Chapter I: Front Matter (1)

CLOTHING, The Advantage of Warm. 264, 332.

COMMENCEMENT OF 1882, C. L. S. C. 18.

COMET THAT CAME BUT ONCE, The. E. W. Maunder, F.R.A.S. 319.

COMETS. Richard A. Proctor. 142.

COMING CHAUTAUQUA DAYS. 600.

CONVERSATION, The Art of. 514.

CONJURORS. Thomas Frost. 518.

DEFECTS IN OUR AMERICAN HOMES. A Conference at Chautauqua. 399.

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA, Results of the. John Lord, LL.D. 562.

DISTRIBUTION OF ANIMALS, Geographical. Alfred Newton. 588.

DREAM, AND PRACTICAL LIFE, A. 207.

DRIVING. 193.

DRINK, The Influence of Wholesome. 519, 577.

DUTIES IN THE FAMILY, Social. Frances Power Cobbe. 342.

EDITOR’S OUTLOOK:
Art, The Study of. 416.
Assembly, The Chautauqua. 56.
Assembly, The Decennial. 294.
Chautauquan, The. 540.
C. L. S. C. as a Substitute for the College, The. 415.
C. L. S. C. as a Substitute for the Public Library, The. 359.
C. L. S. C. on the Pacific Coast. 476.
C. L. S. C. in Troy, N. Y. 114.
C. L. S. C. as an Educational Force, The. 293.
C. L. S. C. Literature. 173.
Co-Education. 235.
Commencement, the C. L. S. C. 56.
Coronation of the Czar, The. 604.
Course of Study for 1883-84, The C. L. S. C. 540.
Doré, Gustave. 360.
Draper, Professor Henry. 234.
Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret. 359.
Education, Our National. 234.
England’s Troubles in Ireland and Egypt. 115.
English-Irish Troubles, The. 540.
Gambetta. 293.
Historical Studies in the C. L. S. C. 114.
Irving, Washington. 416.
Lectureship, The Joseph Cook. 360.
Literature, The C. L. S. C. 173.
Natural Method in Language at Chautauqua, The. 173.
Passion Play, The. 293.
Penn and his Policy, William. 173.
Prohibition. 114.
Prohibition in Politics. 541.
Problem, The Educational. 478.
Religion, Prospect for a Revival of Spiritual. 173.
Roeblings, The. 604.
Schools, The Common. 57.
Social Life in the C. L. S. C. 603.
Stewart’s Madame de Staël. 477.
Temperance Question, The. 56.
Ten Years at Chautauqua. 603.
Trial by Jury. 476.
Wagner. 415.
Warren, Amos K. 605.
Weed, Thurlow. 235.

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK. 58, 115, 174, 236, 295, 361, 417, 479, 541, 605.

EDITOR’S TABLE. 117, 176, 238, 297, 363, 419, 481, 543, 607.

EDUCATION, The History and Philosophy of. Prof. W. T. Harris. 28, 79,
194, 262, 336, 446, 567.

EGYPT AND ENGLAND. Sheldon Amos. 33.

EGYPT FOR THE EGYPTIANS. Judge G. M. Barber. 562.

ENGLISH HISTORY, Pictures From. C. E. Bishop. 15, 66, 124, 184, 246,
309, 371, 432, 494.

ETCHING. 509.

EVIDENCE OF THE NECESSITY OF A REVEALED RELIGION, An Unnoted. Rev.
R. H. Howard, M. A. 412.

EXAMINATION, Report of Chautauqua Normal. 177.

FASHION, Anecdotes of. I. D’Israeli. 323.

FASHIONS, Changes in. From the French of M. Augustin Challamel. 446.

FASHIONS, How to Regulate the. From the French of M. Augustin
Challamel. 556.

FLORIDA, A Tropical River in. S. J. M. Eaton, D.D. 576.

FOOD, The Value of Good. 202.

FORCES, The Co-Related. 257.

FRENCH CIRCLE, The Prospectus of the. 475.

FRENCH, The Study of. Prof. A. Lalande. 111, 358.

GENIUS, What is. James Kerr, M. A. 254.

GEOLOGY, How to Teach. Colonel Daniels. 231.

GEOLOGY, Readings in. J. W. Dawson. 43.

GEOLOGY, Readings in. Edward Hitchcock, D.D., LL.D. 68.

GERMAN CIRCLES, Two. 592.

GERMAN, Six Reasons for the Study of. 475.

GERMAN DEPARTMENT C. L. S. C. Prof. J. H. Worman. 54.

GERMANY, Home Life in. 199.

GOD’S IDEAL OF A MAN. Rev. B. M. Adams. 157.

GRADUATES, Class of 1882, List of C. L. S. C. 298.

GRADUATES OF 1882, Chautauqua. 118.

GREEK LIFE, Studies in Ancient. J. P. Mahaffy. 126.

GREEK, Reasons for the Study of. Prof. H. Lummis. 169.

GREEK, Hints to Beginners in the Study of New Testament. Rev.
A. A. Wright. 414, 476, 539.

GREEN, John Richard. Rev. H. A. Haweis, M.A. 575.

GYMNASTICS. 508.

HABIT OF TAKING PAINS. James Kerr, M.A. 392.

HEAVEN, The Employments of. Rev. L. T. Townsend, D.D. 570.

HISTORY, God’s Hand in. Bishop Simpson, LL.D. 70.

HOOD, Thomas. W. C. Richards. 409.

HOUSEKEEPING, German and American. 442.

INDIA, A Voice From. C. A. Martin. 47.

IRVING, Washington. Wallace Bruce. 390.

JEANNETTE, Story of the. 89.

JOYS OF HIGH COMPANIONSHIP. Arthur Helps. 561.

LANDSEER, Edwin and Charles. 466.

LANGUAGE IN ANIMALS. Richard Budd Painter. 323.

LECTURES, Local Circle. 529.

LECTURE BY ARTEMUS WARD. 549.

LETTER FROM ENGLAND, A. 524.

LIGHT, The Electric. A. A. Campbell Swinton. 325.

LITERATURE, Selections from English.
Advice, on Giving. Joseph Addison. 424.
Education compared to Sculpture. Joseph Addison. 125.
Poet Described, The. 423.
Practice and Habit. John Locke. 317.
Thoughts and Aphorisms. Jonathan Swift. 318.

LITERATURE, Selections from Chinese. 503.

