scientists and the lonian lyric pocts had onc thingin common, a hostility to polythcistic myth. The former saw Naturcin terms of law rathcr than arbitrary volition; the latter saw theirfeelings as their own, as belonging to a single personality, ratherthan as visitations from without.Thales' gucss tha t a ll things are madc of water was wrong; butthe insight behind it , namely, that however many different realmsof Nature there may be they must all be rclated was a basic prcsupposition without which scicncc as we know it would be impossiblc.Equally influential was the asscrtion of Pythagoras, as a result ofhis work in acoustics, that al! things are number , i.e., that the"naturc" of things, that by virtue of which they are what they areand behave as they do. is not a question of what they are made ofbut of their structure, which can be described in mathematicalterms .

The great diffcrence between the Grcek conception of Natureand la ter ones is that the Greeks thought of the universe as analogous to a city-statc, so that for them naturallaws, like human Iaws,were not laws of things, descriptions of how in fact they behave,but Iaws fo r things. When we speak of a falling body "obeying"the law of_gravitation, we are unconsciously echoing Greek thought;for obedience implies the possibility of disobedience . To the Greeksthis was no dead metaphor; consequently, their problem was notthe relation of Mind to Matter, but of Substance to Form, howmatter became "educated" enough, so to speak, to conform to law.

The lyric poets were equa11y important in their own sphere; forit was through them that Western civilization has learned to distinguish poetry from history, pedagogy, and religion.

The most famous phase of Greek civilization is, of course, thatassociated with Athens. If he knows nothing else about them,

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every man in the st reet has heard the names of Homer, Aeschylus,Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and,if he is a little better informed, of Pericles, Demosthenes, andThucydides. All but Homer are Athenian.

The Athenian period divides into two; the first is preceded bythe political and economic establishment of the Athenian state asa mercantile democracy by Solon and Cleisthenes, and the demonstration of its strength through its victory over the Pers ian Invasion ; the second is the product of poltica! defeat, first by Sparta,then by Macedonia . The typical expression of the first period isdrama, of tbe second philosophy.

In compa rison with the preceding Ionian culture, Atheniandrama is marked by a revulsion from luxury and frivolity towardsausterity and simplicity, and by a return to myth. Above all, forthe first and last time in history, an art, drama, became the. dominant religious expression of a whole pcople, the dramatist the mos tmportant figure in their spiritual life. Com pared with the Greektragedians, Homer and Pindar secm secular wrters, of educationalvalue certainly for a ruling minority, but stiH primarily entertainers,subordinate in importa nce to the priest and the oracle. Like modern drama, which grew out of religious festivals such as Easter andCorpus Christi, Athenian drama was associated wi th the festivalsof the Wine Press and of the Greater Dionysus. But, whereas modern drama was at first subordinate to the religious rituals and thendeveloped a secular life of its own, leaving the festivals to themselves, Athenian drama, while being definitely works of art , whosevalue ca n be judged by vote, became the dominant religious exer-

: cise , of greater importance than sacrifices or prayers. In thc nine.. teenth century and in our own the individual artistic gcnius hassometimes claimed a supremc importance and even persuaded aminority of aesthetes to agree with him ; but only in Athens wasthis a unive rsal social fact, so that the genius was not a Jonclyfigure claiming exceptional rights for himself but the acda imcd

. spiritual leader of socety.The nearest modern eq uivalent is not any work of lhc tlwatcr,

but a baH game o r a bull-fight.Greek tragedy returned to myth, but it was IH> longcr lile

Homeric mythology; the Ionian cosmolngists had done lhLi r work.12

THE GREEKS ANO USThc gods are no longer essentially strong and accidentally rightcous; thcir strength is now secondary, the means by which theycnforce the laws which they thcmselves keep and represent. I nconsequence , the mythology is subjected to strain ; for , the moremonotheistic it becomes, the greater the importance of Zeus, theless individual, the more allegorical, become the other gods. Furthermore, behind Zeus himself appears the qui te unmythologicalconccpt of Fate. Now eithe r the personal Zeus and the impersonalFate must coalesce as the Creator God of the Jews, a stcp whtchthe Greek rel igious imagination never took, or , in the end , Zcusbccomes a Demiurge, an allegorical ftgure for the order in nature,and Fate becomes the true God, cither as Fortune or as an impersonal Idea or Fi rst Cause, in which case drama ceases tothe natural vehicle for teach ing about the nature of God and 1sreplaced by the science of Theology.

It is partly for such reasons, perhaps, that the e l o p l _ n e n tfrom the piety of Aeschylus to the skeptic ism of Eunp1des JS sorapid , and the period of Greek tragedy so short. As Werncr Jaegerhas pointed out, Sophocles stands a little apart from the other twoin that while the ir interests are basically the samc, his concern wasmore ,;,ith human character than with religious or social problems.For Greek tragedy to have developed fur ther, it would have hadto go on from Sophocles, abandon its relation to myth and fest iv_a l,and become a frankly secular art; perhaps its very tnumphs ttedit too firmly to myth and festival to allow it to make the breakwhich the Elizabethan drama , for instance, madc. Thus , greatlyas the Greck tragedians have bcen admircd by later writers, theycannot be said to have exerted much direct literary inl1uence. Thenfl.uence of the philosophers is in striking contrast to this, for Platoand A ristotle between them established thc bas ic premises of anintellectuallife, the un ity and the divcrsity of truth ; moreover, thcyare respons ible for the particular kinds of divisions to. which_weare accustomed . li ,.Jor .example, one tr ies to read Indmn ph!losoph y, the great obstacle to understanding what it means is that thejoints of man and nature, so to speak, are carved differently. ?u r

cuts, carving are Greek; and we find it hard for us to beltevethat there can be any others.The final period of Grcek cu lture, the Hcl!cnis t, or Alexandrian ,

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W.H. AUDENreturns to Ionian hedonism and rnaterialism bu t without its rclation to pol tica! and social life. Thc important achieverncnts aretechnological. The literature, as typified by the Greck Anthology,is highly polish cd, pretty, bu t on the whoic boring, at least to theprcsent age, becausc of its imrnensc influence on minor poetrysince the Renaissance. To .it we owe all the worst "classical" prop-ertics, the littlc rogue of a Cup id, the catalogue of fiowers, Celia'sbosom, etc., etc .

