The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924080802998 
 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 924 080 802 998 
 
In compliance with cuirent 
 
 copyright law, Cornell University 
 
 Library produced this 
 
 replacement volume on paper 
 
 that meets the ANSI Standard 
 
 Z39.48-I992 to replace the 
 
 irreparably deteriorated original. 
 
 1997 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
A DAUGHTER OF THE GODS 
 
 This edition it limited to Jive hundred 
 copies, of which this is n/umher — ^-i. — 
 
Helen of Troy — Leighton 
 
A DAUGHTER 
 OF THE GODS 
 
 THE STORY OF 
 HELEN OF TROY 
 
 BY 
 LEA DONALD 
 
 New York 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
 PnBUSHEK3 
 
COPYHIGHT, 1906, BT 
 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This is simply a collection of the thoughts and say- 
 ings of others about the fair Helen of Troy, and if, as 
 I fear, I have rather overcrowded this sketch with poeti- 
 cal quotations, it is because I became an enthusiast, and 
 finding anything which bore reference to her, I could 
 not then omit it. 
 
 I am indebted to Symonds and Collins for the chap- 
 ters on the Iliad and the Odyssey. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Helen of Troy Frontispiece 
 
 Leda Facing page 3 
 
 Paeis " "24 
 
 The Judgment of Paris .... " " 33 
 
 The Abduction of Helen .... " " 55 
 
 Ancient Greece and the Tkoad . " '" 70 
 
 Paris and Helen " '* 85 
 
 Parting of Hector and Andromache " " 89 
 
 Helena " "133 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "Most high 
 In the lohite front of Jamutary there glows 
 The rose-red sign of Helen like a rose." 
 
 — Dante Gaekiel Rossetti. 
 
 "When 'mid Eurotas' reedy whisper, 
 
 Forth from the shell she burst to light, 
 Her mighty mother, brothers, sister. 
 Were blinded by the dazzling sight." 
 
 — Goethe. 
 
 The frail, the beautiful Helen, a theme which 
 has inspired so many, and upon which subse- 
 quent centuries have written their variations, 
 possesses a personality so charming and so com- 
 plex that she cannot fail to be a fascinating and 
 absorbing study. 
 
 Helen of Troy is one of those ideal creatures 
 of the fancy over which time, space and circtun- 
 stance, and moral probability exert no sway. 
 
 It would be impossible to conceive of her ex- 
 cept as being inviolably beautiful and young, in 
 spite of all her wanderings and all she suffered 
 at the hands of Aphrodite and of men. 
 
 1 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 She might ahnost be considered as virginally 
 pure, though this may be hard to reconcile with 
 the fact of her many lovers. She was a beautiful, 
 passive woman, the plaything of love. She moves 
 through Greek legend as the desired of all men 
 and the possessed of many. 
 
 Helen's supposed date may be taken as some 
 fifteen centuries before the Christian era. 
 
 Whose daughter was she? There are several 
 diiFerent accounts of her birth and parentage. 
 At Ramo, in Attica, she was connected with the 
 worship of Nemesis, whose daughter she was 
 considered to be, and most fitly, she having 
 brought just sorrow and retribution in her train; 
 and thus the lesson of Troy was allegorical in 
 Helen's pedigree. 
 
 Nemesis, the daughter of Night and Oceanus, 
 had fled the pursuit of Zeus, and to elude him 
 had taken the form of difi'erent kinds of animals. 
 At length, while she was assuming that of a 
 goose, the god became a swan, and she laid an 
 egg, which was found by a shepherd in the wood. 
 He brought it to Leda, who put it in a coffer, 
 and, in due time, Helen was produced from it. 
 
 Hesiod, on the other hand, called Helen the 
 daughter of Oceanus and Tethys, as though, in 
 fact, she were an Aphrodite risen from the waves. 
 
 But the common and probably the most an- 
 
 2 
 

 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 cient theory is that she was the daughter of Leda 
 and Zeus. 
 
 We have all read the tale of the swan who was 
 her father amid the rushes of Eurotas, the tale 
 which Leonardo and Buonarotti and Coreggio 
 thought worthy of their loveliest illustration. 
 
 Euripides says of her: 
 
 " Bright daughter of the bird, whose neck 
 Arch'd in proud estate, the white plumes deck, 
 For thee in dust our country falls. 
 If true the fame of mighty Jove, 
 Changed to a swan, sought Leda's love ; 
 Or fabling poets from Pieria's spring 
 Their wanton and indecent legends bring." 
 
 Or, to use Helen's words: 
 
 " I from Sparta draw my birth, a realm 
 To glory not unknown, of royal race, 
 Daughter of Tyndarus: but fame reports 
 That Jove, the silver plumage of a swan 
 Assuming, to my mother Leda's breast. 
 To effect his fraudful purpose 
 Wing'd his flight." 
 
 ^EUKIPIDES. 
 
 And again: 
 
 " The snow which doth the top on Pindus strew 
 Did never whiter shew 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Nor Jove himself, when he a Swan would be 
 
 For love of Leda, whiter did appear, 
 
 Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he." 
 
 — Spenseb. 
 
 And Longfellow's pretty conceit: 
 
 " Yon snow-white cloud that sails sublime in ether, 
 Is but the sovereign Zeus, who like a swan 
 Flies to f air-ankled Leda ! " 
 
 There is a contradiction as to Helen's birth- 
 place. Euripides takes it to be Therapnae, 
 " Hated town of Helen, Seated where Eurotas 
 whirls his eddying stream." . . 
 
 Leda was the daughter of Thestios, king of 
 Aetobia, and was married to Tyndarus, the ninth 
 king of Lacedaemon. Jove was the father of 
 her two children, Pollux and Helen, and Tyn- 
 darus the father of Castor. Clytenmestra, the 
 wife of Agamemnon, was also her daughter. 
 
 " To Leda were three beauteous daughters bom ; 
 Phcebe, and Clytenmestra, now my wife, 
 And Helena." — ^Eueipides, 
 
 In the Iliad Helen is termed "Begotten by 
 Zeus," and she calls Castor and Pollux her own 
 " Brothers whom one mother bore with her." 
 
 4 
 
A Dauqhtee or the Gods 
 
 In the Odyssey these are expressly called the 
 sons of TjTidarus. This does not prove, how- 
 ever, that Helen was held to he his daughter; 
 indeed in aU the legends she was viewed as being 
 the child of Zeus. She is always " God-begot- 
 ten " and " Divinely fair." Tyndarus spoke of 
 her as being his daughter. He says: 
 
 " Where shall I find my daughter's husband, where 
 find Menelaiis ? " 
 
 But he makes some distinction between the two 
 sisters when mentioning them to Menelaiis. 
 
 " But these vile women doth my soul abhor ; 
 And her, my daughter, first who slew her lord : 
 Thy Helen too I never will commend — 
 Never hold converse with her; no, nor thee 
 Can I approve, who, for a worthless woman 
 In toilsome march hast trod the fields of Troy." 
 
 Tyndarus reminds us somewhat of Lear in his 
 lament : 
 
 " O happy had I been. 
 Had I no daughters ; there I am a wretch ! " 
 
 — ^Euripides. 
 
 Spenser speaks quaintly of Helen when de- 
 scribing Nereus: 
 
 5 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 " Thereto he was expert in prophecies, 
 And could the ledden of the Gods unfold 
 Through which, when Paris brought his famous 
 
 prize 
 The faire Tmdarid Lasse; he him foretold 
 That her all Greece with many a champion bold 
 Should fetch againe and finally destroy 
 Proud Priam's town." 
 
 Helen is also called the " Argeian Helen." 
 The name is local; it meant that she was an Ar- 
 give domiciled in Troy. 
 
 Many facts point to a close connection be- 
 tween Aphrodite and Helen. The swan, from 
 whose egg she was born, is the bird of that god- 
 dess. Whether Helen was a slave or beloved 
 of Aphrodite, or whether, as Herodotus hinted, 
 she was herself a kind of Aphrodite, we are 
 hardly told. At one time she appears the willing 
 slave of the goddess; at another she groans be- 
 neath her bondage. But always, and on all occa- 
 sions, she owes everything to the Cyprian queen. 
 Her very body-gear preserved the powerful 
 charm with which she was invested at her birth. 
 
 When the Phocians robbed the Delphian treas- 
 ure-house, the wife of one of their captains took 
 and wore Helen's necklace, whereupon she doted 
 upon a young Epirot soldier and eloped with 
 him. 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 An anecdote, told by Herodotus, shows us 
 that Helen was not deterred by her own fate 
 from endowing another with the gift of beauty, 
 which to her was so fatal. 
 
 One of the wives of Aristan, king of Sparta, 
 when an infant, was very plain and disagreeable 
 looking, which was a source of much aj09iction to 
 her parents, who were people of great affluence. 
 Her nurse, seeing this, recommended that she 
 should every day be brought to the temple of 
 Helen. Here the nurse regularly presented her- 
 self with the child, and standing near the shrine 
 implored the goddess to remove the girl's de- 
 formity. 
 
 As she was one day departing from the 
 temple, a woman is said to have appeared to 
 her, inquiring what she carried in her arms. The 
 nurse rephed it was a child. She desired to see 
 it; this the nurse, having had orders to that effect 
 from the parents, at first refused, but, seeing 
 that the woman persisted in her wish, she at 
 length comphed. The stranger, taking the in- 
 fant in her arms, stroked it on the face, saying 
 that she should become the loveliest woman of 
 Sparta, and from that hour her features began 
 to improve. Helen apparently endowed this 
 child with more than mere beauty, adding some 
 of her iQ-f ated fascination. 
 
 7 
 
A Daughteb, or the Gods 
 
 She was first married to Agetus, when Aristan, 
 who was his friend, became inflamed with pas- 
 sion for her, and through an artifice succeeded in 
 taking her from her husband. 
 
 Those who spoke ill of Helen suffered. 
 Stesichorus, in his lyric interludes, had ventured 
 to assail the character of Helen, applying to her 
 conduct the moral standard which Homer kept 
 carefuUy out of sight, and laying upon her 
 shoulders all the guilt and sufi^ering of Hellas 
 and of Troy; whereupon he was smitten with 
 blindness, nor could he recover his sight until he 
 had written the palinode which begins: 
 
 "Not true is that tale; nor didst thou journey in 
 benched ships or come to towers of Troy." 
 
 Even Homer, as Plato hints, knew not that 
 blindness had fallen on him for like reason. 
 
 To assail Helen with reproach was not less 
 dangerous than to touch the Ark of the Cove- 
 nant, for with the Greeks beauty was a holy 
 thing. 
 
 How perfectly beautiful she was ve know 
 from the legend of the cups modeled upon her 
 breast suspended in the shrine of Aphrodite, so 
 beautifully described by Rossetti: 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Heaven born Helen, Sparta's queen 
 (O Troy Town!) 
 Had two breasts of heavenly sheen, 
 The sun and moon of heart's desire : 
 All Love's lordship lay between. 
 (O Troy's down. 
 Tall Troy's on fire!) 
 
 " Helen knelt at Venus' shrine 
 Saying : ' A little gift is mine, 
 A little gift for a heart's desire 
 Hear me speak and make me a sign! 
 
 " ' Look I bring thee a carven cup ; 
 See it here as I hold it up. 
 Shaped it is to the heart's desire. 
 Fit to fill when the gods would sup. 
 
 " ' It was molded like my breast, 
 He that sees it may not rest. 
 Rest at all for his heart's desire. 
 O give ear to my heart's behest. 
 
 " ' See my breast how like it is ; 
 See it bare for the air to kiss 1 
 Is the cup to thy heart's desire? 
 O for the breast, O make it his I 
 
 " ' Yea for my bosom here I sue ; 
 Thou must give it where 'tis due. 
 Give it there to the heart's desire. 
 Whom do I give my bosom to? 
 9 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " ' Each twin breast is an apple sweet ! 
 Once an apple stirred the beat 
 Of thy heart with the heart's desire ; 
 Say, who brought it then to thy feet? 
 
 "'They that claimed it then were three: 
 For thy sake two hearts did he 
 Make forlorn of the heart's desire ; 
 Do for him as he did for thee.' 
 
 " Venus looked on Helen's gift 
 Looked and smiled with subtle drift, 
 Saw the work of her heart's desire: 
 ' There thou kneel'st for love to lift 1 ' 
 
 " Venus looked in Helen's face 
 Knew far off an hour and place, 
 And fire lit from the heart's desire : 
 Laughed and said : ' Thy gift hath grace ! ' 
 
 " Cupid looked on Helen's breast, 
 Saw the heart within its nest, 
 Saw the flame of the heart's desire. 
 Marked his arrow's burning crest. 
 
 " Cupid took another dart. 
 Fledged it for another heart. 
 Winged the shaft with the heart's desire. 
 Drew the string and said : " Depart ! ' 
 10 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 *' Paris turned upon his bed 
 
 (O Troy Town!) 
 Turned upon his bed and said, 
 Dead at heart with the heart's desire: 
 ' O to clasp her golden head ! ' 
 
 (O Troy's down, 
 
 TaU Troy's on fire!)" 
 
 Tennyson also refers to the same subject: 
 
 " Then, then from utter gloom stood out the breasts, 
 The breasts of Helen ; and hoveringly a sword 
 Now over and now under, now direct, 
 Pointed itself to pierce, but sank down shamed 
 At all that beauty ; and as I stared, a fire, 
 The fire that left a roofless Ilion, 
 Shot out of them, and scorch'd me that I woke." 
 
 Many sculptors and painters have immortal- 
 ized her beauty without suggesting the woes 
 that she had brought upon the world. Those 
 very woes, perhaps, may have added pathos to 
 her charm; for had not she, too, suffered in the 
 strife of men? 
 
 How the artists dealt with the myth of Helen 
 we only know by scattered hints and fragments. 
 One bas-relief engraved by Millingen reveals 
 her standing cahn beneath the sword of Mene- 
 laiis. That sword is lifted, but it will not fall. 
 Beauty, breathed around her like a spell, catches 
 
 11 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 a magic atmosphere through which no steel can 
 pierce. 
 
 In another bas-relief, from the Campana Mu- 
 seum, she is entering Sparta on a chariot, side by- 
 side with Menelaxis, not like a captive, but with 
 head erect and haughty mien, and proud hand 
 placed upon the horses' reins. 
 
 Philostratus, in his lives of the Sophists, de- 
 scribes an exceedingly beautiful young philoso- 
 pher, whose mother bore a close resemblance to 
 the picture of Helen by Eumelaiis. If the linea- 
 ments of the mother were repeated in the youth, 
 the eyes of Helen in her picture must have been 
 large and voluptuous, her hair curled in clusters, 
 and her teeth of dazzling whiteness. 
 
 We are told her hair was fair. One of the 
 curious notes attached to nationality in Homer 
 is the color of her hair; dark hair is a note of the 
 foreigner, and of southern extraction. There is 
 great personal beauty in the royal family of 
 Troy; but no auburn or light hair is ever found 
 there. AchiUes and Menelaiis have the color of 
 their hair mentioned, and it is auburn. 
 
 It is probable that the later artists, in their 
 illustrations of the romance of Helen, used the 
 poems of Lesalus and Arcturus, now lost, but of 
 which the Posthumerica of Quintus Smyrnaeus 
 preserves to us a feeble reflection. This poet of 
 
 12 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 the fourth century after Christ does all in his 
 power to rehabilitate the character of Helen by 
 laying the fault of her crime on Paris, and by 
 describing at length the charm which Venus shed 
 around her sacred person. 
 
 Agamemnon promised to Achilles, to appease 
 his wrath, the choice of twenty female captives, 
 the " fairest after Helen." By this he strongly 
 intimates the superiority of her charms. 
 
 Helen's fatal beauty caused her sorrow early 
 in life. When but nine years old she was 
 reckoned the greatest beauty in the world, and 
 was carried off by Theseus to Aphidnae. This 
 hero of wonderful exploits was then fifty years 
 old and had been mixed up in many love affairs. 
 The following is the description of this adven- 
 ture as given by Herodotus: 
 
 " Some writers thinking this one of the 
 heaviest charges against Theseus, endeavor to 
 correct it by saying that it was not he that car- 
 ried off Helen, but Idas and Lynceus, who com- 
 mitted her to his care. Or that she was dehvered 
 to him by Tyndarus himself, to keep her from 
 Euarsphorus, the son of Hippcoon, who en- 
 deavored to possess himself by violence of her 
 when she was still but a child. The most proba- 
 ble story is that the two friends Pirithous and 
 Theseus went together to Sparta, and having 
 
 13 
 
A Daughtee or the Gods 
 
 seen the girl dancing in the temple of Diana 
 Orthia, carried her off, and fled." 
 
 The pursuers that were sent after them fol- 
 lowing no farther than Tegea, they thought 
 themselves secure, and having traversed Pelo- 
 ponnesus, they entered into an agreement that he 
 who should gain Helen by lot should have her 
 for his wife, but be obliged to assist in procuring 
 a wife for the other. 
 
 In consequence of these terms, the lots being 
 cast, she fell to Theseus, who received the maiden 
 and conveyed her, as she was not yet marriage- 
 able, to Aphidnae, Here he placed his mother 
 Aethra with her, and committed them to the care 
 of his friend Aphidnus, charging him to keep 
 them in the utmost secrecy and safety; while to 
 pay his debt of gratitude to Pirithous, himself 
 traveled with him into Epirus with a view to the 
 daughter of Aidoneus, king of the Molossians. 
 While there his friend was killed and himself 
 imprisoned. 
 
 The earliest exploit of the twin brothers, and 
 they were indeed youthful heroes, was the re- 
 covery of their sister. At first they proceeded 
 not in a hostile manner, only demanding her : but 
 the Athenians answering that they neither had 
 Helen among them nor knew where she was, 
 they began their warlike operations. Academus, 
 
 14 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 however, finding it out by some means or other, 
 told them she was concealed at Aphidnae. To 
 Aphidnae then they came, where they beat the 
 enemy in a set battle> and then took the city and 
 razed it to the groimd. There they tell us Alycus 
 was slain fighting for Castor and Pollux, and 
 that he received his death-wound from Theseus' 
 own hand. 
 
 " For bright-haired Helen he was slain 
 By Theseus, on Aphidnae's plain." 
 
 But it is not probable that Aphidnae would 
 have been taken and his mother made prisoner 
 had Theseus been present. 
 
 We are told that Aethra, the mother of The- 
 seus, who was now a prisoner, was carried, in 
 revenge, a captive to Lacedaemon, and from 
 there, with Helen, to Troy; and Homer con- 
 firms it when speaking of those that waited upon 
 Helen he mentions 
 
 " The beautiful Clymene, 
 And Aethea born of Pittheus." 
 
 Racine, in his tragedy " Iphigenie," supposes 
 that Helen and Theseus are married, and intro- 
 duces a daughter of this imion, Iphigenia or 
 Eriphile, as she is called to distinguish her from 
 Iphigenia, the daughter of Agamemnon. This, 
 
 15 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 of course, is not in accord with the ancient story, 
 Helen's extreme youth making this an impossi- 
 bility. 
 
 Racine says in his preface: " There is a third 
 opinion, which is not less ancient than the 
 two others, on Iphigenia. Several authors, and 
 among others Stesichorus, one of the most 
 ancient of the lyric poets, have written that it 
 was very true that a princess of this name had 
 been sacrificed, but that Iphigenia was a daugh- 
 ter of Helen and Theseus. 
 
 " Helen, say these authors, did not acknowl- 
 edge her as her daughter, because she did not dare 
 avow to Menelaiis that she had been secretly mar- 
 ried to Theseus." 
 
 This poor Iphigenia only finds out at the altar 
 who her parents are, and like a heroine with, as 
 she says, " the blood of heroes in her veins," she 
 forbids Calchas to approach her, and herself 
 plunges the sacred knife into her heart. 
 