LITERATURE, Selections from Japanese. 505.

LONGFELLOW’S BIRTHDAY. 459.

MAMMALIA. From the French of Ernest Menault. 389.

MAN, The Ugly. 169.

MANNER. Lord Chesterfield. 141.

MANNERS, Street. 452.

MEMORIAL BELL. 457.

MONTANA. Rev. Sheldon Jackson, D.D. 394.

MIND, Ardor of. James Kerr, M. A. 532.

MUSIC AT THE DAWN OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA. Prof. E. E. Ayres. 95.

MUSIC IN EARLY TIMES. Prof. E. E. Ayres. 30.

NEW MEXICO. Rev. Sheldon Jackson, D.D. 327.

NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS:
April, 419.
May, 482.
June, 544.

OUTLINES OF C. L. S. C. STUDIES.
November, 104.
December, 167.
January, 230.
February, 288.
March, 356.
April,408.
May, 463.
June, 531.

PAINTINGS, Old. Robert Kempt. 570.

PEARLS, A Chaplet of. William Jones, F. S. A. 385.

PHOTOGRAPHY, The Applications of. 471.

PHYSIOLOGY. 374, 434.

PLAN, The Latest—Chautauqua Summer School for Children. 111.

POISON IN COMMON THINGS. Prof. P. A. Simpson, M.A., M.D. 137.

PORTRAIT COLLECTIONS. Walter F. Tiffin. 556.

PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY—Names of the Stars. 486.

QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER STUDY. 107, 167, 229.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. A. M. Martin.
Astronomy. 286, 353.
China, Corea, and Japan. 530.
Evangeline. 463.
Geology. First Lessons in. 48, 105.
Greece, History of. 47, 105.
Greek Course in English, Preparatory. 164, 228.
Hampton Tracts. 407.

RAINDROPS, HAILSTONES AND SNOWFLAKES. Prof. O. Reynolds. 75.

RAMBLES IN DAKOTA AND MONTANA. W. A. Duncan. 598.

READINGS FOR 1883-84, C. L. S. C. 531, 589.

RE-UNION AT CINCINNATI, C. L. S. C. 591.

ROUMANIAN PEASANTS AND THEIR SONGS. C. F. Keary. 197.

ROUND-TABLE. 51, 109, 167, 231, 289, 356, 409, 464, 596.

RUSSIA, History of. Mrs. M. S. Robinson. 10, 61, 121, 179, 241, 303,
365, 427, 489.

SCANDINAVIA, A Glance at the History and Literature of. Prof. L. A.
Sherman. 8, 63, 182, 244, 305, 368, 429, 487.

SCHOOL OF LANGUAGES, The Chautauqua. 54, 111, 414, 475, 539.

SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY, The Chautauqua. 112, 602.

SCIENCE, The Six Follies of. I. D’Israeli. 257.

SCIENCE AND COMMON SENSE. Charles Kingsley. 321.

SCIENCES, The Circle of. Prof. J. T. Edwards. 601.

SCIENTISTS, Atheistic. John Stuart Blackie. 137.

SONGS, C. L. S. C.
Anniversary Ode—1879. 458.
Break Thou the Bread of Life. 590.
Evening Praise. 523.
Hymn of Greeting. 590.
Join, O Friends, in a Memory Song. 402.
A Song of To-day. 44.
The Winds are Whispering. 346.

SPURGEON, Rev. Charles Haddon. A. A. Livermore, D.D. 565.

SUNDAY READINGS. Selected by Dr. J. H. Vincent.
Abraham to the Occupation of Canaan, From. W. F. Collier, LL.D. 190.
Action, The Reproductive Power of Human. Henry Melvill. 3.
Beginning to Abraham, From the. W. F. Collier, LL.D. 188.
Bible and other Religious Books, The. George F. Pentecost, D.D. 251.
Bible and Science, The. George F. Pentecost, D.D. 252.
Book, History of God’s. Rev. Frank Russell, A.M. 186.
Christmas Songs. 134.
Christ and the Apostles. S. A. Allibone. 249.
Christian Described, A. Rev. W. Jay. 439.
Communion with God. R. S. Storrs, D.D. 5.
Communion with God, The Privilege of. R. S. Storrs, D.D. 6.
Conflicts of Life, The. Bishop Edward Thomson, DD., LL.D. 133.
Design of the Discrepancies of the Scriptures. J. W. Haley, A.M. 90.
Dispensations in History and in the Soul, Three. Bishop Huntington.
313.
False Balance Detected by the True, The. William Arnot, D.D. 311.
Faith the Sole Saving Act. Rev. William Taylor, D.D. 381.
Finding and Bringing. 379.
God Magnified in his Works. G. Chaplin Child, M.D. 135.
Goodness of a Good Man, The. 131.
Growing. F. E. Havergal. 131.
Having, Doing and Being. James Martineau. 130.
Israelites after Reaching the Promised Land. W. F. Collier, LL.D.
191.
Life of the Israelites from Saul to Christ. W. F. Collier, LL.D.
248.
Love. Julius Muller, D.D. 1.
Manners. Abel Stevens, D.D., LL.D. 501.
Pardon—Forgiveness. Bishop Merrill. 94.
Religion in Common Life. John Caird, D.D. 496.
Speculations in Theology. Rev. R. S. Storrs, D.D. 329.
Tears of Jesus, The. J. H. Grandpierre, D.D. 2.

TALES FROM SHAKSPERE. Charles Lamb.
All’s Well that Ends Well. 515.
As You Like It. 453.
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. 275.
King Lear. 271.
Macbeth. 338.
Midsummer Night’s Dream. 210.
Much Ado About Nothing. 395.
Romeo and Juliet. 84.
Taming of the Shrew. 81.
The Tempest. 39.
Twelfth Night. 152.
Two Gentlemen of Verona. 583.
Winter’s Tale. 213.

TALK FROM HEADQUARTERS. Concerning Chautauqua. 474.

TAXIDERMY. 507.

TENNYSON AND MRS. CARLYLE. 588.

TESTIMONY, C. L. S. C. 103, 162, 223, 402, 524.

THEY GROW TO FLOWERS OR TO WEEDS. Maxims. 383.

THRIFT. Charles Kingsley. 218.

TOUR ROUND THE WORLD, A. 99, 147, 216, 267, 466, 510, 551.

TRANSIT OF VENUS, The. 239.

UNITED STATES, The Resources of. 393.