Christcndom was a product of Jcwish historical rcligio us cxperience ancl Gcntile speculation upon and organization of thatexpcrience. Th e Greek mind is thc typically Gentile m ind, and itis a t odds wilh thc Jewish consciousncss . As a Greek the Christianis ternptcd to a secsaw betwecn wordly frivol ity and a falsclyspiritual othcr-worldliness, both of them, au fond, pessimistic; asa Jew he is lcmpted to the wrong kind of seriousncss, to an in-tolerancc which persecutcs dissenters as w.ickecl rather than stupid.Thc lnquisition was a product of a Gentilc intercst in rationalityan d a Jewish passion for truth .

Th..: d carcst historical cxample is the Crucifixion. ln thei r bookTalking of Dick Whittington Hesketh Pea rson and Hugh Kin gsmillreport an inlerview with H ilairc Bclloc in which he says of the.Jcws:"Poor cl


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W.H. AUDENof god who is both self-sufficient and conten t to rcmain so couldnot interest us enough to raise the question of his cxistence.

It is impudent of me to trespass a t all inside a field where somany ~ r e ~ t an d good meo have spent their lifetimes. I can onlytry to hm1t the offense by confin ing my remarks to one aspect ofGreek thought of which I am less ignorant than 1 am of others,namely to a comparison of the various Greek conceptions of thehero with our own, as an illustration of the distance be tween ourculture and theirs.

VThe Homeric Hero: Th c Homeric hero has the military virtuesof courage, resourcefulness , magnanimity in victory, and dignitym defea t to an exceptional degree. His heroism is manifested incxceptional deeds which can be judgcd by others who are forced toadmit "H e achieved what we could not have achieved ." His motive is to _ admiration and glory from his equals whether theyare on hrs srde or the encmy's . The code by which he lives is acode of honor which is not a universal requirement like law butan individual one , that which I require of myself an d that whichin view of my achievements I have a right to demand of oth ers.

He is not a tragic figure, i.e., he does not suffer more thanothers, but his death has exceptional pathos- the great warriorcomes to the same end as the lowest churl. He exists only in thepresent moment when he comes int o collision with anothcr hcroicindividual; his future forms the past trad itions of others. Th c closestmodero e ~ u i v a l e n t to the H omeric hero is the ace fighter piJot. He-

~ a u s ~ he rs often engaged in single combat, he gets to rccognizcmdrv1dual p!lots on the side of the enemy an d wa r bccomes amatter of personal riva lry rather than any political issue ; in facl hehas a eloser relation to the enemy ace than he has to the infant rvon his own side. His life is so full of risks and hairbreadlh escape;,so almost certain to end in death, an d the effccts of good 1!1.k andbad luck, of a sudden engine failurc or an unf oresccn c llangl" i11 thcweather, are so serious tha t chance takes on a ll thc nswcrs uf apersonal intervening power . Th e sense of having golld


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W.H. AUDENaffect thc outcome of the wa r nor the final proof of h is heroism,namely that he vanquishcs Hec tor.

Th c pathos of Hector's death is simple: thc nobler charactcris clefea ted ; the pathos of Hotspur 's dea th is ironic: he is a muchmore sympathetic ind iv idual than Pr ince Hal, but he dics defending thc wrong cause.

Further, in thc Homcr ic world wherc war is the norm therecan be no crticism of the mlitary hcro as such . The w;ath ofAchilles could never be a tragic naw in h is character in the waythat the wrath of Shakcspeare's Cor iolan us is in his. Homer mightwell have described Achilles ta king a bath bu t it would havc beensimply a dcscription of a hcro tak ing a batb, not, as in Tol stoy'sdescripti on of Napoleon be ing bathcd. a revc lation that the militaryhero is an ordinary mortal just as wcak as any of the thousandsfor whose death he is responsible.

Though it would be unfar to describe the Hom eric hero asa mere puppet of the gods, bis arca of free choice and responsibility is pretty circumscribed. ln the first place he is born, not made( often he is the son of an imm ortal fa ther ) so that though he docsbra ve deeds, he cannot be called bravc in our sense of the wordbecause he ncver fcels fear ; in the second the situations in whichhe displa ys bis hero ism are givcn him; he can, on occasion. chooseto fight or not to ftght this or that opponent, but he cannot choosebis profcssion or bis side.

The world of Homer is unbearably sad because it nevcr transccnds the immediate moment; one is happy, one is unhap py. onewins, one loses, finally one dics. That is all . Joy and suffc ring aresimply what one fcels at the illl)ffient; they have no mcaning bcyond that; they pass away as they carne; they point in no dircct ion;they change nothing. I t is a tragic world bu t a world without gu iltfor its tragic flaws is not a ftaw in human naturc, st ll lcss il llawin an individual character , but a ftaw in the naturc of l'Xiskncc .