 Pausanius supposes her to have been of mar- 
 riageable years when carried off by Theseus, and 
 that she became the mother of this daughter, who 
 was given to Clytemnestra to rear. 
 
 Theseus and Paris, in the Cassandra of Lyca- 
 phron, are called two eagles, from having, each 
 of them, carried off "that poor trembling bird, 
 Helen!" 
 
 16 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 " Then all the youths of Hellas wooed her in the young world's 
 prime." 
 
 Haying survived his two sons, the twins, Tyn- 
 darus began to think of choosing a successor by 
 looking out for a husband for Helen, who then 
 had many suitors, all the Grecian princes seeking 
 her in marriage. Apollodorus and Natalis 
 Comes have given us the names of these wooers ; 
 they were: Ulysses, Diomed, Antilochus, Aga- 
 penor, Sthenelus, Amphilocus, the son of Cleatus, 
 Thalpius, Meges, Amphilochus, the son of Am- 
 phiaraus, Mnestheus, Schedius, Polixemus, 
 Peneleus, Ajax, the son of Oilous, Ascalaphus, 
 Talmenus, Elephenor, Eumelus, Polypoetes, 
 Leonteus, Podalirius, Machaon, Philoctetes, 
 Euryphus, Protesilaiis, Menelaiis, Ajax and 
 Tencer, sons of Telemon and Patroclus. 
 
 She was indeed " A much wooed dame." 
 There are many celebrated names among the list. 
 
 Tyndarus was rather alarmed than pleased at 
 the sight of so great a number of illustrious 
 princes who eagerly solicited each to become his 
 son-in-law. He knew that he could not prefer 
 
 17 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 one without displeasing all the rest, and from 
 this perplexity he was extricated, according to 
 Apollodorus, by the artifice of Ulysses, who be- 
 gan to be already known in Greece for his wis- 
 dom and sagacity. This prince, who clearly saw 
 that his pretensions to Helen would not probably 
 meet with success, in opposition to so many rivals, 
 proposed to free Tyndarus from all his difficul- 
 ties if he would promise him his niece Penelope 
 in marriage. 
 
 Tyndarus consented, and Ulysses advised the 
 king to bind, by a solemn oath, all the suitors, 
 that they would approve of the uninfluenced 
 choice which Helen should make of one among 
 them, and engage to unite together to defend 
 her person and character if ever any attempts 
 were made to carry her off^ from her husband. 
 
 The advice of Ulysses was followed, the 
 princes consented, and Helen fixed her choice 
 upon Menelaus, and married him. 
 
 " To her the youths of Greece, 
 Those of the noblest rank, as wooers came, 
 Each menaced high, on deeds of blood resolved, 
 Should he not win the virgin: this was cause 
 To Tyndarus her father of much doubt. 
 To give or not to give her, and how best 
 To make good fortune his : at length this thought 
 
 18 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 Occurr'd, that each to each the wooers give 
 
 Their oath, and plight their hands, and on the flames 
 
 Pour the libations, and with solemn vows 
 
 Bind their firm faith, that him who should obtain 
 
 The virgin for his bride, then all would aid ; 
 
 If any dared to seize and bear her off. 
 
 And drive by force her husband from her bed. 
 
 All would unite in arms, and lay his town, 
 
 Greek or barbarian, level with the ground. 
 
 Their faith thus pledged, the aged Tyndarus 
 
 Beneath them well with cautious prudence wrought ; 
 
 He gave his daughter of her wooers one 
 
 To choose, towards whom the gentle gales of love 
 
 Should waft her : and she chose (O had he ne'er 
 
 Obtained that envied favor !) Menelaiis." 
 
 — Euripides. 
 
 Hermione, Helen's only earthly child, was the 
 fruit of this union, which continued for three 
 years with mutual happiness. 
 
 The Epithalamium of Helen and Menelaiis, 
 from the 18th Idyllium of Theocritus, gives us 
 an idea of her accompMshments. 
 
 " Twelve Spartan virgins, noble, young, and fair. 
 With violet wreaths adom'd their flowing hair ; 
 And to the pompous palace did resort, 
 Where Menelaiis kept his royal court. 
 There hand in hand a comely choir they led ; 
 To sing a blessing to his nuptial bed, 
 
 19 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 With curious needles wrought and painted flow'rs 
 Jove's beauteous daughter now his bride must be, 
 And Jove himself was less a god than he. 
 For this their artful hands instruct the lute to 
 
 sound, 
 Their feet assist their hands, and justly beat the 
 
 ground. 
 This was their song: Why, happy bridegroom, why, 
 Ere yet the stars are kindled in the sky. 
 Ere twilight shades, or evening dews are shed. 
 Why dost thou steal so soon away to bed? 
 Has Somnus brushed thy eyelids with his rod, 
 Or do thy legs refuse to bear their load 
 With flowing bowl of a rfiore generous god? . . . 
 Go, leave her with her maiden mates to play 
 At sports more harmless till the break of day : 
 Give us this evening: thou hast morn and night, 
 And all the year before thee, for delight. 
 O happy youth ! to thee among the crowd 
 Of rival princes, Cupid sneez'd aloud: 
 And every lucky omen sent before, 
 To meet thee landing on the Spartan shore. 
 Of all our heroes thou must boast alone, 
 That Jove, whene'er he thunders, calls thee son. . . 
 Her equals we, in years, but not in face. 
 Twelve score viragos of the Spartan race, 
 AVhilst naked to Eurota's banks we bend. 
 And there in manly exercise contend, 
 When she appears, are all eclips'd and lost. 
 And hide the beauties that we made our boast. 
 
 20 
 
A Daughteb, of the Gods 
 
 So, when the night and winter disappear, 
 The purple morning, rising with the year, 
 Salutes the spring, as her celestial eyes 
 Adorn the world, and brighten all the skies : 
 So beauteous Helen shines among the rest, 
 TaU, slender, straight, with all the Graces blest. 
 As pines the mountains, or as fields the com, 
 Or as Thessalian steeds the race adorn; 
 So rosy-colored Helen is the pride 
 Of Lacedaemon, and of Greece beside. 
 Like her no nymph can willing osiers bend 
 In basket-works, which painted streaks commend: 
 With Pallas in the loom she may contend. 
 But none, ah! none can animate the lyre, 
 And the mute strings with vocal souls inspire : 
 Whether the learn'd Minerva be her theme 
 Or chaste Diana bathing in the stream: 
 None can record their heavenly praise so well 
 As Helen, in whose eyes ten thousand Cupids dwell. 
 O fair, O graceful! yet with maids enroll'd, 
 But whom to-morrow's sun a matron shall behold ! 
 Yet ere to-morrow's sun shall show his head, 
 The dewy paths of meadows we will tread, 
 For crowns and chaplets to adorn thy head. 
 Where all shall weep and wish for thy return, 
 As bleating lambs their absent mother mourns. 
 Our noblest maids shall to thy name bequeath 
 The boughs of lotus, f orm'd into a wreath. 
 This moment, thy maiden beauties' due. 
 High on a plane tree shall be hung to view : 
 
 21 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 On the smooth rind the passenger shall see 
 
 Thy name engrav'd and worship Helen's tree. 
 
 Balm, from a silver box dlstill'd around, 
 
 Shall all bedew the roots, and scent the sacred ground. 
 
 The balm, 'tis true, can aged plants prolong. 
 
 But Helen's name will keep it ever young. 
 
 Hail bride, hail bridegroom, son-in-law to Jove! 
 
 With fruitful joys Latona bless your love." 
 
 Theocritus, in this exquisite marriage song, has 
 not a word to say, by hint or innuendo, that she 
 will bring a curse upon her husband. Like dawn 
 is the beauty of her face; like the moon in the 
 heaven of night, or the spring when winter is 
 ended, or like a cypress in the meadow, so is 
 Helen among Spartan maids. 
 
 " A thousand little loves around her fly ; 
 A thousand Zephyrs crowd the balmy air 
 To curl the golden tresses of her hair: 
 And when she treads, the springing flowers 
 
 appear. 
 Forget the season and begin the year. 
 Thus Argive Helen looked, by Cupid led 
 In nuptial triumph to the Spartan's bed. 
 Thus the sweet image of approaching joys 
 Played in her breast and sparkled in her eyes." 
 
 — Ansonius. 
 
 These roseate wishes were unfulfilled; three 
 
 22 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 years later husband and child were deserted for 
 a beautiful, effeminate lover. 
 
 Menelaiis, before he sailed to Troy, brought 
 his daughter Hermione from Sparta to Argos, 
 and left her there under the care of Clytem- 
 nestra. 
 
 When Iphigenia is to be sacrificed, Clytem- 
 nestra pleads that Hermione should die instead, 
 saying how unjust it is for her to be deprived of 
 her child: 
 
 " And she that hath misdone, at her return 
 To Sparta, her young daughter shall bear back, 
 And thus be happy." 
 
 — ^Euripides. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 " Sad Ilion, 
 For memory of which on high there hung 
 The golden apple, cause of all their wrong, 
 For which the three fair goddesses did strive." 
 
 — Spensee. 
 
 PooE Helen, on whom Venus has bestowed the 
 fatal endowment of irresistible beauty, is the 
 plaything and tool of the gods from first to last. 
 Zeus, seeing the earth overstocked with peo- 
 ple, consulted with Themis how to remedy the 
 evil. The best course seeming to be a war be- 
 tween Hellas and Troy, Discord, by his direc- 
 tion, came to the banquet of the gods in celebra- 
 tion of the nuptials of Pelias and Thetis, and 
 flung down a golden apple inscribed: " This 
 apple for the fair." This apple was plucked, 
 according to Spenser, from a tree in the garden 
 of Proserpine. 
 
 " Thereunto did grow a goodly tree, 
 With branches broad dispredd and body great, 
 Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote see, 
 And laden all with fruit, as thick as it might be. 
 
 24 
 
FARis—Canova 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Here eke that famous golden apple grew, 
 The which th' Idaean ladies disagreed, 
 TiU partial Paris dempt it Venus' dew. 
 And had of her fair Helen for his need. 
 That many Greeks and Trojans made to bleed." 
 
 Zeus directed Hermes to conduct the com- 
 peting goddesses to Mount Ida to be judged by 
 Paris, the son of Priam, or, according to the 
 same poet, went for him himself: 
 
 " Again, whereas the Trojan boy so fair 
 He snatched from Ida's hill, and with him bore; 
 Wondrous dehght was it there to behold 
 How the rude shepherds after him did stare 
 Trembling with fear lest down he fallen should, 
 And often to him calling to take surer hold." 
 
 Or another version. When Peleus and the 
 goddess Thetis were married, all the gods were 
 bidden to the feast excepting Discord. She, like 
 the wicked fairy, to avenge herself for the shght 
 threw among the guests a golden apple in- 
 scribed "For the fairest." Hera, Athena, and 
 Aphrodite each claimed the apple, Zeus shirked 
 the responsibihty of deciding the matter and sent 
 the three claimants to Mount Ida: 
 
 " Ida where the gods lov'd to repair, 
 Whenever they their heavenly bowres forbore." 
 
 25 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 " In Ida vale (who knows not Ida vale?), 
 When harmless Troy yet felt not Grecian spite, 
 An hundred shepherds woun'd and in the dale. 
 While their fair flocks the three-leaved pastures bite, 
 The shepherd's boys with hundred sportings light 
 Gave wings unto the time's too speedy haste." 
 
 The three rivals, Juno, Venus, and Minerva — 
 the latter as goddess of wisdom ought to have 
 known better — ^unveiled their divine charms and 
 appeared before the young shepherd in all the 
 sioiphcity of immortal costume, in order that he 
 might decide which of them was the fairest. 
 Tennyson intimates that Venus had tempted 
 him before the contest. 
 
 " Venus 
 Whom all the pines of Ida shook to see 
 Slide from that quiet heaven of hers, and tempt 
 The Trojan, while his neat-herds were abroad." 
 
 Each tried to bribe him to adjudge the prize 
 to herself. The queen of Heaven oflFered him 
 power in the future, Minerva wisdom, Venus the 
 loveliest woman upon earth. Paris awarded the 
 prize to Aphrodite, thus making Hera and 
 Athena the bitter enemies of his country, and re- 
 ceived the promised reward, Helen, the fairest 
 of all earthly women. 
 
 26 
 
A Daughtek of the Gods 
 Ovid tells us that 
 
 " By day-light Paris judged the beauteous three; 
 And for the fairest did the prize decree." 
 
 Herodotus leads up to the rape of Helen by 
 two others, making Helen's abduction but a just 
 retribution on the Greeks. 
 
 " In process of time, certain Grecians, con- 
 cerning whose country writers disagree, but who 
 were really of Crete, are reported to have touched 
 at Tyre, and to have carried off Europa, the 
 daughter of the prince. Thus far the Greeks 
 had only retaliated, some Phoenician sailors 
 having carried off the maiden lo from Argos, 
 but they were certainly guilty of the second 
 provocation. They made a voyage in a vessel of 
 war to Aea, a city of Colchos, near the river 
 Phasis; and after having accomplished the more 
 immediate object of their expedition, they forci- 
 bly carried off the king's daughter Medea. In 
 the age which followed, Alexander, the son of 
 Priam, encouraged by the memory of these 
 events, determined on obtaining a wife from 
 Greece by means of similar violence, fully per- 
 suaded that this, like former wrongs, would 
 never be avenged. Upon the loss of Helen, the 
 Greeks at first employed messengers to demand 
 
 27 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 her person, as well as a compensation for the 
 affront. All the satisfaction they received was 
 reproach for the injury which had been offered 
 to Medea; and they were further asked how, 
 under circumstances entirely alike, they could 
 reasonably require what they themselves had 
 denied." 
 
 Aphrodite, in offering Helen as the reward, 
 quite ignored the fact of her being already the 
 ^vife of Menelaiis, king of Sparta, but a lady so 
 lax in such little affairs could hardly be expected 
 to consider the scruples of others. It involved 
 also a somewhat similar breach of troth on Paris' 
 part. 
 
 Priam, King of Troy, married Hecuba, the 
 daughter of Dymas the Phrygian, who bore him 
 nineteen children, the chief of whom were Paris 
 and Hector. 
 
 Herodotus says that Hector was the elder of 
 the two. Gladstone considers Paris the senior. 
 
 They were two natures so dissimilar that it is 
 hard to realize their close relationship. 
 
 Terrible oracles had accompanied the birth of 
 him who was to prove the curse of his father's 
 people. 
 
 His mother, Hecuba, dreamed that she gave 
 birth to a burning torch which set all Troy in 
 flames. 
 
 28 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 On her telling this dream to Priam, he sent 
 for Alsocas, his son by a former wife, Ariste, 
 the daughter of Merops, who had been reared 
 and taught to interpret dreams by his grand- 
 father. 
 
 Alsocas declared that the chUd would be the 
 destruction of his country, and recommended ex- 
 posing it. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as the babe was born, 
 it was given to a servant to be left on Mount 
 Ida, so as to insure his death in infancy, 
 without incurring the guilt of blood. But, as 
 in similar legends, the precaution did but help 
 to fulfill the prophecy. 
 
 The servant obeyed, but on returning at the 
 end of five days, he found that a bear had been 
 nursing the infant. Struck with this strange 
 event, he took home the babe, reared him as his 
 own son, and named him Paris. 
 
 In the sohtudes of the mountains he grew up, 
 a boy of wondrous beauty, the nursling and the 
 favorite of Venus. He distinguished himself by 
 his strength and courage in repelling robbers 
 from the flocks, and the shepherds named him 
 Alexander. He received also a name from the 
 mountain "Ida, to wandering Trojans ever 
 dear," for Euripides says, " Idaeus thence they 
 called the boy." 
 
 29 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " With the nymphs in wood and cave 
 Paris was acquainted well, 
 Till Zeus sent, to make him rave, 
 Three of those in Heaven who dwell; 
 And the choice more trouble gave 
 Than e'er fell to mortal lot, 
 Whether in old times or not." 
 
 — Goethe. 
 
 Here, in the valleys of Ida, he had already 
 won the love of the nymph Oenone, daughter of 
 the river-god Cehren. She, in vain, tries to induce 
 him to give up his purpose, and he deserts her 
 without scruple under the new temptation. 
 
 What can be more beautiful than Tennyson's 
 plaint of the deserted Oenone? 
 
 " There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier 
 Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. 
 The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen — 
 Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine. 
 And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand 
 The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down 
 Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars 
 The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine 
 In cataract after cataract to the sea. 
 Behind the valley topmost Gargarus 
 Stands up and takes the morning : but in front 
 The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal 
 Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel. 
 The crown of Troas. 
 
 30 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 " Hither came at noon 
 Mournful Oenone, wandering forlorn 
 Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills. 
 Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck 
 Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. 
 She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine. 
 Sang to the stillness, till the mountain shade 
 Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliiF. 
 ' O mother Ida, many fountain'd Ida, 
 Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: 
 The grass-hopper is silent in the grass : 
 The lizard, with his shadow on the stone. 
 Rests like a shadow, and the cicala sleeps. 
 The purple flowers droop: the golden bee 
 Is lily cradled: I alone awake. 
 My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love. 
 My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim. 
 And I am all aweary of my Hf e. 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, many fountain'd Ida, 
 Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O HiUs, O Caves 
 That house the cold crown'd snake ! O mountain brooks, 
 I am the daughter of a River-God, 
 Hear me, for I wiU speak, and build up all 
 My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls 
 Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, 
 A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be 
 That, while I speak of it, a little while 
 My heart may wander from its deeper woe. 
 
 31 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, many fountain'd Ida, 
 Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 1 waited underneath the dawning hills, 
 Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark. 
 And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine : 
 Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris, 
 Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved, 
 Came up from reedy Simois all alone. 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Far off the torrent call'd me from the cleft : 
 Far up the solitary mountain smote 
 The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes 
 I sat alone : white-breasted like a star 
 Fronting the dawn he moved ; a leopard skin 
 Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair 
 Cluster'd about his temples like a God's ; 
 And his cheek brightened as the foam-bow brightens 
 When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart 
 Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came. 
 
 " ' Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm 
 Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold. 
 That smelt ambrosially, and while I look'd 
 And listen'd, the full-flowing river of speech 
 Came down upon my heart : 
 
 " ' " My own Oenone, 
 Beautiful brow'd Oenone, my own soul. 
 Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n 
 
 33, 
 

The Judgment of Pauis — Solomon 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 * For the most fair,' would seem to award it thine, 
 
 As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt 
 
 The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace 
 
 Of movement, and the charm of married brows." 
 
 " ' Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 He prest the blossom of his lips to mine. 
 And added : " This was cast upon the board, 
 When all the full-faced presence of the Grods 
 Ranged in the halls of Peleus ; whereupon 
 Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: 
 But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve. 
 Delivering, that to me, by common voice 
 Elected umpire. Here comes to-day, 
 Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each 
 This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave 
 Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, 
 May'st well behold them, unbeheld, unheard. 
 Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods." 
 
 " ' Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 It was the deep mid-noon : one silvery cloud 
 Had lost his way between the piney sides 
 Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came. 
 Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower. 
 And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, 
 Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, 
 Lotos and lilies ; and wind arose, 
 And overhead the wandering ivy and vine. 
 This way and that, in many a wild festoon, 
 
 33 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs 
 
 With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'. 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit. 
 And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud, and lean'd 
 Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. 
 Then first I heard the voice of her, to whom 
 Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that grows 
 Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods 
 Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made 
 Proffer of royal power, ample rule, 
 Unquestion'd overflowing revenue 
 Wherewith to embellish state, " from many a vale 
 And river-sunder'd champaign clothed with corn. 
 Or labor'd mines undrainable of ore, 
 " Honor " she said, " and homage, tax and toll 
 From many an inland town and haven large, 
 Mast-throng'd beneath her shadowing citadel 
 In glassy bays among her tallest towers." 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Still she spake on and still she spake of " power. 
 Which in all action is the end of all ; 
 Power fitted to the season ; wisdom-bred 
 And throned of wisdom — from all neighbour crowns. 
 Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand 
 Fail from the scepter-staff. Such boon from me. 
 From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee, king-born, 
 A shepherd all thy life, but yet king-born, 
 
 34 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Shoiild come most welcome, seeing men, in power 
 Only, are likest gods, who have attain'd 
 Rest in a happy place and quiet seats 
 Above the thunder, with undying bliss. 
 In knowledge of their own supremacy." 
 
 " * Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit 
 Out at arm's-length, so much the thought of power 
 Flatter'd his spirit; but Pallas where she stood 
 Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs 
 O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear 
 Upon the pearly shoulder leaning cold. 
 The while, above, her full and earnest eye 
 Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek 
 Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply, 
 " Self -reverence, self-knowledge, self-control. 
 These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
 Yet not for power (power of herself 
 Would come uncall'd for), but to live by law. 
 Acting the law we live by without fear. 
 And because right is right, to follow right 
 Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence." 
 
 " ' Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Again she said : " I woo thee not with gifts. 
 Sequel of guerdon could not alter me 
 To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am. 
 So shalt thou find me fairest. 
 
 35 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " ' " Yet, indeed. 
 If gazing on divinity disrobed 
 Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, 
 Unbias'd by self -profit, oh ! rest thee sure, 
 That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, 
 So that my vigor, wedded to thy blood. 
 Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, 
 To push thee forward thro' a life of shocks. 
 Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow 
 Sinew'd with action, and the fuU-grown will. 
 Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, 
 Commeasure perfect freedom." 
 
 " ' Here she ceased. 
 And Paris ponder'd, and I cried, " O Paris, 
 Give it to Pallas ! " but he heard me not. 
 Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me! 
 
 " ' mother Ida, many f ountain'd Ida, 
 Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Idalian Aphrodite beautiful, 
 Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, 
 With rosy slender fingers backward drew 
 From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair 
 Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat 
 And shoulder: from the violets her light foot 
 Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form 
 Between the shadows of the vine-branches 
 Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. 
 
 36 
 
A Daughtee or the Gods 
 
 " ' Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 
 The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh 
 Half-whisper'd in his ear : " I promise thee 
 The fairest and most loving wife in Greece." 
 She spoke and laugh'd: I shut my sight for fear: 
 But when I look'd, Paris had raised his arm. 
 And I beheld great Here's angry eyes. 
 As she withdrew into the golden cloud. 
 And I was left alone within the bower; 
 And from that time to this I am alone, 
 And I shall be alone until I die. 
 
 " ' Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
 Fairest — ^why fairest wife.'' am I not fair? 
 My love hath told me so a thousand times. 
 Methiaks I must be fair, for yesterday, 
 When I past by, a wild and wanton pard. 
 Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail 
 Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? 
 Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms 
 Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest 
 Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew 
 Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains 
 Flash in the pools of whirling Simois. 
 
 " ' O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
 They came, they cut away my tallest pines. 
 My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge 
 High over the blue gorge, and all between 
 
 87 
 
A Daughteb of the Gods 
 
 The snowy peak and snow-white cataract 
 Foster'd the callow eaglet — from beneath 
 Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark mom 
 The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat 
 Low in the valley. Never, never more 
 Shall lone Oenone see the morning mist 
 Sweep thro' them ; never see them overlaid 
 With narrow moon-lit slips of silver cloud. 
 Between the loud stream and the trembling stars. 
 
 " ' O mother Ida, hear me yet before I die. 
 I wish that somewhere in the ruin'd folds, 
 Among the fragments trembled from the glens, 
 Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her. 
 The Abominable, that uninvited came 
 Into the fair Peleian banquet hall. 
 And cast the golden fruit upon the board, 
 And bred the change ; that I might speak my mind. 
 And tell her to her face how much I hate 
 Her presence, hated both of gods and men. 
 
 " ' O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
 Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, 
 In this green valley, under this green hill, 
 Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone? 
 Seal'd it with kisses.? Water'd it with tears? 
 O happy tears, and how unlike to these ! 
 O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face ? 
 O happy Earth, how canst thou bear my weight? 
 O Death, Death, Death, thou ever-floating cloud, 
 
A Daughter op the Gods 
 
 There are enough unhappy on this earth, 
 Pass by the happy souls, that love to live : 
 I pray thee, pass before my light of life. 
 And shadow all my soul, that I may die. 
 Thou weighest heavy on the heart within. 
 Weigh heavy on my eyelids : let me die. 
 
 " ' O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
 I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts 
 Do shape themselves within me, more and more, 
 Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear 
 Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hiUs, 
 Like footsteps upon wool I dimly see 
 My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother 
 Conjectures of the features of her child 
 Ere it is born: her child! — a shudder comes 
 Across me: never child be born of me, 
 Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes ! 
 
 " ' O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
 Hear me, O Earth, I will not die alone. 
 Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me 
 Walking the cold and starless road of Death 
 Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love 
 With the Greek women. I will rise and go 
 Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth 
 Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says 
 A fire dances before her, and a sound 
 Rings ever in her ears of armed men. 
 What this may be I know not, but I know 
 
 39 
 
A Daughteb of the Gods 
 
 That wheresoe'er I am by night and day, 
 AH earth and air seem burning fire.' " 
 
 Spenser supposes that a son was born of this 
 union, and makes Paridell tell of his descent 
 from Paris through this son of Oenone : 
 
 " From him my lineage I derive aright, 
 Who long before the ten years' siege of Troy, 
 Whiles yet in Ida he a shepherd hight, 
 On fair Oenone got a lovely boy, 
 Whom for remembrance of her passed joy, 
 She, of his father Pariens did name; 
 Who after Greeks did Priam's realm destroy. 
 Gathered the Trojan reliques sav'd from flame, 
 And with them sailing thence, to th' isle of Paros 
 
 Paris learned the secret of his royal birth by a 
 curious incident. Priam proposed a contest 
 among his sons and other princes, and promised 
 to reward the conqueror with one of the finest 
 bulls of Mount Ida. 
 
 Persons were sent to procure the animal, and 
 it was foxmd in the possession of Paris, who re- 
 luctantly yielded it up. 
 
 The shepherd, desirous of obtaining again this 
 favorite animal, went to Troy and entered the 
 lists of the combatants. Having proved success- 
 
 40 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 ful against every competitor, and having gained 
 an advantage over Hector himself, that prince, 
 irritated at seeing himself conquered by an 
 unknown stranger, pursued him closely, and 
 Paris must have faUen a victim to his broth- 
 er's resentment had he not fled to the altar of 
 Jupiter. 
 
 This sacred place of refuge preserved his life ; 
 and Cassandra, the daughter of Priam, struck 
 with the similarity of the features of Paris to 
 those of her brothers, inquired his birth and his 
 age. From these circimastances she soon dis- 
 covered that he was her brother, and as such she 
 introduced him to her father and his children. 
 
 Priam thereupon, forgetful of the alarming 
 predictions of Alsocas, acknowledged Paris as 
 his son, and all enmity instantly ceased between 
 the newcomer and Hector. 
 
 Aphrodite then desires her son Aeneas to be 
 the companion of Paris' adventure and directs 
 the latter to buUd a ship, which he proceeds to 
 do, in spite of the forsaken Oenone's wild de- 
 nunciations, who, in bidding him farewell, had 
 told him always to come to her if he ever should 
 be woimded, as she alone could cure him. He 
 was also heedless of the warnings of his sister 
 Cassandra, who had the gift of prophecy and 
 foresaw evil from the expedition. 
 
 41 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Cassandra cried and cursed the uphappy hour ; 
 Foretold our fate ; but by the gods' decree, 
 All heard, and none believed the prophecy." 
 
 Cassandra had attracted the love of Apollo, 
 and the price she set upon her favours was the 
 gift of prophecy. The gift was freely given, 
 but the royal maid refused the promised return, 
 and the indignant deity, unable to recall what he 
 had bestowed, made it useless by depriving her 
 predictions of credit. As human nature was 
 much the same in those days as now, it must have 
 been some comfort to Cassandra to have been 
 always able to say: " I told you so." 
 
 " Rend, rend thine hair, Cassandra, he wiU go. 
 
 Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry 
 
 From Troy still towered to the unreddened sky. 
 
 See, all but she that bore thee 
 
 Mock thy woe : 
 
 He most whom that fair woman arms, with show 
 
 Of wrath on her bent brows ; for in this place 
 
 This hour thou bad'st all men in Helen's face 
 
 The ravished ravishing prize of 
 
 Death to know." 
 
 ROSSETTI. 
 
 Paris and Aeneas then sail for Greece. Ad- 
 mitted as a guest at the hospitable court of 
 
 42 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Menelaiis at Sparta, Paris charms both him and 
 Helen by his many accomplishments and great 
 beauty, which were set off and enhanced by his 
 dress. Euripides tells us that at the time of this 
 visit: 
 
 " Gorgeous was his dress glittering with gold and 
 vermeil tinctured dyes. 
 Barbaric elegance." 
 
 At the banquet he bestows gifts upon his fair 
 hostess, and shortly after, the king, who is gal- 
 lant and unsuspicious, and of somewhat easy 
 temperament, as appears from several passages 
 of Homer, leaves him stiU an inmate of his pal- 
 ace with the request to Helen that she entertain 
 him in his absence, and sails to Crete. 
 
 Aphrodite then joins the two in love. Paris 
 succeeds, not without some degree of violence, 
 according to the legends, in carrying off Helen. 
 
 " He loved, was loved. 
 And bore the beauteous Helena away 
 To Ida's pastoral groves." 
 
 " The Shepherd Paris bore the Spartan bride 
 By force away, and then by force enjoyed." 
 
 — Theocritus. 
 
 43 
 
A Daughteb, or the Gods 
 
 Hecuba taunts Helen with having run away 
 with Paris for his wealth: 
 
 "But Venus, thou hast said 
 (High subject this for laughter), with my son 
 Came to the house of Menelaiis. . . 
 My son was with surpassing beauty graced ; 
 And thy fond passion, when he struck thy sight. 
 Became a Venus; for each foolish fondness 
 To mortals is a Venus, and the soul 
 Bereaves of reason; when thine eyes beheld him 
 Glittering in rich barbaric vests and gold. 
 Thy passions were to madness soon inflamed. 
 At Argos little hadst thou been with wealth 
 Acquainted ; quitting Sparta, thou hadst hope. 
 Thy proud expense supplies, nor could the house 
 Of Menelaiis within its narrow walls 
 Give thy insulting vanities full scope. 
 Well, let that pass. My son thou say'st by force 
 Bore thee away : What Spartan of that force 
 Was sensible? With what cries didst you call 
 Castor, thy brother, to thy aid? " 
 
 44 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 "She was bewitched to see 
 The many-colored anklets and the chains 
 Of woven gold which girt the neck of Paris; 
 And so she left that good man Menelaiis." 
 
 — Shellet. 
 
 " And saying no, consented " is surely applica- 
 ble to the following letter, supposed to be writ- 
 ten by Helen to Paris. She is evidently com- 
 pletely fascinated by his charming personality, 
 and in comparison with her phlegmatic husband, 
 one can scarce wonder that she succtimbed. He 
 appeals to her artistic sense; she is essentially 
 aesthetic and loves to surround herself with 
 everything beautiful. Helen to Paris, Ovid's 
 Epistle XVII. 
 
 Helen having received an epistle from Paris, 
 returns the following answer, wherein she seems 
 at first to chide him for his presumption in writing 
 as he had done, which could only proceed from his 
 low opinion of her virtue: then owns herself to be 
 sensible of his passion, which he had expressed 
 for her, though she much suspected his con- 
 stancy; and at last discovers her inclination to be 
 
 45 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 favorable to him, the whole letter showing the 
 extreme artifice of womanhood. 
 
 " When loose epistles violate chaste eyes. 
 She half consents, who silently desires, 
 How dares a stranger, with designs so vain. 
 Marriage and hospitable rights profane? 
 Was it for this, your fleet did shelter find 
 From swelling seas, and ev'ry faithless wind? 
 (For though a distant country brought you forth. 
 Your usage here was equal to your worth.) 
 Does this deserve to be rewarded so? 
 Did you come here a stranger or a foe? 
 Your partial judgment may perhaps complain. 
 And think me barbarous for my just disdain. 
 lU-bred then let me be, but not unchaste, 
 Nor my clear fame with any spot def ac'd. 
 Though in my face there's no affected frown. 
 Nor in my carriage a feign'd niceness shown, 
 I keep my honor still without a stain, 
 Nor has my love made any coxcomb vain. 
 Your boldness I with admiration see ; 
 What hope had you to gain a queen Hke me? 
 Because a hero forc'd me once away, 
 Am I thought fit to be a second prey? 
 Had I been won, I had deserv'd your blame. 
 But sure my part was nothing but the shame. 
 Yet the base theft to him no fruit did bear, 
 I 'scaped unhurt by any thing but fear, 
 Rude force might some unwilling kisses gain, 
 
 46 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 But that was all he ever could obtain, 
 You in such terms would ne'er have let me go ; 
 Were he like you, we had not parted so. 
 Untouched the youth restor'd me to my friends. 
 And modest usage made me some amends, 
 'Tis virtue to repent a vicious deed, 
 Did he repent, that Paris might succeed? 
 Sure 'tis some fate that sets me above wrongs 
 Yet still exposes me to busy tongues, 
 I'll not complain, for who's displeased with love, 
 If it sincere, discreet, and constant prove? 
 But that I fear; not that I think you base. 
 Or doubt the blooming beauties of my face; 
 But all your sex is subject to deceive. 
 And ours, alas, too willing to beheve. 
 Yet others yield; and love o'ercomes the best: 
 But why should I not shine above the rest ? 
 Fair Leda's story seems at first to be 
 A fit example ready f orm'd for me. 
 But she was cozen'd by a borrow'd shape. 
 And under harmless feathers felt a rape. 
 If I should yield, what reason could I use? 
 By what mistake the loving crime excuse? 
 Her fault was in her powerful lover lost ; 
 But of what Jupiter have I to boast ? 
 Though you to heroes and to kings succeed, 
 Our famous race does no addition need ; 
 And great alliances but useless prove 
 To one that comes herself from mighty Jove. 
 Go then, and boast in some less haughty place 
 
 47 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Your Phrygian blood, and Priam's ancient race; 
 Which I would show I valu'd, if I durst ; 
 You are the fifth from Jove, but I the first ; 
 The crown of Troy is powerful I confess ; 
 But I have reason to think ours no less. 
 Your letter filled with promises of all 
 That men call good, and women pleasant call, 
 Gives expectation such an ample field, 
 As would move goddesses themselves to yield. 
 But if I e'er offend great Juno's laws. 
 Yourself shall be the dear, the only cause : 
 Either my honor, I'll to death maintain. 
 Or follow you, without mean thoughts of gain. 
 Not that so fair a present I despise : 
 We like the gift, when we the giver prize. 
 But 'tis your love moves me, which made you take 
 Such pains, and win such hazards for my sake. 
 I have perceiv'd (though I dissembled too) 
 A thousand things that love has made you do. 
 Your eager eyes would almost dazzle mine. 
 In which, wild man, your wanton thoughts would shine. 
 Sometimes you'd sigh, sometimes disorder'd stand. 
 And with unusual ardor press my hand ; 
 Contrive just after me to take the glass. 
 Nor would you let the least occasion pass : 
 When oft, I fear'd, I did not mind alone, 
 Then murmur'd to myself, he'll for my sake 
 Do any thing ; I hope, 'twas no mistake. 
 Oft have I read within this pleasing grove, 
 Under my name, those charming words, I love. 
 
 48 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 I frowning, seem'd not to believe your blame, 
 But now, alas, am come to write the same. 
 If I were capable to do amiss, 
 I could not but be sensible of this — 
 For ah ! your face has such peculiar charms. 
 That who can hold from flying in your arms, 
 But what I ne'er can have without offence. 
 May some blest maid possess with innocence. 
 Pleasure may tempt, but virtue more should move ; 
 O learn of me to want the thing you love. 
 What you desire is sought by all mankind: 
 As you have eyes, so others are not blind. 
 Like you they see, like you my charms adore ; 
 They wish not less, but you dare venture more. 
 On — had you then upon our coasts been brought, 
 My virgin love when thousand rivals sought, 
 You had I seen, you should have had my voice ; 
 Nor could my husband justly blame my choice. 
 For both our hopes, alas ! you come too late ; 
 Another now is master of my fate. 
 More to my wish I could have lived with you. 
 And yet my present lot can undergo. 
 Cease to solicit a weak woman's will. 
 And urge not her you love to so much ill. 
 But let me live contented as I may. 
 And make not my unspotted fame your prey. 
 Some right you claim, since naked to your eyes 
 Three goddesses disputed beauty's prize: 
 One offer'd valor, t'other crowns ; but she 
 Obtain'd her cause, who, smiling promised me; 
 
 49 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 But first I am not of belief so light, 
 To think such nymphs would show you such a sight ; 
 Yet granting this, the other part is feign'd, 
 A bribe so mean your sentence had not gain'd. 
 With partial eyes I should myself regard. 
 To think that Venus made me her reward, 
 I humbly am content with human praise ; 
 A goddess' applause would envy raise. 
 But be it as you say ; for, 'tis confest, 
 The men who flatter highest, please us best. 
 That I suspect it, ought not to displease ; 
 For miracles are not believ'd with ease. 
 One joy I have, that I had Venus' voice, 
 A greater yet, that you confirmed her choice. 
 That profFer'd laurels, promis'd sovereignty. 
 Juno and Pallas, you contemn'd for me ; 
 Am I your empire then, and your renown? 
 What heart of rock, but must by this be won? 
 And yet bear witness, O yon Powers above. 
 How rude I am in all the arts of love! 
 My hand is yet untaught to write to men: 
 This is th' essay of my unpractis'd pen. 
 Happy those nymphs whom use has perfect made. 
 How can I doubt that other men deceive. 
 When you yourself did fair Oenone leave? 
 But lest I should upbraid your treachery. 
 You make a merit of that crime to me 
 Yet grant you were to faithful love inclin'd. 
 Your weary Trojans wait but for a wind. 
 Should you prevail; while I assign the night, 
 
 60 
 
A Daughter or the CioDS 
 
 Your sails are hoisted, and you take your flight : 
 Some bawling mariner our love destroys, 
 And breaks asunder our unfinish'd joys. 
 But I with you may leave the Spartan port, 
 To view the Trojan wealth and Priam's court: 
 Shown while I see, I shall expose my fame. 
 And fill a foreign country with my shame. 
 In Asia what reception shall I find? 
 And what dishonor leave in Greece behind? 
 What wiU your brothers, Priam, Hecuba, 
 And what will aU your modest matrons say ? 
 E'en you, when on this action you reflect, 
 My future conduct justly may suspect ; 
 And whate'er stranger lands upon your coast, 
 Conclude me, by your own example, lost 
 I from your rage a strumpet's name shall hear. 
 You, my crime's author, will my crime upbraid. 
 Deep under ground, oh, let me first be laid ! 
 You boast the pomp and plenty of your land. 
 And promise all shall be at my command: 
 Your Trojan wealth, believe me, I despise ; 
 My own poor native land has dearer ties. 
 Should I be injur'd on your Phrygian shore, 
 What help of kindred could I there implore? 
 Medea was by Jason's flatt'ry won : 
 I may, like her, believe, and be undone. 
 Plain honest hearts, like mine, suspect no cheat. 
 And love contributes to its own deceit. 
 The ships, about whose sides loud tempests roar. 
 With gentle winds were wafted from the shore. 
 