WEBSTER, Daniel. A Letter from Prof. W. C. Wilkinson. 292.

WEBSTER, Daniel, _versus_ Stephen Girard. 472.

W. C. T. U. BORN AT CHAUTAUQUA, The. 156.

POETRY

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. By the author of “John Halifax, Gentleman.” 326.

BEYOND. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 557.

CELIA SINGING. Thomas Stanley. 442.

CHAUTAUQUA CHIMES. Addie Glover Carter. 47.

CHEERFULNESS TAUGHT BY REASON. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 514.

CHILDREN, Our. Genevieve Irons. 150.

COMING OF SUMMER, The. Harriet Mabel Spalding. 536.

CONTENT. A. E. A. 196.

COUNSEL. Alice E. Jennings. 573.

DAFFODIL, The. Ada Iddings Gale. 558.

DAFFODILS AT SEA. J. S. Howard. 448.

DEATH’S CHANGED FACE. Frederick Langbridge. 537.

GARDEN REVERIE, A. I. L. Cosham. 18.

GLINT OF MOONLIGHT, A. I. L. Cosham. 129.

GOD’S HEARTHSTONE. Wallace Bruce. 95.

HOURS OF REST. Anna H. Drury. 392.

IN THE FOREST. S. Reid. 81.

JUNE. Ellen O. Peck. 507.

KNEELING FIGURE IN MALVERN PRIORY, On the. Chas. Grindrod. 141.

LAST SNOW OF WINTER, The. Sarah Doudney. 518.

LOSS AND GAIN. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 413.

MAY. Luella Clark. 473.

MY WINTER GARDEN. Harriet Mabel Spalding. 320.

MY OWN GIRL. Frederick Langbridge. 161.

NIGHTINGALE, To the. Drummond of Hawthornden. 436.

PETITION TO TIME. B. W. Proctor. 207.

PETROCCHI, Sonnet of. Translated by Strong. 557.

PROPHECY, A. Rev. Benjamin Copeland. 582.

QUAINT OLD GARDEN OF MY CHILDHOOD. Clara Thwaites. 155.

RENUNCIATION. A. C. M. 569.

ROBIN AND I. C. B. 407.

SATISFIED. J. C. A. 452.

SONGS IN WINTER. David Buxton. 561.

SONG. Sir John Denham. 338.

SONG OF THE ROBIN. Miss A. M. Starkweather. 532.

SONNET, The. William Wordsworth. 466.

SORROW OF THE SEA, The. Alexander Anderson. 322.

SOWERS, The two. Alexander Anderson. 509.

STAGES. Benjamin Bulkeley. 193.

STRANGER, The. Ada Iddings Gale. 123.

STRIVING. Henry Burton. 75.

SUN-WORSHIPPERS, The. Hattie A. Cooley. 279.

SURPRISE, A Sweet. Mary R. Dodge Dingwall. 346.

THINKING OF MICHAEL. Alexander Anderson. 17.

THREE AGES. John Albee. 193.

TWO GRAVES, The. Henry Hogan. 78.

WEARY HEART, The. Rev. Frank S. Child. 263.

WE MUST NOT FORGET OUR DEAD. Mary R. D. Dingwall. 271.

THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

_A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN
OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE._

VOL. III. DECEMBER, 1882. No. 3.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.

_Superintendent of Instruction_, J. H. Vincent, D. D., Plainfield, N. J.

_General Secretary_, Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

_Office Secretary_, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

_Counselors_, Lyman Abbott, D. D.; J. M. Gibson, D. D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D. D.; W. C. Wilkinson, D. D.

Transcriber's Note: This table of contents of this
periodical was created by the transcriber to aid the reader.

Contents

Index to Volume III. INDEX
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle Officers 121

REQUIRED READING:
History of Russia 121
The Stranger 123
Pictures from English History 124
Studies in Ancient Greek Life 126
A Glint of Moonlight 129

SUNDAY READINGS.
December 3
Having, Doing, Being 130
Growing 131
December 10
The Goodness of a Good Man 131
December 17
The Conflicts of Life 133
December 24
Christmas Songs 134
December 31
God Magnified in His Works 135

Atheistic Scientists 137
Poison in Common Things 137
Manner 141
On the Kneeling Figure in Malvern Priory 141
Comets 142
A Tour Round the World 147
Our Children 150
Morals and Sorrows of Borrowing and Lending 151
Tales from Shakspere—_Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will_ 152
Quaint Old Garden of Our Childhood 155
The W. C. T. U. Born at Chautauqua 156
God’s Ideal of a Man 157
My Own Girl 161
C. L. S. C. Work 161
C. L. S. C. Testimony 162
Local Circles 163
Questions and Answers 164
Outline of C. L. S. C. Studies for December 167
Questions for Further Study 167
C. L. S. C. Round-Table:
How England Maintained Her Nationality During
the Middle Ages 167
Reasons for the Study of Greek 169
The Ugly Man 169
C. L. S. C. Announcement for 1882-’83 172
Editor’s Outlook 173
Editor’s Note-Book 174
Editor’s Table 176
Books Received 177
Report of Chautauqua Normal Examination—1882 177
New Books for Boys and Girls 178

REQUIRED READING

FOR THE

_Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1882-83_.

DECEMBER.

HISTORY OF RUSSIA.

BY MRS. MARY S. ROBINSON.

_CHAPTER IV._

THE HEROIC AGE—GROWTH OF THE RUSSIAN STATE, TO THE DEATH OF IAROSLAF (1054).