The Tragic Hero: Th e wa rrior-hero of tbe Homcric epies ( 111dbis civilian counterpart, the athlete of thc Pindar ic o(hs is ;t naristocratic ideal. He is what every mcmbcr or ti te ruliug da ssshould try to imitate, what every member of thc s u h j n ~ l dass shouldadmire without envy and obey without rcscntrueut . t he l'loscst

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THE GREEKS ANO USapproximat ion to a god-the divine being conceived as the idea llystrong-possble to man .

}'he Tragic Her:o, on the other hand, is not an ideal but awarning,__ nd thc warning is. addrcssed not to _n aristofratic audi

~ ~ c e " other potentially heroc individuals, but to the demos, i.e.,he collective chorus. At the beginning of the play he ap pears inglory und good-fortune, a mun of pcdigrec and achievement whohas already demonstratcd are/e in the Homeric sense. By thc endhe has becn plunged into cxccptional suffering, i.e., he suffers morethan the chorus, who are average citizens who have achievednothing rcmarkab lc. He suiTcrs bccausc he has come into collision,not with other individuals, but with the universal law of righteousness. As a rule, however, thc actual violation of which he isguilty is not his own conscious choice in thc sensc that he couldhave avoidcd iL The typical Grcek tragic situation is one in whichwhatever the hero does mus t be wrong- Agamemnon m ust cither"=-- - .kilrhis daughter or betray his duty to his army, Orestes must eithcrdisobey thc orders of Apollo or be guilty of matricide, Oedipusmust either persist in asking questions or Jet Th ebes be destroyedby plague, Antigone must violate her duty eit hcr to her deadbrother or to her city, etc .But thc fact tha t he finds himself in atragic situation where he has sinned unwittingly or must sin againsthis will is a sign tha t he is guilty of another sin for which the godshold him responsib le, namely the sin of hybris, an overweeningsclf-confidence wh icb makes him believe that he, with his are/e, isa god who cannot be made to sutler. Sometimes but not always heman.ifests this hybris in acts-Agamemnon walks on the purplecarpet, Darius tries to bridge the Hellespont-but even if he doesnot, he must be assumed to be guilty of hybris, otherwise he wouldnot be punished by being made guilty of other sins. Th rough witnessing the fall of the tragic hero fro m happiness to misery, thechorus Jea rns that the Homeric hero is not the ideal man thcyshould try to imitate or adm ire . On the contrary, the strong ma n istempted by his strength into bccoming the impious ma n whomthe gods punish, for the gods are not gods because they are ideallystrong but because they are ideally just. T heir strength is only theinstrument by which they enforce their justce.

The ideal ma n whom every member of the democracy should19


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W.H. AUDENtry to become is not the aristocratic heroic individual but the moderate Iaw-.abid ing citizen who does not want to be stronger andmore glonous than everybody else.. ~ e r e ~ g a i n , as in Homer, we find ourselves in a world whichJS u J t e al1en to _us. We are so habituated to the bclicf that a man 's

~ c t 1 0 n s a m1xed product of his own free choiccs for which he18 respons1ble and circumstances for which he is not that we cannot understand a world in which a situation by itself makes a mangullty. Take the story of Oedipus, for instance. Here is a man whohears a prophecy that is kill his father and marry bismother, tnes to prevent Jt commg true, but in vain. How woulda modern p l ~ y w r i g h t treat this? He would reason that the only

Oed1pus to make ccrtain of escaping what is foretoldfor h1m never to k_ill anybody and never to marry anybody. He

w o u ~ d therefore begm by showi ng Oedipus leaving Thebes and~ a k l ~ 1 these. two_ esolutions. He would then procccd to involve

h 1 ~ n m two SJtuatwns, firstly, one in which he is done a mortalllljury by a man, secondly one in which he falls passionatc ly in!ove W J ~ h a. o m ~ n who returns his love, situations, that is, oft e m p t ~ o n m wh1ch he is torn between doing what he wants andbreakmg lus resolve.

He yields to both temptations, he kills the man and marries thew o m ~ n .excusing himself as he does so with a Iie of self-deception,that JS,_ mstead of saying to himself, "There is a possibility, however shg?t, that they are my father and mother; therefore 1 mustnot nsk It," he says, "lt is quite impossible that they should be myfather and mother; therefore I may break my resolve." Unfortunately, of course, the sligl1t possibility turns out to be th e act ualfa e .

In Sophocles nothing like this happens. Ocdipus meets an oldman on the road, they have a trivial quarrel , and he kills the oldman. He comes to Thebes, solves the riddle of the Sphinx and

m a k ~ s a political match. Ab out thesc two deeds he feels no ' guiltnor JS he expected to feel gu i!ty. It is only when in fact they turn

to be his father and mother that he becomes guilty. At notime has he been conscious of being tempted to do what he knowshe should not do , so that at no time is it possible to say, "That waswhere he made his fatal mistakc."

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THE GREEKS AND USThe original sin of thc Grcck tragic hero is hybris, believing

that one is godlike. Nobody can be tcmpted into hybris except onewho is exccptionally fortunatc. Sometimes he can manifest h ishybris directly, but it does not change his character in any way,only he is punishcd for it by bcing made by thc gods to sin unwittingly or involuntarily.