 51 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Your teeming mother dream'd a flaming brand, 
 Sprang from her womb, consum'd the Trojan land. 
 To second this, old prophecies conspire, 
 That Ilium should be burnt with Grecian fire. 
 Both give me fear ; nor is it much allay'd 
 That Venus is oblig'd our loves to aid. 
 For they, who lost their cause, revenge will take; 
 And for one friend two enemies you make. 
 Nor can I doubt, but, should I follow you. 
 The sword would soon our fatal crime pursue. 
 A wrong so great my husband's rage would rouse, 
 And my relations would his cause espouse. 
 Think all crime, and tremble at a shade. 
 E'en while I write, my fearful conscious eyes 
 Look often back, misdoubting a surprise, 
 For now the rumor spreads among the crowd, 
 At court it whispers, but in town aloud. 
 Dissemble you whate'er you hear 'em say : 
 To leave off loving were your better way; 
 Yet if you will dissemble it, you may 
 Love secretly : the absence of my lord. 
 More freedom gives, but does not all afford: 
 Long is his journey, long will be his stay, 
 Call'd by affairs of consequence away. 
 To go, or not, when unresolv'd he stood, 
 I bid him make what swift return he could : 
 Then kissing me, he said, I recommend, 
 All to thy care, but most my Trojan friend. 
 I smil'd at what he innocently said. 
 And only answer'd, you shall be obeyed. 
 
 52 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Propitious winds have borne him far from hence, 
 
 But let not this secure your confidence; 
 
 Absent he is, yet absent he commands : 
 
 You know the proverb, " Princes have long hands." 
 
 My fame's my burden : for the more I'm prais'd, 
 
 A juster ground of jealousy is rais'd. 
 
 Were I less fair, I might have been more blest. 
 
 Great beauty through great danger is possess'd. 
 
 To leave me here his venture was not hard, 
 
 Because he thought my virtue was my guard. 
 
 He fear'd my face but trusted to my life. 
 
 The beauty doubted, but believ'd the wife, 
 
 You bid me use th' occasion while I can. 
 
 Put in our hands the good easy man. 
 
 I would, and yet I doubt, 'twixt love and fear ; 
 
 One draws me from you, and one brings me near. 
 
 Our flames are mutual, and my husband's gone : 
 
 The nights are long : I fear to lie alone. 
 
 One house contains us, and weak walls divide, 
 
 And you're too pressing to be long denied. 
 
 Let me not live, but everything conspires 
 
 To join our loves, and yet my fear retires. 
 
 You court with words when you should force. 
 
 A rape is requisite to shame-fac'd joy. 
 
 Indulgent to the wrongs which we receive, 
 
 Our sex can sufi'er what we dare not give. 
 
 What have I said.? for both of us 'twere best, 
 
 Our kindling fire if each of us supprest. 
 
 The faith of strangers is too prone to change. 
 
 And, like themselves, their wandering passions range. 
 
 53 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Hypsipile, and the fond Minonian maid, 
 
 Were both by trusting of their guests betray'd. 
 
 You boast your strength and courage; 
 
 But, alas! 
 
 Your words receive small credit from your face. 
 
 Let heroes in the dusty field dehght, 
 
 Those limbs were fashion'd for another fight. 
 
 Bid Hector sally from the walls of Troy; 
 
 A sweeter quarrel should your arms employ. 
 
 Yet fears like these should not my mind perplex, 
 
 Were I as wise as many of my sex. 
 
 But time and you may bolder thoughts inspire — 
 
 And perhaps may yield to your desire. 
 
 You last demand a private conference; 
 
 These are your words, but I can guess your sense. 
 
 Your unripe hopes their harvest must attend: 
 
 Be rul'd by me, and time may be your friend. 
 
 This is enough to let you understand ; 
 
 For now my pen has tir'd my tender hand: 
 
 My woman knows the secret of my heart, 
 
 And may hereafter better news impart." 
 
 A most insinuating letter. I insert it, as it 
 gives some insight as to how Paris pursued his 
 courtship, and with these half -veiled suggestions 
 of his fair inamorata no wonder he succeeded in 
 carrying her away. He loaded his ships, at the 
 same time, to give emphatic baseness to the ex- 
 ploit, with a rich freight of gold and treasure, 
 the spoils of his absent host. 
 
 54 
 
The Abduction of Helen — Von Deutsch 
 
A Daughter of the Gk)Ds 
 
 " Thus Paris, perjured Guest! what time 
 From Menelaiis' friendly hearth 
 Its violated Queen he bore, 
 In insult to the Trojan shore. 
 Leaving the Kith and Kin 
 Navies' crash, and armor's din, 
 And, to Troy's imperial tower. 
 Bringing death instead of dower. 
 Through the gates with lightsome tread. 
 Daring the undared, — She fled ! 
 Fled, while thus in fitful throes. 
 Wild the minstrel's wail arose : 
 
 Alas, Alas, the House and its Chiefs and nuptial bed, 
 And Alas, the paths which once, hand in hand they 
 joyed to tread." 
 
 — Aeschylus. 
 
 A tempest sent by Hera drives them to Lidon, 
 which city Paris takes and plmiders, and sailing 
 thence to Ilion, he there celebrates his marriage 
 with Helen. 
 
 According to Herodotus, Paris reached Troy 
 on the third day, and Priam meekly receives into 
 his palace the fatal beauty, who is to prove the 
 ruin of the Trojan fortunes. 
 
 Was it possible that anything so exquisite 
 should have endured rough ravishment and 
 borne the travail of the siege of Troy? This 
 doubt possessed the later poets of the legendary 
 
 65 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 age. They spun a myth according to which 
 Helen reached the shore of Egypt on the ship of 
 Paris ; but Paris had to leave her there in cedar- 
 scented chambers by the stream of the Nile, when 
 he went forth to plow the foam, uncomforted 
 save by her phantom. And for a phantom the 
 Greeks strove with the Trojans on the windy 
 plains of Ilium. 
 
 For a phantom's sake brave Hector died, and 
 the leonine swiftness of Achilles was tamed, and 
 Zeus bewailed Sarpedon, and Priam's towers 
 were leveled with the ground. Helen, mean- 
 while, the beautiful, the inviolable, sat all day 
 long among the pahn-groves twining lotus- 
 flowers for her hair, and learning how to weave 
 rare Eastern patterns in the loom. 
 
 This legend hides a delicate satire upon human 
 strife. For what do men disquiet themselves in 
 warfare to the death and tossing on sea- waves? 
 Ever for a phantom, for the shadow of their de- 
 sire, the which remains secluded in some unap- 
 proachable far sacred land. 
 
 The Helen (412 b. c.) turns on this story made 
 popular by the lyric poet Stesichorus in his re- 
 cantation that only a wraith of Helen went to 
 Troy; the real Helen went to Egypt and was 
 rescued from its King Theoclymenus by a trick 
 of her disguised lord Menelaiis. Herodotus tells 
 
 56 
 
A Daughteb, of the Gk)Ds 
 
 us that, when in Egypt, he saw at Memphis a 
 small temple dedicated to Venus the Stranger. 
 " This Venus," to use his words, " I conjecture 
 is no other than Helen, the daughter of Tyn- 
 darus, because she, I was told, resided for some 
 time at the court of Proteus, and because this 
 building is dedicated to ' Venus the Stranger ' ; 
 no other temple of Venus is distinguished by 
 this appellation. 
 
 " To my inquiries on the subject of Helen, 
 these priests answered as follows: Paris having 
 carried off Helen from Sparta, was returning 
 home, but meeting with contrary winds in the 
 Aegean, he was driven into the Egyptian Sea. 
 As the winds continued unfavorable, he pro- 
 ceeded to Egypt, and was driven to the Canopian 
 mouth of the Nile, and to Tarichea; in this place 
 was a temple of Hercules, which still remains ; if 
 any slave fled to this for refuge, and in testimony 
 of his consecrating himself to the service of the 
 god, submitted to be marked with certain sacred 
 characters, no one was sufi'ered to molest him. 
 This custom has been strictly observed from its 
 first institution to the present period. 
 
 " The servants of Paris, aware of the privi- 
 leges of this temple, fled thither from their mas- 
 ter, and with a view of injuring Paris, became 
 the supphants of the divinity. They published 
 
 57 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 many accusations against their master, disclosing 
 the whole aif air of Helen, and the wrong done to 
 Menelaiis ; this they did, not only in the presence 
 of the priests, but also before Thonis, the gov- 
 ernor of the district. 
 
 " Thonis instantly dispatched a messenger to 
 Memphis, with orders to say thus to Proteus: 
 ' There is arrived here a Trojan, who has per- 
 petrated an atrocious crime in Greece; he has 
 seduced the wife of his host, and has carried her 
 away, with a great quantity of treasure ; adverse 
 winds have forced him hither; shall I suffer him 
 to depart without molestation, or shall I seize his 
 person and property? ' The answer which Pro- 
 teus sent was thus conceived: 'Whoever that 
 man is who violated the rights of hospitalitj^ 
 seize and bring him before me, that I may ex- 
 amine him.' 
 
 " Thonis, upon this, seized Paris, and detain- 
 ing his vessels, instantly sent him to Proteus, with 
 Helen and all his wealth : on their arrival Proteus 
 inquired of Paris who he was, and whence he 
 came. 
 
 " Paris faithfully related the name of his 
 family and country, and whence he last set 
 sail. But when Proteus proceeded to make 
 inquiries concerning Helen, and how he ob- 
 tained possession of her person, Paris hesitated 
 
 58 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 in his answers ; his slaves, who had deserted him, 
 explained and proved the particulars of his guUt; 
 in consequence of which Proteus made this de- 
 termination : ' If I did not esteem it a very 
 heinous crime to put any stranger to death, 
 whom unfavourable winds have driven to my 
 coast, I would assuredly, thou most abandoned 
 man, avenge that Greek whose hospitality thou 
 hast treacherously violated. Thou hast not only 
 seduced his wife, but having violently taken her 
 away, still criminally detainest her ; and as if this 
 were not enough, thou hast robbed and plun- 
 dered him! But as I can by no means prevail 
 upon myself to put a stranger to death, I shall 
 suffer you to depart; the woman and your wealth 
 I shall detain till the Greek himself thinks 
 proper to demand her. Do you and your com- 
 panions depart within three days from my coasts 
 or expect to be treated as enemies.' 
 
 " Thus, according to the narrative of the priest 
 did Helen come to the court of Proteus. I con- 
 ceive that this circumstance could not be un- 
 known to Homer; but as he thought it less orna- 
 mental to his poem, he forbore to use it. That he 
 actually did know it, is evident from that part of 
 the Iliad where he describes the voyage of Paris; 
 this evidence he has nowhere retracted. He in- 
 forms us that Paris, after various wanderings, 
 
 59 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 at length arrived at Lidon in Phoenicia; the pas- 
 sage is thus: 
 
 " ' There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, 
 Sidonian maids embroidered every part ; 
 Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore. 
 With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore 
 
 
 " In these passages Homer confessed himself 
 acquainted with the voyage of Paris to Egypt; 
 for Tyria borders upon Egypt, and the Phoe- 
 nicians, to whom Sidon belongs, inhabit part of 
 Tyria. The Cyprian verses relate that Paris, in 
 company with Helen, assisted by a favorable 
 wind at sea, passed in three days from Sparta 
 to Troy. On the contrary, it is asserted in the 
 Iliad, that Paris, after carrying away Helen, 
 wandered about to various places. 
 
 " But enough of Homer and the Cyprian 
 verses. On my desiring to know of the same 
 priests whether, what the Greeks affirm concern- 
 ing Troy, was true or false, they told me the fol- 
 lowing particulars, which they assured me they 
 received from Menelaiis himself. After the loss 
 of Helen, the Greeks assembled in great num- 
 bers at Leucris to assist Menelaiis. They disem- 
 barked and encamped; they then dispatched am- 
 bassadors to Troy, whom Menelaiis himself ac- 
 
 60 
 
A Daughtek of the Gods 
 
 companied. On their arrival they made informal 
 demand of Helen, and of the wealth which Paris 
 had at the same time clandestinely taken, as well 
 as general satisfaction for the injury. The Tro- 
 jans then and afterwards miiformly persisted in 
 declaring that they had among them neither the 
 person nor the wealth of Helen, but that both 
 were in Egypt; and they thought it hard that 
 they should be made responsible for what Pro- 
 teus, king of Egypt, certainly possessed. 
 
 " The Greeks, believing themselves deluded, 
 laid siege to Troy, and persevered until they took 
 it. But when Helen was not to be found in the 
 captured town, and the same assertions concern- 
 ing her were continued, they at length obtained 
 credence, and Menelaxis himself was dispatched 
 to Proteus. 
 
 " As soon as he arrived in Egypt he proceeded 
 up the Nile to Memphis. On his relating the 
 object of his journey he was honourably enter- 
 tained, Helen, who had been treated with re- 
 spect, was restored to him, and with her all his 
 treasures. 
 
 " Inattentive to these acts of kindness Mene- 
 laiis perpetrated a great enormity against the 
 Egyptians: the winds preventing his departure, 
 he took two children of the people of the country, 
 and with great barbarity offered them in sacri- 
 
 61 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 fice. As soon as the circumstance was known, 
 universal indignation was excited against him, 
 and he was pursued: but he fled by sea into 
 Africa, and the Egyptians could trace him no 
 further. Of the above facts, some they knew, as 
 having happened among themselves, and others 
 were the result of much diligent inquiry. This 
 intelligence concerning Helen I received from 
 the Egyptian priests, to which I am inclined 
 to add as my opinion that if Helen had been 
 actually in Troy, they would certainly have re- 
 stored her to the Greeks, with or without the con- 
 sent of Paris. Priam and his connections could 
 never have been so infatuated as to endanger the 
 preservation of themselves and their children, 
 merely that Paris might enjoy Helen; but even 
 if such had been their determination at first, 
 still after having lost, in their diif erent contests 
 with the Greeks, many of their countrymen, and 
 among these, if the poets may be beheved, sev- 
 eral of their king's own sons, I cannot imagine 
 but that Priam, even if he had married her him- 
 self, would have restored Helen, if no other 
 means had existed of averting these calamities. 
 
 " We may add to this, that Paris was not the 
 immediate heir to the crown, for Hector was his 
 superior both in age and valor. Paris, therefore, 
 could not have possessed any remarkable in- 
 
 62 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 fluence in the state; neither could Hector have 
 countenanced the misconduct of his brother, 
 from which he himself, and the rest of his coun- 
 trymen, had experienced so many and such great 
 calamities. But the restoration of Helen was 
 not in their power, and the Greeks placed no de- 
 pendence on their assertions, which were indis- 
 putably true; but all this, with the subsequent 
 destruction of Troy, might be ordained by Provi- 
 dence, to instruct mankind that the 'gods pro- 
 portioned punishment to crime.' " 
 
 But, in the author's own naive way: enough of 
 Herodotus and his surmises. When Apollonius 
 of Tyana, the most famous medium of antiquity, 
 evoked the spirit of AchiUes by the pillar on his 
 barrow in the Troad, the great ghost consented 
 to answer five questions. One of these concerned 
 Helen: Did she really come to Troy? AchiUes 
 indignantly repudiated the notion. She re- 
 mained in Egypt; and this the heroes of Achaia 
 soon knew well, " but we fought for fame and 
 Priam's wealth." 
 
 We shall now return to the more attractive 
 legend, and, following Homer, imagine Helen 
 in Troy during the next twenty years, the ten 
 taken up in the assembling of the Greek forces, 
 and the next ten spent in the siege of Troy. 
 
 There she dwells with Paris in seeming peace 
 63 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 and contentment, her happiness at times dis- 
 turbed by thoughts of her deserted child, Her- 
 mione, and her penitence shown in her humility 
 and self -accusation. Helen is the female coun- 
 terpart of Paris. Daughter of an illustrious 
 house, she is wedded in extreme youth to a hus- 
 band who, however unworthy of her choice, 
 seems not to have engaged her affections. She 
 becomes, consequently, an easy victim of the fas- 
 cinating adventurer, destined by the Goddess of 
 Love as her future partner. Some have under- 
 stood the poet to represent her abduction from 
 her home to have been forcible, that she was car- 
 ried off by Paris entirely against her will, but 
 even allowing this (which is not consistent with 
 many passages in the poem) , it would not excuse 
 or palliate her voluntary acceptance of such a 
 degraded position throughout the subsequent 
 story. In Homer's sight she is the victim of 
 Venus. She is the victim of passion, only in a 
 more literal and personal sense than we use the 
 expression. Love, lawful or unlawful, was a 
 divine, that is, a supernatural force, to the mind 
 of the poet. 
 
 The spells of Venus are irresistible. That 
 fatal gift of beauty is the right by which the 
 goddess takes possession of her, and leads her 
 captive at her evil wiU. 
 
 64 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Helen, as frequently happens with frail 
 women — a natural result, perhaps, of the same 
 suseeptibiMty in which their feelings originate — 
 is distinguished by tenderness of heart and kindly 
 disposition. Traces of better principle seem also 
 to liu-k under the general levity of her habits. 
 Though a faithful consort to Paris, who, on his 
 part, is no way deficient in the duties of husband 
 or lover, she still entertains a fond remembrance 
 of her days of youthful innocence. She looks 
 back at times with remorse and regret, almost 
 with longing desire, to her native land, her de- 
 serted child, and the home of her father; and is 
 as ready to acknowledge and condenm her own 
 faults as to appreciate the opposite virtues of 
 others. Indeed, Helen herself feels her own 
 degradation far more deeply, in fact, than any 
 one else seems to feel it; no one uses any expres- 
 sions about her so bitter as those which she ap- 
 phes to herself. " Shameless," " bringer of sor- 
 row," " whose name shaU be a byword and a re- 
 proach," are the terms she uses. 
 
 " Oh, that the day my mother gave me birth. 
 Some storm had on the moimtains cast me forth ! " 
 
 We shall be safe in seeing Helen through 
 Homer's eyes, separating her unconsciously, as 
 
 65 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 he does, from her fault, and looking upon that 
 as the poet does, as she does herself, as Priam 
 and Hector and Menelaiis do, as her fate, her 
 misfortune, the weird that she was doomed to 
 dree, — and then, what a graceful, womanly char- 
 acter remains! Gentle and daughter-like to the 
 aged Priam, humble and tearful in the presence 
 of her noble and generous brother-in-law Hector, 
 as disdainful as she dares to be to her ignoble 
 lord and lover, — tender, respectful, regretful, 
 towards the gallant husband she has deserted. 
 " Few things," says Coleridge, " are more in- 
 teresting than to observe how the same hand that 
 has given us the fury and inconstancy of Achil- 
 les, gives us also the consummate elegance and 
 tenderness of Helen. She is, throughout the 
 Ihad (and the Odyssey), a genuine lady, grace- 
 ful in motion and speech, noble in her associa- 
 tions, full of remorse for a fault for which 
 higher powers seem responsible; yet grateful 
 towards those with whom that fault had con- 
 nected her. 
 
 66 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 "The war 
 Which, to avenge the fairest iBOman's wrongs. 
 The force united of the Grecian Kings 
 Bound Ilion's walls encamped." 
 
 — Goethe. 
 
 Menelaiis returns to find Helen gone : 
 
 " Disgraced, though unupbraiding, all silent and alone, 
 He comes, yet scarce can trust his eyes, or think his 
 
 Helen flown. 
 But she is o'er the seas afar, and round in dim despair. 
 He stalks, as though some specter, and not their king 
 
 were there. 
 From the forms of her sculptured beauty, wont to yield 
 
 his soul delight. 
 All the charm hath fled, nay their very grace is loath- 
 some in his sight. 
 Now, midst his troubled dreams, a soft ray of pleasure 
 gleams. 
 
 But 'tis pleasure false as bright, 
 A fleet phantom of the night; 
 For the form, which he would clasp. 
 It hath fled his eager grasp. 
 On sleep's parting pinions borne. 
 And he wakes — a thing forlorn. 
 
 67 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 Such — such the wound, the anguish. 
 Which the house of Atreus rends. 
 Dire, but less dire than that. 
 Which yet o'er Greece impends." 
 
 AESCHYIiUS. 
 