The glory of the Russian arms, the splendor of the Russian State, attained their maximum in the reign of the great Iaroslaf. Its form of government continued to retain the Variag-Slav elements, but was compacted and confirmed by the ideas brought into the country with the influx of Greek priests and men of letters. The prince long remained, as in the primitive times, first among his equals, the drujina—the head and chief of a family of soldiers. He had great respect for the counsels, and for the demands of these. Vladimir’s men complained, in that they had to eat from wooden bowls. He forthwith provided them with silver ones. “I can not buy myself a drujina with silver and gold,” he said, “but with a drujina I can obtain silver and gold, as did my father and my grandfather.” The Roman empire of the east represented another form of government. Its sovereign was the heir of Constantine and of Augustus; the vicar of God upon earth, the human representative of the Sovereign of the universe. The Greek emperor derived his power, not from the consent of his subjects—a phrase unknown in his dominions,—but rather from the Being who conferred it as a prerogative, a divine right. His person, his regalia, were sacred. The populace of Constantinople believed that when God gave the empire to their city, he gave it also the regal vestments at the hands of an angel. Leo, king of the Kazarui, was said to have been smitten with a fatal ulcer for his temerity in putting the Byzantine crown upon his head. This Roman, and antecedently Asiatic conception of government, as vested in the person of the imperator who made the laws, executed justice, received the adoring homage as well as the unquestioning obedience of his subjects, essentially modified the nobler, freer idea of government, as held by the Variag princes; but the change was wrought gradually, and was hardly perceptible during the epoch of the ascendency of the Russia of the steppes, the supremacy of Kief. It came into prominence, as we shall see, in the Russia of the forests, when Suzdal, and later Moscow, became the nuclei, the centers of the realm in a subsequent epoch. Iaroslaf compiled a code of laws, the Russkaia Pravda, the Russian right, or verity, a code that, though subsequently modified by Byzantine influence, remained for centuries the basis of the national jurisprudence. The laws of the Pravda are in effect those of ancient Scandinavia. Private revenge and avenging are recognized, as are also the judicial duel and the ordeals; fines are fixed for various crimes. The primitive form of trial by jury is established, but none of the harsher penalties are prescribed that were introduced later by the corrupted Greeks. Prisons, torture to wring confession, corporal cruelties, flogging and capital punishment were unknown in the Russia of the eleventh century. Its laws were milder, more humane than those of Charlemagne. The Slav had not become debased by the vices of the Roman empire of the east, nor by the ferocity of the Tatars. “A white Arab,” a child of nature, uncorrupted by the iniquities of an ancient civilization, with his ardent Oriental temperament, he retained as yet much of the simplicity, the freedom from duplicity, that won the recognition of Homer, Choerilius and Strabo.

The introduction of Greek Christianity was a fact of immeasurable significance to the Russian realm. It proscribed the Papal Church from Russian territory, and thereby isolated it from the nations of the west. This isolation precluded the Russian people from the religious sympathy, the material support of the Pope, and of the other European nations, in crises of peril, or periods of emergency, such as that of the appalling Tatar invasion. They could look for no help beyond their own resources, their own strength. The difference of religion served also as a perpetual barrier, a continually irritating antagonism between the Russian and the Polish Slavs. On the other hand, as the new faith was introduced by means of the Slavonic, the mother tongue, Russian society was spared the sharp division between the clerical, the learned, the high, Latin-speaking class, and the lower classes that compose the bulk of every nation; a division that contributed immensely to the founding of caste and to the arrogations of a hierarchy throughout Latin Christendom. In Russia was reared a national church, subject to no foreign, no alien sway, entangled with no foreign alliances or foreign politics. Thus was secured an absolute national and ecclesiastical independence. “No dragonnades, no frightful inquisition, no Saint Bartholomews, no myriads of martyrs, no hideous tortures, such as those invented and practiced by Jesuits and Romish priests, have ever defiled the venerable ministry that traces its origin to Ephesus and Saint John.”

Christianity gradually but essentially modified the social life, the customs and manners of the people. It abolished polygamy; the structure of the family was no longer Asiatic, but European. It heightened the Slav virtues of hospitality and benevolence, by inculcating the humanitarian precepts of the New Testament. It conferred a dignity previously unknown, upon weakness, infirmity, poverty and labor. It modified the public sentiment in regard to crime, by teaching the inherent heinousness of sin. The oft-uttered words of Vladimir, “I fear to sin,” indicate the change that was gradually effected in the popular mind. Assassination, theft, and other crimes ceased to be regarded as private injuries, to be commuted by fines or atoned for by reprisals. They were punished as offences against humanity, in the name of the Legislator, the Father of the race. What is more precious than a Christian soul? asks one of the earlier descendants and successors of Vladimir. The new religion brought music in its train to a people who had a capacity for this art, but who were ignorant of its first principles. It brought architecture into a realm whose buildings were simply wooden tents, and whose ramparts were made of mud. In the rude city were laid the decorated aisles, the sumptuous columns, the golden cupolas and domes of the Russian church. It brought literature, first of all by the sacred books translated into the vernacular; the works of the Church fathers, among them Basil and Chrysostom; the lives of the saints, Byzantine chronicles, eagerly read by the scholastic monk; works on speculative and natural philosophy, and some few romances. Contemporary Byzantine literature was not of the highest order; but exported among a people whose thought and knowledge were limited to the recital of their national legends, their primitive poems, it aroused their germinant powers, and gave direction to their intellectual, their social, and their moral development. We have to concede, however, that the introduction of the Greek form of Christian belief was not entirely salutary in its effects upon the people at large. The Byzantine Church was smitten with the decay whereof the Byzantine civilization was perishing. It retained, indeed, the elevated truths of the Christian system, but had deplorably lost the spirit that alone “giveth life.” It had failed, generally speaking, to eradicate the distinctive vices of the Greek peoples—falsehood, treachery, perfidy, instability. In place of a regenerated nature, it required of its adherents participation in its elaborate ceremonial, the practice of its intricate rites, homage to its imposing forms. It did little for intellectual enlightenment or advancement, save in the perverted form of Oriental monachism,—a painfully unnatural mode of life, calculated to foster mental disease and general self-stultification. With no arrogations of secular or of civil power, it has associated itself throughout Russian history with the baleful conservatism, the hoary tyranny, the enslaving autocracy of her sovereigns. Oriental in its origin, it has fastened upon the Russian State the stationary ignorance, the servitude, the mental inertia of the effete Oriental nations. Among its adherents we shall find scarcely an example of the moral and spiritual liberty wherewith the Head of the Church maketh his children free. So far removed are they from this freedom, that their spiritual debasement, their intellectual bondage and moral perversion lie like an incubus, against which thus far the inherent strength of the nation has struggled in vain. An Oriental autocracy and a church devoid of spiritual vitality have hitherto proved immovable checks upon the advancement of the Russian people. Not without reason does the Nihilist reject the wretched ecclesiasticism that has misguided and miseducated his race throughout a thousand years.