The original sin of the modcrn tragic hero is pricle, thc refusal. o accept the limitations and weaknesses which he knows he has ,the determination to become thc god he is not. A man, thcrcfore,docs not have to be fortunatc, to be tempted into pride; a misfortune likc Richard of Gloucester's hunchback will do just as well.Pride can never be manifested directly becausc it is a purely subjective sin. Self-examination can reveal to me that I am lus tful orenvious bu t it can ncver revcal to me that I am proud because mypridc, if it exists, is in the "1" which is doing the examin ing; I can,however, infer thal 1 am proud because thc lust and envy which Ican observe in mysclf are caused by it and it alone.

The sccondary sins of which our kind of tragic hero is guiltyand which cause his fall are not, thcrcfore, a divine punishmentfor his ini tial sin but its effccts, and he is as responsiblc for thcmas he is for it. He is not an unwitting sinner bu t a self-deceivingone, who refuses his guilty conscicnce. When Orestes slays Clytemnestra he doc s not anticpate the arrival of the Furies; when theMacbeths plan their murders the y try to persuade thcmsclves th atthey will not suffer the tormcnts of guilt which they really know intheir hearts they are going to.

In Greek tragedy suffering is a visitation from Heaven, a pu nishment imposed upon the hcro from without. Through enduringit he expiates bis sins and ends reconcilcd to the Jaw, though it isfor the gods not him to decide when bis expiation is complete. Inmodern tragedy, on the other hand, th is exter ior kind of sufferingwhich humbles the great and erring and leads them to repent isnot tragic. Thc truly trag ic kind of suffer ing is the kind produccdand defiantly insisted upon by the hero himself so that, instcad ofmaking hiJ.n better, it makes h im worse and when he dies he is notreconciled to the law bu t defiant, that is, damned. ~ e a r is not atragic hero, Othello is. ..

These two differences between Greek an d modcrn tragcdy in21

'


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W.H. AUDENt ~ e i r ~ o n c e p t i o ~ s , first of the relation of the hcro's original subjectJvc sm of hybns or of pridc to his secoodary sinful acts, and secondly of the naturc and function of suffering, produce differentattitudes towarcls time.

Uni ty of time is not only poss iblc but right and proper inG r c e ~ tragedy beca usc the characters do not change, on ly theirS1tua t1on so that the dramatic time rcquircd is simply thc time re

~ u i r thc situation to change. In moclern lragcdy, unity of timeIS poss1blc as a technical tour-de-force but rarcly dcsirable, sinccone of thc dramatist's principal tasks is to show how his charactersnot only are changed by changcs of situation but also play act iveparts in creating these situa tions. and it is almos t imp ossiblc toshow this in a s ingle uninterruptcd passage of time.

The Erotic fiero: About three-qu arters of modcrn Iiterature isconccrned with one subject, thc love between a man and a woman.and assumes that falling in love is the most important ami valuab leexperience that can happe n to human bcings . We are so condi!ioned to this attitude that we are inclined to forge t that it docs~ ? . ~ back be:yond thc twclfth ccntury. Jt does not exist, for instance, in Greek litera turc. Th ere we find two a ttitudes. Therc areplenty of lyrics of the screnade type-thc "In delay there lies noplenty, then come kiss me sweet-and-twenty" kind of thing, expressmg a Simple , good-tc mpcrcd, and unser ious sensua lity. Thereare a lso, as in the poems of Sappho or the story of Jaso n andMedea, descriptions of scrious and violcnt sexual passion, but thisIS not regarded as something to be proud of but as a disastcr, thcwork of m ercil css Aphrodite, a dreadful madness which makes onelose one's dignity and betray one's friends and from which any saneman or woman will pra y to be spared. Ou r romantic conccption,that sexual !ove can transform the lover's cbaracter and turn himinto a hero , was unknown .

It is not until we come to Pla to that we find descriptions ofsomething like what we mean by romantic love spokcn of withapproval, yet the differences are still grcater than thc rcsemblances.!n the first place it is assumed that this kind of lovc is only possiblem a homosexual relation; and in the second, it is only approved ofas the necessary firs t stage in the growth of the soul. Th e ultimatc

22

THE GREEKS ANO US, ... ..1 1- . iil l' lovc of the impersonal as universal good ; the bcst th ing11 , 1 .11 1d happen to a man would be that he should in lov_e. 1111 1111 ( lood immediately, but owing to the fact that h1s soul Js. " ' " ' 'kd in ma tter and time, he can only get there by degrees;11 1 1 1, . rall s in lave with a beautiful individual , then he can pro' ,. . . , 1 lo ve of beauty in general, then to lo ve of justice, and so"" 11 not ic passion can or ought to be transformed in this way,111 11 11 was sound psychological insight on Plato's part and not" 'll'h' cultural pattern of erotic life in Greece tha t h1m, , l11d l 1he heterosexual relation, for the Iattcr leads beyond 1tsclf,11.. 1 , 1 1he universal. but to more indiv iduals, nam ely the love of111 1,sponsibility a family, whereas, in the case,'" ' ,. thc relation of itself lcads nowhere, the love wh1ch Jt has11 ~ ~ ~ ~ . is free to develop in any direction the lovers choose, an d,11.11 direction should be towards wisdom wh ich, once acqUJred,,. tll l ' llablc them to teach human beings procrcatccl in the norma l. .11 li11W to bccomc a good society. For !ove is to be judged by lts, " ,,d and poltica! value. Marriage provides the raw mater ial, the11

, . , uli nc eros the desire and knowledge to mold that matenal11 11 1l s proper fo rm. _l'hc two g reat modern erotic myths , which have no parallels m, ,, , literature, are the myth of Tri stan and !solde, or the World\\ , 111 ost for Love, ancl the countermy th of Don 1uan , the seducer .