 The outrage rouses all Greece to arms. Mene- 
 laiis appeals to his brother Agamemnon, king of 
 Argos and Mycenae, who held some sort of su- 
 zerainty over the whole of Greece, and the other 
 chieftains of Greece, to redeem the pledge they 
 had made to avenge any such attempt against 
 the honor of the husband chosen by Helen. The 
 poet has not left us to wonder what cause could 
 tmite all the princes of Greece in a dangerous 
 and destructive war to recover a perfidious 
 woman; by their oath they were bound to assist 
 the injured husband, and among the ancients the 
 religion of an oath was inviolable; with great 
 judgment and propriety was the confederacy 
 formed against any invading power, Greek or 
 barbaric, which obliged them to carry the war 
 into Asia. 
 
 Resentment for a base and cruel wrong, the 
 lust of booty from a city famous for its wealth, 
 and ambition to consolidate by a great national 
 effort, the power of the dynasty, alike impelled 
 the Peloids to undertake the War of Troy. 
 
 68 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 It seems not easy to understand how the other 
 chiefs of Greece could be organized for so great 
 an undertaking, in which they had so shght an 
 interest. No wonder that the business of com- 
 bining them should have been a great business. 
 
 Greed would have its influence, but there was 
 more in it than greed. There was the political 
 instinct of union, the charm and fascination of 
 adventure, the irrepressible force of daring in 
 an energetic people with ardor not yet tamed 
 by experience, growing to be dimly but truly 
 conscious of its destiny. They tried first, if we 
 may believe the poet, a mission to demand the 
 restoration of Helen, and of the property which 
 Paris had not forgotten to steal along with her. 
 The robber and adulterer did not scruple to 
 bring about a refusal by bribery in Troy. 
 
 The chiefs did not all obey the summons will- 
 ingly. Ulysses, king of the rocky island of 
 Ithaca, feigned madness to escape his engage- 
 ment. Achilles disguised himself in female at- 
 tire. 
 
 " When stout Achilles heard of Helen's rape, 
 And what revenge the states of Greece devis'd ; 
 Thinking by sleight the fatal wars to scape, 
 In woman's weeds himself he then disguised: 
 But this device Ulysses soon did spy, 
 And brought him forth, the chance of war to try." 
 
 69 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Some men sent bribes to Agamemnon to in- 
 duce him to set them free from their engage- 
 ment. 
 
 Eschepolus of Sicyon, loath to leave his vast 
 possessions, sent to the great king his celebrated 
 mare, Aethe, the fleetest of her kind, as his ran- 
 som. The bribe was accepted and Aethe went 
 to Troy instead of her luxurious master. At 
 length the ten years' preparations were all com- 
 pleted and the great host set sail. 
 
 When they reached the Trojan coast the gal- 
 leys of the Greeks were all drawn up on shore. 
 The crews disembarked and formed some kind 
 of encampment near their respective vessels. 
 
 The great city of Troy, or Ilium, lay on the 
 coast of Asia Minor, its reputed site still bearing 
 the name of the Troad, a broad, well-watered 
 champaign, with a height still recognized as the 
 citadel towering above it. 
 
 No royal seat of the ancient world could boast 
 a grander situation than the Trojan citadel. 
 
 As to its actual locality and existence, there is 
 little ground for skepticism. Byron says: 
 
 " I've stood upon Achilles' tomb. 
 And heard Troy doubted ; time will doubt of Rome." 
 
 And in his diary, 1821, " I stood upon the 
 70 
 
n 
 o 
 
 h 
 
 K 
 
 B 
 
 n 
 < 
 
 o 
 w 
 
 O 
 
 H ■ 
 
 I? 
 
 W 
 
 o 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 plain of Troy daily, for more than a month, in 
 1810, and if anything diminished my pleasure, 
 it was that the blackguard Bryant had im- 
 pugned its veracity." 
 
 The tradition of the name and place was un- 
 broken in the early historical ages of Greece. 
 Xerxes, king of Persia, in one of his expeditions, 
 is said to have visited the citadel and to have 
 offered there a thousand oxen to the tutelary 
 goddess. Mindarus, the Lacedaemonian ad- 
 miral, seventy years later, sacrificed there also; 
 and Alexander, when he crossed the Hellespont, 
 not only did the same, but took from the temple 
 some of the sacred arms which were hung there 
 (said to be those of the heroes of the great siege) , 
 offering up his own in exchange. 
 
 The founder of the city was Ilus, son of 
 Troas, and from these mythical heroes it took 
 its two names. 
 
 But its walls were built by Laomedon, father 
 of Priam, with the assistance of Apollo and 
 Neptune; but on the work being finished, Laom- 
 edon refused to reward them for their labors, 
 and, in consequence, incurred the displeasure of 
 the gods. 
 
 " Long since enough have we atoned for the perjuries 
 of Laomedon's Troy." 
 
 ^VlRGII.. 
 
 71 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 " The Tale of Troy Divine." 
 
 If we would fain see the ideal beauty of the early 
 Greek imagination in a form of flesh-and-blood 
 reality, we must foUow Helen through the 
 Homeric poems. Homer plunges at one leap 
 into the tenth year of the siege. The battle is 
 set in array " Army against army," and, while 
 the hostile forces yet await the signal for the 
 battle, Paris springs forth alone from the Tro- 
 jan ranks. Godlike is his beauty, and with the 
 love of personal adornment, which befits his 
 character, he wears a spotted leopard's hide 
 upon his shoulders. 
 
 " When to the van, before the sons of fame 
 Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came, 
 In form a God ! the panther's speckled hide 
 riow'd o'er his armor with an easy pride. 
 His bended bow across his shoulder flung, 
 His sword beside him negligently hung, 
 Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace. 
 And dared the bravest of the Grecian race 
 As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain. 
 He boldly stalk'd the foremost on the plain." 
 
 72 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Menelaiis hears his boast. " Like a hungry lion 
 springing on his prey " he leaps full armed from 
 his chariot, exulting in the thought that now at 
 last his personal vengeance shall be gratified. 
 Conscience makes a coward of Paris : 
 
 " But when the godlike Paris saw him spring 
 Defiant from the ranks, with quailing heart 
 Back to his comrades' shelt'ring crowd he sprang, 
 In fear of death." 
 
 Paris withdraws into the Trojan ranks, and 
 there encounters Hector, who throws himself in 
 the way of his cowardly retreat, and thus up- 
 braids him: 
 
 " Thou wretched Paris, though in form so fair, 
 Thou slave of woman, manhood's counterfeit ; 
 Would thou hadst ne'er been bom, or died at least 
 Unwedded ; so 'twere better for us all. 
 Than thus to live a scandal and reproach." 
 
 Paris has the grace to blush when he admits 
 the justice of his brother's rebuke. Hector, he 
 confesses, is far the better soldier; only he pleads 
 with a self-complacency which he never loses, 
 that grace of person, and a smooth tongue, and 
 a taste for music are nothing less than the gifts 
 of the gods ; that, in fact, it is not his fault that 
 he is so irresistible. 
 
 73 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Yet blame not me for golden Venus' gifts : 
 The gifts of Heaven are not to be despis'd, 
 Which Heaven may give, but man could not command." 
 
 He ends, however, with an affair which is far 
 more to Hector's mind. 
 
 " Bid that the Trojans and Grecians all 
 Be seated on the ground, and in the midst 
 The warlike Menelaiis and myself 
 Stand to the front, for Helen and the spoils 
 Of war to combat; and whoe'er shall prove 
 The better man in conflict, let him bear 
 The woman and the spoils in triumph home, 
 While ye, the rest, in peace and friendship sworn, 
 Shall still possess the fertile plains of Troy ; 
 And to their native Argos they return, 
 For noble steeds and lovely women fam'd." 
 
 It is a proposal at which Hector's heart re- 
 joices. He checks at once the advancing hne of 
 the Trojans, and steps out himself to the front. 
 The Greeks bend their bows at him 
 
 " But loud the monarch Agamemnon's voice 
 Was heard, ' Hold, Argives, hold ! ye sons of Greece, 
 Shoot not ! for Hector of the glancing helm 
 Hath, as it seems, some message to impart.' " 
 
 Then Hector delivers Paris' message. It is a 
 
 74. 
 
A Daughter of the Gk)DS 
 
 fair challenge which the Trojan prince comes to 
 make on behalf of Paris. Menelaiis accepts it 
 in a few plain and gallant words — ^he is no orator. 
 A truce is agreed upon, to abide the result of 
 this appeal to battle. 
 
 Helen first appears when Iris, a messenger 
 from Olympus, comes to summon her to watch 
 the impending duel. Husband and lover are to 
 fight beneath the walls of Troy. 
 
 She, the fatal cause of the war, the object of 
 such violent passions and bitter tatmts, is sitting 
 pensively in the palace of her royal father-in-law, 
 writing her own miserable story. " She is writ- 
 ing it, not in a three-volumed novel, as a lady 
 who had a private history, more or less creditable, 
 would write it now, but — in a golden tapestry, 
 in which more laborious form it was in those 
 days not infrequent to write sensational biogra- 
 phies — a pictured tale of the deeds of war done, 
 and the woes endured for her sake far and wide." 
 
 " Meantime the white-arm'd Helen Iris sped, 
 TJie Heavenly Messenger . . 
 
 She in her chamber found 
 Her whom she sought : a mighty web she wove. 
 Of double woof and briUiant hues : whereon 
 Was interwoven many a toilsome strife 
 Of Trojan warriors and of brass-clad Greeks, 
 For her encounter'd at the hand of Mars." 
 75 
 
A Daughtek of the Gods 
 Iris bids her follow her, and 
 
 *' As she spoke, in Helen's breast arose 
 Fond recollection of her former lord, 
 Her home, and parents : o'er her head she threw 
 A snowy veil: and shedding tender tears 
 She issu'd forth, not unaccompanied, 
 For with her went fair Aethra, Pittheus' child. 
 And star-ey'd Clymene, her maidens twain. 
 They quickly at the Scaean gate arrived." 
 
 \ 
 
 English eyes know well how Helen looked as 
 she left her chamber and hastened to the gate; 
 for has not Leighton painted her with just so 
 much of far-off sorrow in her gaze as may be- 
 come a daughter of the gods? 
 
 At the gate sat aged Priam, who, like the 
 kings of the Old Testament, was surrounded by 
 the elders of his city. It is the " Scaean," or 
 " Left-hand " gate, which opens towards the 
 camp of the enemy, and commands a view of 
 their lines. 
 
 We have had no word as yet of the marvelous 
 beauty of Helen. There is no attempt to describe 
 it throughout the whole of the poem. But here, 
 in a few masterly touches, introduced in the sim- 
 plest and most natural manner, Homer does 
 more than describe it when he tells us its effects. 
 
 76 
 
A DaXJGHTEE of the GtODS 
 
 The old men break off their talk as the beauti- 
 ful stranger draws near. 
 
 " Helen they saw, as to the tow'r she came : 
 And ' 'tis no marvel,' one to other said, 
 ' The valiant Trojans and the well greaVd Greeks 
 For beauty such as this should long endure 
 The toils of war ; for goddess-like she seems ; 
 And yet, despite her beauty, let her go, 
 Nor bring on us and on our sons a curse.' " 
 
 Or in Pope's more familiar lines: 
 
 " No wonder such celestial charms 
 For nine long years have set the world in arms ; 
 What winning graces! what majestic mien! 
 She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen ! " 
 
 It is thus simply, and by no mythological sug- 
 gestion of Aphrodite's influence, that Homer de- 
 scribes the spirit of beauty which protected 
 Helen among the people she had brought to sore 
 straits. They had seen her often before; the 
 fatal face and form must have been well known 
 in the streets and palaces of Troy, however re- 
 tired a life Helen might well have thought it be- 
 coming in her imhappy position to lead. But 
 the fair vision comes upon their eyes with a new 
 
 77 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 and ever-increasing enchantment. They say- 
 each to the other as they look upon her, " It is 
 no blame to Greeks or Trojans to fight for such 
 a woman; she is worth aU the ten years of war; 
 stiU let her embark and go home, lest we and our 
 children suffer more for her." 
 
 Even the earliest critics, when the finer shades 
 of criticism were httle understood, were forcibly 
 struck with the art of the poet in selecting his 
 witnesses for the defense. The Roman Quin- 
 tilian has said nearly aU that modern taste has 
 since confirmed. He bids the reader mark who 
 gives this testimony to Helen's charms. Not the 
 infuriated Paris, who has set his own honor and 
 his country's welfare at nought for the sake of 
 an unlawful passion; not some young Trojan, 
 who might naturally be ready to vow " The 
 world well lost " for such a woman; nor yet any 
 of the vulgar crowd, easily impressed, and al- 
 ways extravagant in its praise or blame: but 
 these grave and reverend seniors, men of cold 
 passions and cahn judgment, " A bloodless race, 
 that sends a feeble voice " ; fathers whose sons 
 are fighting and falling for this woman's sake, 
 and even Priam himself, whose very crown and 
 kingdom she had brought in deadly peril. He 
 receives her, as she draws near, with gentle 
 courtesy: 
 
 78 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Come here, my child, and sitting by my side, 
 From whence thou canst discern thy former lord. 
 His kindred, and thy friends (not thee I blame. 
 But to the Gods I owe this woeful war)." 
 
 Not hers the blame that the gods scourge him 
 in his old age with war. Plainly, in his estima- 
 tion, her mihappy position does not involve neces- 
 sarily shame or disgrace. To the modern reader, 
 the character of Helen, and the light in which 
 she is regarded alike by Greeks and Trojans, 
 present an anomaly in morals which is highly un- 
 satisfactory. It is not as if Homer, hke the 
 worst writers of the Italian school, set marriage 
 vows at nought, and made a jest of unchastity. 
 Far otherwise: the heathen bard on such points 
 took an infinitely higher tone than many so- 
 called Christian poets. The difficulty lies in the 
 fact that throughout the poem, while the crime 
 is reprobated, the criminal meets with forbear- 
 ance and even sympathy. Our first natural im- 
 pulse with regard to Helen is to look upon her 
 much in the light in which she herself, in one of 
 her bitter confessions, says she is looked upon by 
 the mass of the Trojans. 
 
 " Throughout wide Troy I see no friendly eye. 
 
 And Trojans shudder as I pass them by." 
 
 79 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 But this feeling, we must remember, arose 
 much more from her being the cause of all the 
 miseries of the siege than from her having left 
 her Greek husband. Priam and Hector, who 
 have certainly not a lower morality, and a higher 
 nobility and unselfishness, than the mass of their 
 countrymen, show no feeling against her ; on the 
 contrary, they treat her with scrupulous delicacy 
 and consideration. So also the leaders of the 
 Greeks betray no consciousness that they are 
 fighting, after aU, for a worthless woman; rather, 
 she is a prize to be reclaimed, and Menelaiis him- 
 self is ready from the first to receive her back 
 again. How is this? The real explanation is 
 given in a few words by Priam in the scene be- 
 fore us: 
 
 « Not thee I blame, 
 But to the Gods I owe this woeful war." 
 
 So she comes, in all her grace and beauty, and 
 takes her seat by the old king's side upon the 
 watchtower, looking out upon the camp of the 
 Greeks. He bids her teU him the names of such 
 of the kings and chiefs as she can recognize. 
 One there is who seems indeed a " king of men," 
 by the grace of nature. There are taUer war- 
 riors in the host, but none of such majestic mien 
 and right royal bearing. 
 
 80 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " To whom in answer, Helen, heav'nly fair : 
 ' With rev'rence, dearest father, and with shame, 
 I look on thee : oh, would that I had died 
 That day when hither with thy son I came, 
 And left my husband, friends, and darling child. 
 And all the lov'd companions of my youth: 
 That I died not, with grief I pine away. 
 But to thy question: I will tell thee true; 
 Yon chief is Agamemnon, Atreus' son. 
 Wide reigning, mighty monarch, ruler good. 
 And valiant warrior; in my husband's name. 
 Lost as I am, I called him brother once.' " 
 
 She then describes Odysseus and Ajax, de- 
 scribing each as she knew them of old. 
 But for her tvsin brothers she looks in vain. 
 
 " But two I miss, two captains of the host. 
 My own two brethren, and my mother's sons. 
 Castor and PoUux." 
 
 And the thought of them touches her with the 
 sorrow of her isolation and her shame. She won- 
 ders if they have indeed come 
 
 But shun to join 
 The fight of warriors, fearful of the shame 
 And deep disgrace that on my name attends ? " 
 
 Helen's self-reproachful surmises have not 
 81 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 reached the truth. The " Great Twin Brethren," 
 who had once already rescued their beautiful sis- 
 ter in her girlhood from the hands of Theseus, 
 who had been among the mighty himters of the 
 Calydonian boar, and had formed part of the 
 adventurous crew of the Argo, had finished their 
 mortal warfare years before in a raid in Mes- 
 senia but to reappear as demigods in Greek and 
 Roman legend. 
 
 This picturesque dialogue between Priam and 
 his fascinating guest is interrupted far too soon 
 for the reader's complete enjoyment. 
 
 A herald summons the king of Troy to a con- 
 ference in the mid-space between the city walls 
 and the enemy's leaguer, in order to ratify the 
 armistice, while Paris and Menelaiis decide their 
 quarrel in single combat. The two then equip 
 themselves for the duel. 
 
 " Then o'er his shoulders fair-hair'd Helen's lord, 
 The godlike Paris, donn'd his armor bright." 
 
 The duel is against Paris, and Menelaiis was 
 just about to drag him from the field by his 
 horse-hair crest: 
 
 " But Venus, child of Jove, her fav'rite's peril quickly 
 
 saw." 
 
 82 
 
A Daughteb, of the Gods 
 
 She comes to his rescue, and " Breaks the 
 throttling strap of tough bull's hide," leaving 
 the empty helmet in the hands of Menelaiis, who 
 hurls it among his comrades in disappointment 
 and disgust, and, rushing once more in pursuit 
 of Paris, he is aided in his search by the Trojans, 
 who would not have screened him, " For they all 
 abhorr'd him as the shade of death." 
 
 " But him, the Queen of Love 
 (As Gods can only) from the field convey'd, 
 Wrapt in a misty cloud ; and on a couch, 
 Sweet perfumes breathing, gently laid him down ; 
 Then went in search of Helen." 
 
 Helen was standing on the walls, and the god- 
 dess, disguised as an old spinning woman, took 
 her by the skirt, bidding her hie back to her lover, 
 whom she would find in his bedchamber, not as 
 one arrayed for war, but " Resting on luxurious 
 couch " : 
 
 " In costly garb, with manly beauty grac'd, 
 Not from the fight of warriors wouldst thou deem 
 He late had come, but for the dance prepar'd, 
 Or resting from the dance's pleasing toil." 
 
 Homer gives no hint that Aphrodite is here 
 the personified wish of Helen's own heart going 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 forth to Paris. On the contrary, the Cyprian 
 queen appears in the interests of the Phrygian 
 youth, whom she would fain see comforted. Un- 
 der her disguise Helen recognized Aphrodite, 
 the terrible queen, whose bond-woman she was 
 forced to be. For a moment she struggled 
 against her fate. 
 
 " Oh why, great Goddess, make me thus thy sport.? 
 Seek'st thou to bear me far away from hence 
 To some fair Phrygian or Maconian town. 
 If there some mortal have thy favor gaiu'd.** 
 Or, for that Menelaiis in the field 
 Hath vanquish'd Paris, and is willing yet 
 That I, his bane, should to his home return : 
 Here art thou found, to weave again thy wiles ! 
 Go then thyself! thy godship abdicate! 
 Renounce Olympus ! lavish here on him 
 Thy pity and thy care ! he may perchance 
 Make thee his wife — at least his paramour! 
 But thither go not I ! foul shame it were 
 Again to share his bed ; the dames of Troy 
 WiU for a byword hold me ; and e'en now 
 My soul with endless sorrow is possess'd." 
 