The portraits of Rurik and his Variag-Slav successors, preserved in the imperial galleries of St. Petersburgh, are doubtless much idealized; yet they may be supposed to bear some resemblance to their originals, for Byzantine artists were in Kief as early as the reign of Vladimir (972). The face of Rurik is strong, and possessed of a primitive majesty; beneath heavy brows his eyes are steadfast, penetrating, containing a force that under stress might break into the Berserker rage, the fury that was a characteristic of the ancient Norse warrior. The contours of the face are vigorous, and marked by a certain rude symmetry, so to speak. The heavy mustaches part above the lips; below them falls a dense beard that clings to the sides of the cheeks and climbs to the hair. The head is shielded beneath a plain helmet terminating above in a talon. From the under side of the helmet falls a cape of mail, protecting the throat and shoulders; a sack or loose coat of mail covers the body. A man to put one’s trust in, a man to be feared as an enemy, is the impression conveyed by the portrait, as a whole.

Vladimir, “the beautiful sun of Kief,” the Christianized Apollo of the Russian Slav, the apotheosized hero of numberless legends and poems, still current among his people, is represented with a richly jewelled crown above an ermine border, resting upon his shapely head. His dark hair falls flowing upon his shoulders; his beard is fine and waved; his eyebrows delicately pencilled. Poetry and song lie in his liquid eyes and upon his well-moulded lips. A touch of sadness allied with a princely stateliness adds an indefinable, a melodious charm to this beautiful portrait, that one might take at first glance for a humanized representation of the Son of Man. Lovely, tender, strong, it is not difficult to ascribe to the gracious influences of Christianity the elevation, the chastened symmetry, the perceptible advance, evident in the face, from the rude power of the Norse physiognomy. A bust like unto it, set amid the busts of ancient Athens, would have elicited expressions of admiration from the beholders. “A noble, a beautiful barbarian!” they would have exclaimed.

The portrait of Iaroslaf represents a distinctive Slav. It depicts a melancholy temperament held in equipoise by a clear intellect and a firm will. Delicacy, a capacity for sadness and strength, combine in the intelligence of the face; an intelligence more reposeful than animated. The symmetry of the features is remarkable. The long-lidded, serious eyes are essentially Slavic. The throat is large and shapely. The regal robe is heavily broidered, decorated around the neck and down the front with a band of light-hued fur. A grave man, with capacities for understanding the arts that give solace and charm to existence, Iaroslaf the Great was also a man to love and to be loved. Captain, sovereign, legislator, he was especially the father of his people in his affectionate care of, and in his intercourse with them.

The Slav’s inextinguishable passion for liberty, and the faithfulness of the Variag to his ruler, his capacity for obedience and for martial discipline, augured well for the nascent Russian state. The Slav conception of the family, however, dominated long over that of a compact government. The Byzantine form of political unity took root in Russian soil, but was of slow growth, and was long obstructed by the division of lands among the heirs of the reigning prince—a Slavic custom observed from time immemorial. Iaroslaf had designed that his eldest son should succeed him upon his throne; and upon his death-bed he urged upon his other children the duty of recognizing their brother Isiaslaf as their sovereign; they were to regard him “as a father.” But notwithstanding the precautions of the great prince, the Slavic custom of division prevailed with those who came after him. As a consequence, the hundred and thirty years following his death (1054-1224), form a period of internal partition, of disturbance, of civil wars and strifes between the increasingly numerous members of the royal family. During this period the realm was divided into no less than sixty-four duchies or principalities, under the varying possession of two hundred and ninety-three princes. These partitions were the occasion of eighty-three civil wars, some of which brought into conflict the entire fighting force of the nation. In addition to the internal contentions, the barbarians remained a hostile element in the country. The chroniclers record forty-six invasions of the Polovtsui, and eighteen campaigns directed against them. This anarchy of princes in eastern Europe possessed features of similarity with the feudal anarchy of the west. The principalities of Russia corresponded with the domains of the dukes, grafs, land-grafs, and mar-grafs of Germany, with those of the lords and counts of France, and with the governments of the lords and barons of England.

The principality or grand duchy of Kief remained preëminent among these divisions. Its position near to, and its intercourse with the Greek empire, its control of the Dnieper, the fertility of the Warm Soil, the illustrious history of the capital and metropolis of the realm, mother of Russian cities, all contributed to maintain its supremacy. Its prince was the Grand Prince, chief among his fellow rulers elsewhere in the realm, in point of privilege. Often was his territory hotly contested by those princes whose energy or ambition impelled them to audacious enterprises. To obtain Kief and the position of Grand Prince, were the ends ardently coveted by the restless, warlike rulers who chafed within the restricted limits of their obscure domains.

Along the tributaries to the east of the Dnieper, lay the principalities of Tchernigof and of Novgorod-Severski. The ruling family of Tchernigof, the Olgovitchi, who traced their lineage to the illustrious Olga, were the most formidable rivals of Kief. East of these lay the double principality of Riazan and Murom, whose chief towns, respectively of the same name, the one on the Moskova, the other on the Oka, indicate their ancient principalities on the modern map of the empire. Westward, in the heart of mediæval Russia, inclosing within its boundaries the great forest of Okof, where rise the Volga, the Dnieper, and the Dwina, was the principality of Smolensk, all of whose towns were built on the banks of one or another of its great rivers. Its political importance lay in its control of nearly all the commerce of the realm. A government in the later divisions of the empire bears the name of the ancient principality. Near by was Toropets, capital of a secondary domain ruled over by two princes of renown, Mstislaf the Brave, and his son Mstislaf the Bold, glorious names in the history of their country. Further to the northeast, in the dense forests of the Volga and the Oka, lay the principality of Suzdal, with its towns, Suzdal, Rostof, Vladimir-on-the-Kliasma. This rugged region at the extremity of the Russia of the eleventh century, encircled by aboriginal Finn tribes, was destined in time to achieve a supremacy over all the other principalities, and to control the destinies of the nation. The Slavs of the Volga, mingling with the Finn tribes, Muromians, Meria, Tcheremisa, who, from being their enemies, were ultimately forced to become their subjects, produced a modified race, endowed with permanent, salient characteristics. The Russia of the steppes of the Dnieper, gave way gradually, and yielded its supremacy to the Russia of the forests of the Volga. From the principality of Suzdal emerged the Grand Duchy or Tsarate of Moscow, and from the Tsarate of Moscow arose Little and Great Russia, with which were included in the fifteenth century Red and White Russia, the Warm Soil, and other vast territories that combine to form the European portion of the modern empire. The principalities we have named presented a frontier against the untamed tribes of the steppes and of the forests. A northern system of frontier defences holding in check the Lithuanians, Letts, and Tchudi, was re-enforced by the powerful governments of Novgorod and Pskof, situated in the regions of Lake Ilmen and Lake Peïpus. Within the protection of these domains lay two secondary appanages, Polotsk and Mursk, the latter in the basin of the Dnieper. In southwest Russia lay Volhynia and Gallicia, or Red Russia, one of whose cities was Galitch. Gallicia was peopled by the White Kroats, a branch of the Danubian Slavs, who had affinities with the neighboring kingdoms of Poland and Hungary. Igor, Prince of Novgorod-Severski, is the hero of a Russian epic, that relates his expeditions. In it the wealth and glory of Gallicia are thus exalted: “Iaroslaf Osmomuisl of Gallicia,” cries the poet, apostrophizing the prince, “lofty is thy throne of beaten gold! Thou holdest up the Carpathians with thy regiments of iron! Thou art he who shutteth the gates of the Danube, and putteth a bar across the pathway of the King of Hungary. At thy good pleasure the gates of Kief are opened. With thine arrows thou smiteth from afar!”