l"ile Tristan-lsolde situation is this : both possess hcro ic arete"' 11w ep ic scnse; he is the bravest warrior, she is the most beaut ilu l woman; both are of noble birth. They cannot mar ry each other,, , .111sc she is already the wife of his king and friend, nevertheless11 1 v rall in love . In so rne versions they accidentally drink a love1""" 111 but the effect of th is is not real!y to make thcm fall in lo ve'"' ' mther to makc them rcalize that they alre ady have and to11, ,pi the fact as predestined and irrevocable. relation is

11,,1 pfato nic" in the conventional sense, bu t the barners of_ mar-1"'"'' and circumstanccs givc them few opportunities for gomg to'" 1 ngcther, and on each occasion they can never be c e r t ~ i ~ that11 "di not be the last. The love the y fecl for each other is rehgwusly" ..... Jutc, i.c., each is the other 's ultima e good so that not only is " 1:11 infideli ty inconceivable, but all other rela tions to other

1. and th e world cease to have any significance. Yet though23


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W .H. AUDENthcir relation is the only value that cx ists for thcm, it is a torment ,because their sexual desirc is only the symbolic expression of theirreal passion, wh ich is the yearning of two souls to merge an d become one, a consum mation which is impossible so long as theyhave bodics, so that their ultimate goal is to die in each othe r'sarms.

Do n Juan , on the other hand, is not an ep ic hero; ideally, hisexterna! appearance is that of the man who nobody notices is therebecause he is so utterly commonplace, fo r it is im portant to themyth that he , the man of hcroic will and achievement, should loo kto the outward eye lik e a membcr of the ch orus.

lf Do n Juan is either handsome or ugly, then the woman willhave fcelings abo ut him before he sets to work, an d the scductionwill no t be absolu tc, i.e., a purc triumph of his will. Fo r that, it isesscntia l that his victim should ha ve no fedings of her own towardshim, until he chooses to arouse them . Vice versa, wha t is essentialfor him about her is no t her appearance bu t simply he r membershipin the class Woman; the ugly and the old are as good as the beautifu l and the young. Th c Tristan-Isolde myth is un-Greek bccauseno Greek could conceive of attributing absolu te value to anotherindividual, he could only think in comparative terms, ths on e ismore beautiful than that one, th s one has done greater deeds thanthat one, etc. Th e Do n Ju an myth is un-Greek, as Kierkegaard ha spointcd out , no t because he sleeps wi th a number of women , bu tbecause he keeps a list of them.

A Gr eek co uld understand seducing a girl because one foundher a ttract ive and then deserting he r because one me t a more attractive girl and forgot the first one; bu t he could no t have un derstoo d doing so for an arithmetica l reason, because on e ha d resolvedto be the first lover of cve ry woman in th e world, an d she happened to be the next in teger in this infinite series.

Tristan and Isolde are tormented because they are compelledto count up to two when they long to be able only to count up toone; Do n Ju an is in torment because, however grcat the numberof bis seductions , it sti ll remains a finite number a nd he cannot restuntil he ha s counted up to infinity.

Th e great enemy of both is tim e : Tristan and Isolde dread itbecause it threatens change, and they wish the moment of intense

24

T HE GREEKS AND US. f ever hence the lav e pot ion and .. 1" '1' 1 1"111 ;11!1 u n c h a n or . 't. which serve as defense1 1 h ttcle m the sJtua 10 11 . .o\1 "o , '""' :11 1 o s ' . ., . t threatens repetttton1) Ju\11 clrcads tt becclUSC J . ., .1 11 1 r , ILI I I }'.t" ; on ' b b 1 1 ly novel he nce l11s m-. . 1 nt to e a so u e ,, 11, JJ., '" '',hts t.tL-1 momc_ . . . t be her first sexual ex -. tl llt ~ . : a c of hls vtctJms Jt muslo 111 1 1

1 1 1 l ly slecp with her once.1. 0 1, 11, , . . 1111 1 ut . 1e on Cl . 1.. ty e they couldi ndent up on HI S tam , . .llo 1 11 "P{ l hs .ar e eepe .et which has bcen taught to be-. .. ol\ l ~ o l \ < " hl'l' ll mven_cd_ a so_ct i unique eternal value tolo . , ) ilt:tl cvcry tndJvtdu al JS o .l . portat1Ce in the world, b) f h. . r hcr socia 1m '' .... 1 lll o:-; p,ct ve o lS o G d . act of fr ee-choice, an

, J, ,. ol, tlwation of the self to . o ftsfanl: g made witb infinite. t . respecttve o ce tn ,-ol , 1 1111 ,nmm1tmen J . ll . . ncself to be ru led1 ) th t one rnust ncttller a ow o1o . . l . ; n , ( a t to transcend it bu t rnake1 . th tlmporal moment nor attemp ., "bl f .t turning time mto lustory., , 11 , .o ll 1,spnns1 e or 1 ( ' h . ta 1 1-111agmation and whil el . , . . of thc , ns 1 J '1 01 \ h ll lyt hs are t tseases f b n 1 litera tur e thcir in-lit' t.. m inspired a great body o J in ,their ' frivoloush ma n conduct partJcu ar h'' '' ' 111 upon u . ' h . h 1 ss ovcr the fa ct tha t bo t!lo to d down rnodern verswnsj w tc J e r a r e intensely unhappy,lloo ' > ~ l l l l l l ic couple and the so Jtlary se u a n ~ a r r i e d couple divorcel t hollv b ad W 1enevcrt..o , lo, .-n