 But go she must. Aphrodite is a hard task- 
 mistress, and the mysterious bond of beauty 
 which chains Helen to her cannot be broken. 
 She threatens her: 
 
 84 
 
n 
 
 < 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 " And trembled Helen, child of Jove ; 
 She rose in silence ; in a snow-white veil 
 All glitt'ring, shrouded: by the Goddess led 
 She pass'd, unnoticed by the Trojan dames. 
 But when to Paris' splendid house they came, 
 Thronging aroiind her, her attendants gave 
 Their duteous service ; through the lofty hall 
 With queenly grace the godlike woman pass'd. 
 A seat the laughter-loving Goddess plac'd 
 By Paris' side; there Helen sat, the child 
 
 Of Aegis-bearing Jove." 
 
 The scene in which she receives him is, Uke all 
 the rest of her story, a beautiful contradiction. 
 Her first greeting is bitter enough. Either her 
 sympathy has been indeed with Menelaiis in the 
 fight, or at least she would have had her present 
 husband come back from the field, dead or ahve, 
 in some more honorable fashion. 
 
 " Back from the battle.? would thou there hadst died 
 Beneath a warrior's arm, whom once I call'd 
 My husband ! vainly didst thou boast erewhile 
 Thine arm, thy daimtless courage, and thy spear. 
 The warlike Menelaiis, be thou ware! 
 I warn thee, pause, ere madly thou presume. 
 With f air-hair'd Menelaiis to contend ! " 
 
 Brave words! but still, as of old, the fatal 
 85 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 spells of Venus are upon her, and Paris' misad- 
 venture in the lists is aU too soon condoned, for 
 it is in vain that Helen taunts Paris : he reminds 
 her of the first fruition of their love in the Island 
 Cranae ; and at last she has to lay her down at his 
 side, on the " richly inlaid couch," not uncomply- 
 ing, conquered, as it were, by the reflex of the 
 passion she herself excites. She is unable to re- 
 sist him, for he appeals too strongly to her ar- 
 tistic sense. 
 
 The truce is broken, and near the end of the 
 first day's battle the Trojans are being hard 
 pressed, and by the advice of his brother Helenus, 
 who has the gift of soothsaying, and is, as it were, 
 the domestic priest of the royal household. Hec- 
 tor hastens to the city and directs his mother, 
 Hecuba, to go with her matrons in solemn pro- 
 cession to the temple of Pallas, there to beseech 
 the goddess to withdraw the terrible Diomed 
 from the field. He says: 
 
 " To the shrine of Paris I, to 
 Call if haply he will hear ; would that the earth 
 Would gape and swallow him ! for great the curse 
 That Jove thro' him hath brought on men of Troy, 
 On noble Priam, and on Priam's sons. 
 Could I but know that he were in his grave 
 Methinks my sorrows I could half forget." 
 86 
 
A Dauqhteb, of the Gods 
 
 Hecuba 
 
 " Meanwhile 
 Her fragrant chamber sought, wherein were stor'd 
 Rich garments by Sidonian women work'd, 
 Whom godlike Paris had from Sidon brought, 
 Sailing the broad sea o'er, the selfsame path 
 By which the high-bom Helen he convey'd. 
 Of these the richest in embroidery, 
 The amplest, and the brightest, as a star 
 Refulgent, placed with care beneath the rest. 
 The Queen her offering bore to Pallas's shrine." 
 
 " Hector to Paris' mansion bent his way ; 
 
 A noble structure, which himself had built 
 
 Aided by all the best artificers 
 
 Who in the fertile realm of Troy were known ; 
 
 With chambers, haU, and court, on Ilion's height, 
 
 Near to where Priam's self and Hector dwelt." 
 
 In the palace, to his indignation, he finds 
 Paris dallying with Helen, and pohshing his 
 armor instead of joining in the fight. 
 
 " While Argive Helen, 'mid her maidens plac'd 
 The skillful labors of their hands o'erlook'd." 
 
 Hector upbraids him sharply. Paris owns that 
 he deserves his reproach, declaring that 
 
 87 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Yet hath my wife, e'en now, with soothing words 
 Urged me to join the battle," 
 
 and Helen, in a speech full of self-abasement, 
 laments the unworthiness of her paramour. She 
 has vainly striven to send him forth to battle, and 
 a sense of shame overcomes her when she sees 
 the noble Hector clothed in the panoply of war. 
 
 " Then thus with gentle tones 
 Helen accosted him : ' Dear brother mine, 
 (Of me, degraded, sorrow-bringing, vile!) 
 Oh, that the day my mother gave me birth 
 Some storm had on the mountains cast me forth ! 
 Or that the many-dashing ocean's waves 
 Had swept me off, ere all this woe were wrought ! 
 Yet if these evils were not of Heav'n ordain'd. 
 Would that a better man had call'd me wife ; 
 A sounder judge of honour and disgrace 
 For he, thou know'st, no firmness hath of mind. 
 Nor ever will ; a want he well may rue. 
 But come thou in, and rest thee here awhile, 
 Dear brother, on this couch ; for travail sore 
 Encompasseth thy soul, by me impos'd. 
 Degraded as I am, and Paris' guilt 
 On whom this burthen Heav'n hath laid, that song 
 In future days shall chronicle our shame." 
 
 Her passionate outbreak of self-pity and self- 
 reproach is, perhaps, the strongest indication 
 given in the Ihad of a moral estimate of Helen's 
 
 88 
 
V- 
 
 £ } '( ' ^ 
 
 4 i'-f Ji 
 
 'I ( 
 
 asMi 
 

 K 
 
 V 
 
 ■< 
 o 
 n 
 
 p 
 
 < 
 
 PS 
 
 o 
 
 V 
 
 w 
 
 o 
 ;?; 
 
 M 
 
 H 
 
 Ph 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 crime. The most consummate art is shown by 
 the poet in thus quickening the conscience of 
 Helen by contact with the nobility of Hector, 
 and the comparison between her beautiful, weak 
 paramour and his brave, generous brother fills 
 her with a sense of her own degradation, con- 
 demned to love a man love-worthy only for the 
 beauty of his limbs. 
 
 Hector then goes to the palace to bid Androm- 
 ache a last farewell. There is no woman who, 
 reading the Ihad, would not choose to weep with 
 Andromache in Hector's arms rather than smile 
 like Helen in the laps of lovers for whom she 
 little cared. Hector and his wife part; he then 
 goes to the fight accompanied now by Paris, girt 
 for the battle in ghttering armor, the show 
 knight of the Trojans. 
 
 " Nor linger'd Paris in his lofty halls ; 
 But donn'd his armor, glitt'ring o'er with brass, 
 And through the city pass'd with bounding steps." 
 " So Paris, Priam's son, from Ilion's height. 
 His bright arms flashing like the gorgeous sun, 
 Hasten'd, with boastful mien, and rapid step." 
 
 The fight lasted three-and-twenty days, and 
 the Trojans calling a coxmcil, Antenor proposes 
 the delivery of Helen to the Greeks. 
 
 89 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Next arose 
 The Godlike Paris, f air-hair'd Helen's lord ; 
 Who thus with winged words the chiefs address'd : 
 ' Hostile to me, Antenor, is thy speech ; 
 Thy better judgment better council knows ; 
 But if in earnest such is thine advice, 
 Thee of thy senses have the Greeks bereft. 
 Now, Trojans, hear my answer; I regret 
 The counsel, nor the women will restore ; 
 But for the goods, whate'er I hither brought 
 To Troy from Argos, I am well content 
 To give them all, and others add beside.' " 
 
 Then Priam arises and gives consent to what 
 Paris has said. 
 
 " To-morrow shall Idacus to the ships 
 Of Greece, to both the sons of Atreus bear 
 The words of Paris, cause of all this war." 
 
 In the morning Idacus goes to the Grecian 
 camp and midst them all called forth Paris' mes- 
 sage: 
 
 " Hear 
 The words of Paris, cause of all this war: 
 The goods which hither in his hollow ships 
 (Would he had perish'd rather !) Paris brought, 
 He will restore, and others add beside ; 
 But further says, the virgin-wedded wife 
 Of Menelaiis, though the gen'ral voice 
 Of Troy demands it, he will not restore." 
 90 
 
A Daughteb, of the Gods 
 
 He then demands a truce to burn the dead. 
 They heard him in silence, then Diomed makes 
 reply: 
 
 " Let none from Paris now propose to accept 
 Or goods, or Helen's self ; a child may see 
 That now the doom of Troy is close at hand." 
 
 The Iliad ends with the death of Hector, which 
 occurs in the twenty-second book. 
 
 Three days are consumed in the next book; 
 twenty-four days in the fourth and last book. 
 The first twelve days Hector's body hes in the 
 tent of Achilles ; the last twelve a truce is allowed 
 for his interment. The great Trojan hero has 
 been killed by Achilles. His body is ransomed 
 by Priam. In bewailing his son, Priam calls 
 Paris and Deiphobus " Worthless sons, my scan- 
 dal and my shame," though Deiphobus is evi- 
 dently Hector's favorite brother, for he says: 
 
 " Deiphobus, of all my brothers, sons 
 Of Hecuba and Priam, thou hast been 
 StiU dearest of my heart." 
 
 Helen and Andromache meet together before 
 Hector's corpse, and it is here that we learn to 
 love best what is womanly in Leda's daughter. 
 
 91 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 The mother and wife have bewailed him in high 
 thrilling threni : 
 
 " Then Helen, third, the mournful strain renew'd : 
 ' Hector, of all my brethren dearest thou — 
 True, godlike Paris claims me as his wife. 
 Who bore me hither — ^would I then have died ! 
 But twenty years have pass'd since here I came, 
 And left my native land; yet ne'er from thee 
 I heard one scornful, one degrading word; 
 And when from others I have borne reproach, 
 Thy brothers, sisters, or thy brothers' wives. 
 Or mother (for thy sire was ever kind 
 E'en as a father) , thou hast check'd them still 
 With tender feeling, and with gentle words. 
 For thee I weep, and for myself no less ; 
 For, through the breadth of Troy, none love me now. 
 None kindly look on me, but all abhor." 
 
 Helen's is a beautiful tribute to the courtesy 
 and knightly kindness of Hector, and shows also 
 how attached Priam was to his fair daughter-in- 
 law. The little touch of selfishness in the lament 
 makes it the more pathetic. 
 
 92 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 "Troy is no more, and Iliwm was a town!" 
 
 ViEGIL. 
 
 "'Twos the Oods' work — no mortal was ira fault." 
 
 — Sheluey. 
 
 The twelve days' truce allowed for Hector's 
 burial ends, and the war is recommenced. 
 
 But the end was now near; the defense is less 
 spirited since the death of the Trojan hero: 
 
 " The long defense the Trojan people made, 
 The war protracted ; and the siege delayed. 
 Were due to Hector's and this hero's hand." 
 
 Achilles was killed, before the f aU of Troy, by 
 an arrow sped by the hand of Paris, which found 
 a single vulnerable spot in his right heel, and 
 stretched him, where he had slain his Trojan 
 enemy, before the Scaean gate. But his death, 
 according to the legends, was no more Uke that 
 of common mortals than his life had been. 
 
 He does not go down to the gloomy regions 
 where the ghosts of his friend Patroclus and his 
 enemy Hector wander. It was not death, but a 
 translation. The Greeks had prepared a mag- 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 nificent funeral pile, but the body of the hero 
 suddenly disappeared. His mother, Thetis, con- 
 veyed it away to the island of Leuke in the Eux- 
 ine Sea, where many of the ancient heroes Uved 
 in a separate Elysium. There, as we shall see, he 
 had the great happiness of becoming united to 
 our heroine. 
 
 In the ninth year of the war 
 
 " Paris in the Phrygian fields was slain." 
 
 He went, according to his promise, to Oenone 
 when he was wounded, but she, offended at his 
 desertion of her, refused to aid him, and he died 
 on his return to Ilium. 
 
 Repenting of her cruelty, Oenone hastened to 
 his relief, but coming too late, she threw herself 
 on his funeral pile and perished. 
 
 Venus is supposed not to have deserted her 
 favorite even then: 
 
 " O Paris, Paris ! O thou burning brand, 
 Thou beacon of the sea whence Venus rose, 
 Lighting thy race to shipwreck ! Even that hand 
 Wherewith she took thine apple let her close 
 Within thy curls at last, and while Troy glows 
 Lift thee her trophy to the sea and land." 
 
 ^ROSSETTI. 
 
 94 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 Poor Helen is allowed but a short widowhood ; 
 she now marries Paris' younger brother Deipho- 
 bus. 
 
 She was destined to be tossed from man to 
 man, always desirable and always delicate, like 
 the sea- foam that floats upon the crests of waves, 
 the storm and turbulence below little affecting 
 it. Her stay in Troy of twenty years has not 
 impaired her beauty or, in truth, her youth.* 
 Therefore all calculations making fair Helen an 
 aged woman I pass over. Can Venus ever grow 
 old? 
 
 Helen excuses herself in regard to this new 
 marriage by declaring that it was forced upon 
 her. 
 
 " When Paris died. 
 And low in earth was laid, behooved me then, 
 Since by no god my nuptials then were wrought. 
 To leave his house, and to the Grecian ships 
 To come. On this I earnestly was bent; 
 Witness, ye guards who kept the gates, and you. 
 Who, station'd on the walls held careful watch. 
 How oft you found me from the battlements 
 With ropes attempting to slide down by stealth : 
 
 * Jacob Bryant, the antiquarian, in the course of his studies^ on 
 the IKad, made the discovery, by a comparison of mythological 
 dates, that Helen herself must have been nearly a hundred years 
 old at the taking of Troy. But the question of the age has been 
 unanimously voted impertinent by all her modern admirers: she 
 stm shines in our fancy with "the starlike beauty of immortal 
 eyes." 
 
 95 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 But this new husband seizing me by force, 
 
 Deiphobus, the Trojans much averse, 
 Held me his wife. How then can justice doom me 
 To die? Since he wedded me by force? " 
 
 The city held out, secure so long as the sacred 
 image of Minerva, the " Palladium," a gift from 
 Jupiter himself, remained in the citadel: until 
 Ulysses broke the spell by entering within the 
 waUs in disguise, and carrying it off. One quick 
 eye discovered the venturous Greek, through his 
 rage and self-inflicted wounds: Helen recog- 
 nized him, but she was weary of her guilty hfe 
 and became an excusable traitress in favor of 
 her lawful husband. 
 
 It was again the fertile brain of Ulysses which 
 conceived the stratagem of the wooden horse: 
 
 ' The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war. 
 And by Minerva's aid, a fabric reared, 
 Which like a steed of monstrous height appeared." 
 
 '' Epeus of Parnassus Phocis framed a horse. 
 Whose hollow womb was full of arms ; 
 And sent within the walls the monstrous bulk 
 Big with destruction: hence in after times 
 It shall be call'd ' the Horse of Spears. ' " 
 
 96 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 And when the Trojans dragged this wooden 
 horse within the walls, the armed warriors whom 
 it contained issued forth in the night, and opened 
 the gates to their comrades. The details of the 
 sack of the city are neither more nor less horrible 
 than similar scenes which are vmhappily too his- 
 torical. 
 
 " Some block the narrow streets. 
 Some scour the wide. 
 
 The bold they kill, the unwary they surprise ; 
 Who fights finds death, and death finds him who 
 flies." 
 
 Part of the city is in flames: 
 
 " The palace of Diephobus ascends 
 
 In smoky flames, and catches on his friends." 
 
 It is said that 
 
 " Helen, when she saw aloft appear 
 
 The Trojan flames and reach to heaven's height. 
 Did clap her hands, and joyed at that doleful sight." 
 
 Soon the grand old town is in ruins: 
 
 " The stately town, 
 Which ten long years withstood the Grecian host. 
 Now lies in ruins, ne'er to rise again; 
 
 97 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 Yet many a hero's grave will oft recall 
 
 Our sad remembrance to that barbarous shore, 
 
 There lies Achilles and his noble friend." 
 
 — Goethe. 
 
 When Troy was taken and the hungry soldiers 
 of Odysseus roamed through the burning palaces 
 of Priam and his sons, their swords fell beneath 
 the vision of Helen's loveliness. 
 
 Menelaiis finds her in the palace of Deiphobus. 
 
 Virgil says nothing of the scene which the later 
 dramatists give us, when at the taking of the city 
 the outraged husband rushes upon the adultress 
 with uplifted sword, and drops his weapon at the 
 sight of the weU-remembered and matchless 
 beauty, Helen, in order to reconcile herself to 
 Menelaiis, betrayed Deiphobus when he was 
 asleep. She unlatched the door, inviting her for- 
 mer lord within the walls ; and as Deiphobus ex- 
 presses it : 
 
 " With new treasons would redeem the past." 
 
 Though Euripides tells us that: 
 
 " Jove-bom Helen beats her breast, 
 In anguish from her lover rent." 
 
 Virgil gives a graphic description of her 
 treason in Aeneas' visit to heU: 
 
 98 
 
A Daughtee of the Gods 
 
 " Here Priam's son, Delphobus, he found, 
 Whose face and limbs one continued wound ; 
 Dishonest, with lapped arms : the youth appears : 
 Spoiled of his nose, and shortened of his ears — • 
 He scarcely knew him, striving to disown 
 His blotted form, and blushing to be known : 
 
 And therefore first began : ' O Teucer's race ! 
 Who durst thy faultless figure thus deface? 
 What heart could wish, what hand inflict this dire dis- 
 grace ? 
 'TVas famed, that in our last and fatal night, 
 Your single prowess long sustained the fight ; 
 Till tired, not forced, a glorious fate you chose. 
 And fell upon a heap of slaughtered foes. 
 But, in remembrance of so brave a deed, 
 A tomb and funeral honors I decreed. 
 Thrice called your manes on the Trojan plains : 
 The place your armor and your name retains. 
 Your body, too, I sought, and had I found. 
 Designed for burial in your native ground.' 
 The ghost replied : ' Your piety has paid 
 All needful rites to rest my wandering shade; 
 But cruel fate, and my more cruel wife, 
 To Grecian swords betrayed my sleeping life. 
 These are the monuments of Helen's love: 
 The shame I bear below, the marks I bore above. 
 You know in what deluding joys, we past 
 The night that was by heaven decreed our last, 
 For, when the fatal horse, descending down 
 Pregnant with arms o'erwhelmed the unhappy town, 
 
 99 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 She feigned nocturnal orgies; left my bed 
 And mixed with Trojan dames, the dances led: 
 Then waving high the torch, the signal made, 
 Which roused the Grecians from their ambuscade. 
 With watching over-worn, with cares oppressed, 
 Unhappy I had laid me down to rest; 
 And heavy sleep my weary limbs possessed. 
 Meantime my worthy wife our arms mislaid, 
 And, from beneath my head my sword conveyed ; 
 The door unlatched, and with repeated calls. 
 Invites her former lord within my walls. 
 Thus, in her crime her confidence she placed, 
 And with new treasons would redeem the past. 
 What need I more? Into the room they ran. 
 And nearly murdered a defenseless man • . . 
 So to the secret shadow I retire 
 To pay my penance tiU my years expire.' " 
 
 While Troy was being sacked by the Greeks, 
 old King Priam is said to have buckled on his 
 armour to oppose them; which he had no sooner 
 done, than he was met by Pjrrrhus, son of 
 Achilles, and slain before the altar of Jupiter, 
 in his own palace. 
 
 Hecuba, his queen, escaped the swords of the 
 Grecians, and outlived him. It seems she be- 
 haved herself so fiercely and uneasily to her hus- 
 band's murderers while she lived that the poets 
 thought fit to turn her into a bitch when she died. 
 