The division into appanages delayed but did not strike at the root of the unity of the empire. Nay, it may be said to have nourished this idea in its nascent development. At the death of every powerful sovereign fresh divisions were made; hence no principality remained sufficiently secure to become the home of a distinct, an enduring nationality. Identity of race, of language, and of religion characterized these states, whose princes were kinsmen, and whose ties of blood were strengthened in many instances by the bonds of wedlock. The descendants of Rurik bore rule from the Straits of Ienikale to the borders of the Frozen Sea. The Grand Prince was held in fatherly respect; and if some of his contemporaries stood ready to contend for his throne, more were at hand to defend him with their money and their arms. The unity of the nation, notwithstanding its numerous divisions, was more distinct than that of Germany or of France during certain periods of the mediæval era. The isolation of the Russian realm maintained the permanence of this idea, in that it was preserved from alien invaders, and from diplomatic or other complications with powers that might have interfered with its internal affairs, or that might have modified its advancement. The unity of the realm initiated by Rurik, was developed gradually but irresistibly, and with no considerable fluctuations down to the national uprising in 1612, when it attained its fullest strength, and rendered the nation impregnable alike to the designs of aliens, or to the subversions of internal discord.

[To be continued.]

THE STRANGER.

By ADA IDDINGS GALE.

Thou dazzling vision in the Eastern sky,
Moving so grandly through the fields of space,
Thou stranger in our starry populace,
On what swift errand dost thou sunward fly?

Haply, among the everlasting host
Thou art a messenger fleet-winged as fate,
On some grave matter sent by powers of state,
Thy winged speed thy special pride and boast.

Or, art thou but a vagrant—fetterless
Roaming at will among the wand’ring spheres,
As naught to thee the pulsing of the years,
A shining type of starry willfulness?

Speed on, oh, wonderful! through endless space,
One All-puissant marks thy tireless race.

“For he who manages his own life badly, how is he likely to take proper care of what is external to himself.”—_Euphron._

PICTURES FROM ENGLISH HISTORY.

By C. E. BISHOP.

III.—THE FIGHTING TROUBADOUR’S RETURN FROM THE WAR.

Concerning the “good old days” of chivalry and the crusades, the London _Quarterly Review_ once said: “Life was earnest in its beliefs, stormy in its ambition, hearty in its sports.” There is a funny story going the rounds in these “degenerate days” of a disciple of Peter Cartwright, who resisted a western rough’s invitation to drink and to fight. The concluding remark of the bully, as he picked himself out of the elder bushes, was, in the tones of a deeply-deceived man: “What do you come around here for, with a long face on, saying you ‘never have fun with the boys,’ when you are chock full of fun? You’ve nearly broke my back.” In this contest the champions of religion and of “fun” were arrayed against each other, but it was the advantage of the old crusaders that both religion and “fun” lay in the same direction.

The chief of those romantic bruisers, King Richard Cœur de Lion, is thus practically described by Charles Dickens: “He was a strong, restless, burly man, with one idea always in his head, and that the very troublesome idea of breaking the heads of other men.” Anyway, the crusades were the great safety-valve of Europe for surplus religious zeal and pugnacity, and a great relief they proved to the people who stayed at home, as Motley and Prof. Fiske have splendidly argued. Richard sought this outlet for his “idea.”

His career in the Holy Land was romantically ferocious. He was, indeed, so impatient to get to business that he fought two or three battles with Christians on the way. He showed but one redeeming trait, brute courage; and a historian declares that the Saracen Saladin shows as the Christian statesman, and Richard as the fighting barbarian in these crusades. He was far more considerate of his Saracen prisoners than of his own soldiers, and treated the Mohammedan leaders with more chivalry than he did the allied kings and dukes. His hot temper and overbearing manner really defeated the crusade, for it drove every other prince and general home in anger. The Duke of Austria, for instance: The walls of Ascalon had to be hastily repaired to repel an assault, but the Duke held back from manual labor, saying he “was no stone mason.” Whereupon King Richard incontinently kicked his Grace till he went to work.

The crusade collapsed. Richard heard that his amiable brother John, encouraged by the angry King of France, was plotting his deposition, and he started for home, undismayed by the fact that he had not a friend left on the continent, and must needs cross hostile territory to reach England. His accustomed luck and pluck seem to have deserted him, for he was cast ashore in Austria, and he tried to skulk through the booted Duke’s dominions in disguise. And so this proud, grand hero of a hundred fights was captured in an inn kitchen, attired like a scullion, wrestling with pots and pans—was Richard of the Lion Heart. He was buried in a rocky dungeon, high above the Rhine, and for months no one in England knew what had become of him.

Curiously enough, Richard owed his discovery and consequent deliverance, not to his own courage, wit, or influence, but to his ability to write songs and sing them. One of his ballads he had taught to a friend named Blondel and Blondel now went troubadouring through Europe, singing a verse of the song under the windows of every dungeon and castle. He was at length relieved to hear the second stanza of the verse trolled, or, perhaps, roared through the bars. The secret was out, but Richard was not. The Duke of Austria and the Emperor of Germany now went into partnership, trading on the expected ransom of the royal prisoner—offering him to the highest bidder. Avarice proved a worse obstacle than hatred to his release. His brother John and Philip of France promised his captors more money to keep him, or to deliver him to them, than they might get from England for his release, and so he lingered in jail for fourteen months, while friends and enemies were competitively striving to get together the price of his release or his destruction. During this time Richard busied himself composing verses lamenting his lot, and sighing for freedom and “fun,”—the most profitable and least discreditable portion of his career, for the verses were very good.