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W.H. AUDENexceptional individual, not a member of the chorus, for to learnhow to keep the Law has become a beroic task which is beyondthe powcr of the average man. To thc question "What is thecause of ev il suffering?" Homer ca n only answer, "I do n' t

k ~ o w .. Th e capnce of thc gods perhaps" ; Tragedy answers, ' 'Thcvwlatmn the .laws of righteousncss an d justice by arrogant

me n ; Phllosophy answers, "Ignorance of wha t the La wtS w ~ 1 1 c h leavcs the minds of men at the merey of t her bodilypaSSJOllS. "

: ~ 1 e H o m e r i ~ her o hopes by brave deeds to win glory bcforehe d1cs; the trag1c choru s hopes by living modestly to escape misfor . une as as they 1ivc; the contcmplati ve hcr o hopcs forultnnate happmess of soul whcn he has succeedcd in Jcarning toknow the true and eterna] good, and so dcli vering bis soul from

cntanglemcnls of his body an d the tempora l tlux; ami beyond~ h ~ s h.c must teach society how to attain the same frecdom fromInJLIStJCC.

.. In theory, thc possibility of doing this s!ll)uld be opcn to allal1ke but practcc. it is limited lo those souls whom the heavenlyeros has mspzrcd wzth a passion for knowledge. and whom temporal circumstances allow them to dcvote their 1ifetime to thesearch for wisdom; the stupid who cannot, the frivolous wbo willno t, and the poor wh o ha vc no time to undcrstand are debarrcd.

ma y have va luable social fun ct ions to pcrform bu t it is no tfor them to say what the laws of society should be . That is theduty of the philosophcr.

This ideal is stranger to us than it looks at first sight. Wc arefamzlmr w1 h two kinds of contempla tive men: F irst, with tbereligious contemplative as representcd by the various orders ofmonks and nuns or by the individual mystic. His aim is to knowthe hidden Go d , the rcality behind al! phenomena, bu t he thinksof _this. Go d as a person, i.e ., what he mcans by knowledge is no tobJeCtJve kn owledgc about something which is the same for al l

~ i n d s and once perceived ca n be passed on to othcrs by teaching,~ z k e th e truths of mathematics, bu t a subjective rclationship which

umque for every individual. A relationship ca n never be taught,1t has to be voluntarily entered into, and the only possiblc methodof pcrsuading another to do it is personal exampie. 1 B is a friend

26

THE GREEKS AND US. 1 , .111d ( is not. B cannot make C a friend of A by describing

, l11l d 1\ . as the result of his friendship with A has become the1 , , , 1 " 1 l'l'I'SOil C WOUJd Jike to be an d S DOt, C may decide lO try.. ..1 11 .11, , \ ' s acqua intancc. too .

e Jl i ,livL' knowledge is the field of anothcr kind of contempla-11, 111 irll.dlcctual. thc scientist, the ar t ist , etc , and thc knowledgeh . , " -; is not about an y transcenclent reali ty bu t about phe" ' " " ' 11 .1. intellectuaL like the rcligious contemp lat ive, requircs.. .. 111 ul11 ;d 1)assion bu t in his case it is confincd to the scarch for1H" \ ', h'd..l' ; towards thc obj cct of his search , the facts, he must1 . l''''"" r1kss. .\\ lr:ll is puzzling to us about the Greek concept10n of t ~ 1 e. . n i 1npl :11 vc hero is tha t thesc two kinds of activity are i n e x t n ~ -.l h 111x n l. so metimes he seems t.o talk of a transcendcnt G odas zf11 . ,1n a passive object, a t other times of observable phcnomena ,1 1. lh c n1nvcmcnts of the planets , as if the y wc rc perso ns for.. '"' 11 , >rl L cou ld feel personal pass o n. No thing is more bewilder,, ... , , '" abo ut Plato. for instance, than thc way in which , in the,,,, ,.. e ~ l ' a piccc ic t ia lect ic, he will introduce wh at he himseif..1., ,11:: tt> be a myth bu t without any fceling on his part that 1t IS a 11 h:1r lhing todo.1 is ha rd to say wbethcr onc should cal! the Grecks more,.,111 "il''lllorphi c in thcir thinking than wc or On th e on e1, 1111 1 11 (lreck cosmology everything in nature zs thought as1 . " " ' ;divc the Iaws of naturc are not clescr iptions of how thmgs.. 111 :1ilv h.:l1avc , laws of.buL like human laws, laws for, laws w h i ~ h1,, '- >t ll',hl to obey an d ca n fail to ob ey properly. On th e other, 111, " ' , L ;,nlitical thcory, human bcings ar e thought of as if they

, , 11 rn clv thc matter ou t of which through his techne the crafts-" ' '" 1,,li1iian fashions the good society as a pottcr makes a vasc" " 1 "' ' l:ty.1" 1he Grccks the cssential differencc bctween ma n an d nature

_ . lh :ll the former can rcason if he wants to , whcreas for us th e 111 i;d d ifference is that man has a sclf, i.e ., that he and, so fa r

, . ,. ,_ 111 ,w, apart from Go d. he alonc is conscious of ex isting,,, , , , 11 sc iousness is his whether he wants it or no t, whether he !S,.,111 ,1 11 t or not. Th c Greeks therefore ha d no real conception of",,:1s distinct from dcsire, so that, though they ha d , of course,27


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W .H. AUDENobser ved the psychological fact of temptation . that one can desire

~ h a t on e knows is_ wr?ng, they were at a loss as to how to explain1t. Th e weakest pomt m Greck Ethics is its an a lysis of Ch oice. Th is1s al! the m o r ~ serious bcca usc politics is no t peripheral bu t centralt? Greck Phllosophy; the fo rmation of th e Good Society comesfirst, the quest for personal sa lvation or for scicntific truths aboutmatter or imaginative truth s a bout the human hca rt , second.Through idcntifying the active source of the Good with Reasonno t _wit h W_ill, thcy doomed thernselvcs to the h opeless task offinmg thc form of soc iety which , like th c truths of reason,

~ o ~ l d be val!d everywhcrc and for everyone, irrespect ivc of theirmd! VIdua1 character or their his torical circumstances.