 100 
 
A Datjghtee or the Gods 
 
 " How fortunate an end had Priam made, 
 Among his ancestors a mighty shade, 
 While Troy yet stood ; when Hector with the race 
 Of royal bastards, might his f un'ral grace : 
 Amidst the tears of Trojan dames unurned, 
 And by his loyal daughters truly mourn'd ! . . 
 At least he died a man ; his queen surviv'd. 
 To howl, and in a barking body liv'd." 
 
 — Juvenal. 
 
 Aeneas described his view of Helen during 
 the sack of the town: 
 
 " The graceless Helen in the porch I spied 
 Of Vesta's temple; there she lurked alone 
 Muffled she sat, and what she could unknown. 
 But by the flames that cast their blaze around. 
 That common bane of Greece and Troy I found : 
 For Ilium burnt she dreads the Trojan sword; 
 More dreads the vengeance of her injured lord." 
 
 Aeneas resolves to kill her, but is prevented 
 by Venus, who declares that: 
 
 " Not Helen's face, nor Paris was in fault ; 
 But by the gods was this destruction brought." 
 
 The women of Troy are now brought forth 
 captive, " these among by righteous doom a cap- 
 tive led, the Spartan Helena." 
 
 101 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Menelaiis, in the Pasthomerica of Quintus 
 Smynacus, finds Helen hidden in the palace of 
 Deiphobus. Astonishment takes possession of 
 his soul before the shining of her beauty, so that 
 he stands immovable, like a dead tree, which 
 neither north nor south wind shakes. When the 
 Greek heroes leave Troy town, Agamemnon 
 leads Cassandra captive; Neoptolemus is fol- 
 lowed by Andromache, and Hecuba weeps tor- 
 rents of tears in the strong grasp of Odysseus. 
 
 A crowd of Trojan women fill the air with 
 shrill laments, tearing their tresses and strewing 
 dust upon their heads. Meanwhile, Helen is de- 
 layed by no desire to wail or weep ; but a comely 
 shame sits in her black eyes and on her glowing 
 cheeks. Her heart leaps, and her whole form is 
 as lovely as Aphrodite was when the gods dis- 
 covered her with Ares in the net of Hephaestus. 
 
 Down to the ships she comes with Menelaiis 
 hand in hand; and the people, " gazing on the 
 glory and the winning grace of the faultless 
 woman, were astonished; nor could they dare by 
 whispers or aloud to humble her with insults; but 
 gladly they saw in her a goddess, for she seemed 
 to all what each desired." This is the apotheosis 
 of Helen; and the reading of her romance is far 
 more true to the general current of Greek feel- 
 ing than that suggested by Euripides. Eurip- 
 
 102 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 ides gives us some idea of the effect of Helen's 
 beauty in softening the vengeance of Menelaiis 
 when he says: 
 
 " O thou bright beaming radiance of this sun, 
 Helen, in thee, my wife, these hands shall seize, 
 After the many toils I have sustained, 
 I and the Grecian host. I come to Troy 
 Not for a woman, as some lightly think. 
 But arm'd with vengeance 'gainst the man, who broke 
 Each hospitable law, and from my house 
 Bore, as his spoil, my wife. But the just gods 
 He hath his meed, he and his country fallen 
 Beneath the arms of Greece. The Spartan dame 
 (For not with pleasure can my mouth pronounce 
 Her name who was my wife, once was) I come 
 To lead from hence; for in this tent, among 
 The other captive dames of Troy enroll'd, 
 Is she detain'd ; for they whose toiling spear 
 Achieved her, have presented her to me, 
 To kill her or, if such my will, to Greece 
 Alive to lead her: but my purpose is 
 The death of Helen to forbear at Troy, 
 And bear her in my stout bark o'er the sea 
 To Greece; and there, in vengeance for my friends 
 Who beneath Iliiun died, to give her death. 
 But, ye attendants, ofF into the tent; 
 Bring her forth, drag her by the hair with blood 
 Deeply polluted : when the favoring winds 
 Breathe in our souls, to Greece shall she be sent." 
 103 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Hecuba fears that the sight of her will cause 
 him to relent, 
 
 " I praise thy resolution, Menelaiis, 
 If thou shalt kill thy wife ; but fly her sight ; 
 She captivates the eyes of men, takes towns, 
 Sets houses aU on fire : such blandishments 
 She hath to allure the soul : I know her well. 
 Thou knowest her, and all they that suffer by her." 
 
 She had wrought all the ruin, yet Menelaiis 
 could not touch her, when she sailed forth, swan- 
 hke, fluttering white raiment, with the imper- 
 turbable sweet smile of a goddess on her lips. 
 
 Then Helen stands up to plead for her life 
 against Hecuba before the angry Menelaiis. 
 
 The tragic circumstances of Troy in ruins, and 
 of injured husband face to face with guilty wife 
 are all forgotten, while Helen develops a very 
 clever defense of her conduct in a long rhetorical 
 oration, blaming Venus for her elopement with 
 Paris, and claiming that her second marriage was 
 forced upon her. 
 
 " Low at thy knees a suppliant I beg thee. 
 To me impute not what the gods have done 
 Amiss. Ah, do not kill me; pardon me." 
 
 Menelaiis orders the attendants to carry off 
 104 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Helen to the ships, in order that she may be taken 
 to Argos and killed there. 
 
 Hecuba pleads that she may not enter the 
 same boat with him. Why, he asks, " Is the 
 freight more heavy than before? " 
 
 The answer is significant: 
 
 " He is no lover, who not always loves." 
 
 And so it turns out, for Helen arrives at 
 Sparta in comfort by the side of Menelaiis, after 
 long wanderings. 
 
 He now is afraid lest she should be seized and 
 stoned by the Argives, whose children had been 
 slain for her sake in Troy, so he lands her in the 
 sheltering night, and sends her to the house of 
 Electra, where she learns her sister's fate : 
 
 " Yet mid her grief, this comfort she enjoys, 
 Hermione, her virgin daughter whom at Sparta, when 
 
 she sailed for 
 Troy she left, 
 In her, delighted, she forgets her woes." 
 
 Electra reproaches her, saying : 
 
 " But thou art happy, happy is thy husband." 
 
 Orestes also comments upon Menelaiis' re- 
 newed devotion: 
 
 105 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Greece sees thou lovest thy wife." 
 
 Evidently her wanderings are forgotten in 
 the happiness of being reunited. 
 
 Helen sends her daughter Hermione to the 
 tomb of Clytemnestra with an offering, fearing 
 to go herself. 
 
 This offering contained also part of her locks, 
 upon which Electra comments sarcastically in an 
 aside : 
 
 " See, she hath shorn the extremity of her locks 
 Anxious, of beauty, the same woman still ! " 
 
 Orestes appeals to Menelaxis, who receives his 
 appeal with apathy, and in revenge he and Py- 
 lades resolve to seize Helen by stratagem, and 
 she is about to fall a sacrifice to their resentment, 
 the knife being already at her throat, when Phoe- 
 bus descends, declaring that he 
 
 " Will conduct 
 The immortal Helen to the house of Jove 
 O'er yon star-spangled sky, to the bright seats. 
 Where, with majestic Juno, and the bloom 
 Of Hebe ever young, Alcides' joy, 
 A goddess she shall hear the vows of mortals : 
 And, honoured with the twin-born sons of Jove, 
 Guide the toss'd mariners. 
 And rule the sea." 
 
 106 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 A more unethical termination to her adven- 
 tures can hardly be imagined. Exiripides has 
 been at pains to analyze her legend into a com- 
 mon tale of adultery and fascination. He now 
 suddenly shifts his ground and deifies the woman 
 he had sedulously vilified before. 
 
 He tried to bring her down to the level of 
 common life. The bloom of unconscious inno- 
 cence had been brushed by Aeschylus from the 
 flower of Greek romance. With him it was not 
 possible for Helen to escape judgment. Her 
 very name supphed the keynote of reproach. 
 Rightly was she called Helen: 
 
 " Who names her thus ? 
 In forecast of her coming fame. 
 What power unseen, 
 
 To this spear-ivedded Helen, this strife-stirring queen, 
 Could have given a name 
 Thus ominous? 
 
 For well with that name do her actions agree, 
 Hell of Men, Hell of ships. Hell of cities is she ! " 
 
 " From her gold encurtained bed 
 O'er the far seas she fled " 
 
 forth to Troy, and the heedless Trojans sang 
 marriage songs in her praise, which were soon 
 
 107 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 turned to mourning for her sake. She, whom 
 they welcomed as a 
 
 " Mirror of bright breathless skies, 
 Idol, rich in beauty's dower. 
 Arrow-winged to wound aU eyes. 
 Gentle Love's soul-piercing flower ; 
 Thus to Ilion's towers she came. 
 To her bed of guilt and shame, 
 Baleful guest! on Priam's race 
 Heaping ruin and disgrace. 
 She came." 
 
 The choruses in the Agamemnon are weighty 
 with the burden of her sin. " Thine is the blood 
 guUt of those many, many souls slain beneath 
 Troy's walls! " She is incarnate Ate, 
 
 " The soul-seducing crime-engendering, 
 
 ' Woe-begetting curse'of two great nations." 
 
 Zeus, through her sin, wrought ruin for the 
 house of Priam, wanton in its wealth. 
 
 In the dark came blinded Paris and stole her 
 forth, and she went lightly through her husband's 
 doors and dared a hateful deed. 
 
 Menelaiis, meanwhile, gazed on the desecrated 
 marriage-bed and seemed to see her floating 
 through his haUs; and the sight of beauteous 
 
 108 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 statues grew distasteful to his eyes, and he 
 yearned for her across the sea in dreams. 
 
 Naught was left, when morning came, but 
 vain forth-stretchings of eager hands after the 
 shapes that follow on the paths of sleep. Then 
 war awoke, and Ares, who barters the bodies of 
 men for gold, kept sending home to Hellas from 
 Troy a httle white dust stored in brazen urns : 
 
 " Sole reliques of the slain." 
 
 It is thus that Aeschylus places in the fore- 
 ground not the witchery of Helen and the charms 
 of Aphrodite, but her Hghtness and her sin, the 
 woe it wrought for her husband, and the heavy 
 griefs that through her fell on Troy and Hellas. 
 
 It would be impossible to morahze the conse- 
 quences of the woman's crime with greater stern- 
 ness. 
 
 The difference of tone and feeling with which 
 this celebrated woman is spoken of by the differ- 
 ent Greek writers, and more especially by Aes- 
 chylus and Homer, must have struck every clas- 
 sical reader. While the former, punning on her 
 name, has represented her as a perfect " Hell 
 upon earth," the latter, even when he most con- 
 demns, contrives to do so with such allowances, 
 with such appeals, as it were, to the kindlier feel- 
 ings of our nature, as almost to disarm justice. 
 
 109 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Let us return to the idealized Helen of Homer. 
 
 " In that emotion she displays at the invita- 
 tion of Aeneas to go forth to the ramparts and 
 witness the duel between her past and present 
 husband; in her dignified advance to the admir- 
 ing old senators; in her grief and self-reproach 
 at the distant view of her countrymen and for- 
 mer friends; in her petulant argument with her 
 patron goddess, after the defeat of Paris ; in her 
 taunts thrown out against his cowardice, coupled 
 with returning fondness for his person; in her 
 frank acknowledgment to Hector of the com- 
 mon failings of herself and lover; and in her af- 
 fectionate lamentation for the fate of her noble 
 brother-in-law, mingled with selfish tears for her 
 own distresses; are exhibited to the life all the 
 finer features of that mixed female character 
 which, while we pity and condemn, we are con- 
 strained to love and admire." 
 
 Such is Helen as she appeared in the Iliad. 
 Let us now turn to her as depicted by the same 
 great master-hand in the Odyssey. 
 
 110 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "A daughter of the gods divinely tall, 
 And most divinely fair." 
 
 — Tekntson. 
 
 The distressed Helen of the Iliad becomes the 
 favored Helen of the Odyssey, vested in a 
 queenly calm, but still with recollections which 
 serve to chasten pride. 
 
 Her character has lost much of its charm and 
 become more conventional, and it is difficult to 
 believe that the poet who put into her lips the last 
 lines of that threnos could have ventured to dis- 
 play the same woman calm and innocent in the 
 home of Menelaiis. 
 
 She reappears fuU of queenly dignity and per- 
 fectly restored to the love and confidence of her 
 husband, though the gods mark the offense by 
 giving her no children to add to the beautiful 
 Hermione. 
 
 Helen is no longer the heroine ; we are now in- 
 troduced to the house of Ulysses, where we meet 
 Penelope and her importunate suitors. 
 
 We follow the young Telemachus who goes in 
 search of his father. During this search he goes 
 
 111 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 to the court of Nestor, who insists upon his re- 
 maining one night at least as his guest; on the 
 morrow he will send him with his son to the court 
 of Menelaiis at Sparta, where he may chance to 
 learn the latest tidings of Ulysses. 
 
 " Indulge one labor more, and seek Atrides on the Spar- 
 tan shore. 
 He wandering long, a wider circuit made. 
 And many languaged nations has survey'd ; 
 And measured tracts unknown to other ships 
 Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps . . . 
 Urge him with truth to frame his wise replies. 
 And sure he will, for Menelaiis is wise." 
 
 The next day Telemachus and Pisistratus 
 leave the court of Nestor, and, after driving aU 
 the following day, they reach the palace gates of 
 Menelaiis in Sparta. 
 
 When the sun has set upon the yellow harvest 
 fields, " and all the ways are dim." 
 
 At Sparta the city is holding high festival. 
 
 " And now proud Sparta with their wheels resounds. 
 Sparta whose walls a range of hills surrounds : 
 At the dome the rapid labour ends ; 
 Where late Atrides midst his bridal friends. 
 With double vows invoking Hymen's power 
 To bless his son's and daughter's nuptial hour." 
 112 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 For a double marriage is being celebrated in 
 the halls of Menelaiis. 
 
 Hermione, his only child by Helen, is leaving 
 her parents to become the bride of Neoptolemus, 
 son of the great Achilles, and, at the same time, 
 the young Megapenthes, Menelaiis' son by a 
 slave wife, is to be married in his father's house. 
 This Neoptolemus was the son of AchiUes and 
 Deidamia, daughter of King Lycomedes. His 
 cruelty is said to have exceeded even that of his 
 father, but he eminently distinguished himself in 
 the Trojan War. When Ulysses was wandering 
 in the nether world he met Achilles, who in- 
 quired of him how fared his son Neoptolemus, 
 and, if, in the later days of the war, he proved 
 himself worthy of his father. 
 
 When he is assured of this, the shade of the 
 mighty hero, well satisfied, "Passed striding 
 through the fields of Asphodel." He was also 
 called Pyrrhus, or the red-haired, although Plu- 
 tarch says he was called in his youth Pyrrhus, or 
 the golden-haired. Anthon speaks of the yellow- 
 ness of his hair. 
 
 Hermione had been privately affianced to her 
 cousin Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and 
 Clytemnestra, but her father, on his return from 
 Troy, being ignorant of this, gave her in mar- 
 riage to Neoptolemus, who was afterwards mur- 
 
 113 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 dered, and she then became the wife of Orestes, 
 and received the kingdom of Sparta as her 
 dowry. 
 
 Andromache relates what befell after the fall 
 of Troy, and teUs Aeneas how Pyrrhus " Helen's 
 lovely daughter sought to wed." 
 
 The fatal love-inspiring beauty was evidently 
 transmitted by her mother to Hermione, who, 
 they say, was " the fairest of her kind." 
 
 To return to our travelers, there is music and 
 dancing in the halls when they arrive. 
 
 Menelaiis is told of their approach and asked 
 if they shall be received or 
 
 " Must they bend their doubtful course to seek a 
 distant friend? " 
 
 Memories of kindnesses which have been ex- 
 tended to him on his travels impel Menelaiis to 
 rebuke the messenger: 
 
 " But sure relentless folly steals thy breast. 
 Obdurate to reject the stranger guest; 
 To those dear hospitable rites a foe, 
 Which in my wanderings oft relieved my woe : 
 Fed by the bounty of another's board, 
 Till pitying Jove my native realm restored. 
 Straight he the coursers from the car released. 
 Conduct the youths to grace the genial feast." 
 114 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Menelaiis will ask no questions of the 
 strangers until the bath and food and wine, in 
 plenty, have refreshed them, and their horses 
 have good barley-meal and rye set before them in 
 their mangers. 
 
 The magnificence of Menelaiis' palace, as de- 
 scribed by the poet, is a very remarkable feature 
 in the tale. It reads more like a scene from the 
 " Arabian Nights " than a lay of early Greece. 
 The lofty roofs flung back a flashing light as the 
 travelers enter " like as the splendor of the sun 
 or moon." 
 
 Gold, silver, bronze, ivory, and electrum com- 
 bine their brilliancy in the decorations. The 
 guests wash in lavers of silver, and the water is 
 poured from golden ewers. 
 
 Telemachus is struck with wonder at the sight, 
 and can compare it to nothing earthly. He 
 whispers to Nestor's son: 
 
 " View'st thou unmoved, 
 O ever honor'd most, 
 These prodigies of art, and wondrous cost, 
 Above, beneath, around the palace shines. 
 The sunless treasure of exhausted mines; 
 The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay. 
 And studied amber darts a golden ray. 
 Such, and not nobler, in the realms above 
 My wonder dictates is the dome of Jove." 
 115 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 We see here that Helen has now all the com- 
 forts and barbaric splendor she could wish for; 
 it is probably supphed by the accumulated wealth 
 taken from Troy and on their return voyage. 
 
 Nestor had told Telemachus how 
 
 " Meantime from flaming Troy we cut the way, 
 With Menelaiis through the curling sea," 
 
 and how these vessels were disabled on the Egyp- 
 tian coast. 
 
 " There wandered Menelaiis through foreign shores. 
 Amassing gold, and gathering naval stores 
 Returned Atrides to the coast of Greece, 
 And safe to Argos' port his navy brought, 
 With gifts of price and ponderous treasure fraught." 
 
 This gorgeousness must have been particularly 
 grateful to Helen, who is beautiful herself and 
 loves to surround herself with everything that is 
 beautiful. She is described as being always gor- 
 geously clothed. 
 
 Hecuba says: 
 
 " In thy husband's house 
 Thy insolence of grandeur wouldst thou hold. 
 Imperious still from thy barbaric train. 
 Claim prostrate adoration, there thy pride 
 Found rich supplies ; from thence didst thou come forth 
 Georgeously vested." 
 
 116 
 
A Daxjghtee of the Gods 
 And again we are told of 
 
 " A robe of tissue, stifip with golden wire ; 
 An upper vest, once Helen's rich attire 
 From Argos by the f am'd adultress brought, 
 With golden flowers and winding foliage wrought : 
 Her mother Leda's present, when she came 
 To ruin Troy, and set the world in flame." 
 
 When Helen comes upon the scene to greet 
 the strangers it is with every surrounding of 
 pomp. 
 
 " Bright Helen graced the room : 
 Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume." 
 
 *' Forth from her fragrant chamber Helen passed 
 Like gold-bowed Dian : and 
 Adraste came 
 
 The bearer of her throne's majestic frame: 
 Her carpets fine wrought fleece 
 Alcippe bore, 
 
 Phylo her basket bright with silver ore, 
 Gift of the wife of Polybus who swayed 
 When Thebes, the Egyptian Thebes, scant wealth dis- 
 played. 
 His wife Alcandra, from her treasured store, 
 A golden spindle to fair Helen bore. 
 And a bright silver basket, on whose round 
 A rim of burnished gold was closely bound." 
 
 117 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Here, as in the Iliad, refinement and elegance 
 of taste are the distinctive characteristics of 
 Helen. And they help explain, though they in 
 no way excuse, the fascination exercised over her 
 by Paris, the accomplished musician and brilliant 
 converser, rich in all the graces which Venus, for 
 her own evil purposes, had bestowed on her 
 favorite. 
 
 Goethe considers Helen and Paris the ideal 
 impersonation of womanly and manly beauty. 
 