For all this time we have the following picture of affairs in England:

“The condition of the English nation was at this time
sufficiently miserable. John was strengthening his own
faction in the kingdom, of which he proposed to dispute the
succession. His own character being light, profligate, and
perfidious, John easily attached to his person and faction
not only all who had reason to dread the resentment of
Richard for criminal proceedings during his absence, but
also the numerous class of ‘lawless resolutes,’ whom the
crusades had turned back on their country, accomplished in
the vices of the East, impoverished in substance, hardened
in character, and who placed their hopes of harvest in civil
commotion.

“To these causes of public distress and apprehension, must
be added the multitude of outlaws who, driven to despair
by the oppression of the feudal nobility and the severe
exercise of the forest laws, banded together in large gangs,
and, keeping possession of the forests and wastes, set at
defiance the justice and magistracy of the country. The
nobles themselves, each fortified within his own castle, and
playing the petty sovereign over his own dominions, were the
leaders of bands scarce less lawless and oppressive than
those of the avowed depredators. Under the various burdens
imposed by this unhappy state of affairs, the people of
England suffered deeply for the present, and had yet more
dreadful cause to fear for the future.

“Yet amid these accumulated distresses, the poor as well
as the rich, the vulgar as well as the noble, in the event
of a tournament, which was the grand spectacle of the age,
felt as much interested as the half-starved citizen of
Madrid, who has not a real left to buy provisions for his
family, feels in the issue of a bull-feast. Neither duty nor
infirmity could keep youth or age from such exhibitions.”[A]

One of these exhibitions, the Tournament of Ashby, is famous historically, and has been made the subject of one of the finest word-pictures of the “Wizard of the North.” In a natural amphitheater near the village of Ashby the lists were enclosed with strong palisades, forming an oblong space about a quarter of a mile in length, and half as broad. At either end were strong wooden gates wide enough to admit but two horsemen abreast; each of these gates guarded by two heralds, attended by six trumpeters, six pursuivants (messengers), and a strong body of horsemen. Around the entrances the magnificent tents of knights, each of its owner’s chosen color, surmounted by his pennon, his shield and coat of arms hanging in front, his guards, retainers and jester in gay livery contributing to the moving scene. Back of these, refreshment tents and the quarters of farriers and

“The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.”

Around the circle were galleries, spread with tapestry for the ladies and nobles, while extending up the slopes, and even to the tops of the trees set thick about were the great multitude of common people. On one side the royal seat and canopy, occupied by Prince John and his brilliant retinue; on the opposite a gayer gallery, and the throne of the Queen of Beauty and of Love, monarch of the hour and rewarder of the victorious knights. This stand was brilliant with the rich attire of the ladies and their pages—the prevailing colors of the habits of the latter, as of the throne, being green and pink. The traditional insignia of Cupid shone all about on banner and shield—wounded hearts, bleeding hearts, burning hearts, bows, quivers, etc.

As the procession of contestants enters the arena, the sound of wild, barbaric music rends the air—a mixture of trumpets, cymbals, bells, and other instruments brought back from the East by the crusaders. It is a goodly and at the same time an anxious sight to behold so many gallant champions, mounted bravely and armed richly, awaiting the signal of encounter with the same ardor as their generous steeds, neighing and pawing the ground. The knights hold their long lances upright, their bright points glancing in the sun, and the streamers with which they are decorated fluttering over the plumage of their helmets. All is ready; the heralds make proclamation of the conditions of the tourney; the marshals of the field proclaim; the trumpets sound; the signal words, _Laissez aller_! [French for “Go!”] are shouted; spears drop to a horizontal, spurs are sunk in the steeds, and fifty knights crash together in full gallop. Anon the dust rises and the fight becomes visible; we see half the knights dismounted, some not to rise, others already on their feet fighting hand to hand with mace or ax amid a struggling pile of disabled horses, wounded men, broken spears and armor, the still mounted knights trampling and fighting with swords, the crash of which on iron helmets and shields makes an infernal din, over which roar the shouts of the champions, and the more excited shouts of the crazed spectators, the shriller encouragement of ladies and the clang of trumpets. The splendid armor is now defaced with dust and blood; the gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifts upon the breeze like snowflakes; all the beautiful and graceful has disappeared, and what remains ought only to awaken terror or compassion. But all, including delicate and high bred ladies, cheer on the combatants; while the heralds spur back and forth on the borders of the _melee_, crying, “Fight on, brave knights! man dies, but glory lives—death is better than defeat! Fight on! for bright eyes behold your deeds!”

Now, at length, the combatants have thinned out until only one knight is left on one side to meet three powerful antagonists. It is fighting in earnest now, and Prince John incites the three to the destruction of the one whom he hates as a friend of the absent Richard. “The Disinherited Knight” is sure to be overpowered. Suddenly a voice like a trumpet-call sounds, “To the rescue!” and a horseman in black armor, not yet seen in the fray, spurs like a thunderbolt on the three. One is unhorsed in the shock; another is cut down by the sword, the last falls under his horse helpless, and the tournament is ended.

Eight knights were killed, upwards of thirty wounded, several disabled for life. This is known in history as the “Gentle and joyous Passage-at-Arms of Ashby.” “Hearty in their sports,” were those old knights. They were “chock full of fun.”

In the tumult of relieving the wounded, the knight of the black armor disappeared, and could not be found to receive the chaplet of honor. But a few minutes later there was a commotion in Prince John’s pavilion. An unknown messenger had placed a letter in his hands; it bears the signet of the arms of France; it is from his confederate, Philip, and it reads: “_Take heed to yourself! the devil is loose!_”

“What does it mean?” asked the courtiers.

“It means Richard is free and in England! We have seen him. Let us away!”

It was so. The ransom, partly raised from English loyalty and partly pledged by Richard’s faithful friends, had been delivered to the captors, and the plot of John and King Philip had failed. John fled to Normandy, and was subsequently forgiven by his brother. “I will try to forget my injuries as soon as John will forget my pardon,” said Richard, sarcastically. This is the only case on record where Cœur de Lion made the mistake of being too merciful. If he had disposed of John, England would have been saved from its worst king, but possibly might have missed the advantage of the great charter of rights at that time. But Richard took swift vengeance on King Philip.