A concept is either truc or falsc. A mind which entcrta ins afa lse concept may be brought through s teps of a rgumcnt to entertam the true one, bu t this does not mean that a false concept hasgrown mto the true ; th cre is always a point in the dia lectic, Jikc thcmoment of recogn ition in tragedy, whcn the revolutionary ch angehappens and thc false co ncept is ab andoncd with the reaJiza tionthat it ah:ays was false. Th e ialcctic process ma y take time, bu tthe truth 1t tliscovcrs ha s no history . 1

To thnk of the po liticai problcm as a problcm of finding thel. ( do no t. know whelher thcre is ;;ny historical re lation but when I rcad thePl at? ntc 1 am constantly reminded of the stichomythy of tr agedy.The1e .a lso secrns .a pa ra llel between the role of the Socra tic dialectic in the::

e ~ i u ~ a i J O ..of tbe mtellec t an_d thc role of free-assoc iation in thc psychoana-ly uc educatwn of thc emolions. Both are !..leve loped from the observationth a t vmue canno t be taught, i.e., the lruth c in an age of similar stasis o n a worJd-wide scalc, we hav e,, ti ltLsscd a recurrence on both the Right and the Left, at both the, , !ltll>mic an d thc psychiatric cpicenters, of similar symp toms.

l , u rther, we have seen with ou r own cyes the theory of creativeJ"d iliLs pu t into practice, and the spectacle is anyth ing bu t Utopian.l itis cxpcricncc by forcing us to takc Plato's political dialogues. t t >usly no t as play u] exercises in log ic, ha s altered ou r attitude,1 111 ink. to the other d ialogues. I f there is an essential not an acc iklll al relation between his metaphysics and hi s politics, an d the1 11 n secm to us disastrously mistakcn, thcn there must be a crucial, t tiH' in the formc r as well, which it is of the utmost importance that,, .. dctcct, if we ar e to ofier a positive substitutc for the Platonic kind, r Sl>i ution to th e political crisis.

The Comic Hero: "Comcdy," Aristotle says, " is an imitation, r men worse than the average; worse, however, no t as regards any;Jitd cvery kin d of fau lt, bu t only as regards one particular kind,lile Ridiculous, which is a species of the Ug ly. Th e R idiculousll l iY be defined as a mistake or deformi ty no t productive of pain" ' harm to others."

Thc most primitive form of comedy secms to have been talesttt which, firstly, Gods, and , secondly , hcroes an d rulers behave in;tll undignified an d ridiculous manner, that is to say, no better than11w average ma n who lac ks their arete, bu t, indeed , rather worse.;uch primitive comcdy is associated with holidays of l icensc, during

29


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W.H. AUDENwhich the resentments of the sma ll and the wcak against the greatand the strong may be freely exp ressed, in a rder that on the morrow when the habi ts of respect are re-cstablished, the air sha ll beclear.

When, as in Ath cns, a growing rationalism comes to think ofthe Gods as kceping their own Jaws, and political power comes tobe concentrated in the hands of a few, comedy finds new victimsand new themes.

lt is no longcr tbe ru.lers as a class, but particular public figureswho are made ?utts ?f; it is nor authority as such that is the subjectbut toptcal polttlcal 1ssues. Tb e laughter of thc aud iencc is not thccompcnsatory outburst of the weak aga inst those who are abovethe law, but thc confidcnr laughter of people who know thcir

s t r e n g t ~ that is, either the scorn of the normal majority for theeccentnc or arrogant individual whosc behavior is not so muchabove the law as o utside it, or the polemical passion of ene politicalparty d1rccteu against its rival. Th e target of such comedy is the~ who vtola tes the cthica l n orm because he does not bclieve it is?mdmg ; ha s, that is. no social consciencc. As a rcsul t he comes

J ~ t o co ll!swn, not with thc law itself- it would be ben eath thed1gmty of .the law to concern itself with those who do not rccognize1t- but WLth others as outside the law as himself. He suffcrs, bu t

do not because they do not identify themselves with..H1s u f f e r i n g too, is educational; through it he is cured of his

m d i V I d u l J ~ t i c mania and Iearns to conform to the Jaw, out ofprudence, f not from conscience.This second type of comedy was inventcd by the Greeks and

develop ed in Europe into the comedy of hum or, as in the plays ofBen Jonson, and comedy of manners and problems plays. Ifone dJsregards the1r lack of germine poetry, the Gilbert and Sullivan operas are the closest approximation in Engli:.;h to thc Ari stophanic type of comedy.