 " The Helen of the Odyssey, reconciled to her 
 home and her husband, is the same Helen whom 
 we knew in the Iliad as the paramour of Paris, 
 under such small degree of variety as was war- 
 ranted by change of destiny and lapse of time. 
 Although described as stiU beautiful, her person 
 and manners are shaded by a veil of matronly 
 gravity, to be expected after an interval of ten 
 years, and under such altered circumstances. She 
 is distinguished by the same elegance and cour- 
 tesy, and the same voluptuous habits. 
 
 " She enters the hall of the Spartan palace 
 with a pomp of female luxury never assigned by 
 Homer to any other heroine, preceded by three 
 waiting maids, one bearing her throne, another 
 soft rugs or cushions, a third her richly stored 
 silver work-basket." 
 
 She is still, as in the Iliad, emphatically " the 
 118 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 lady," the lady of rank and fashion as things 
 were in that day, with aU the fashionable good 
 qualities : selfish and luxurious, gracious and fas- 
 cinating. Her transgressions are all now con- 
 doned. She has recovered from her infatua- 
 tion. 
 
 Menelaiis has forgiven and apparently for- 
 gotten. But she has not forgiven herself, and 
 this is a strong redeeming point in her character; 
 " shameless " is stiU the epithet which she applies 
 to herself, as in the Ihad, even in the presence 
 of her husband and his guests. 
 
 The travelers have not yet been recognized, 
 but Helen's quick mind seizes the truth at once; 
 as she has detected the father through his dis- 
 guise of rags when he came as a spy into Troy, 
 so now she recognizes the son at once by his 
 strong personal resemblance. 
 
 " On yonder cheek I trace 
 The features of the Ulyssean race. 
 Diffused o'er each resembling line appear 
 In just simUitude the grace and air 
 Of young Telemachus! the lovely boy. 
 Who bless'd Ulysses with a father's joy. 
 What time the Greeks combined their social arms. 
 T'avenge the stain of my ill-fated charm ! " 
 " Just is thy thought (the king asserting cries), 
 Methinks Ulysses strikes my wondering eyes." 
 
 119 
 
A Daughtek of the Gods 
 
 Young Pisistratus at once tells him who his 
 friend is and on what errand they are traveling 
 together. 
 
 " He ceased ; a gust of grief began to rise : 
 Fast streams a tide from beauteous Helen's eyes." 
 
 There shall he no more lamentations for this 
 night; aU painful suhjectes shall be postponed 
 until the morrow. But stiU, as the feast goes on, 
 the talk is of Ulysses. Helen has learned, too, in 
 her wanderings, some of the secrets of Egyptian 
 pharmacy. She has mixed in the wine a potent 
 Eastern drug, which raises the soul above all 
 care and sorrow. This drug, which is calculated 
 to banish thought and promote oblivion of past 
 or indiflFerence to present subjects of vexation, 
 was a present from the Queen of Egypt, whose 
 court she had recently visited with her husband. 
 
 This was a curious trait of primitive luxury 
 which the poet, with a fine adaptation to her 
 character and habits, obviously, therefore, not 
 without some moral signification, has attributed 
 to her. 
 
 " Meantime, with genial joy to warm the soul. 
 Bright Helen mix'd a mirth inspiring bowl : 
 Temper'd with drugs of sovereign use, t' assuage 
 The boiling bosom of tumultuous rage. 
 120 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " Which so cures heartache and the inward stings, 
 That men forget all sorrow wherein they pine. 
 He, who hath tasted of the draught divine. 
 Weeps not that day, although his mother die 
 Or father, or cut off before his eyes. 
 Brother or child beloved fall miserably. 
 Hewn by the pitiless sword, he sitting silent by. 
 
 " These drugs so friendly to the joys of life. 
 Bright Helen leam'd from Thone's imperial wife ; 
 Who swayed the scepter, where prolific Nile 
 With various simples clothes the fatten'd soil." 
 
 The nepenthe of Helen has obtained a wide 
 poetical celebrity. 
 
 Some allegorical interpreters of the poem 
 would have us understand that it is the charms 
 of conversation which have this miraculous 
 power to make men forget their grief. 
 
 Without at all questioning their efficacy, it 
 may be safely assumed that the poet had in mind 
 something more material. The view of some 
 commentators, that it was opium used in the 
 East, as they suppose, from time immemorial, as 
 at this day, for the same purpose, is certainly not 
 devoid of probability; but the effects ascribed to 
 the Arabian " hasheesh," a preparation of hemp, 
 correspond very closely with those said to be 
 produced by Helen's potion. 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Sir Henry Halford thought it might more 
 probably be the " hyoscyamus," which he says is 
 still used at Constantinople, and in the Morea 
 under the name of " nebensch." 
 
 When Telemachus suggests retiring for the 
 night 
 
 " The menials fair that round her wait, 
 At Helen's beck prepare the room of state; 
 Beneath an ample portico they spread 
 The downy fleece to form the slumberous bed. 
 And o'er soft palls of purple grain, unfold 
 Rich tapestry, stiff with interwoven gold. 
 Then through th' illumined dome to balmy rest 
 Th' obsequious herald guides each princely guest; 
 While to his regal bower the king ascends. 
 And beauteous Helen on her lord attends." 
 
 Telemachus prolongs his stay a whole month, 
 for which the excuse, we must suppose, is to be 
 found in the hospitalities of Menelaiis and the 
 fascinations of Helen. 
 
 Gladly would Menelaiis have kept the son of 
 his old comrade with him longer as a guest, but 
 Telemachus is impatient to rejoin his galley 
 which waits for him at Pylos. 
 
 It is Minerva who, at last, arouses him to ac- 
 tion. She admonishes him in a dream that, un- 
 der his present circumstances, delays are danger- 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 ous. He awakes his young friend Pisistratus, 
 and proposes that they should set out on their re- 
 turn at once, before the day breaks, but Pisistra- 
 tus persuades him to wait for the morning. 
 
 Menelaiis, with genuine courtesy, refrains 
 from any attempt to detain his guest longer than 
 seems agreeable to themselves. 
 
 A portion of his speech, as rendered by Pope, 
 has passed into a popular maxim as to the true 
 limits of hospitality. 
 
 " True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest — 
 Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." 
 
 "Meantime the king, his son and Helen went 
 Where the rich wardrobe breathed a costly scent. 
 The king selected from the glittering rows 
 A bowl ; the prince a silver beaker chose. 
 The beauteous queen revolved with careful eyes 
 Her various textures of unnumbered dyes. 
 And chose the largest ; with no vulgar art 
 Her own fair hands embroidered every part : 
 Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright, 
 Like radiant Hesper o'er the gems of night." 
 
 They hastened to present their gifts. 
 
 " The beauteous queen advancing next displayed 
 The shining veil, and thus endearing said: 
 123 
 
A Daughter or the Gods 
 
 ' Accept dear youth this monument of love, 
 Long since, in better days, by Helen wove: 
 Safe in thy mother's care the vesture lay, 
 To deck thy bride, and grace thy nuptial day. 
 Meantime may'st thou with happiest speed regain 
 Thy stately palace and thy wide domain 
 She said, and gave the veil, with grateful look. 
 The prince the variegated present took.' " 
 
 Even as they part there is an omen in the sky, 
 an eagle bearing off a white goose in her talons. 
 Who shall expound it? 
 
 Menelaiis is appealed to, but he is no sooth- 
 sayer. 
 
 " Whilst yet the monarch paused, with doubts oppressed 
 The beauteous queen relieved his labouring breast : 
 ' Hear me ' (she cried), ' to whom the gods have given 
 To read the sign and mystic sense of heaven.' " 
 
 She then explains it is a sign that his godlike 
 father shall arrive, or perchance has already 
 safely arrived at his home. 
 
 Telemachus blesses her for the happy interpre- 
 tation and promises that, should the word come 
 true, he will worship the fair prophetess in Ithaca 
 as nothing less than a divinity. 
 
 To thee, as to some god, I'll temples raise. 
 And crown thy altars with the costly blaze." 
 124 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Whether or no he made good his vow the poet 
 does not tell us. And whether Helen was hon- 
 ored thus in Ithaca or not, she certainly was at 
 Sparta. 
 
 She hved many years with Menelaiis in unin- 
 terrupted happiness and splendor. Menelaiis, 
 being the husband of the godlike Helen and son- 
 in-law of Zeus, is even spared the pangs of death. 
 When the fullness of his days is passed he is 
 transported to the Elysian fields, according to 
 the promise made him by Proteus during his 
 wanderings after the siege of Troy. 
 
 " Elysium shall be thine, the blissful plains 
 Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns, 
 Joys ever young, unmixed with pain or fear. 
 Fill the wide circle of th' eternal year : 
 Stem winter smiles on that auspicious clime: 
 The fields are florid with unfading prime. 
 From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, 
 Mold the round ball or flake the fleecy snow ; 
 But from the breezy deep the blest inhale 
 The fragrant murmurs of the western gale, 
 This grace peculiar wiU the gods afford 
 To thee, the son of Jove, and beauteous Helen's lord." 
 
 Helen does not reappear in the Odyssey after 
 the fifteenth book, so this is our last glimpse of 
 her as depicted by Homer. 
 
 125 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Her charm in the Homeric poems is due, in a 
 great measure, to the naivete of the poet's art. 
 The situations in which she appears are never 
 strained, nor is the ethical feeling, though indi- 
 cated, suffered to distxirb the calm influence of 
 her beauty. 
 
 The only shadow cast upon Helen in the 
 Odyssey is to be found lurking in the ominous 
 name of Megapenthes, the son of Menelaiis by a 
 slave woman. 
 
 She does not shrink from telling again the 
 tales of Troy, and the craft which helped 
 Odysseus in the wooden horse. 
 
 In the course of the narrative there appears 
 the same mixture, as formerly, of self-reproach 
 and easy indifference in her allusions to her past 
 conduct; while the longing after her first husband 
 and native land, which, in the Iliad, also occa- 
 sionally came over her mind, is here described by 
 herself as having, towards the close of the war, 
 so grown upon her as to render her false to the 
 cause of the Trojans, as she had formerly been 
 to Menelaiis. The blame of her elopement with 
 Paris she throws on Aphrodite, who had carried 
 her across the sea. 
 
 " Leaving my child an orphan far away. 
 And couch, and husband who had know no peer. 
 First in all grace of soul and beauty shining clear." 
 
 126 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Such words, no doubt, fell with honey-sweet 
 flattery from the lips of Helen on the ears of 
 Menelaiis. Yet how could he forget the grief of 
 his bereavement and the ten years at Troy en- 
 dured for her? 
 
 Perhaps Helen used her drug to soothe his soul 
 and drown the memory of those unhappy years. 
 
 Gladstone says, in summing up the character 
 of Helen: 
 
 " Lastly I come to Helen. There are more 
 powerful pictures in Homer; but there is none 
 more noteworthy, none that presents bolder com- 
 binations. Her story is not fully told. But we 
 are obliged by it, to suppose that her great ca- 
 lamity was also, in some, not measured degree, 
 her guUt. She is not an ideal object, but a mixed 
 portraiture. Her original offense is not aggra- 
 vated by her apparent transfer to Deiphobus 
 after the death of Paris. But she came down 
 to the horse and imitated the voice of Argive 
 women she had formerly known, ostensibly, 
 though the stratagen was strangely shallow, to 
 draw forth the husbands supected to be within. 
 
 " Here again the suggestion is that she had 
 weakly yielded to pressure ; for we are told Dei- 
 phobus was behind her as she went. On the other 
 hand it is irrational to regard her as a type of 
 depraved character. 
 
 1£7 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 " The original act is described not as a flight, 
 but as an abduction from her husband. 
 
 " Though the occasion of so much woe to the 
 Trojans, and carped at by some of the family of 
 Priam, she was ever treated tenderly by Hector. 
 
 " She regards Aphrodite with horror, and 
 Paris with scarcely concealed aversion and con- 
 tempt. She is spoken of in the poems generally 
 by aU persons without disrespect. 
 
 " With beauty such as never women wore and 
 with an infirmity of purpose which checkered 
 her career, she unites not only grace and kindli- 
 ness, but a deep humihty and a peculiar self-con- 
 demnation, which come nearer to the grace of 
 Christian repentance than anything in my knowl- 
 edge that has come down to us with the ancient 
 learning." 
 
 128 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 " The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes." 
 
 — ^TEifirrsojr. 
 
 Upon Menelaiis' death, or rather his translation 
 to the Elysian fields, Helen was driven from the 
 Peloponnesus by Megapenthes and Nicostratus, 
 the illegitimate sons of her husband; we may re- 
 member that it was on the occasion of the es- 
 pousal of Megapenthes to Alector's daughter, 
 together with the marriage of Hermione, that 
 Telemachus first appeared before the eyes of 
 Helen. 
 
 She retired to Rhodes, where, at that time 
 Polyxo, a native of Argos, reigned over the 
 country. Polyxo remembered that her husband 
 Hepolemus had been kiQed in the Trojan war, 
 and she therefore resolved upon revenge. While 
 Helen one day retired to bathe in the river, 
 Polyxo disguised her attendants in the habits of 
 Furies, and sent them with orders to murder 
 Helen, her enemy. 
 
 Helen was tied to a tree and strangled, and her 
 misfortunes were afterwards commemorated, and 
 the crime of Polyxo expiated, by the temple 
 
 129 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 which the Rhodians raised to Helena Dendrites, 
 or Helen " tied to a tree," from the manner of 
 her death. 
 
 Even after death Helen rested not from the 
 service of love. The great Achilles, who in life 
 had loved her by hearsay, and whose matchless 
 beauty he had so much desired to see, clasped her 
 among the shades upon the island of Leuce, in 
 the Euxine Sea, where many of the ancient heroes 
 lived in a separate Elysium and enjoyed per- 
 petual felicity. 
 
 " Pharkyas — 
 " ' 'Tis also said, from out the shadow-realm, 
 Achilles, passion-fired, hath joined himself to thee, 
 Whom he hath loved of old, 
 'Gainst all resolves of fate.' 
 Helena — 
 ' As Phantom I myself, to him a phantom bound ; 
 A dream it was — thus e'en the very words declare.' " 
 
 — Goethe. 
 
 Dante speaks of meeting both Helen with 
 AchiUes and Paris in hell: 
 
 " There marked I Helen, for whose sake so long 
 The time was fraught with evil, there the great 
 Achilles, who with love fought to the end 
 Paris I saw." 
 
 130 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 We already know of Deiphobus being there; 
 also 
 
 " Unhappy Theseus doomed forever there 
 Is fixed by Fate, on his eternal chair." 
 
 VlBGIL. 
 
 Thus all her lovers and husbands, excepting 
 Menelaiis, were together in the lower regions. 
 
 Helen's eyes are supposed, by the poets, to still 
 bear their same haunting power. 
 
 Rossetti says: 
 
 " How time fares 
 In that wan time forgotten world of theirs, 
 Their pale poor world too deep for sun or star 
 To hve in, where the eyes of Helen are." 
 
 Tennyson's reference to her in his " Dream of 
 Fair Women " must not be omitted. 
 
 " At length I saw a lady within call. 
 
 Stiller than chissel'd marble standing there ; 
 A daughter of the gods divinely tall, 
 
 And most divinely fair. 
 Her loveliness with shame and with surprise 
 
 Froze my swift speech ; she turning on my face 
 The star-like beauty of immortal eyes. 
 Spoke slowly in her place. 
 131 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 ' I had great beauty ; ask thou not my name ; 
 
 No one can be more wise than destiny. 
 Many drew swords and died where'er I came 
 
 I brought calamity.' 
 • No marvel, sovereign lady : in fair field 
 
 Myself for such a face had boldly died.' " 
 
 Helen was the daughter of adventure and the 
 child of change, to whom migration was no less 
 natural than to the swan that gave her life. 
 Through all her adventures she maintained an 
 ideal freshness, a mysterious virginity of soul. 
 
 She is not touched by the passion she inspires 
 or by the wreck of empires ruined in her cause. 
 
 Fate deflowers her not, nor do years impair 
 the magic of her chain. Like beauty, she belongs 
 to aU and none. We might compare her to the 
 sun, a being not only of radiant beauty in herself, 
 but shedding that radiance and beautifying 
 everything with which she came in contact. 
 
 The splendid, and even the gracious penitential 
 humiUty, of Helen do not bewitch us into a f or- 
 getfulness that she had erred; but she is not 
 judged as wives or mothers are, though she is 
 both; to her belong soul- wounding blossoms of 
 inexorable love, as well as pain-healing poppy- 
 heads of oblivion; all eyes are blinded by the ador- 
 able, incomparable grace which Aphrodite sheds 
 around her form. 
 
 132 
 
Helena — Kaulbach 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 The romance of Helen, after lying dormant 
 during the Middle Ages, shone forth again in 
 the pregnant myth of Faustus. 
 
 The final achievement of Faust's magic was 
 to evoke Helen from the dead and hold her as his 
 paramour. 
 
 The old legend tells us, and the Puppet play 
 fails not to introduce the scene, that Faust in his 
 imperious pride of heart required from Mephisto 
 the love of the fair Helen, in which demand the 
 other after some reluctance gratified him. Mar- 
 lowe, than whom no poet of the North throbbed 
 more mightUy with the passion of the Renais- 
 sance, makes his Faust exclaim: 
 
 " Was this the face that launched a thousand ships 
 And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? 
 Sweet Helen make me immortal with a kiss! 
 -Her lips suck forth my soul: 
 See where it flies! 
 
 Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. 
 Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips. 
 And all is dross that is not Helena. 
 I wiU be Paris, and, for love of thee, 
 Instead of Troy shall Wurtenburg be sacked ; 
 And I will combat with weak Menelaiis, 
 And wear thy colors on my plum'd crest ; 
 Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel. 
 And then return to Helen for a kiss. 
 133 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air 
 Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; 
 Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter 
 When he appeared to hapless Semele ; 
 More lovely than the monarch of the sky 
 In wanton Arethusa's azured arms ; 
 And none but thou shalt be my paramour. 
 
 Marlowe, as was natural, contented himself 
 with an external handling of this part of the 
 legend, and slurs it over briefly, and without 
 fronting the difficulty; Helen merely flits across 
 the scene as an airy pageant without speech or 
 personality, and makes the love-sick philosopher 
 " immortal by a kiss." 
 
 Probably there are not many that would 
 grudge Faust such immortality, for who does 
 not see that this is no real Helen, but only some 
 hollow phantasm attired in her shape, while the 
 true daughter of Leda still dwells afar off^ in 
 the inane kingdoms of Dis and heeds not and 
 hears not the most potent invocations of black 
 art. 
 
 Goethe allegorized the whole, and turned the 
 episode of Helen into a parable of modern 
 poetry. 
 
 He gives his Faust something more real: not 
 the shadow but the substance, the true loving and 
 lovable Greek woman; and quite another matter 
 
 134. 
 
A Daughter of the Gods 
 
 it is to call forth the frail one in very deed, not in 
 form only, but in soul and life, the same Helen 
 whom the son of Atreus wedded, and for whose 
 sake Ilion ceased to be. For Faust must behold 
 Helen not as she seemed, but as she was, and, at 
 his unearthly desire, the past shall become pres- 
 ent, and the ancient time must be new-created, 
 and give back its persons and circumstances, 
 though so long since reingulfed in the silence 
 of blank bygone eternity. " Thus after living 
 her long life in Hellas as the ideal of beauty, 
 unqualified by moral attributes, Helen passed 
 into modern mythology as the ideal of the beauty 
 of the pagan world. True to her old character 
 she arrives to us across the waters of obhvion with 
 the cestus of the goddess round her waist, and the 
 divine smile upon her lips. Age has not impared 
 her charm, nor has she learned the lesson of the 
 Fall. Ever virginal and ever fair, she is still 
 the slave of Aphrodite. 
 
 "In Helen we welcome the indestructable 
 Hellenic spirit." 
 
 135