Richard had landed in England March 12, 1194. He remained only two months, the rest of his reign, five years, being spent on the continent “in his proper line of business”—fighting. The two months were distinguished by two things: his extortion from his subjects, and his famous visit in the disguise of an abbott to Robin Hood, the merry outlaw of Sherwood Forest. Popular ballads have it that Richard indulged in a little “fun” with the doughty outlaw, and was badly worsted; while sober history has it that the lion-hearted king’s method of raising money “combined the attributes of the tyrant and the swindler.[B]” England had already been impoverished by the enormous taxes to raise the king’s ransom, and his return was the signal for fresh exactions. He ordered the great seal to be broken, declared the title to all property void, and required everybody to take out new deeds and pay the price over again for the affixing of the new seal. Ah, yes; “life was earnest in those days, stormy in its ambition, hearty in its sports,” and we ought to add, rascally in its administration. Government is gentler and more refined now—is it more honest?

The manner of Richard’s death was in as marked contrast to the heroic character which poetry and romance have given him, as were his capture, captivity and deliverance. He was killed in Normandy in a sordid quarrel for the possession of a pot of money which one of his knights had found concealed in his castle—very much as if Alexander the Great had met his death in a gambling-house row over the stakes.

The vulgar and repulsive features of Richard Cœur de Lion’s career did not detract at all from his character as a hero in the days of chivalry. Indeed, the minstrels sang admiringly of Richard’s atrocities: of how he supped gayly on a fat Saracen baby when he could not get roast pig; and caused a Saracen’s head to be roasted and served up to the courtly ambassadors of Saladin; and butchered his prisoners by the thousands. If the troubadours do not truly set forth Richard’s achievements, they truly mirror the spirit of chivalry in the imputed attributes of its most perfect champion. Comparing the character of this lion-hearted Plantagenet, as thus reflected, with that of Robin Hood, the Saxon hero, as pictured in the popular ballads, we must feel that the common people’s idea of manliness and virtue, though personified in a bandit, was higher than that of the Norman chivalry, and we justify Knight in saying:

“The outlaw had the same attributes of bravery and
generosity with which the character of Richard the Lion
Hearted has been invested, without exhibiting those
ferocious traits which belong to the chivalric worship of
mere brute courage and blind fanaticism. The popular notion
of a hero is the more refined one, although Robin be merely
‘a good yeoman.’”

“So curtyous an outlawe as he was one
Was never none yfounde.”

[To be continued.]

FOOTNOTES:

[A] “Ivanhoe,” chapter vii.

[B] Knight.

STUDIES IN ANCIENT GREEK LIFE.

By J. P. MAHAFFY, A.M.

GENERAL FEATURES OF THE GREEK HOUSEHOLD.—While the citizen prized above all things his liberty and his rights as a member of the state—a feeling which produced in many cases a citizen democracy—this principle was unknown within the household, in which he was a despot, ruling absolutely the inferior members, who had no legal grades except as distinguished into free and slaves. The laws were very cautious about interfering with his rights, and he was permitted to exercise much injustice and cruelty without being punished. If in such a case he was murdered by his dependants, the whole household of slaves was put to death, unless the culprit was detected. Nor could a household exist (except perhaps in Sparta) without the master. If he died, his widow became again the ward of her father or eldest brother, or son; and so strongly was this sometimes felt that men on their death-beds betrothed their wives to friends, who were likely to treat them and their orphan children with kindness. Of course clever women and servants often practically had their own way, and ruled their lord or master; but the theory of the Greek home was nevertheless always that of an absolute monarchy, if not a despotism.

THE LADY OF THE HOUSE—HER DRESS.—There were two distinct styles of female dress prevalent. The first was the Dorian, which was noted for its simplicity. Unmarried girls at Sparta often wore but a single light garment (_chitonion_) fastened with clasps down the sides—a dress much criticized by their neighbors. Over this was the Doric _peplos_, fastened on the shoulders with clasps and leaving the arms bare. The Ionians wore a long linen chiton with sleeves, which reached down to the ground, and over it a large flowing wrapper, fastened with a girdle, worn high or low according to fashion; whereas the other band called _strophion_ was worn under the _chiton_, and took the place of modern stays. As a general rule, unmarried women confined their hairdressing to mere artistic arrangement of the hair itself, while married women wore bands, fillets, nets, and coronets. Dyeing the hair was not uncommon, and the fashionable color was auburn, or reddish fair hair. Women’s shoes were very carefully made, and they carried fans and parasols, as may be seen in the terra-cotta figures so common in our museums. Both sexes wore rings, but in addition the women wore earrings, armlets, and ankle-rings, generally of gold. These were the ornaments against which lawgivers made enactments, and which were forbidden or discouraged in days of trouble or poverty. The ornaments of one rich lady are spoken of as worth 50 minæ (about £195), a very large sum in those days. The ordinary color of women’s dress was white, but saffron cloaks, and even flowered patterns, are mentioned.

HER DUTIES.—The constant outdoor life of the Greek gentleman, his many occupations in politics, and campaigns in war, must have made a sensible wife even more necessary than she is to modern men, and yet we do not find that any Greeks valued her high qualities for these important duties rightly except the Spartans. For among them alone we find the mistress of the house a person of real importance, appearing when she chooses in public, and even offering an opinion which is respected on public affairs. In cultivated Athens, on the contrary, she was only taught spinning and cooking, and what rude medicine might be wanting for the treatment of her household in trifling illness. One of her main duties was always the weighing out of wool to her women slaves, and her own working at the loom. If a lady of the higher classes, she was not supposed to appear to male visitors, but only saw her lady friends and her nearest male relatives in her own house. She seldom went out, except either to the funeral of a near relation or to some religious procession and sacrifice. Thus the liberty of women varied from a freedom as great as need be in Sparta to a life of seclusion and neglect at Athens. Other states may have held an intermediate position. As for the vaunted dignity and liberty of ladies in Homer, it is to be remarked that he speaks of the wives and daughters of reigning princes, who probably retained the same importance in historical Greece, wherever they were to be found. For example, aristocratic ladies, such as Cimon’s sister, Elpinice, were unrestrained, even at Athens, and went where they chose. This was also the case everywhere with the poor people, who could not afford to keep their wives and daughters in the idleness and the restraint unfortunately so fashionable in higher life.