There is, howevcr, a third type which the Greeks did notpossess- thc greatest example is Don Quixote- in which thecornic figure is at the same time the hero; the audience admire thevery man they laugh at. Such a kind of comedy is based on a sensethat the relations of the individual and society to each other and ofboth to the truc good contain insoluble contradictions which are

30

1

THE GREEKS AND US,, .1 .. comic as ironic. The comic hero is comic because he1. ddlo- 11 n l from his ncighbors; either, like Don Quixote, because1 . , , l11:;1s lo accept their values, or, likc Fa lstaff, because he :e-' " ... . '" Jl l'l'l cnd, as they do , to one set of values while r ~ a l l li.vm.g, . 11 ., 1Jn : at the sarne time he is a hero because he IS an md l-and not to be an individual, to th ink and bchave in a certain.. "' becau se everyone else does, is egua lly a comic

1hv tragic hero suffers, and the audience, because they l ~ e n t t f y1,. 111.d ves with him through admiration, suffers too ; the COIDJC butt.11 ri .T: ; hut thc audience, since they feel su perior, do not. The rela-11,.11 ..r the comic hero and the audience to suffering, on the other11 .1111 1,1-c ironic; the aud ience sec the hero thwarted and defeated,, , 1., 1icnces wh ich they would regard as suffering, bu t the .whole1.,. 1111 is that to the hero himself these e x p e n ~ n c e s are nothmg of11. :a rt ; on the contrary, be glories in thcm, erther because be has11 , :. ha me or b ecause he regards them as p roof of his being r i g ~ t .

Thc nearest approach to such a figure among the Gre.eks 1s, of, 1111 rsL'. Socrates. In his person he exhibits the contradrctron, s.o1ld iked by Nietzsche, between his subjective arete of .soul , and . ~ I S111.111ifcst lack of objective arete; he, the best man , JS the ugh est111;11 1. Further, he suffers death at the hands of society and1111 ! rcra rd his fate as a tragic one. To the Greeks, however, he !S, rlher."'as he is to Aristophanes, a com ic butt who is justly pun-r.l 11d, or as he is to Plato, a tragic ma rtyr who suffers beca use. thew1 ,ug party was in power, the individual who rcpresents the ~\ 11cicty. The notion that any individual clarm. to be the except10n Js1ril ty of pride an d tha t all societies an d p a r t l ~ s , good and bad, are111 thc wrong simply beca use they are collectJves wou ld be.enIncomprehensible to them, as would hav c been the Chnstmn m;istcnce that Jesus was either the Inca rna te God or nota good man.111 d that his condemnation was by due process of R oman law .

VI1 llave strcssed the differences between Greck civilization and our11wn, firstly, because it seems to me one possible approach to anincxhaustible subject and one cannot take them all , and, second ly,

l > ~ . c a u s e 1 can think of no better way of indicating what we owe to31


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W.H. AUDENGreece than drawing distinctions, for, of all intellectual ac ts , that1s, perhaps, the most characteristically Greek.

lt is they who have taught us , not to thi nk- tha t all humanbeings have always done- bu t to think abou t ou r thinking, to asksuch qucst ions as "Wh at do I think?" "What do this and that otherperson or people think?" "On what do we agree and dlsagrec.Why?" And not only did they learn to ask questions about thinking,bu t they also discovered how, instead of giving imm ediate answers,to suppose something to be the case and then see what wouldfollow if it were .

To be able to perform either of these mental operat ions, ahuman being must first be capable of a tremendous feat of moralcourage and discipline for he must havc learned how to res ist theimmediate demands of fee!ing and bodily needs, and to disrcgardh1s na tural anxiety about bis future so that he can look at his selfan d his world as if they were not bis but a strangcr's.

I f sorne of the Grcek questions turned out to have bee n input , if sorne of their answers have proved wro ng. that is

a tnv1al matter. Ha d Greek civilization never existed, we mightfear God and dcal justly with ou r nclghbors, we might practice artsand even have learned how to devise fa irly simple machines, butwe would never have become fully conscious, which is to say thatwe would ncver have bccome , for better or worse, fully human .

32

AUGUSTUS TO AUGUSTINE

Si ncc the appcarance of the first edition in 1940, l have read thisbuok* many times, and my conviction of its. m ~ o ~ t a n c e to theunderstanding not only of thc epoch with wluch 1t. 1s conccrned,l>ut also of ou r own , has increased with each rercadmg. . ,

It is divded into th ree sections. Thc first, " R e c o n s t r u c t l o ~ ,dl'scribes the attemp t of the Principate to justify itsclf as the poh:lt;d form which could best rcalize the good Iife on earth as envJsagcd by classical philosophy. It traces the fortunes of thc New( >rder from its foundation by Augustus , at tended by the hopes ofal l civ,ilized mankind, to its collapse after the dcath of D i o ~ l e t i ~ .Th e second, "Renovation," beginning with the edict M m_13 A.D. and ending with an ed ict of 403 whic.h au thonzed pnvatcindividuals "t o exercisc with impunity th e nght of pubhc ven,.cance against criminals," describes thc futile .attempt , i ~ t e r r u p t . e dhy the platonst Julian, of the Jast C a e s . a r ~ gtve the .dymg empuea new Iease of life by substituting Chnstwnlty for p h l l o s o p ? ~ as astate religion. Th e last section, " Regencration," is e ~ p o s t l o n of1he writings of S . Augustine, in particular of vc:"s thedoc trine of the Trinity, the S ate and Divine Provdence m h1story.< Christianity and Classical Cul ture: A .swdy of Th ouRht and Ac tion from.1ugustus to A11gustine, by Charles Norns Cochrane.

33

w. h. auden, the greeks and us (forewords and afterwords, 1)

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